by Nikki Chase
We spent the past few years working our asses off, at the cost of our social lives—luckily, at least the five of us go through everything together, and we're enough to keep one another company.
Now, after multiple painful months of hiring and training new employees so we can run the business remotely . . . we're ditched. By our own parents. The ones we went through all that trouble for.
The twins just got into town last night, so I thought we’d have a nice sit-down dinner as a complete family tonight, but apparently, tonight's “date night.”
Our parents now claim that one of the reasons their marriage failed was because the romance was gone from their relationship, leaving them with only duties and obligations. So now they're “making each other a priority.”
Unbelievable. They won’t even miss one date night for us.
It irritates me, but at the same time, I know it's lame to get bothered by it. That's why I'm keeping my mouth shut.
I grip my beer bottle a little harder. If I wanted to hang out at some bar with my brothers, I could do that in the city without having to miss important presentations.
Ugh. Our parents can be so annoying sometimes.
They did, however, drop the name of what's apparently the hottest bar in town. You know, because they go out all the time now.
If I were perfectly honest with Ava, I'd tell her we didn't need a tour guide and it was just a ruse so we could spend time with her.
Ashbourne hasn't changed that much. This is a small town, so it's not like developers are scrambling to build malls and apartments here.
Here I go again, thinking about that girl.
I’m standing in a bar crammed with what looks like all the women in Ashbourne who are in their twenties. My brothers and I should be prowling.
Instead, we’re annoyed about our parents. And antsy about our date with Ava tomorrow morning.
“We shouldn't stay out too late. We’ll have an early morning tomorrow,” Liam says sensibly. It's the kind of thing Liam says, of course, but not this early on a Saturday night.
“It's only nine,” Noah says.
Liam nods, but he seems distracted.
Even though the twins were the ones who managed to get Ava to agree to go out with us tomorrow, they don't seem to be as affected by Ava as the rest of us. And the only difference is we got here a little earlier than they did. There must be something in the water.
Or maybe, we're all just feeling a little lost because now that we've delegated a lot of our work to our employees, we're starting to feel restless. We need a new object of obsession, and Ava works out nicely.
Yeah, that's probably it . . . even though she does have a banging body, with just the right amount of curves, and a pretty face.
Or maybe, I’m actually as excited as the twins about the possibility of all five of us sleeping with one girl. Who knows?
I guess we’ll find out tomorrow when we see her.
“Is that her?” Ollie’s even worse than me or Liam. He keeps seeing her everywhere.
“For the last time, Ollie. . . No.” Nathan takes a big gulp of his beer, seemingly exasperated. “Are you guys going to check out any of the other girls in town, or are we just going to stay obsessed with this one girl the entire two months we're here?”
“Is that her?” Ollie asks again, undeterred. He's nothing if not persistent. This time, he's staring at a different corner of the bar. “The one in the black dress.”
It's Saturday night, so as I follow Ollie’s gaze and try to visually find the girl he's talking about, I feel like I’m playing Where's Wally? because of course, about eight out of ten of the girls here are wearing black dresses.
“No,” Nathan says without even looking in the right direction.
“Yes,” I blurt out.
The table goes quiet as everyone tries to locate her. “Where?”
“Eleven o’clock.” As I watch the girl, anger enters my bloodstream and heats up my body. Or maybe that's just the beer. I don't know.
“Right? That is her, right?” Ollie asks urgently. “Should we do something?”
“Who's that guy pawing at her?” Nathan asks with concern as he senses trouble in the air.
That's what I want to know, too.
The guy who’s talking to her, he’s standing too close and getting even closer whenever she takes another step back away from him. It's a crowded bar, and soon she won't have any more space behind her.
Ava doesn't look happy. She's frowning, her forehead wrinkling in chagrin.
And her steps are wobbly. She may have drunk too much.
If that guy gets another inch closer to her, I swear . . .
As if he's heard me, the asshole moves right up against her, until they're standing chest to chest. He puts his hand on her waist, even though she tries to push him away.
That's it. I put my beer on the table and get moving.
“Hey, Mason, where are you going?” someone asks. Probably Ollie.
“There, obviously.” I gesture at the dark corner where Ava’s being harassed by the douchebag.
Only losers need to use force to get the girl. Even if it was some random girl, the sight would be enough to annoy me.
The creepy bastard’s picked the wrong girl to mess with on the wrong night.
Ava
It's Saturday night so maybe I should've known better than to show myself at Feral, Ashbourne’s only decent bar.
But it's been a while since I came here, and after the brunch earlier today, I’ve been feeling so restless. All I've been able to think about is the Hunter brothers.
So when Sally Fields, an old friend from high school, texted me out of the blue, saying she's in town and asking to meet up for drinks, I said yes. We were never super close, but we hung out a few times.
I needed to get out of the house and find some distraction. I thought I'd find it at Feral.
Now I’m regretting that decision.
I did have a good time catching up with Sally, although we only got about two minutes into it when Joseph showed up.
“Found some other guy you want to fuck yet?” That was his first question when he approached our table.
I didn't even get a chance to hear about why Sally’s in town.
It only took two minutes of Joseph asking similar questions and ignoring Sally until she excused herself to the restroom. It's been fifteen minutes, and I don't think she's coming back.
I don’t blame her for not trying to rescue me from an obviously uncomfortable situation. I mean, it’s been years since we even saw each other, and it’s not like we were ever best friends or anything. At best, we were acquaintances.
“Have you been doing this every week since you ghosted me?” Joseph asks.
Yet another inane question.
“I didn’t ghost you, Joseph,” I say, deliberately not calling him “Joey” like I used to. “I told you we were over. It’s not your business anymore what I do every week.”
After the break-up, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve realized that Joseph had been invading more and more of my life when we were dating, to the point where there was no more space for myself.
Sure, as my boyfriend, it was totally normal and acceptable for him to want to know my weekend plans. But he also used to veto outings with friends he didn’t like, text and call constantly while I was outside, and sulk for hours if I was late coming home.
But now, I don’t have to do what he says. It doesn’t matter if he throws a tantrum or even says he wants to die. His emotional well-being is not my responsibility.
“You didn’t answer my calls. You didn’t reply to my texts either. What is that, if not ghosting?” Joseph asks as he aggressively steps closer.
“That’s called a break-up.” Despite the flame burning in my chest, I take a step backward.
I don’t want this to turn physical. I’m not stupid; he’s always going to win in a physical fight with me. He’s grabbed my wrist before, keeping me from leav
ing the room when he was getting volatile, punching the wall and slapping himself in the face.
“What are you talking about, baby? You’re not breaking up with me,” Joseph says, his face a gross mixture of sadness and fury.
“I am, and I have.”
“You’re not making any sense, Ava. You love me. Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t love me.”
I stare flatly at Joseph as my feet remain planted on the checkered, black-and-white tiles. This is a public place. He won’t dare do anything too crazy.
“I don’t love you, Joseph. We’re over,” I say.
On the other hand, the loud music means it’s probably hard for anyone to hear me screaming for help . . . I mean, if it gets to that. It may not.
I remember there were bouncers at the door, though.
“Say that again.” Joseph’s wearing an angry scowl, even as his eyes fill with water. It’s a strange, scary sight.
He reaches toward me, and I stumble backward. The shot of vodka I downed earlier is starting to rise to my head, but Joseph’s not grabbing any part of me tonight.
“Which part?” I ask with defiance. “‘I don’t love you’? Or ‘we’re over’? Oh, look at that. I just said it all again. Silly me.” I stare into his eyes, even though it’s getting hard for me to focus. “Leave me alone,” I tell him.
The fire in Joseph’s eyes only grows stronger. His jaw is tightened, and his hands have balled into fists.
Oh, no. Did I do the wrong thing? Should I have let him down more gently?
I’m not surprised when Joseph grabs my waist roughly and pulls me right up against him. No, I’m just angry and scared.
I don’t want to repeat the whole on-and-off cycle again with Joseph. It was so hard for me to cut him out of my life. I can’t go through that again.
How long is it going to take me until the next time I manage to get this far? Am I cursed to repeat this cycle, again and again, until Joseph and I are both old and grey?
“You’re drunk,” he says with a strange smirk. “I’m going to take you home. You’ll be safe there. I’ll keep you safe.”
I try to push Joseph away, but he won’t budge. He’s right; I am drunk. And even if I weren’t, he’s still stronger than me.
A deep sense of doom descends upon me as Joseph slings his arm around my waist and pushes me toward the exit. Goosebumps erupt all over my body. This feels so gross.
Can I scream for help when I reach the exit and get the bouncers’ attention? Will I even be able to see the bouncers? They could be busy checking IDs or something.
I was too optimistic when I decided to challenge Joseph earlier. I didn’t count on the stupid shot of vodka affecting me this much. It has been a while since I drank any alcohol; Joseph didn’t like me drinking at all.
I look up at Joseph as we shuffle to the exit. The dancing lights behind him make it hard for me to focus, but I can see a thin smile on his face as he rushes me out. It fills me with dread.
Then, Joseph notices something. He stops and says some angry words loudly. His face is red, and there’s a vein popping in his neck.
Next thing I know, I’m falling. But before I feel the impact from hitting the floor, my world turns black.
Noah
I catch Ava in my arms as the asshole who was harassing her loses his grip.
His face has turned red, although I don’t know if it’s from the alcohol or his anger. He’s obviously not happy about Mason pushing him. If I were him, though, I wouldn’t mess with Mason.
The asshole—that’s what I’m going to call him—probably wouldn’t either, if he knew Mason’s an MMA champion. But I’m not telling him.
Liam’s saying things in Mason’s ear, no doubt trying to dissuade him from starting a bar fight. He’s probably talking about criminal charges and liability issues—all things Mason doesn’t care about.
This is going to be good entertainment.
I glance at Ava, who seems to have blacked out on my arms. Her eyes are closed, and despite the furor all around us—loud music blaring and angry men shouting—she looks so peaceful.
I like watching people when they’re zoning out, daydreaming, or sleeping. That’s when they’re completely themselves, without any pretense.
And I like what’s written on Ava’s face right now. Even though there’s chaos all around her, she seems so serene.
It’s like her world’s gotten so riotous that she’s clocked out and gone to a calmer place.
Something inside me stirs.
I want to give her that calm, not just in her dream world but in real life. I want to protect her. I don’t know where that idea came from, but I do. I want to give her shelter from whatever problems she’s facing.
I look up at Nathan, who’s watching the fight intently with his fists ready to fly into the asshole’s face. Although not as skillful or artful as Mason when it comes to fighting, Nathan’s perfectly comfortable with using a little bit of violence to solve a problem.
Ollie meets my eyes. “Take her home,” he mouths.
I nod. That’s exactly what I had in mind.
I wrap Ava’s arm around me and pick her up by the waist. Getting up, I tell Nathan, “It’s time to leave. We need to take her home.”
He seems surprised. “But Mason might need some help.”
I give him an unconvinced stare. “You really expect me to believe that?”
Nathan shrugs.
“You know you just want a fight, and Mason’s got this covered. Look at that guy. He’s got no aim. Mason’s going to make him cry uncle in no time.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s probably no fun to watch either,” Nathan says, casting one last glance at the fight. “Let’s go.”
Ava moans from the backseat. She’s right behind Nathan, who’s driving. This way, I can keep an eye on her.
She’s sitting upright with a seatbelt strapped tight across her chest, making each individual mound of soft flesh more prominent.
I like seeing her this vulnerable. It makes me want to scoop her up in my arms again.
She lets out another moan, which makes my dick stir in my pants. I have to remind myself she’s probably just dreaming and there’s nothing erotic about that moan.
As her eyelids flutter, I watch her closely in case she wakes up and freaks out.
Well . . . She wakes up, but she doesn’t freak out. Instead, she blinks a few times and look around, seemingly to assess the situation, then she calmly takes her seatbelt off.
“Ava, the car’s still moving. You should sit back and put your seatbelt back on.” Turning to Nathan, I tell him, “Slow down.”
When I twist to look at Ava again, suddenly her face is already inches in front of me.
She’s squeezing herself between the two front seats. She turns to look at Nathan, then she stares at me, then back at Nathan again.
“What’s going on?” Nathan asks.
“I have no idea.”
Ava’s eyes appear perfectly clear. She doesn’t seem confused or intoxicated.
“Noah,” she says as she stares at me with mesmerizing eyes.
How does she know I’m not Nathan? People confuse us all the time.
Ava puts one cold, delicate hand on my cheek, leans closer, and presses her lips against mine.
Before I recover from my surprise, Ava teases me with her soft lips. She’s gentle and tentative, but not shy. There’s an eagerness in her kiss, but also carefulness.
I kiss her back, of course. Ava feels nothing like the other girls Nathan and I have shared before. There’s so much honesty in her touch, so much feeling.
“Yo, what the fuck’s going on?” Nathan asks.
Hell if I know.
But hey, I’m not complaining.
Ava
I stretch in bed.
I feel good. The sun’s shining, the birds are chirping, and I have a date with not one, and not two, but five gorgeous men.
I can’t stop thinking about them. I
’m so excited. It feels like the day before a school trip.
I even had a dream about the Hunters—well, two of them. The twins. Although in my dream I only kissed one of them.
The dream takes place in a car. Nathan’s driving, while Noah’s sitting beside him. I’m in the backseat.
Usually, my dirty dreams are a bit of a letdown. As soon as things get “good” (if you know what I mean), the dream ends.
Not long ago, I decided to go crazy in a dream if I’m somehow aware enough to know it’s a dream.
Sounds convoluted, I know. But apparently, some people are super into it. It even has a name: lucid dreaming.
Even though I’ve been reading up on it, I’ve never been able to make it happen . . . until now.
I smile as I remember the feeling of Noah’s firm lips on mine, drawing me closer and deeper into the kiss. He’s such a good kisser . . . in my dream, at least.
I don’t know how things will go today, but I’m happy enough to keep my dirty fantasies contained to the dream world. I mean, how likely is it that even one of the Hunter brothers actually want to kiss me?
That’s crazy. In the harsh light of day, it’s easy to see that. Despite what my friends and family say, I find it hard to believe they’re actually interested in me.
Still, that dream felt so real that even now, I feel like I can hear the twins’ voices. But that must be my mind playing tricks on me.
I’d better get ready before the Hunters pick me up.
But as I wander out of my room, the voices only grow stronger. And there are noises, too—pots and pans clanging together. A delicious aroma floats throughout the house, coming from the kitchen.
Has some homeless person broken into my home and raided my fridge?
I hold my phone in my hand and get ready to call 911.
“Ava,” says a masculine voice from down the hall, right before I enter the kitchen. He sounds familiar, but the suddenness of the greeting makes me jump in shock.
