by Shey Stahl
At this point, Nalani looks perfectly content hanging on me like a monkey, doesn’t she? Just wait. Internally, she’s planning her assault for me strapping her in the car seat earlier.
“Who’s this?” I ask in a voice that’s stern and father like. Are you impressed? Me too. Who knew I could pull off the father tone.
The teenage boy with raging hormones and a backward ball cap eyes me. At first, he doesn’t recognize me. All I get is a nod like he’s some cool motherfucker and too badass to actually say hello to me. And then he notices me. “Bro, you’re LC.”
There’s that word again. Bro. Why do people shorten words like brother and baby? I can understand shortening fucking to fuckin’ or motherfucker to motherfucka. That makes sense. Baby is too short already so why call someone bae? Makes no sense. And bro… what are we, surfers? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Yep. Why are you talking to my niece?”
“Landon!” Marley gasps. “Go away.”
The boy whips his head back to Marley. “Your uncle is Landon Slade?”
With a big smile, I look to Marley, nudging her arm with mine. “You didn’t mention me? My feelings are hurt.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she mutters under her breath. I let the attitude slide because I’ve been there before. I was a teenager once and you know, it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago.
Nalani squirms in my arms, her face blank and then she barfs. Projectile vomits all over me and the kid from Boyz in the Hood. For a moment, like twenty seconds, I can’t fully absorb what just happened, let alone how to react.
I look at Nalani, and she stares back, looking relieved, like that’s why she’d been so cranky.
“Dude, really?” the kid whines, staring down at his barf-covered Seahawks jersey. That’s what he gets for wearing Bailey’s jersey and not mine. “So gross.” His terrified eyes lift to mine, then Nalani. He can thank me later for the free birth control.
Feeling uncomfortable, and like I might lose my lunch myself, I nod to Marley. “Let’s go.”
Miss attitude sighs heavily. “Fine. Bye, Darnell.”
Darnell? His name’s Darnell? Well, that just verifies why I don’t like him. One of our biggest rival teams is the 49ers and guess what their quarterback’s name is? Darnell Haggard.
Peeling off my shirt, I toss it in a nearby garbage can and gather up the kids. “Where’s that no-good babysitter of yours?” I ask Haisley and Cat, like they’re going to answer. I do notice they have their drinks in hand, so Ember has to be around here somewhere.
While I walk around the park like a shirtless predator looking for Ember and Kasen, the twins finally appear, both covered in dirt, scratches, and with red cheeks.
“What happened to you?” I ask as they’re brushing off their clothes. I refuse to let them in unless they’re clean.
Adler points behind him. “Climbing trees.”
Braylee shakes out leaves from her hair. “I climbed the highest.”
Adler shoves her against the door of the car. “Nu-uh. I did!”
Grabbing them both, I dust off their backs and point to the car. “Get in.” Once they’re in the back, I look to Nalani standing beside the car quietly. “Are you going to puke again?”
With pink cheeks and glossy eyes, she shakes her head. “No.”
Is she telling me the truth? I don’t know how to tell if a baby is lying.
Without a word, Haisley hops in next, her hands formed in tight fists like she has something in them. I intend to ask her what she has, but Marley distracts me by barreling past me and whispering under her breath, “You’re a jerk.”
“How am I a jerk? I didn’t puke on One Direction, Nalani did.”
She leers at me like I’ve ruined her goddamn life by breathing. “He’s not from One Direction.”
“My bad.”
It’s then, about the point where I’ve lost my patience and ready to tell Mr. Mom he’s lost his job before he had it, he and Ember appear.
“And where have you two been?” I ask, as though I’m accusing them of having an affair. Look at me? I even look flustered, and it pisses me off that I’m this worked up over it.
“I was showing him around the park.” Ember eyes me like I’ve lost my mind and then hands me my Americano. “What’s wrong with you? And why don’t you have a shirt on?”
I glance at Kasen who’s also staring at me like I’ve lost my mind, slowly sipping on his coffee. “Nalani puked on me.”
I keep a close eye on the puke monster who’s buckled in now. Maybe she’ll know what to do because while the idea of Nalani throwing up in my car is about as appealing as her vomiting on me, I’m worried there might be something wrong with her.
Ember looks past me to Nalani. “Seriously? Is she okay? Does she have a fever?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, stepping aside so she can take a look at the puker. “She feels warm.”
“Sometimes kids get sick,” Kasen decides to add. “Maybe she has that flu going around?”
“How often is sometimes?” I ask, clearly only worried about her puking in the car. “Like how often do they throw up with the flu?”
Adler gags in the back seat, his hand covering his mouth. “Gross! What’s that smell?”
Panic floods through me thinking Nalani puked again. Frantically, my eyes search the rearview mirror for the return of the spinning head chick from The Exorcist. Only it’s not puke. Can you guess what the smell is now?
If you guessed shit, you’d be right. Diaper explosion.
Hard Count – When a quarterback calls out one sound or word more loudly than the others during his cadence in an attempt to get the defense to jump offsides. Not used very often, since it can also make his own linemen jump early and draw a false start penalty.
I’ve never been one for dating. Hell, I didn’t even go to prom. I think I’ve been on one date in my entire life. Okay, two. The first one doesn’t count because it was a double date with Cat in the eighth grade and I spent most of the movie trying to get Johnny Jorgenson to stop trying to finger me.
And then there was Justice Bailey. Landon’s teammate. I went on one date with him, fucked him for a few weeks, and then he stopped calling me. Oh well, it wasn’t like I liked him.
“I shouldn’t go.”
“Yes, you should. What would make you think you shouldn’t?”
“It’s sending the wrong impression to him.”
“And that would be?”
I can barely admit it, but I whisper, “That I want more.”
“No, that’s not sending the wrong impression since you do want more.” Cat sees right through me, as always. She may not have all her memory, but her intuition is always right. Case in point, she never ever liked Alessa. Speaking of her, you’re probably wondering what happened to her after Landon officially broke it off with her.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hasn’t attempted to call him like she did the other times he broke up with her and nothing on Instagram or Twitter, her two venting social media sites. She has Facebook, but her manager runs that so I never check it. And just to be sure, I checked tonight… and nothing. Not a goddamn word.
I hold up my phone to Cat, who’s curling my hair. “Do you think it’s weird that he broke up with her and she hasn’t posted about it?”
She stops, midcurl. “They broke up?”
I’ve told her this twice now. “Yes, last night in the car… he did it right in front of me.”
“Whoa, okay, so no.” Twisting my hair around her flat iron, she shrugs. “Not really. He broke up with her, right?”
I nod.
“If anything, she doesn’t want anyone to know they’re not together so she’ll keep quiet until he says something, and then she’ll post some kind of heartbroken statement about how devastated she is.”
“I think your memory is better than you think.”
Cat’s eyes dart to mine in the mirror, and she laughs, rolling her eyes. “No, not really. I�
��ve just seen celebrities act like fools.” She tugs on my hair. “Now, the real question is, Ms. Jade…” Pausing, she holds the flat iron like a microphone. “Can you give a statement on your relationship with Mr. Slade?”
I’m not even thinking when I push her arm away, laughing, our hands get tangled, and I basically kiss the iron. The fucking straight iron!
#hotAF
Immediately, she drops it and grabs my face between her hands. “Holy fuck!”
In what I assume is shock, I don’t do anything at first. I jump up, shocked, only to have her cradle me in her arms. “I’m so sorry!”
It’s twenty minutes of me freaking out, Cat trying to reassure me everything will be fine and then, in the end, finding that my lips look like I have some kind of wicked case of herpes. Not exactly how I envisioned my first official date with Landon.
I’m fine, don’t worry. My lips, that’s another story. Let’s just say I won’t be doing any kissing tonight. And when you’re going on a date with a guy you’ve been in love with for five years, that sucks. Remember the kissing and how good it was? Well, you probably don’t, but I do. And it’s a damn shame there won’t be any of that tonight.
I’m standing in the kitchen with an ice pack to my lips when Marley and Haisley come into the guest house. “Landon’s waiting for you—” Marley’s words suddenly halt when she takes in my appearance. It must be horrific if it’s so bad she stops talking. She stares at me, blinks, as if that will make it any better and then asks, “What the hell happened to you?”
I don’t have a good response. I want to come up with a lie, something cool and unbelievable. Like the time I tried to shave my legs with a knife and ended up in the ER with six stitches in my knee and told everyone I fell riding my bike. When you’re fourteen and in that incredibly awkward stage of waiting for the boob fairy to deliver a pair, it sounds so much better to the overly hot ER doctor stitching up your leg.
That excuse worked. This one… how the hell can I come up with anything remotely good that involves blisters on my lips?
Exactly. Nothing. Unless of course, I blame it on an allergic reaction. That might work.
“I ate salmon, and I’m allergic to it,” I tell her, pulling the ice away from my lips.
Cat, who’s standing beside me, gives me a curious stare. “You did? When did you have salmon?”
I look from Marley to Cat, then back to Marley again. “What’s Landon wearing?”
As if I have a huge sign on my face that points to my lips, her eyes never move from my mouth. “Jeans and a shirt.”
“A nice shirt?” I don’t know why I’m asking. It doesn’t matter what he’s wearing.
Marley shrugs. “I guess.”
Since the accidental branding of my lips, I hadn’t thought about what I was going to wear on the date. Cat had though, and hands me a low-cut black shirt with a pair of my skinny jeans. Skinny has never been a term I like to use because I eat… I like to eat, and that means I’m a few pounds overweight.
After tossing the clothes on the counter beside my ice pack, Cat hands me a pair of black heels. “These will go great with the jeans.”
“I don’t have the body for heels,” I tell her, reaching for the ice pack. It hurts so badly just to move my lips; I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the night like this, let alone with people staring at me like I have some sort of flesh-eating disease. “I can’t go!” I finally wail, breaking down in tears. I never cry. Never ever, but this, the possibility of missing out on Landon’s kisses, this makes me cry.
#patheticAF
The girls spring into action, assuring me multiple times, “It’s not that bad!” while secretly winking at each other and laughing at me. I’m kidding. They don’t laugh, but don’t think for one moment I don’t notice their side-eye glances at each other.
Cat, Marley, and Haisley, they all do a good amount of work to my lips and make me look presentable with burn cream and lipstick. Turns out if you wear the right shade of pink, it blends well with blisters.
#cleverAF
It’s a few minutes before six when I enter the house. Landon’s in the den with Adler watching footage from last week’s game and explaining to him the importance of protecting the pocket, something his team failed to do for him.
“She’s ready to go!” Haisley screams into the den, causing Landon to twist around and look toward the door.
And there I am, blistered and ready, wearing heels for the first time in months and fighting back emotional “I hate myself for crying” tears. It must be getting close to that time of the month or something because shit, I never cry this easily. But, I’ve also never had third-degree burns on my lips, so there’s that, too.
Landon smiles, eyeing me from head to toe. With a deep breath, he turns back around to Adler and hands him the remote. “Here. We’ll continue this tomorrow, okay?”
Adler nods. “Okay, but can I have ice cream?”
“I don’t care.” Landon stands up. “Kasen has to deal with you.”
Making his way from the den, he smiles at me once more, but he’s about twenty feet away so he can’t see the devastation in my eyes yet that I’ve ruined the date before it even started. When he greets me with the rugged arrogance he owns, “Cry for You” by Jodeci starts playing in the house. Just kidding. That doesn’t happen. But it should have, huh? It’d be fitting for a man like him because my body is crying for him, begging to be touched and worshiped in the ways I know he can.
Standing before me now, his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He only watches me, our eyes meeting for a long battle of silent communication.
I don’t win. I never do, not when I’m up against someone like Landon.
Why is he so freaking hot?
“You look nice.” He breathes out the words. His penetrating gaze travels the length of my body. I feel like he’s undressing me with his eyes and it makes me sweat.
“I know I do. And you look nice as well.”
I want to hump your leg again.
“I know I do,” he mimics, his cockiness nearly overwhelming.
#cockybastard
And then he notices my lips. His brow quirks, his head dips forward, and then he asks, “What happened? Do you have a cold sore or something?”
Tears surface and I can literally feel the heat rise from my chest to my ears, then my cheeks. “I uh… I don’t know.”
Goddamn it. Don’t cry over a fucking blister! Get your shit together.
Cat steps into the foyer with Nalani on her hip. “Oh my gosh! What happened to your lips?”
For real? I glare at her. “Seriously?”
“Just kidding.” She laughs. “I’m still really sorry about that.” And then she throws an arm around Landon’s shoulders, her dreads whipping around and smacking Nalani in the face. “Looks like tonight’s gonna be PG, bud.”
Landon looks down at her, then back to me, his eyes wide. “How… uh, what the fuck happened?”
I roll my eyes, like explaining this is the worst thing ever. I feel like Marley when we ask her to put her sketchpad down. “Cat accidentally hit me in the mouth with a flat iron.”
“Seriously?” Landon steps forward, his hand on my chin to angle it up for a better look. One I don’t want him having.
I jerk my head from his hands. “It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine,” he notes sternly, his eyes tight as he pulls me aside away from Cat who has forgotten all about us and is dancing with Nalani to a catchy commercial playing in the background. “You should get that looked at.”
I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. Nothing is stopping me from going. “And miss The Hunna? No fuckin’ way.”
He doesn’t like my answer. “Are you just going to see them?” His smile is there, but it’s impatient. “Or because I asked you on a date?” The heat of his body washes over mine, making me tremble with desire. I want him. There’s no doubt about it, and you
know, he knows this. Tonight though, there’s something so much more primal about it.
With my pulse in my ears, I wink. “You won’t know until you take me.”
He presses against my side, and though it’s a simple touch, my body breaks out in a violent display of goose bumps. His mouth’s at my ear as he whispers, “That’s my girl. Always keeping me guessing.”
“How long do you think this goes for?” Landon asks, tugging his hat down lower to keep from getting noticed in the crowd, our shoulders bumping one another.
“Why?” I ask, sipping the hard apple cider in my hand. “Thinking of bailing on me?” The opening act just left the stage, and we’re waiting for The Hunna to come out. It’s been years since I’ve been to a concert, and even with the blistered lips, the night’s been perfect so far. I feed off the atmosphere, the anticipation, the people, and the one next to me.
Landon smiles my way. His lips kick up at the corners as he peeks over at me. “Not a chance. Just curious.”
“Is it past your bedtime?” I tease, peeking in his empty cup. He had a beer tonight and it’s rare for Landon to drink since his first season in the NFL. During the season, he never drinks alcohol. It doesn’t just have to do with the effects it has on his performance. He knows he can’t have just one drink and be okay. One turns into ten, and before he knows it, he’s rapping “Regulate” and is half-naked in the lobby of the Hyatt. True story.
Much like in the house before we left, he invades my personal space, his body heat radiating against me like an oven. “I’m far from tired.” Do you notice the look in his eyes? I certainly do. I’ve known Landon a long time, and I’ve never seen this look. Okay, maybe a time or two, in Hawaii, but this time, it’s different. His lust-filled eyes dip, his jaw clenching. “It’s killing me not being able to kiss you.”
Oh, right. My lips. As if I hadn’t forgotten for a half a second. I try to smile, but it hurts. “Who says I was going to let you kiss me?”
He laughs, the sound vibrating through my body at our close proximity. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re a good girl,” he hisses, his breath skating along the curve of my neck. “We both know you’re not.” His tone is soft, yet I can’t help but notice the undercurrent of vulnerability resonating within his words.
