by Emily Snow
With thoughts of Wyatt still strumming their way through my brain? Hardly.
For an hour, Heidi and I sit in complete silence, which is a feat for us, considering we both loathe quiet situations. The only thing she finds worth watching is a rerun of Game of Thrones that she’s probably seen no less than ten times. Midway through the episode, she crawls to the bottom of her bed, lies on her stomach, and refuses to look away from the TV, acting as if she hasn’t already witnessed her favorite character’s death.
“I hate this scene,” she whispers. “I’ll never watch this show again. Never. It rips out my fucking heart.”
“You said that last year.”
After the end credits play, she turns off the TV and blinks, her head lolling forward a bit. She’s seconds away from passing out. Then, I’ll be up alone, thinking about shit that I shouldn’t, like thoughts that I would have been over by now if I didn’t accept Wyatt’s deal back in New Orleans.
Heidi returns to the top of her bed and stretches out on the pillows. Though her eyes are closed, she turns her head in my direction. “Do you think this is actually it for you and McCrae?”
“Yes,” I say too quickly. The muscles in my face stiffen, but I continue. “Maybe. At some point, we have to stop trying if it’s not going anywhere.” Wyatt and I had reached that point a long time ago, but I didn’t realize it until last year, a couple of weeks after our Thanksgiving Day hookup.
“You said that last year,” Heidi says sleepily, repeating my earlier statement.
Yes, but this year is different.
Although Heidi is probably planning on having a ten-hour sleep marathon, her chances of accomplishing that are cut short when Wyatt shows up to our room a little after nine. He leans against the door frame, his body relaxed, as if we didn’t argue last night.
I match his nonchalance and give him an easy smile that’s the complete opposite of how I’m feeling. “Morning,” I say.
He glimpses over my head and snorts when he eyes Heidi passed out on her bed, curled into a fetal position and breathing heavily. “Did you get my text?”
“Turned off my phone.”
“Avoiding me?”
I lick the corner of my lips. “Dodging drama.”
He curls his hand into the hem of my shirt and inches into the room, closing the space between us in a series of deliberate short steps. The sound of his boots dragging across the carpet is loud enough to mask the deep breaths I’m taking.
“Drama’s not all bad, beautiful.”
Shaking my head, I stare him down. “It is when I end my night wanting to murder you.”
Wyatt’s gaze lowers. His eyes are intense, unblinking, and the apology that I want from him is there, clearly visible behind the turbulent blue depths. I’m just not sure if it’s enough.
“We’re leaving in an hour.” His fingers creep beneath my tee, splaying out on the smooth skin just below my belly button.
I mirror his movements, pressing my palms on the sides of his abs. “I’ll wake Heidi up.”
As he drops his mouth a little closer to mine, his warm breath fans across my face, and I tilt up my chin. “Not yet.” His fingers trace the length of my torso, all the way up to the sensitive spot beneath my breasts, and then they move back down, cupping the wide curves of my hips. “You’re still angry.”
Why does he have to make everything so difficult? Why does he have to tear me down at every turn just to make me want him at the next? “Of course I am,” I hiss, suddenly out of breath. “You acted like a jealous idiot.”
The muscles in his neck tighten. “And you haven’t?”
I lower my chin, scowling up at him from beneath my lashes, which are still coated in the mascara I used last night. “I’ve never insulted anyone speaking to you in a bar, not even when it was anything but innocent.”
He mutters a curse, and just when I expect him to get the verbal apology out of the way so we can be on our way, he surprises me. He picks me up, and he literally hauls me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I warn.
Ignoring me, he moves out of the doorway and uses the toe of his boot to close the door quietly.
“Wyatt, so help me—”
“You’ll what, beautiful? Hit me? Scream?” His pierced lips drag up into a wicked grin. “You know I love it when you do both.”
Because I don’t want to give Heidi the shittiest wake-up call ever, I don’t scream at him. Instead, I rake my sorry excuse for fingernails up his back through his soft black T-shirt. When he chuckles, I can feel it vibrate through my body. “You think that’ll stop me from talking to you?”
No, because he’s probably getting a boner from it.
He doesn’t let go of me until we’re behind the bathroom door, and even then, he sits me on the beige granite countertop, locking my legs between his. I hit him in the chest, hard, but he doesn’t budge.
“You’re letting it all out now, aren’t you, babe? First, jealousy, and now this?” I demand. “You must truly want me to experience everything you’ve got to offer before we go back to L.A.”
Wyatt’s hand inches up my back, finally tangling into the tousled hair on the nape of my neck. “I was out of line last night.” When he tilts my head back a little, giving my hair a tug, a shot of pleasure pours through me, and I make a soft sound. He must take it for a sound of disgust because he drags his other hand through his hair. “I fucking overreacted, Ky. I’ve never done that.”
“No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “You haven’t.”
“It’s getting closer—us getting back to L.A. And this is the first time I’ve ever believed you when you said you’re through.”
I panic because I don’t want to hear him talk about the end. I feel like a strong hand is clenching my heart, stopping it from beating just right. I smooth my hand up his chest to the hollow of his tattooed throat.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. He starts to say something else, but I move my other hand into his jeans and wrap it around his cock. It’s a coward move, but I never said I was opposed to taking the easy way out sometimes. “Don’t,” I say once more, gripping him firmly.
I feel him go hard slowly beneath my touch. He slumps forward, placing his palm flat on the bathroom mirror behind me. “You’re killing me.”
Acknowledging what he’s just said with a stiff nod, I stroke my hand up and down his length, pressing my thumb to the top of his shaft.
“Open your legs,” he breathes into my ear.
My chest is rising and falling heavily, and I want him—oh god, I want him—but I press my lips together. “No.”
“I need to touch your pus—”
I slide my fingers from his neck to his lips. “No.”
His long legs go weak, and I use this opportunity to loosen their grip on my legs. I place my feet on each side of him, nudging his jeans and boxers down his hips. When I pull him closer to me by enclosing his body with my legs, he sucks in a harsh breath.
“Fuck.” His fingertips find their way back to my hair. “Your nipples are hard, and I know you’re wet. Lie all you want, Ky, but I can see that shit in your eyes. You can’t tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”
I curl my other hand around his length, and the fact that all my fingers are on his cock, stroking and squeezing, causes him to tremble.
“No, I can’t tell you that because I am wet. I do want you to touch me,” I say breathlessly. He groans, his lip piercing teasing my ear. “But now’s not the time.”
He leans back, the smile on his face a mixture of pleasure and pain, as he shakes his head. “Of course it is, beautiful. It’s always the time.”
But he respects my wishes. He doesn’t try to touch me as I guide him to an orgasm. He buries his mouth against my neck, releasing a low animalistic sound on my skin. As he starts to untangle his fingers from my hair, he backs away, but I jerk him toward me, skimming my hands over his muscular shoulders.
“Kiss me.”
His tongue parts mine, thrusting
into my mouth, punishing me for not allowing him to touch me. He sucks on my bottom lip and then my tongue, but it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s addictive. When he draws back, I’m slow to open my eyes.
He’s grinning, but the look in his eyes drops a brick into my stomach. It’s the look of bitter defeat. “We’ve made a mess,” he says.
I don’t fail to catch the double meaning. “Yeah,” I say softly, “we have.”
Chapter Ten
After Wyatt leaves my room, I decide to wait to try and wake Heidi, so I take a long shower that would deplete all the hot water back in my L.A., apartment. By the time I’m done, I’ve managed to calm my nerves, the trembling in my legs have stopped, and I’m articulate enough to understand. I can look my best friend in the eye without raising her suspicions about what Wyatt and I did a mere fifteen feet away from her while she was sleeping.
I spend a solid ten minutes trying to coax her out of bed, and Heidi doesn’t take the disturbance well. Eventually, I look up a Lady Gaga song on my phone.
Fifteen seconds into “LoveGame,” Heidi jolts up with bloodshot eyes and her hair flying everywhere. “That’s so fucked-up, Ky.”
“We’re leaving.”
She fumbles under her pillow for her phone. As soon as she checks the time, her expression goes blank. “You’re kidding.”
“You can sleep on the way there,” I promise. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
But a few minutes later, while she’s packing her belongings, she’s still irritable and drowsy. “This is bullshit.” She grabs her outfit from last night from the back of the chair and tosses it onto the heap of clothing in her suitcase. “They’re not playing in New Mexico until when? Tomorrow night?”
I roll a pair of my jeans into a compact bundle and slide them neatly into my bag. “Albuquerque is nearly a thousand miles away from here, babe. With traffic and stops, it’s an easy fourteen hours.” Thinking of it in hours suddenly makes my ass sore, and I grimace.
“I should probably call my parents and let them know we’ll be in Phoenix on Saturday morning, huh?”
She straddles her bag between her slim long legs, squeezes it tightly together, and tugs at the zipper. If my phone wasn’t on the other side of the room, sitting on top of the mini-fridge, I would record this.
Finally, the zipper gives, and Heidi stumbles back, glaring at it. “I hate packing.”
“What you just did was disturbing on so many levels.” I rise from my spot on the floor and check my appearance one final time in the mirror. The effect that Wyatt has on me is obvious, at least in my opinion, as I study my reflection. I’m able to look past the circles beneath my almond-shaped brown eyes to see how my cheeks are flushed and how my lips seem fuller from kissing him earlier. My hand shakes a little as I trace the outline of my mouth.
Heidi clears her throat. “And you call me disturbing.” I see her reflection in the mirror as her head cocks to one side. She shuffles closer to me, stopping just a few feet away from the dresser. “So, about visiting my parents—yay or nay?”
Because she’s studying me so carefully, I respond quickly. “You should probably go see them.” I twist away from the mirror, facing her directly. “They’d be pissed if you came to town and didn’t at least meet them for dinner.”
“Probably,” she agrees, making me wonder why she asked me in the first place. “I haven’t been home since Christmas.”
“Then, you should definitely go.”
Of course, advising Heidi that she needs to visit her parents once we reach Phoenix for the last show makes me feel like shit. Over the past two months, my mom’s been good enough not to put pressure on me about coming to Atlanta, but sooner or later, her patience will wear out.
“I’m probably going to go home next month. To Atlanta,” I say.
Heidi nods her head, a smile of approval flitting across her glossy lips. “Good. I would invite myself, but you’re probably afraid I’ll meet some loser who’ll steal your parents’ car or something.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove myself away from the dresser and bend down to zip my luggage. It closes on the first try without taking as much effort as it did her. “Stop giving yourself such a hard time.” I sling the heavy bag over my shoulder, and I start coughing when it knocks the wind out of me.
Heidi’s already waiting at the door, and once I catch my breath, I join her.
“You look thrilled,” she says in a dry voice.
“Is it wrong that I don’t want to do this today? You’d think I’ve never had to sit my ass on a tour bus for days at a time,” I mutter.
“See, told you it was too damn early for this.” She twists around to give me a sympathetic look, curling her bottom lip. “I’m going to sound like a complete tool, but it’s not too much longer until we’re home.”
I’m right on her heels as she leaves our room, but I take one final peek inside before I let the door close behind us. I’ve left too many personal belongings in hotels across the country not to be cautious.
“And once we’re back, I get to do this all over again, except I’ll be taking orders from Lucas.” My voice is sarcastically chipper.
Heidi stops in the middle of the hallway, earning a frustrated glare from the housekeeper who’s trying to maneuver an oversized cart stacked high with cleaning supplies and toilet paper. I grab my friend’s bony elbow and guide her out of the way.
As soon as we get to the staircase that leads down to the parking garage, she confronts me. “You’re not fed up with your job, are you?”
I jog down the steps, taking them two at a time, so I’m out of breath by the time I reach the bottom. “I love my job.”
Still, for the first time since I started avoiding Wyatt near the end of last year, I’m wondering how working for Lucas is going to affect me once I’m back in L.A. Isn’t the proximity and common ground the precise reasons why I let Wyatt back into my life time and time again? Even if I can go through with cutting him out this time, every moment we’re together, even the toxic ones, I know I’ll doubt myself.
When I open the door to the parking garage, Heidi stops me, flattening her hand against the metal, as she slams it shut. “Ugh, the look on your face right now.” She shakes her head, pressing her lips together, as if what she’s looking at is the most pitiful thing she’s ever seen.
Maybe, just maybe, it is.
“Heidi,” I warn. “I’m not doing this with you today.”
She ignores me. “You do realize that I can get a rental car, right? I’m perfectly capable of driving us back to L.A., so you can get away from McCrae right here and right now.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Then, I pause. Despite what Heidi has said about wanting to take this trip with me, maybe she’s ready to go home. “Do you want to go back right now?”
She takes her hand off the door and holds it open for me. “I do phone sex, Kylie. My customers aren’t going anywhere, and besides, I really do want to see my folks. But I’m offering to take you home. I don’t want to see you hurt, and now, you’ve got me all worried.”
We walk side by side through the muggy carport, and in the distance, I can hear Cal and Wyatt’s voices as they load their luggage and guitars into the back of the Suburban. I stop Heidi when we’re several feet away from the SUV, clamping my hand down on her wrist. “Don’t.” My voice is hushed and more pleading than I intend for it to be. “Don’t worry. I want to do this.”
She drags her hand through her long brown hair, exhaling. “I know you do, but for the first time since you told me what your plan is, I actually believe that you just might go through with it, that you’re done with him.”
What she’s saying is so similar to what Wyatt said this morning that I feel a cold pain spread across the inside of my chest.
“I hate when you don’t get enough sleep because you’re way too emo.”
She pushes her shoulders back. “I’m worried because you’re drawing this out, and it’s going to be hell to walk away. I�
��m worried because, in the end, you’ll hurt so much worse.”
She’s right. I am prolonging my time with Wyatt. I’m savoring him, feeding my addiction until the very end. It’s twisted and unhealthy, but it’s also something that I need. I drop my hand away from her arm. “Heidi, I’m good.”
Instead of arguing with me or giving me her typical “I’m right because my last name is Wright” line, she only blinks and nods. A dangerous moisture is building up at the corners of her blue eyes, and I have to look away from them.
“Let’s go to Albuquerque then,” she says.
After we grab breakfast at a restaurant Heidi swears she has to try because she saw it on the Food Network, we get on the interstate toward New Mexico. Cal drives this time, but instead of sitting in the back with me, Wyatt opts for the passenger seat to keep him company.
Thanks to all the pancakes she ate at breakfast and her lack of sleep, Heidi immediately passes out in the back of the SUV in a carb-induced coma. I stretch out in the second row, placing my feet against the door, and slide my earbuds in. A moment after I put The Kills playlist on shuffle, the powerful beat of “Future Starts Slow” pumps into my eardrums. Closing my eyes, I softly hum along while tapping my fingers on my thighs in time with the rhythm.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but the next thing I know, Wyatt’s touching my shoulder, shaking me awake. He’s standing with the door opened wide, leaning back, as his eyes skim over me.
“Cal needed a Red Bull. You want anything?”
I blink up at him a few times until my dark brown eyes adjust to the light. Groaning, I shake my head and pull my earbuds out. “I’m good. I’m just going to go back to—”
He reaches into the car for my hand, brushing against my breast in the process. It’s an innocent touch, but it’s still enough to make me shiver. “It’s a long drive, beautiful. Come out for a few minutes.”
“There’ll be another stop.” I yawn, and then I realize that I don’t hear Heidi’s soft snoring from the backseat. I sit up and see that she’s gone. If Heidi figured it was a good idea to get out of the Suburban for a break, it must mean Cal’s not planning on making another stop for several hours, so it’s probably a good idea for me to get out too. “What time is it?”
