Crush

by West, Heather

  Selene was gone. I didn’t have to be told to know that Danny was devastated and I knew that my own heart was bruised and broken because of it. She’d been important to me, blood or not, and I grieved her loss. Danny grieved, too, and I held him because I wanted to fill him with at least one moment of peace.

  Maybe that wasn’t the only reason I held him, though.

  Finally, we broke apart, though Danny gripped my shoulders for a moment after. He held me at arm’s length and just looked at me, smiling. “You look good, Ash,” he told me, his words sounding tender.

  I smiled back at him, suddenly feeling a little shy. Quietly, I said, “You, too.”

  “How’s New York?” Danny asked, smiling too brightly, like he was trying to hide something else that’s going on. I don’t know what it is and don’t feel like asking. If Danny wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up.

  I shrugged and tried to be honest while not revealing too much to my dad, who I remembered was still in the room. “It’s great, honestly. I mean, it’s not always easy. The apartments there are tiny and expensive, the traffic is so ugly that walking is usually faster, and the public transportation is a little shady, but I usually don’t have to worry about that.” I added that last part in quickly, worried that my dad was going flip out at the mention of something being potentially dangerous. And public transportation was definitely that. “I work really close.”

  “At a restaurant, right?” Danny asked though he looked a little suspicious. I wondered if he knew that I wasn’t being completely up front when I called the place a “restaurant.” They did serve food, but just barely, and I wouldn’t eat most of it unless I saw it cooked.

  Smiling, I nodded and walked further into the room, Danny trailing after me. “Yeah. It’s a good place. I get a lot of pretty sizable tips and that really helps me out.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Danny muttered, sounding a little nonplussed at the revelation. I couldn’t say for sure why. “But you get treated well, right?”

  Dad looked up at his question to fix me with a pointed stare that told me You had better be. I felt a little nervous about the question, but tried not to let it show. Like I was going to tell them that I worked at a bar and pulled late nights while a bunch of drunks stared down my shirt to ogle my goods only to drunkenly hit on me when I told them it was last call. Definitely not the kind of thing I needed to tell either of them.

  So I shrugged, acting casual as I took a seat on the other side of Danny. I noticed a third empty shot glass on the table. “Yeah, sure, my boss is pretty cool. He looks out for all of us and makes sure that no one gets out of line, though it’s really not necessary.” That was mostly the truth. Phil, my boss, was very insistent that we—the female wait and bartending staff—were treated like ladies, whether we were or not. He and the bouncer made sure that anyone who got out of line was promptly thrown out on their ass, and that usually kept everyone pretty decent. It didn’t mean that the place didn’t get a little rough and tumble sometimes, but mostly I felt pretty comfortable there.

  I didn’t think Danny and dad would share my feelings though, so I didn’t elaborate. Instead, I continued on to safer territory. “There’s this lounge down the street that I get to sing at sometimes on my day off, a real classy place that pays me fairly well to sing.”

  “That’s great!” dad told me, thrilled by the news. Singing was what I’d moved away for in the first place, chasing after ridiculous pipe dreams. “I’m so proud of you honey.”

  I tossed my honey blonde hair over my shoulder, smiling at him. “I’m not really making it, pops, not as a singer,” I told him, playing down my success in my need to be honest. But it did feel great to know I was, at least, getting the chance to sing sometimes. “I don’t have a following or anything and it isn’t like they request me.”

  “But you’re good enough that they don’t tell you no,” my dad told me.

  Danny came and took a seat beside me. I could feel the warmth of his body even with the distance between us and a panicked thought raced through my head; was he sitting too close? Was this okay? I ignored these thoughts, though, because they were so normal. I’d had them ever since Danny became a part of my life, though they’d grown with intensity as I grew older.

  He grabbed the bottle of bourbon, already a quarter or so empty, and poured me a shot into the empty third glass. Sliding it across the table to me, I caught it easily. “The good stuff,” I commented, raising the glass to him.

  Grinning at me, he winked and said, “Nothing but the best for my little sister.”

  I tried not to blush at his wink or flinch at his words. Hearing little sister from him always set me on edge. I told myself it was a feminist thing—being called little girl or little sister or little anything, especially involving my gender was just insulting, or something like that—but really, I knew that wasn’t it. I just hated being reminded of how he looked at me.

  Like I was still a little kid.

  “Guess this means you’re not having money troubles,” I commented.

  He laughed. “No. I can happily say that is not one of my problems. Why, did you need some money?” He said the last part seriously, his full lips pulling down into a frown, drawing my attention to them.

  It took me a moment, but I shook my head. “Um, no, of course not. I would have said something if I was really having problems.”

  Danny gave me a look that told me he didn’t really think that was true. “Really? ‘Cause the girl I remember was so stubborn that she wouldn’t take help from anyone, whether she needed it or not. You remember her, dad?”

  Dad pretended to think about it, tapping his forefinger on his chin like he was being exaggeratedly pensive. “Hm, you know, I do recall someone who had been a little like that. Whatever happened to her?”

  I rolled my eyes at the both of them. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m so very amused.”

  Danny grinned at me. “You were always so independent, couldn’t take anything from anyone.”

  He said it fondly which softened the blow of the intended insult. I didn’t take it personally anyway. I knew who I was, and they were right; I hated taking handouts from anyone, even my own family. And the truth of the matter was I was struggling. It wasn’t so bad that I was worried I wouldn’t make next month’s rent, but I definitely wasn’t rolling in the dough.

  My apartment, though a small loft, was grossly expensive. That’s just how it was in that part of the country, especially New York City. Not a lot of space and an awful lot of demand. So I got stuck in one of those high-rise apartment buildings crammed into a tiny loft that wouldn’t be fit for me and a pet, much less an additional person.

  But my job as a bartender paid better than any waitressing gig and I loved the stupid little apartment that was perfect for me and no one else.

  “All I’m saying is that I’m doing fine,” I told them, ignoring their jabs. “I may not be rolling in the money like Mr. Superstar over here,” I shoved at him playfully, “but I’m doing okay. I’m not going to be homeless or hungry anytime soon, so I’d say that’s not to shabby.”

  “You just make sure it stays that way, honey,” dad told me suddenly very serious. “And if you do get into a tight spot, I want you to come to me for help. My little girl isn’t going to get put out on the streets of the big bad city, not matter what’s going on.”

  I rolled my eyes again, but was grateful for the care and concern. It touched my heart that he loved me so much and I knew that I was lucky to have a family that cared so much.

  “Hey, me, too, you know,” Danny said next to me right after he downed a quick shot of bourbon. “If you’re ever in trouble, I’m just a call away. I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks,” I told them both, sincerely. “It means a lot to me.”

  I sipped at my shot of bourbon, the now familiar burn of it lighting a quick fire across my tongue and down my throat that fizzled out as it bloomed in my chest. The stuff was good, though I never cared much for bour
bon myself. I preferred vodka or a good tequila. Still, I appreciated it and the fact that Danny had brought it over.

  Warmth slipped over me and it wasn’t just the alcohol. It was the company and the quiet, content conversation between the two men I cared for most in this world. Danny was talking about football—I was glad that I was able to follow the conversation, grateful that dad had raised me to be such a sports fan—and dad was nodding along, laughing every now and then at something funny that had happened.

  I listened, content to just be there with them. We sipped bourbon until late in the night, long after the neighbor’s lights had been turned off and the kids across the block had been put to bed.

  After a while, dad finally let out a huge yawn. Shaking his head, he offered both Danny and me a tired smile. “I’m beat,” he admitted and it didn’t come as a surprise. I was pretty sure he’d been fighting it for close to the last hour, resisting the call of sleep. I got the feeling that he didn’t want tonight to end, at least partially because he didn’t want to deal with tomorrow. It was hard to blame him for that.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty late,” I told him, reaching over to pat his hand. “You should get some rest.”

  He nodded in agreement though he still seemed reluctant. “I know. You’re right.” Standing up from the table, he gave Danny a big hug, whispering something in his ear. Danny gripped him tightly, patting him on the back in that way that men do. Then dad came to me and embraced me tightly.

  “My little girl,” he murmured into my hair and I felt an ache in my heart. I’d missed him, though I was hardly a little girl anymore. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too, pops,” I told him.

  We broke apart and he said goodnight to both of us, heading up the stairs towards his bedroom. I tried not to think how large and lonely it had to feel to him now.

  “Poor guy,” I murmured, wishing that we were here together under better circumstances.

  “It helps to have you here,” Danny told me, reminding me that he was still in the room.

  I tore my gaze from the stairs and back to him, my eyes automatically looking over his handsome features, lingering on his dark eyes and his full lips. Swallowing harshly, I tugged my gaze free and went back to the half emptied shot glass on the table. I threw back the rest of it quickly, taking a steadying breath.

  My heart had begun to pump quickly, blood rushing against my eardrums. “Yeah, I know it’s really hard for him, but I’m glad I’m here to help him out.”

  “You’re helping me, too,” Danny said quietly and I had to look at him again. I saw that there was sadness in his dark eyes, but something else, too. Something dark and fiery that I’d seen before, but was never really able to understand. “It’s hard without you.”

  I bit my lip. What did that mean? Hard without me? I knew why it was important for my dad that I was here and I understood that Danny had lost his mom—I grieved her loss as a mother, too, but I knew it wasn’t the same—but somehow I didn’t think that was what he meant. He said it like… like it was hard on him long before his mother passed. Like my being here provided a different kind of relief, too.

  I didn’t know what he meant.

  “I’m so sorry, Danny,” I told him, not sure what else to say. “I really loved her.”

  He nodded, his eyes glassy though he didn’t cry. He never cried. “I know. She was glad to have you in our lives. I’m glad, too.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and I had to shove down the sudden heat that washed through me at the touch. It was just a friendly gesture of solidarity, from stepsibling to stepsibling in a time of grief, but somehow it was so much more to me, too.

  But it wasn’t to him.

  Stepping away from him quickly, I couldn’t look at his face as I said, “I think I should turn in, too. It’s… it’s been a long day.”

  I moved to head upstairs, but Danny’s voice stopped me. “Wait, Ash. I…”

  I looked back over my shoulder at him and when I saw his expression, I stopped in my tracks. For a moment, he looked completely and utterly vulnerable, like he needed something from me at that moment but had no idea how to ask for it, or maybe even what it was.

  Offering a small smile, I nodded. “One more drink?”

  He poured us both another one and we clinked our glasses together before downing it in a single gulp, the alcohol not even touching my tongue as it slid down my throat. Putting the glass back down on the table, Danny poured us each another. I had said only one more drink, but I didn’t object and began sipping at this next drink.

  “I don’t remember you being this good at swallowing,” he said to me and his voice was so low and suggestive that I nearly spit my drink out all over him.

  For a moment, I just stared at him, my eyes darting down to his full lips again which were curved up in a slow smile. His words seemed so abrupt, so out of the blue and… and I must have missed something, read into them too much because I knew he couldn’t be talking about… about…

  “You used to choke on shots, remember?” Danny continued and I felt like I could breathe again. Of course, he meant doing shots. “You used to take a tiny sip and make that scrunched up face at me like I’d just forced you to drink gasoline or something.”

  He laughed and I tried not to, but couldn’t help it.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve had a lot more practice now,” I told him with a raised eyebrow, my own voice dropping in tenor though I didn’t mean for it to. “My technique’s gotten better and I know how to let it… slide down my throat.”

  Danny paused at my words, his glass raised halfway to his mouth, which was now hanging open. I knew how my words sounded, how wrong they were given the circumstances, but maybe it was the alcohol that made me absolutely not care.

  “You don’t choke anymore?” he asked me pointedly.

  I shook my head slowly, folding my arms across the table and leaning forward, feeling the thin fabric of my shirt pull against my chest as I caught it along the edge of the table. “Nope. I take the whole thing in one swallow now. That’s how I like it.”

  He let out a shaky breath, then put the glass to his lips and threw it back. Swallowing it down, he fixed me with a hot stare. “You gonna show me how you like to do it?”

  My heart drummed hard against my ribs and I felt heat pool between my legs. I knew this was getting too weird, too wrong and that we should stop, but I couldn’t. I reached for the bottle, wrapping my hand around the very top of the neck and then slowly sliding my hand down further until I reached the thicker part of the glass. I saw Danny’s eyes follow the movement and watched as his jaw clenched.

  Dragging the bottle to me, I poured myself another shot. I lifted it to my lips. “It’s all about the tongue,” I told him, letting my tongue roll out between my lips before I tipped the shot glass back and downed the amber liquid.

  It didn’t even burn anymore. I knew that was a sign that I was on the fast track to drunk, but I didn’t care. Danny’s hot gaze on me was more intoxicating than any alcohol could be anyway.

  I put the glass back down and told him, “Should I do it again?”

  I saw Danny shift in his seat suddenly and cursed low under his breath. Abruptly, he pushed back from the table and shook his head. Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he said to me, “I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry. It’s late and I shouldn’t keep you up.”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he left the kitchen and I didn’t get a hug or anything. He just left me standing there watching him go until I heard the door shut and the car pull out of the driveway.

  With a grown, I let my head fall to the table. What was I doing?

  Shaking my head, I put the glasses in the sink, stowed the bourbon in one of the cabinets, and headed up the stairs. I was reeling a little from our strange conversation—and how I’d taken it—as I made my way towards my old room.

  I made my way down the hall, but paused at the door to Danny’s old room. How
many times had I caught that door open just a crack after Danny had snuck some girl up here? How many times had I watched him as he…?

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. Turning away from his door, I forced myself to walk the rest of the way to my room and closed the door behind me. It was definitely time to get some sleep. I stripped out of my clothes, down to just my panties, even tossing my bra off to the side. Digging around in my duffle for a sleep shirt, I realized that I hadn’t packed for night clothes.

  I usually slept in the nude now.

  That wouldn’t really be a good idea since I was staying with dad now, so I went to my closet to see if there was anything that still lingered that I could maybe still fit. Old shirts and a couple of dresses still hung up in the closet and when I opened one of the drawers I found some night clothes folded up neatly. I grabbed only a tank top—I just couldn’t do pants anymore, though I considered the little booty shorts for the morning if I needed them—and slipped it on.