by Mariah Dietz
22
Chloe
“For the love of Christ, will you roll up your window?” Vanessa growls from the back seat.
I smile, too tired to object. Exhaustion and pleasure have me too sated and content to argue. Tyler woke me up in the middle of the night with his head between my legs and then took me while I laid on my side with a dizzying orgasm that made me lose feeling in my toes, my body was tingling so badly. Then, he joined me in the shower where I took him in my mouth, drunk on the power I felt as he groaned my name. He didn’t finish in my mouth though, insisting on carrying out his promise to bend me over in front of the window. I blush, recalling the scene and what it would have looked like to anyone if they’d been able to see—me bracing myself on the window as he spread me and entered me from behind. If they could have heard me as I begged him not to stop … seen the rhythm as our hips moved perfectly in sync with each other until we spiraled and exploded together… “We’re in California. The windows are supposed to be down,” I remind her.
“I swear…” she starts.
Tyler laughs, reaching across the space and running his hand over my thigh. There’s something so addictive about seeing his hands on me, so completely distracting that I forget why and if I even care about the window being open and roll it up.
I trace his fingers with mine, smiling as the desert passes us, the sky a bright and welcoming shade of blue. I lean back and close my eyes, and when his pinky locks with mine, I fall asleep.
“Chloe,” Nessie calls my name, her voice impatient again.
I open my eyes and discover a black sweatshirt spread over my lap that hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep. Tyler’s light blue eyes are muted with annoyance, his lips set in a thin line.
“Sorry,” I say, sitting up, shivering as the cold air from the vent blows on me.
Ty shakes his head.
“We’re trying to decide if we should stop for lunch or just eat when we get there.” Vanessa’s tone is factual and tight, proof that she’s upset about something.
I lean forward, attempting to clear the fog from my thoughts. “Um…” I glance around. “How far are we from San Diego?”
“Three hours,” she replies instantly.
I nod, hearing the request in her irritated tone. “Sure. Let’s stop. Stretch our legs.”
“We’ve gone seven straight hours in the car. It’s only been two,” Cooper argues.
“I could use some coffee,” I tell him.
I glance at Ty again, attempting to gather the pieces from what I missed while I dozed off. Everyone seems annoyed, the air tense. Ty’s knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so tight.
“I’ll see what’s nearby.” I reach for my phone and quickly locate a few options that I list off, only to hear silence in response. “Why don’t we try this taco place?” I suggest. “They have really good reviews, and the pictures look amazing. I am all over this,” I say, flipping through to their menu. “They even have fish tacos for you, Coop.”
“See!” Nessie yells.
I grip the seat and twist around to finally see them. “See what? We don’t have to stop for tacos. There’s a burger joint and a fish place and…” I reach for my phone to look at the list of restaurants again.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nessie says, turning to look out her window.
“What’s the deal?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Cooper snaps.
I glance back at Ty, who slowly shakes his head like he’s equally annoyed. “They’ve been bickering since you fell asleep.”
“We haven’t been bickering,” Nessie says, her tone coated with a heavy dose of defiance.
“Fun,” I say. “I was dreaming about surfing. Which is kind of strange because I’ve never been surfing and I’m not sure I’d like to. It seems like a lot of work, and there’s something kind of freaky to me that we know more about space than we do our oceans. Like, what’s below you while you’re surfing, you know?”
“Not now, Chloe,” Cooper says.
“Did you forget something at the hotel again?” I ask, turning my attention to him. “It wasn’t your phone this time, was it?”
“He called me Chloe,” Nessie admits.
“Gross. You weren’t naked, right?”
“God! No!” Nessie cries as Cooper rubs his hand over his face, shaking his head.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is you guys still have this connection, and sometimes I feel like I’m an interloper on the Chloe and Cooper show.”
I think about this morning, how Tyler had to take a call with his dad, and how Cooper and I had sat at breakfast, laughing about football and school and how much we were both looking forward to seeing San Francisco for the first time after our upcoming couple of nights in San Diego.
I glance at Ty again, concerned about his feelings in regard to the situation. His eyes remain on the road, making it difficult for me to understand what he’s thinking.
“Ness, you know it’s not like that. Cooper and I—”
“Are best friends. I know,” Nessie cuts me off.
“Ness,” I try again, softening my voice. I select the taco shop and make it so my phone dictates directions to the restaurant. I sit back in my seat, working on sorting through the disarray of emotions that are raining down on me, questions and doubts about if I’ve overstepped my boundaries as a friend when their relationship is brand new and still in that honeymoon phase where both are obsessed with each other. Everything feels so fragile about each of our relationships; concerns about getting in the way of Ty and Cooper’s relationship, not meddling with Cooper and Nessie’s relationship, spending less time with both so they have enough time together, while also trying not to take all of Tyler’s time as he searches for a balance with work and not trying to come off as too much, too soon because our relationship feels both brand new and yet our familiarity keeps creating a false sense of ripeness. It reminds me of standing outside in July while eating an ice cream cone, and each side is starting to melt, and I’m trying to catch each drip.
The moment Tyler pulls into the taco restaurant, Nessie hops out of the car.
Cooper sighs loudly. “It wasn’t…”
“You should talk to her,” I say, though my hand itches to grab the door handle. “She needs your assurance,” I follow up, though I want to give her mine because this is how it’s always been. We’re there for each other and repair the walls when they start to fall.
“She’s pissed at me,” he points out.
I nod. “You called her by another girl’s name, Coop. Any girl would be upset and feeling self-conscious.”
“But I didn’t call her any girl’s name. I called her your name, and it was because we were talking about what to do in San Diego tomorrow, and usually it’s you who’s talking about plans.”
I twist in my seat to face him, my unease growing by the second because I can feel Nessie’s duress, and not responding to it makes me physically and emotionally uncomfortable as I attempt to remain patient and allow Cooper to go, knowing this is the role he’s wanted for so long and the one she wants him to fill. “Coop, you have one minute to decide. You know Nessie. You know she’s sensitive and impulsive and jealous. You take the bad with the good. If you want her best, you have to accept her worst as well.”
He looks at me, recognition dawning in his expression. He doesn’t say anything before releasing his seat belt and quickly hopping out of the car, jogging toward the restaurant.
I lean against my seat, feeling like a part of my heart has just left my body as I watch through the large picture window of the restaurant as Coop bows his head, leaning his forehead against hers.
Tyler reaches across the space, setting his hand on my thigh again. “I might need to be present each time you give Coop advice because you’re pretty good at that.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “It’s weird,” I admit. “It feels like I’m trusting someone else to do one of my most impor
tant roles in life, and even though it’s Cooper and I know this is right and needs to happen, I just feel so…” I can’t fill in the blank because the list is seemingly endless. “I know it’s right. I know he wants to be this person for her and that he deserves to be, and so does she.” I turn my attention to Tyler, combing through my hair with my fingers. “Does my relationship with Cooper bother you?”
He blinks several times, like the question has caught him off guard. He shakes his head. “I mean, I’m sure I’ll feel a little like Vanessa did at times, but sometimes I’ll probably feel that way with her as well. They both know you so well. Last night, I could tell something was off when I saw you, but it was Cooper who registered that something was wrong. He saw you and,” he snaps his fingers, “he instantly knew there was a problem. One look—that’s all he needed. You guys share a powerful bond, and sometimes it seems like more than just friendship.”
“It is,” I tell him. “Cooper’s family. He’s like a brother to me. My biggest fear as a teenager was that Nessie and Coop would want to attend different colleges because I had no idea how I’d choose. And then he met you, and I was insanely jealous.”
Tyler’s eyes grow wide with surprise.
I nod. “Cooper’s never had another best friend. It was always me, and then he started canceling plans with me so you guys could get in more gym time and inviting me to hang out with you guys rather than vice versa, and I was crazy jealous. I think that largely contributed to why I wanted to hate you so much at first.”
He smiles, his hand at my thigh constricting. “Cooper would pull the moon out of the sky for you if you asked.”
“I know he’ll always be there for me, but things have changed. With you and him, and him and Nessie.”
“And you and me,” he adds.
I glance at him, the heaviness in my heart lightening as his blue eyes anchor me, filling me with a hope I’ve been fighting since he first kissed me. He moves his hand from my thigh to my jaw. “You scared the shit out of me our freshman year. You still do.”
I try to accept his compliment gracefully but feel the lines of confusion creasing my forehead.
“People usually always ask for favors, try to become my new best friend or girlfriend because they look at me and see opportunities and money. You’ve never asked me for anything.”
“You know I still don’t want anything, right? I don’t like you because you can buy me expensive tickets and trips to the spa. I’d be fine if we were staying in Motel 6’s and eating Burger King each night. It’s never been about what you can buy—it’s about what you do, how you make me feel.”
Tyler’s eyes flash with humor and warmth as he smiles.
“I don’t want you to feel jealous of Cooper or anyone.”
His fingers slide higher, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, making my heart accelerate as I lean closer, wanting him to kiss me so badly it’s difficult to breathe. “When we get back to Brighton, I’m worried you’ll see the ugly side of being with me. Rumors and arseholes trying to play head games and bullshit. I saw it this spring with Lincoln and his girlfriend. It was like as soon as he started dating her, every girl worked harder to gain his attention and make her jealous, and she became the guy every bloke wanted to date. That’s going to be you now, too.”
Hope is invading nearly all of doubt’s place as his words struggle to infiltrate my thoughts.
“I just need to know you’re going to be okay and that at the end of every night, you know that it’s you I’m going to be reaching for and wanting.”
This conversation seems so big and also clunky as we omit a dozen words and what they each represent. Still, I nod. “This doesn’t exclude morning sex as well, right? Because I thought you were enjoying our time in the shower this morning,” I tease, desperate to infuse some humor into the conversation because I’m afraid I’ll be the first to knock over this stack of carefully laid words and insinuations.
His eyes darken, and he tips his head back, emitting a low growl. “That was so fucking hot.” He looks at me, a conflict in his eyes as his desire tangles into our conversation. He glances at the clock, then reaches for his crotch, adjusting himself. “We should get something to eat because when we get to San Diego, we’re not leaving the hotel until morning. I plan to defile you in front of every window and mirror in the suite.”
I lean closer, and so does he, our lips hard and nearly punishing as we work to express our desires with only a kiss.
We step into the small restaurant, and I’m instantly famished as the scents of fresh tortillas and spiced meats and cilantro greet us. “I want it all,” I say.
Ty chuckles, his hand back on my hip, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite places for his touch. I love the way he mindlessly traces my hip bone and reminds me of him gripping me when he moves inside of me. “You liked that chimichanga in Texas. Do you want to try that again? Or the street tacos? Or both?”
“Chimichanga,” I say, realizing how Nessie might be right about how much he knows about me and reveling in the fact.
I turn around, wondering if we should grab a separate table when Nessie waves an arm at me, moving her purse off the table that’s meant for four.
“Go,” Ty says softly. “I’ll order.”
Hesitation lingers in my thoughts, keeping me in place.
“I’m glad you have them, and I know how important they are to you. I knew that from the beginning. I won’t interfere with that. Their connections with you only make me want to work harder to be the person you would get lost in the desert with or punch someone in the face for. I don’t want to replace them—I can’t replace them—I want to cut out my own place in your heart that is just us—just me.”
I kiss him because words aren’t sufficient or adequate for how he makes me feel.
23
Tyler
I glance at the clock and sigh, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension as I reach for my phone to text Chloe.
Me: I’m sorry. This is taking much longer than I’d hoped.
Chloe: It’s totally okay. I understand.
I start a dozen responses, wondering if Cooper or Vanessa is with her and trying not to sound like a possessive dick with the questions that linger as the time stretches.
Jim, the GM for this hotel, sits down with a filled cup of coffee, his intention to sit here for several more hours clear as he takes a seat, each of his moves unhurried.
“You know, what you’ve sent me is a great start. Why don’t you take some time to consider the questions I’ve asked you and compile some quotes for those projects you mentioned and we can discuss them further.” Jim would try and squeeze blood from a fucking turnip, I’ve realized. We’ve spent most of the afternoon with him asking for things he doesn’t need simply to increase his budget because he’s got this false sense that if he doesn’t get it now when he doesn’t need it, he might not when he does.
“I want to discuss some line items in the budget,” I continue, opening the spreadsheet I’d marked up last night while Chloe slept, her back exposed as the sheets pooled at her waist. We’d had sex with her sitting on the bathroom counter and then with her bending over the counter, allowing me an amazing view of her breasts as I thrust inside of her. I recall the curve of her back and shoulders, the pleasure that had her moaning my name. How we’d sat on the bed in our underwear, feasting on room service while I told her about the first time my Uncle Kip got me drunk when I was fourteen and how I refused to drink again until freshman year at Brighton. I can still smell her skin as I crawled over her last night and woke her up by tracing over her nipples with my tongue until they peaked—so reactive and sensitive to every touch. We ordered room service at three in the morning, and I listened to her explain how our galaxy was the shape of a fried egg and how each galaxy has its own story, potentially formed in different ways, all of which are largely debated. She listened to my questions that seemed rudimentary in comparison to the concepts she was sharing with me, patiently
explaining more information that only created more questions, and with each one I asked, her eyes seemed to burn a bit brighter with an energy and appreciation as she shared this part of her life that I’ve always known meant a great deal. It was fucking beautiful.
“Sure,” Jim says, visibly annoyed by my change in the conversation. “Which items were you curious about?”
“The concierge lounge. I like this idea, and I’m curious where it’s going and what it will offer guests?”
His brow furrows. “Lounge?”
I nod, spinning my laptop to face him. “It appears there’s been a budget for food, construction, alcohol, staff…”
He looks across the details and figures and shakes his head. “You must have the wrong information. Is this for San Francisco? Hawaii? This sounds like something Hawaii would implement.”
I open my file to provide the hard copy I’d printed yesterday before leaving Vegas. “Unless the accountant made a mistake, this is what I received.” I slide the stack of papers to him.
He shakes his head. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Avery. Maybe he was planning something?” He looks at me, his confusion falling. “Have you spoken to your father? He probably knows what this is.” He’s smug, the cocky son of a bitch. His large salary and power over several hundred employees provide him the false sense of bravado that has me itching to flex my power over him.
I shake my head, knowing he’s not worth it. He might be an annoying little shit, but he has good numbers, and his staff likes him. His issue seems to be with me alone; likely my age or possibly the nepotism, unaware that I grew up learning the ins and outs of the Banks Hotel chain. “I’ll be certain to ask him because I can’t imagine his surprise at finding five million dollars unaccounted for.” I start to gather the papers, but he reaches for them.
