“Hey, Saylor. Come meet my husband, Josh. Our spawn seems to have forgotten his manners. Warning, he always makes it about him.” She smirks at me as she is pulling Saylor farther into the house. “I think it’s a trait he picked up from his father.”
“Don’t fill her head with lies. All his bad traits are from your side of the family, Sara.” My dad joins them and hugs Saylor as she tries to withdraw.
“Good thing for Mom, I don’t have any bad traits.” They both roll their eyes. “How was she?”
“Perfect as usual.” My dad grins and looks to the bassinet she’s asleep in.
“I don’t know why you had to get a sitter. I told you I’d keep her.”
I sigh. “I know. The drive back and forth is too much. Besides, we need a routine. It’s not like I hired a hot, young, co-ed to keep my daughter. I doubt my Sunday school teacher counts as a misfit. After all, you trusted me in her care.”
“That’s where we went wrong.” My mom smiles at my dad like she just found the seventh wonder of the world.
“You are hilarious.” I kiss her cheek as I pick up my daughter. She snuggles into my neck, and I sigh in contentment. I meet Saylor’s eyes, and she’s pulled back but still mesmerized with our dynamic.
“Can I come get her one day a week for a few hours?” I hate my mom thinks I’m punishing her.
“Yes. Anytime you want. Can you keep her overnight next weekend?”
“Yes. How about all weekend?”
“How about no. Just Saturday night.”
“You’re just mean,” she huffs at me. “Don’t come get her until Sunday afternoon. At least give me some time with her.”
“Because I keep her held hostage all the time. You see her as much as I do.”
“Lies.” She sticks her tongue at me.
“I’m sorry. You seem like such a sweet girl. Normal. Not like the ones he usually brings home. I don’t want to scare you off.” My dad is teasing Saylor, but I don’t want her to think I bring girls home often. Besides my friends and Adriane, nobody else has been important enough to meet my parents.
“Dad,” I warn.
“Lighten up. He’s so sensitive,” he says to Saylor. “He doesn’t bring girls home. If it weren’t for Julie, we’d think he was gay. Which is okay, we’d love him the same. But I think he’s lacking in other departments so he can’t keep a girl.”
“Oh my God,” Saylor chokes.
“Dear, that’s not giving yourself such a good reputation. He is your son,” my mom joins in, and watching Saylor turn five shades of red, I’ve never been so grateful for my parents.
“Hush your mouth, woman.”
“Okay. I’ve had enough. Say goodbye, children,” I tell both my parents and snake an arm around Saylor, pulling her towards the door. “Sorry,” I whisper.
She beams at me, “That was classic. Don’t be sorry.”
“You know they’re liars?” I wink at her.
“Of course. I happen to know you aren’t lacking in that department. Want me to defend your honor?” I groan.
“No thanks. I’ve had enough. Let’s go.” Her giggle warms my chest as I hold Julie tighter. Saylor has lifted up the seat so I can get Julie in her car seat, and I wink at her. “Thanks, Shortstop.”
“Anytime.” She winks back. I doubt she means that. I give her another hour before she shrinks back in the shell she wears like a badge of honor. I’m wearing her down, but I’m not that good.
That hour was generous. As we turn onto our street, she starts fidgeting. “Spill it.” I command of her.
On an exhale, she rushes. “I’m not sleeping with you again.” I fight hard to contain the laughter begging to bubble from my chest. She has no clue my plans for her.
“I’d rephrase that.”
Her eyebrows raise, “Excuse me?”
“Plain English. I said you need to rephrase that.”
“No, Deacon. I meant what I said.”
“You may mean you aren’t sleeping with me tonight, but there will be a repeat . . . many more sleepovers. I’m willing to wait for you to admit it, but the outright refusal you give me? That doesn’t work for me.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“Maybe so. I’m also realistic. I know what happened last night; you responded to me, and that’s a response I’m gonna work my ass off to get again . . . and again.” I put the Jeep in park and immediately work to get Julie as she sits there pondering what I’ve laid out.
She sighs and steps down from the Jeep. Before she gets across my yard, I call her. “Saylor, can you help me?” I don’t need help, but I do need her close before this night ends.
As she rounds the back of the Jeep, I put the car seat down and pull her close. My mouth descends on her before she can protest, my tongue sweeping against her lips and she allows me access. Our tongues swirl and mate for just a few moments. Pulling back too soon, I kiss her nose. “Thank you for tonight,” I whisper against her cheek.
She steps back and searches my face. I see the smile tugging her lips, begging to be released, but she’s fighting it. “Thank you.” She turns to head home, and I watch every step until she enters her house.
This is one battle that will take many wars . . . I plan to win every single one.
If I’m so sure a relationship . . . if Deacon . . . isn’t what I want why does every step from him feel as if my body is weighted? It felt unnatural. It felt wrong. My body fought the distance. I barely get the door shut, and Avery is in my face, “How’d it go?” I don’t answer, and her face falls. “Oh, Saylor.” She pulls me to her and leads me to the couch. Grabbing the tissues, she’s wiping my face, and I didn’t know I had tears falling. This is so chaotic. So hectic. It’s exactly what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to feel.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. She jumps from the couch and reappears with two spoons and a gallon of ice cream. I stare, dumbfounded. “It’s what we do. When one of us is miserable, we commiserate together with ice cream and bad movies. Occasionally we will bash the guy causing the pain, but it’s Deacon, and I love him. I can’t do that part.” I’ve missed out by not having these types of friends.
“You don’t need to bash. He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he did everything right.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Right now, I don’t either.”
“If you want to talk, I’m here.”
“I will as soon as I make sense of it.” I dip the spoon in the chocolate treat and begin to eat my emotions. “Where’s Lee Lee?”
“She was with Mason earlier, and her parents called.” Her nose scrunches.
“Why does she come home in a bad mood after visiting her parents?”
“Long story. We all have parents who are best friends. We’ve all grown up together. Lee Lee’s parents are different. Adriane’s were, too. Their fathers are still active military and very regimented. Lee Lee doesn’t get to pick the path her life is taking, so she rebels in other ways.”
“Mason?” She nods. “I don’t want them to get hurt.”
“It won’t come to that, Saylor. I promise. They both know what it is, and I think they both use it as a way to avoid commitment to other people. I don’t understand it, but it’s worked for them . . . this isn’t anything new.” Wow. I don’t get it. Sex with Deacon was something I hadn’t experienced before. I’ve had sex a couple times, but I felt him in the deepest parts of me, filling and completing me. It was more than getting off. Which is what he tried telling me . . . and I ran.
The week passed in a blur. I saw everyone on campus and at home. Deacon was coming by, but I wouldn’t allow myself to be alone with him. Our party is tonight, and he’ll be here. I tell myself I’m not curling my hair or taking time with my makeup for him—but that would make me a liar. I talked to my mom earlier and told her I wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. It isn’t a long enough break, and I don’t want to waste money on a flight. Jack, of course, offered to pay, but I d
eclined. I told them to take a trip; it is their first holiday as a married couple, and they deserve it. I know Avery will be here most of the time, so I figure the rest of them will follow suit. Lee Lee is traveling to see her family out of state, and she is none too pleased. Their hometown and college being twenty minutes apart helps them visit for the holiday and escape when needed.
The music starts and jolts me, not cute with a mascara wand in my hand. I fix my smudge, put down the makeup, and smooth my hand over my stomach in an attempt to calm the butterflies. I take a sip of the punch Lee Lee brought me to ‘pre-game,’ and my eyes water—that shit is potent. I dump half of it down the sink and head to the kitchen to add ice. I can nurse it all night and still keep my wits. I’ve been promised Alec won’t be attending any parties hosted by us, but I’m still edgy. There’s always another ass wipe lurking.
My eyes meet his; he’s watching my every move. I smile at him, and he takes that as an invitation to follow me in the kitchen. Shit. I scan the room looking for a distraction. “You look gorgeous, Saylor.” His words hit my ear as he’s bent down to whisper. I smell that damn cologne and his minty breath and have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.
Inhaling, I turn to him. “Thanks. You aren’t too shabby either, Mr. Douglas.” I wink trying to come across as cool and collected. I’m nowhere near the illusion I show.
His smirk tells me he reads me like a book—one he wrote. “Save me a dance.” He kisses my jaw and saunters off to his posse. I’m contemplating hiding in my room, but I know I won’t get away with it and that will cause a scene I’m not in the mood for. If he comes near me when I’m in the vicinity of a bed, I won’t be responsible for my actions and that will throw a monkey wrench into the friendship I’m trying to stick to.
The flirty looks, the overt eye-fucking, the slight brushing as we pass one another . . . it’s driving me fucking nuts. I’m ready to combust. I’ve drunk more than I planned, and I am feeling relaxed. Mingling and talking to people, I’ve seen at the parties but never interacted with. He stays close but keeps distance between us. Seeing Deacon in this element adds a layer to him that’s foreign to me. He lets his guard down . . . he’s a college freshman here, not Julie’s dad. However, he doesn’t let go like his counterparts. I think he’s nursed the same beer all night, but at least he has a carefree attitude I haven’t seen. He had to be lethal in high school—I’m sad I missed it but thankful because I’d be a Deacon Devotee. There are plenty of them around here waiting to get his attention, but his focus remains on me.
Mason and Lee Lee aren’t going to last much longer without finding a horizontal place to take their foreplay—half the people here are headed down the same course. I know this party is winding down. Part of me is ecstatic because I’m ready to revert back to my space, but I don’t want to say good night to Deacon. I feel hands slide around my hips, pulling me back, and as I’m starting to panic, “This is my dance,” vibrates from his chest directly to my pussy. ‘Whisper’ by Chase Rice is playing, and it’s sensual, sexy, and has me turning to wrap my arms behind his neck, pushing my hips into him, and the friction has me on the brink of coming, making me rub against him to ease this ache I’ve had all night.
His chuckle helps me regain some sanity, and I allow him to sway us, minus me mounting him. I swear he is magic because he casts a spell upon me each time I’m in the same vicinity as him, and it’s getting harder and harder to fight. “If you hadn’t downed drinks like you were dehydrated I’d invite you for a sleepover.” I lift my head to look at him and open my mouth to accept. No words escape because his lips have covered mine. His tongue has taken residence in my mouth, and the fire he creates in my body is making me insane. “Not tonight. The next time you’re in my bed, you will be willing and sober.” He backs me to my door and kisses me once more, owning me, possessing every molecule of air. All too soon, he opens my door and directs me inside. “Lock it when I leave. Goodnight, Saylor.”
What the hell just happened? He saved me from myself because I would have gone back to his house. I would have had my way with him. I would have begged him for his tongue on my body. He confuses the fuck out of me. Who does that? Deacon fucking Douglas is who.
September fades to October, and we’re setting up for an epic Halloween bash. Our costumes are fabulous and all Avery’s doing. We are going as Fire, Hot, and Mild Taco Bell sauces. Avery took two pillowcases for each color and created dresses with ties up the side.
Lee Lee is Fire, red with ‘Open quickly . . . I’m burning up in here!’ written across; Avery is Hot because I refused to wear orange. Her message ‘Why order a taco when you can ask it politely?’ I can’t help my laughter. My Mild in yellow has ‘Save a bun. Eat a taco.’ And I’m close to refusing to wear it. Besides the message, there is nothing to these flimsy ass costumes. As I’m shimmying in this thing, my eyes meet Avery’s ass . . . stamped with ‘Think outside the bun.’ I glance back, and it adorns all our asses.
We’ve all fallen into a pseudo-routine. During the week we go to class. The guys have practice and workouts. I have continued doing their laundry for extra cash. Maybe once or twice a week we all eat together minus Deacon. I understand why he doesn’t do the weekday thing, wanting to keep Julie’s schedule. We alternate hosting parties, but that has quieted down some—the guys are in the thick of their rigorous routine with workouts and practice, mix in classes and homework, and there isn’t a lot of time. But Sundays . . . we order take-out and just hang. We do this early each week to allow time for Julie’s night routine, but Deacon still doesn’t show. Week after week his absence is noticed. It’s harmless, and he could bring Julie, but he chooses not to. I know it’s weighing everyone down. With all the changes growing up and college bring, they didn’t expect growing apart to be a factor. It hits Mason the hardest. He doesn’t say anything, but he watches the door until eight every Sunday, and like clockwork, his mood turns sullen.
The nights Lee Lee and Avery work out, Deacon seeks me out. He catches me as I’m coming in from class or he’ll knock on the door. We don’t talk about what happened with us; he doesn’t push me for a repeat, but we watch Julie while she is in one of her baby activities and our conversations drift to the day we’ve had, upcoming plans . . . I listen to tales and stories of their childhood and give up very little when he asks me.
I know he’s coming tonight and they’ve been hush-hush about their costumes. Avery finishes the second braid in my hair, and I apply lip-gloss. Why they thought doing pigtail braids with these outfits was smart, I’ll never know. We look like schoolgirls gone bad. I can’t help feeling giddy, though. In all my eighteen years, I’ve never felt more alive. More free.
Journaling is an ongoing struggle. I can’t seem to write anything. My thoughts drift to Deacon as I hold the pen to the blank page and instead of writing my feelings down, I envision telling him. I get frustrated and throw the pen across the room, slam my journal closed, and allow the frustration to overtake me. I can’t talk to Avery about it, she’s #TeamDeacon all the way. Lee Lee and I don’t have that relationship. She’s still nice to me, but there is that imaginary line we don’t cross; it is more of a barrier on her side, and I respect it. Her frequent trips home have her edgy and grumpy, so I give her wide berth. I know what Mason’s advice would be . . . fuck his brains out. Caden is my silent observer. He’s a nut I can’t crack but presents himself as an open book . . . he has his friends fooled.
The three of us walk from my room and catcalls and whistles ensue. I’m blushing, and Avery is rolling her eyes. Lee Lee is strutting. The center of attention is one place she is happy. The crowd parts, and I see them. Deacon, Mason, and Caden . . . dressed as Starbucks drinks. I can’t help the laughter percolating in my chest. Mason hollers, “Bitches love Starbucks.” I wipe the tears and shake my head.
“Bitches also don’t like being referred to as bitches.” I roll my eyes at him, and it’s like they’ve seen us for the first time. Their jaws drop, Mason starts leering, Cad
en is perusing us, and Deacon grabs a throw off the back of a chair and covers me. I push it off and warn him with my eyes. He reaches for me and tugs a braid.
My scalp tingles, and my stomach flutters. “Damn, Shortstop. I don’t think I’d refer to you as mild.” He winks and tries covering me again while I’m distracted.
Time for a diversion. “I’m not drinking tonight.” I wink at him and saunter past him, making sure to sway my ass just enough to keep his attention. I hear his groan from fifteen feet away and can’t stop the grin.
I play hostess. I don’t drink a drop, and I feel his eyes tracking my every step. As soon as I get a break, I make a beeline towards him. “Hey, got a minute?”
“From your statement earlier, I’m hoping to have all night.” I smile at him. My mind still isn’t made up.
“Why don’t you come for Sunday dinners?” His eyes widen, and I can see he’s taken aback.
“I don’t want to be a buzz kill.”
“Bullshit. We’ve told you we don’t drink, get wild, or anything Julie can’t be a part of. We eat dinner and catch up. Your friends miss you.”
He shrugs. “I feel like they resent Julie.”
“Maybe . . . but not for the reasons you think. You use her as a shield. You don’t let them get close to her.”
“She’s the most important thing to me, Saylor.”
“And in turn they love her. They just miss you.”
“Really?” He looks shocked.
I roll my eyes. “For lifelong friendships, y’all suck at communication.”
“Yeah, and you’re fucking Chatty Cathy. This is the first time any of us have been in this situation.”
“True. I think they’re afraid to push because they don’t want to lose you all together. Mason looks at the door for hours every Sunday. He talks about Julie, asking me what new milestones she’s hit. Avery and Lee Lee ask me to snap pictures on my phone all the time. Caden just goes with the flow, but he’s bothered. They feel like you replaced them with Julie and now me. You’re making your friends feel like they’re on the outside looking in, watching your life, but they aren’t allowed to participate.”
Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) Page 7
