On the Way to You

by Kandi Steiner

  I’d never blushed so furiously in my life, and I prayed he didn’t see it as a bright flash of light found us in the dark before quickly shading us again.

  “I was supposed to meet someone here, but…” I paused, unsure how to finish the sentence. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I was just heading back up for the night.”

  He shook his head. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter. And there’s not a chance in hell you’re leaving yet, not before you let me buy you a drink.”

  I sighed, looking at the exit longingly. It was my way out of here, out of this dress, out of my head.

  “Come on,” the guy pleaded, squeezing my hand in his. “Just one drink, and if you still want to leave when it’s gone, I’ll walk you to the door.”

  I looked up at him again, finding nothing but a genuine smile, a genuine guy who thought I was pretty and wanted to buy me a drink. And maybe it was the thousands of miles between me and the parents who made me not want to ever touch alcohol, or maybe it was the embarrassment I felt from Emery’s rejection, or maybe it was just not wanting to waste a dress I thought I’d never wear and makeup I knew I’d never know how to do again — but whatever the reason, I let out a long exhale, my worries riding it like a wave.

  For once, a drink seemed like exactly what I needed.

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  His grin doubled, eyes lighting up with my permission as he held my hand a little tighter, tugging me through the crowd again and back to the bar. When he found a space to squeeze in, we were pressed together, my chest hitting just under his as he placed a warm hand on my lower back.

  “I’m Trey,” he said, leaning in to yell over the music.

  “Cooper.”

  “What’s your drink of choice, Cooper?”

  I balked, glancing at the rows of bottles lining the shelves behind where the bartenders rushed around filling orders. I’d never had a drink in my entire life — how the hell was I to know what my drink of choice was?

  “Um…” I pulled a curl over my shoulder, twirling it in my fingers. “You know, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

  It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  I nodded. “I trust you.”

  “Famous last words.”

  I laughed at that, and he watched me a moment with that same sexy grin before knocking on the bar, grabbing the attention of the next bartender who whizzed by.

  “Two Manhattans, please. Bulleit. Oh,” he paused, eying me mischievously and holding my gaze as he finished the order. “And two Vegas Bombs.”

  The bartender nodded and got to work, pulling bottles from the shelf, her hands flying faster than I could watch.

  “You said one drink,” I reminded him.

  “Vegas Bomb is a shot, not a drink. And you also said you were having whatever I was.”

  His smile was infectious, and I mirrored it as I leaned in a little closer. “Sneaky.”

  Trey shrugged. “Or innovative, depending on how you look at it.”

  He slid me two shot glasses as soon as the bartender set them in front of him, the larger one filled with Red Bull and the other with two types of whiskey. When our Manhattans were made, Trey told the bartender what name the tab was under before turning to me with a devilish grin.

  “Drop the shot glass in the Red Bull, then chug. Ready?”

  Excitement swirled with fear low in my stomach as I laughed, shaking my head and lifting both of the glasses. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “One… two…”

  But before Trey could say three, a hand snatched the whiskey shot glass from mine, and Emery slid right between us.

  “Hey!” I squeaked, frowning as I tried to grab the glass back. Emery held the shot right out of my reach, his eyes hard on mine, those two lines creased between his brows, jaw set.

  “What the fuck, bro?” Trey stole the shot back, but Emery still didn’t move.

  “You don’t drink.”

  His entire body was pressed against mine, his breath hot on my lips as he stared down the bridge of his nose at me.

  “We’re in Vegas,” I reminded him.

  “So now you drink?”

  He was challenging me, his chest puffed out, fists clenched tight. Trey tried to move him out of the way again, but even though he was taller, Emery was solid. He didn’t budge.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What does it matter? Seemed like you had your hands full over there.” I nodded toward the other end of the bar where he’d been sitting before. “Maybe you should worry about whether or not she drinks instead of me.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about her.”

  “Oh,” I mocked. “And you give a fuck about me?”

  He blinked, as if my cursing surprised him, or the fact that I’d called him out. And since I’d finally shocked him silent, I reached around him, taking the shot glass from Trey’s hand. Then I leaned over the bar enough that I could see him behind Emery, raising my glass to his.

  “To Vegas.”

  Trey eyed Emery, a little pissed, a little confused as he tapped his glass to mine. Then as he took his, I stood straight again, my chest still touching Emery, and with my eyes hot on his, I dropped the shot in the Red Bull and chugged.

  All my senses were attacked violently in that next second, my eyes and throat burning in sync from the whiskey, but I didn’t cringe against the fire. I let it consume me, let it slide all the way down into my stomach as I wiped the corners of my mouth and stacked the empty glasses on the bar. Trey stepped around Emery, though we were still staring at each other, at least until Trey’s hand slipped between us with my Manhattan.

  “Wanna dance?”

  “Love to.” The words were like arrows lashing from my lips, and I aimed them straight at Emery as I snagged my clutch from the bar and tore my eyes from his, following Trey out to the dance floor.

  I chugged half of my drink before Trey stopped, pulling my body flush against his. I was completely at a loss for why anyone actually enjoyed drinking as another burn sliced its way through me. I shook my head, eyes squeezed shut, my hands holding tight to Trey’s arms for balance.

  “I take it that was the person you were supposed to meet?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, still fighting the roll of my stomach as I added more alcohol to it.

  Trey smirked, pulling me even closer, the hand not holding his drink sliding confidently down to my ass. “I think that’s our theme for the night.”

  “We should get tattoos.”

  He laughed at that, but then his eyes fell to my lips, and neither of us were laughing anymore. “I think I want to leave my mark on you in a different way tonight, Cooper.”

  I swallowed, my heart thumping against my rib cage like it wanted to flee, like it didn’t want to see what would happen next. Trey squeezed his hand, bunching my dress with it, and then our bodies were moving, his leg between mine as we rolled and dipped. I’d never danced before — not unless you counted the times I was alone in my bedroom with a fake microphone and Taylor Swift on the radio — and this was definitely not that kind of dancing.

  Sweat rimmed the roots of my hair the longer we moved, and I drained the rest of my drink, abandoning the empty glass on a nearby table as Trey followed suit. Then we had both hands to touch, to roam, to pull, to feel. Trey’s hands were enormous, his thumbs nearly touching above my navel as he gripped my waist, swaying me with him.

  The alcohol buzzed through me like a lightning storm, hitting me in flashes along with the laser lights streaming from the DJ above the dance floor. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of the music, the base, the hands, the night. Trey leaned in, his voice barely audible as he spoke over the music and told me he’d be right back, he was grabbing us another drink. I nodded, eyes still closed, my hands lifting above me once Trey wasn’t there to hold onto anymore.

  It was surreal, dancing in the middle of a crowded club in Las Vegas, the music vibrating through every vein as I moved in time with the rhythm. A week
ago, I was just a little girl in Mobile, Alabama, serving pancakes to the same people I had since I was sixteen. Now, I was a vixen, sexy and confident, wearing a dress that showed my most sensitive scar.

  And it was the last thing on my mind.

  Trey’s hands slid around my waist from behind and he pulled me back into him, his hips matching my rhythm as he molded himself to me again. His abs were hard against my back, and I arched into him, running my hands through my hair and pulling it all to one side to cool my neck. But when he ran his nose along the skin I’d just exposed before sucking my earlobe between his teeth, my eyes shot open.

  Because I knew then that it wasn’t Trey at all.

  “Emery.”

  I breathed his name like a curse, and his hands squeezed my hips in affirmation as he rocked against me from behind. My eyes fluttered shut again at the rush from his touch, my knees suddenly weak, and I leaned into him, letting him take my weight. His hands were everywhere — wrapping around to grab my own, fingers laced between mine before he dragged them up my ribs, under the wire frame of my bra, and then they were on a hot trail back down to my waist.

  My lips parted as he picked up our pace and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes still closed as he kissed along my neck. Every part of our bodies was sewn together, and his heart beat hard and steady through the fabric of his shirt, the bass to the quick, light beat of my own.

  Cracking my eyes open, I turned in his arms, staring at his chest. As soon as I lifted my eyes to his, I heard my name.

  “What the fuck, man?” Trey shoved Emery away from me, his fresh drinks crashing to the floor with the movement. “I thought she made it pretty clear at the bar that you needed to back off.”

  “She’s here with me, asshole,” Emery said, bowing up to Trey.

  “Oh, you’re the guy she was supposed to meet here, huh? The one who left her standing heartbroken on the floor when she first got here?”

  The color drained from Emery’s face, and his eyes flicked to mine, but Trey stepped even more between us.

  “Well, sorry bro, you fucked up, and now she’s with me. So take a walk.”

  Emery’s face screwed up, his hands shoving Trey back. “You fucking take a walk, bro.”

  Trey went to shove Emery again but I jumped between them, pressing my hands into his chest.

  “Stop! It’s fine, Emery was just leaving.”

  “Not without you, I’m not.”

  I spun, rushing toward him. “What is your deal? You’ve ignored me for the past three days, including an hour ago when you had another girl wrapped around you at the bar. Go find her and leave us alone.”

  “I. Don’t. Want. Her.” He stepped right back into me, into my space, his chest heaving. “And you don’t want him.”

  “You don’t know anything about what I want.”

  “I do,” he argued. “Which is exactly why I haven’t said a word since the night we kissed. Because I know what you want, Cooper, and I also know that I can’t fucking give it to you.”

  He pulled back, the heat from him leaving me in a rush as I watched him push through the crowd toward the exit. My heart beat loud in my ears, louder than the music, louder than the voice in my head that told me I was in deeper than I could swim. Trey grabbed my hand from behind but I ripped it away, and before it registered in my cloudy mind what I was doing, my feet carried me through the sea Emery had already parted.

  “Emery.”

  It was the seventeenth time I’d called his name, and he still hadn’t stopped. His strides were twice that of mine, but I pushed to keep up as we crossed the second floor of the casino toward the elevators.

  “Emery, just wait.”

  But he wouldn’t, and when he made it to the elevators, he punched the up button over and over until the doors to one finally opened. He rushed in, but I had already caught up, and I slipped inside with him before the doors could close.

  “Talk to me,” I said when we were finally alone, both of us winded as the elevator shot us up to our floor. His hair that was so perfectly styled before he left earlier was a mess again, like he’d had his hands in it all night, and his eyes were red and weary.

  “I’m sorry, you should just go back. Go have fun.”

  “You’re sorry,” I deadpanned. “Sorry for what, exactly? For giving me the best kiss of my life, for letting me open myself to you in that tent only to completely blow me off the next day?”

  “It was your first kiss.”

  “And?”

  Emery’s eyes met mine. “And you can’t say it’s your best if you have nothing to compare it to.”

  “Oh, so I should just jet back downstairs and make out with Trey, huh? Is that what you want?”

  He gritted his teeth, and I knew I’d struck a nerve, so I stepped into him.

  “You want me to, what, have more experience? Will that make you feel better about kissing me, about touching me? Do you need me to break under someone else’s hands so you don’t have to be the one to do it first?”

  The elevator doors opened again and Emery bolted off without an answer, but I was hot on his trail.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want the responsibility of being my first kiss.”

  Emery tapped the key against the reader on our door, shoving inside, the door already closing behind him as my hands caught it. He went straight into the bathroom and shut the door, so I beat my tiny fists on it.

  “Emery!” I screamed his name like it would somehow fix everything, like just saying it would force him to admit it. But when he didn’t answer, my forehead hit the door in defeat and I closed my eyes on a sigh. “Please, Emery. Please talk to me. You at least owe me that.”

  It was quiet a moment, but I could hear him breathing on the other side, and then the door flew open and my head lifted, eyes meeting his.

  “Yes.”

  We both cracked with the word, his nose flaring as he stepped toward me, but I was already moving back.

  “You’re right. I don’t want to be the one to break you.”

  “So don’t.”

  He shook his head as if I’d asked him not to breathe.

  “You want love. You want romance and fairytales and happy ever afters. You want I love yous and whispered promises and growing old together. And you know what? You deserve that. You do.” My back hit the wall, but he kept moving, advancing on me until we were just inches apart, his hands pressing into the wall around me. “I’m sorry I was selfish enough to kiss you the other night, because I can’t give you any of that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “Why does it have to be all that? Why can’t we be what you can give, what I can give. It can be casual. Why can’t we just try?”

  “Because I don’t do this,” he said, motioning between us. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the second I saw you, Cooper, and I figured I’d have your legs on my shoulders and your head hitting the wall that first night in New Orleans.”

  I swallowed, heat rushing from somewhere in my core up to my cheeks.

  “And I don’t say that out of disrespect,” he added quickly. “Because I realized almost immediately when you got in my car that you aren’t that kind of girl… You aren’t like any kind of girl I’ve ever met.”

  Some of his anger slipped away then, his eyes brighter, voice softer.

  “I also realized that none of the rules I’ve set in relationships before you would work anymore. Not with you. I can’t disconnect from you, and I can’t treat this like it’s casual because it’s not. You’re not. And I can’t—“ His voice broke, his eyes shutting tight as he shook his head before they popped back open again. “There are so many things I want to do to you, Cooper.” He said it quietly, like it hurt, like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “Things you’ve never experienced, but I can’t. Because you deserve more than that, more than what I can give you.” He pushed back off the wall, his eyes falling to the floor. “More than me.”

  Emery’s back was to me, one hand
covering his mouth as he looked out the window across our room.

  “But I want you,” I whispered, pressing my hands into the wall behind me. I used it for leverage to stand taller before crossing the space between us. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, my forehead burying into his back as he let out a pained sigh.

  “You don’t know me,” he countered, voice rough. “And if you did, you’d be running right now.”

  His journal entries flashed in my mind, and I shook my head against the warmth of his back. If only he knew.

  “How do you know that if you don’t give me the chance?”

  I moved around him, my hands sliding from his waist to hook behind his neck. I pulled him down into me, our eyes closing together, foreheads touching like they had the night of our first kiss.

  “Try, Emery. That’s all I’m asking. Let me in on the bad days, in here,” I said, tapping his temple before my fingers trailed down over his chest. “And maybe, in time, here, too.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  I swallowed, but then pulled back until he opened his eyes, faking my next sentiment as best I could and punctuating it with a shrug. “Then you better at least give me the best damn casual sex of my life.”

  He smirked, but the curve on his lips died quickly, his eyes igniting with a mixture of passion and warning. My fingers tangled behind his neck, and I took the last step, closing every inch of space between us as I looked up at him.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered. “And this time, don’t stop.”

  Emery blew out a breath, hands moving to frame my face. I closed my eyes as soon as his skin hit mine, mouth falling softly open, chin tilted up, waiting. His thumb brushed my jaw line before the pad of it skated across my bottom lip, and he groaned, making my eyes flutter open.

  His honey eyes were locked on my lips, his brows bent together as he shook his head like he was about to commit a crime that would put him away for life. He swallowed, catching my eyes for just a second before he caved, a guilty man accepting his punishment as his mouth fused with mine.