by Staci Hart
“Promise?” Her voice was full of hurt and hope.
“Promise.”
She let out another breath. “If you could move to New York, then so can I. Though I honestly don’t know how you did it alone. At least I’ve got you, Rose, and Lily.”
I twiddled my pen in my hand and shook my head. “I lived on campus, and Cooper was my roommate, so I wasn’t alone, not really. Coop’s lived here his whole life and has got to be the best and worst guide to the city that anybody could have. He’d take me to a little-known art gallery and a members-only strip joint in the same afternoon.”
She snorted. “Ugh.”
I smirked. “I had help, and so will you.”
“Thanks.” I thought she might have been smiling on the other end of the line. “I’ve gotta get outta here, but it’s terrifying, you know?”
“I know. New York’s going to be good to you.”
“Thanks. I was looking at this old room and all these suitcases and … I just needed a little reassurance, that’s all. All better.”
“Glad I could help, kiddo.”
“All right. Well, this stuff isn’t going to pack itself. Thanks again, West. Talk to you later.”
“Good luck, Mags.”
I set my phone back on the desk and sighed, worrying over Maggie, rubbing my beard. Getting her out of Jackson had been my idea. I just wanted her to find a way to move forward, leave her hurt where it belonged, and it hadn’t taken much convincing on either side. Lily had offered to share a room with her without thinking twice, and Maggie jumped at the chance.
I sighed and looked back at the essay that mocked me from my desktop. The thought of picking it back up made me twitchy, so I stood and stretched, popping my back, ready for a proper break.
I pulled open my bedroom door and made my way through the living room looking for my roommate. The apartment I shared with Patrick Evans was a pretty typical bachelor pad — mismatched furniture, minimalist style, with books and art everywhere. I collected books like some guys collected phone numbers, and Patrick was always working on something. His room was basically an art studio with a bed in it. Mine was a library.
Patrick stood in the kitchen, pulling on his leather jacket. The light caught on his black hair, which was combed back, sides shaved short. His tattooed arms disappeared into his jacket one at at time, tattooed fingers appearing out of the ends of the sleeves, and he adjusted his collar to get it straight. More ink climbed out of the neck of his black-and-white striped T-shirt and up to his jaw, which had the line of a movie star. In fact, just about all of Patrick looked like a movie star.
He was an artist — primarily a tattoo artist, so good at what he did that people waited months for him to make his mark on their bodies. He’d done all of mine, including my sleeve, and had done pieces for Rose, too. Even Lily had one, though hers was on her ribs, where it could be easily hidden — a vine with a watercolor lily and rose. Rose had one to match.
“’Sup, man.” Patrick jerked his chin at me with a half-smile. “Finish grading your papers?”
I shook my head. “Not even close, but I couldn’t do it anymore. Where you headed?”
“Habits.”
“Ah,” I added knowingly. “Rosie workin’?”
He scowled. “How should I know?”
“So, yes?”
Patrick turned to pick up his keys, avoiding my eyes. “Pretty sure.”
I glanced at the clock, but it didn’t really matter what time it was because there was no way I was going back to those papers for at least an hour. “Want some company?”
He looked over and shot me a crafty smile. “Nobody likes to drink alone.”
I grabbed my own jacket and shrugged it on. “Isn’t that the God’s honest truth?”
2
THIS GUY
Lily
I TROTTED UP THE SUBWAY steps at the 86th St. station with my bag bumping against my ass and my lips stretched into a smile. I had doodled Blane’s name on my binder in high school. Named our imaginary children. Lay in bed, staring at the springs of the mattress in the bunk above me, imagining what it would be like to kiss him.
Now I knew what his dick looked like.
Crazy!
The guy walking in front of me gave me a look over his shoulder, and I realized I’d said it out loud. I blushed and tossed my hand in a wave. He just rolled his eyes and trucked on.
I caught sight of the black awning across Broadway with the word HABITS printed in slender white letters. To say I was a regular at the bar would be an understatement. My roommate, Rose, was a bartender there, and since Habits was on the same block as our apartment, our group of friends always seemed to end up there. The food was good, the drinks were cheap by New York standards, and the vibe seemed to be just right — chill when you wanted to chill, rowdy when you wanted to party.
Rose and I met when I responded to a Craigslist ad during my apprenticeship. Her roommate skipped on her, went back to Los Angeles where they were from without any notice, just a note and an empty apartment. She took everything with her, even the fridge magnets. Normally, I’m not the type to find a roommate on Craigslist, but I was armed with mace and adrenaline, and my mom was scheduled to call the cops if I didn’t check in within an hour. Plus, her ad was hilarious. Nocturnal lady bartender seeks clean, quiet roommate. Must love whiskey. Vaginas only. Penis denied on entry. When I learned her name, I made a joke about lady parts and flower power, and the rest was history.
I pulled the brass handle of the heavy wooden door, catching sight of Rose through the inset window. She stood behind the bar, the wood so dark it was nearly black, with shelf after shelf of liquor bottles behind her. The planked floor was worn, and the walls were white subway tile all the way up to the exposed beams and pipes on the ceiling. Rose glanced over at me and waved, brown eyes twinkling, framed by shaggy bangs, long black hair braided over one shoulder.
I bounded over and leaned on the glossy wooden surface.
“Hey, Lil. You all right?” She smiled crooked as she looked me over.
I grinned. “Nope. Blane asked me to rehearse with him tonight.”
Her eyebrow arched. “On your one day off for the week?”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded. “And then I fucked him.”
A shocked laugh ripped out of Rose, and I giggled until my cheeks hurt.
“Jesus, Lily,” Rose said once she’d calmed down. “No wonder you look like you just found a million dollar bill. So how was it? Hot?”
My nose wrinkled up. “I’m sure next time will be better. The first time’s always weird, you know?”
“No, I don’t.”
I threw a cocktail napkin at her smart mouth. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
“So, what are you guys? Like, are you just fuck buddies? Or are you guys going to see each other?” Rose poured me a glass of water.
“I don’t know what it means, honestly. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but I won’t pretend like there’s not a part of me that wants this to be the beginning of something epic. He’s my actual dream guy. It’s like if Ryan Gosling showed up at your door dressed like Noah from The Notebook, bearing flowers and whiskey. You’d be stupid not to take that bike for a ride.”
“Agree, because there is no one like Noah. He cannot be topped. I’d ride that bike to New Zealand.” Rose handed me the water. “So tell me about this ‘weird’ first time.”
If it were anyone else, I would have bullshitted, glorified it. But Rose would get all the sordid details. Okay, maybe not all, but I’d at least give her the gist. “He just wasn’t very … attentive.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you get off?”
I hesitated with her looking at me like that. “No.”
“Ugh, Lily.”
I huffed and rushed to explain. “Well, we were kind of in a hurry.”
“Why?”
My mouth opened and closed again. “I don’t know why, but I’m not questioning it. Plus, how can anyone perfor
m full-on body worship on a studio dance floor?”
She was still judging me. “I feel like that’s entirely possible.”
I ignored her. No way was she bringing me down. “It was hot — for real. I was hanging onto the barre while he jackhammered me.”
A laugh burst out of her. “Oh, my god.”
“What?” I asked innocently. “That’s pretty much what it was like. I was just so psyched that it was even happening that I couldn’t concentrate.”
“Do you usually have to concentrate when you have sex?”
“Rose, you’re missing the point! It seriously doesn’t matter if it was good or bad because I banged Blane Baker!” I squealed. I actually squealed, and Rose did too, party pooper or not.
A deep voice with what I knew to be a Mississippi accent boomed from behind me. “What are you two giggling about?”
My cheeks were instantly on fire as I turned to find West behind me, smiling crookedly from behind his dark beard, bright, blue eyes twinkling. I looked up at him with my mind tripping to change gears into a conversation with my other best friend. The one who I didn’t generally enlighten on the literal ins and outs of my sex life.
Rose kept laughing, a loud, bawdy laugh at my discomfort. I leaned back on the bar, red-cheeked and stammering. “I … Ah, hey, West. What’s happenin’?”
Rose laughed even harder.
But West just chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked an errant strand of dark hair behind his ear and took a seat next to me. “Nice try, Twinkle Toes.”
I took the window to change the subject. “Whatever, Man-bun. Did you chop any trees down today, LumberWest?” I grabbed his messy, dark top knot and wiggled it.
He shrugged. “Couldn’t. Left my flannel at home.”
I chuckled. “Aw, well, there’s always tomorrow.” I slapped him on the shoulder and smiled at Patrick as he pulled off his jacket and sat next to West. “Hey, Tricky.”
He rested his tattooed arms on the bar with the quiet smile he wore when he wasn’t brooding. “Hey, Lil. Hey, Rose.”
“Hey, Tricky.” Rose smiled politely and leaned on the bar. “What are we drinking, fellas? Whiskey or beer?”
West shook his head. “Beer tonight. I have papers to grade and class first thing.”
“Whiskey,” Patrick answered with his eyes on her like laser beams. I didn’t know how she could handle it, especially not since they used to date. Don’t get me wrong — I was more than happy they got along. Rose did everything she could to pretend not to care about him, the number one tool in her arsenal being distance, and as much as possible. But Patrick had this … look that made it seem like a lost cause. It was a look that said he’d fuck you up in the best way — the way that would have you begging for more. Legitimate fuck-me eyes. He wasn’t even trying, either, just had a bad case of Resting Smolder Face.
Somehow it didn’t affect Rose, just seemed to wash over her. I think he turned up the intensity just for her because the charge between them affected me just by proximity.
Rose poured drinks, and I took the seat next to West.
He eyed me, smiling before taking a sip of his beer as soon as Rose handed it over. “What’s up with you today?” There was a little foam in his mustache.
“You got a little something right there.” I grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the foam off before stuffing it in his mouth. “And nothing’s up with me, Weston.”
Rose snickered, and West spit out the napkin and stuck the wet part in my ear. I squealed, angling away from him, and bumped into the guy next to me. “Sorry,” I smiled, but he just eyeballed me before turning back to his friends.
“Sure doesn’t seem like nothin’,” West smirked.
But Rose’s smirk was even worse. “Lily had a date tonight.”
I’d like everyone to meet Rose, the traitor.
I gave her a look that said I knew what scared her and where she slept. “It wasn’t a date.”
West assessed me with his eyebrow jacked. “The lady doth protest too much.”
“Ugh, West.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get all hoity-toity Shakespearean Lit on me now, buddy. It wasn’t a date. We just rehearsed.”
Rose leaned on the bar. “Alone.”
“Sounds serious.” West took another sip of his beer, laughing at me with his stupid eyes.
I swept a finger across them. “You guys are all assholes.”
Patrick leaned forward with his brows up. “All of us?”
I forgave him, even though he was clearly mocking me on the inside. “Nah, you’re all right, Tricky.” I took another swig of my water and set it down. “I’ve got to be up at five, so you kids have fun.”
“Night, Lily,” Rose said sweetly.
I slid off my stool and grabbed my bag. “Nu-uh. Don’t you ‘Night, Lily’ me. I might not be the only one getting up at five.”
“I will cut you.”
I leaned across the bar to kiss her on the cheek. “Sharpen that shiv, my friend. See you guys,” I called over my shoulder as I left, swinging my hips like I could pretty much take over the world.
West
I watched Lily walk out the door of the bar, blond hair in the tight bun she always wore to rehearsal, hips swaying like a pendulum in leggings, bare shoulder peeking out of an oversized sweater. I’d never seen her giddy over a man before, all blushing and nervous. Her not-date had her worked up, that was for sure, and my curiosity was piqued.
I jerked a chin at Rose. “So who’s the guy?”
Rose sighed and shook her head. “Blane Baker.” She said his name as if I should know who he was.
I gave her a look and shrugged.
“She’s had a crush on him since her second day of high school, and now he’s been partnered with her. But the real trigger point is that he’s recently single. And apparently into her.”
My eyes narrowed. “She’s never mentioned him before.”
“Yeah, well,” she scoffed, “most girls don’t walk around talking about their high school crushes, do they?”
“Most girls don’t, but I just figured Lily wasn’t interested in anybody.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you tell her all about your conquests?”
My face screwed up at the suggestion. “No, but that’s different.”
She smiled a smile that told me she had my number. “Oh, is it?”
“It is. She knows I date. But Lily never dates, not ever.”
“That’s not true, West. She’s not a robot. She goes on dates. She just doesn’t get serious with anyone.”
“Well, that’s what I mean,” I blustered. “It’s never been anyone worth her mentioning to us. She’s always said she’s focused on her career and all that. So what makes this guy special?”
“To be fair, she didn’t mention him to us. I mentioned him to us.”
My face went flat. “You know what I mean, Rose. She’s never been like that over a guy before.” I gestured toward the door.
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know what it is about him, outside of the crush. You know how that can be — when you care about somebody, but they don’t seem to know you exist. And then, one day, they see you.”
I frowned.
“Anyway, he’s apparently a brilliant dancer with loads of leads under his belt. She’s partnered with him for three ballets this week alone, including his role as the prince in Swan Lake.”
“Wow, that was almost fascinating enough to put me into a coma.” Cooper took a seat and pulled off his jacket, resting his forearms on the bar with a flash of his Cartier watch. Even his smarmy bastard smile looked rich. “Who is this guy and why are we talking about him?”
I picked up my beer. “Lily’s not-date tonight.”
“Ah,” he said with an understanding nod. “I just passed her on the street. Thought she looked a little extra chipper.”
“Scotch?” Rose asked.
“Always.” He turned back to me. “So Lily finally got laid? I’m not going to say she need
ed that, but man, did she ever need that.”
Rose balked, retracting the scotch she’d been holding in Cooper’s direction. “Hey, asshole. Watch your mouth.”
His face went soft and amiable as he chuckled. “Aw, come on, Rosie. Don’t be like that. I’m happy for her, really. Promise I’m not being a dick.”
She gave him the glass, coupled with a hard stare.
I snorted. “You’re kind of being a dick, but we wouldn’t expect any less from you, Coop.”
He just smiled. “I’m a dick with a heart of gold, Weston.” He turned to the group. “So, do we like this guy or not?”
“We’re not sure. None of us have met him,” Patrick answered. “Lily seems stoked.”
Cooper took a drink and set down the glass. “Well, she’s a smart cookie. I’m sure he’s not horrible.”
“He’d better be not horrible,” I grumbled and took a drink.
“Oh, yeah?” Cooper said with a laugh. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll have an opinion about it.”
Patrick snorted. “When do you not have an opinion?”
“I’m just sayin’. I think we can all agree that Lily deserves good things, so if this Blane guy doesn’t treat her right, I’ll have something to say about it.”
Rose rolled her eyes and reached into the sink behind the bar to wash glasses. “Down boy. I’m sure we’ll meet him soon enough, if it lasts.”
Cooper smirked at me. “And then you can get out your shotgun.”
I laughed. “My dad did that. Decided that the best time to clean it was when Maggie’s prom date came to pick her up.”
Rose shook her head. “So it’s genetic? Or just a Southern thing?”
“Both.” I drained my glass.
But Rose just kept shaking her head at me as she held out a hand for the glass. I handed it over, and she dumped it in the sink before turning to pour me a fresh beer.
Cooper jerked a chin at Patrick and me. “I don’t suppose either of you are interested in going out tonight, are you?”
“Not me,” I answered. “In fact, this’ll be my last drink.” Rose passed it across the bar to me.
Cooper leaned around me. “How about you, Tricky?”
