Strong Hate (A Thin Line #1)

by R. D. Berg

  “Y’all want to go out back and have a few drinks?” Lo says after Lundyn goes inside.

  “Sure,” Finn agrees.

  “Yeah.” While we walk through the house, we pass the hallway, and I see Lundyn sitting on her bed with her head down staring at her phone. Leaving Harlow and Finn in the kitchen getting drinks, I head down the hall.

  “Where’re you going?” Harlow interrupts my walk.

  “Bathroom. I’ll meet you guys outside.” Finn and she both smirk at me knowingly and walk outside.

  With soft steps, I tread toward her room watching her with all the walls she puts up down. She’s scrolling through her phone with determination when I approach and take a seat on her bed beside her.

  Lundyn side eyes me with suspicion. “What do you want?”

  “We’re all hanging out in the backyard, you going to join or keep scrolling for a date to throw in my face?”

  “I don’t have a reason to make you jealous.”

  “You don’t need a reason; you know that.” Time feels as if it’s slowed down when her eyes land on me and the way she’s looking at me – I’d like to pause the clock.

  “What?” Lundyn’s eyes are soft as they search mine.

  “Come on.” I nudge her with my shoulder and a grin. “All you have to do is— “

  “Maverick!” A flash of adrenaline runs through my body at Finn’s shout. “Get out here and get your sister. She’s lost her fucking mind,” Finn yells from the backdoor. A tentative smile builds across Lundyn’s face, and my mind can’t commit it to memory fast enough.

  “Don't be a prude!” Harlow’s voice follows. “It's just a dick!” That causes me and Lundyn to jump up at the same time, almost falling into each other.

  I steady her with my hands, and when I do, she gasps, so close to my mouth that I could lean an inch and touch her lips; I could listen to that sound over and over after I was able to get my hands on her.

  “Where did you get that dick?” Finn retorts and I shake the thought of touching Lundyn anywhere before we scurry from the room and into the backyard. I'm half scared thinking my little sister may have lost her sanity and is trying to attack my best friend with a dildo.

  “Some guy sent it to me after requesting sexual favors,” my little sister supplies us. “I've got lots. This is the biggest I've seen, though. It's why I wanted to show you, dick hater.”

  “Why would I care to see another dude’s penis, Lo?” Finn juts his chin out and crosses his hands over his chest while challenging Harlow’s gaze.

  “So you can tell me if yours is bigger,” she states matter-of-factly. “It's highly unlikely, but a girl's curious.”

  “Harlow,” I growl.

  “I received two today! Do these guys think it’s beautiful? One was big for sure, like I'm not letting him within a ten-foot radius of my vajay, but it sure wasn't pretty.” Lundyn slides up next to Harlow, and they compare.

  What. The. Fuck.

  She's getting dick pics from pervs on this ridiculous dating app? And she's considering allowing one close to her vajay? I can feel my lip curl.

  “I think that one would break me in half!” Lundyn giggles like a damn school girl. I'd break her in half. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but my eyes zero in on her cleavage.

  “You should totally message him. Worst case, this isn't a pic of his penis he sent.”

  “Way too much talk about man junk.” Finn slams his beer down on the patio table effectively interrupting the girls and my stare.

  “Aww, are you getting little man syndrome?” Harlow taunts my best friend.

  “Dude. Get your sister.” I know that tone. He's over these pictures, and so am I. I'm betting Finn’s about two seconds away from whipping it out and showing it to them, and I told him to keep his dick locked up around my little sister a long time ago.

  “Don't even say anything.” Harlow glares at me. “You're not my daddy.”

  “I'm sure you two have sent your share of photos.” Lundyn’s gaze hits mine, her blue eyes shimmering in the glow of the patio lights, much like the moon at midnight over a body of water.

  “If you want a picture of my cock, Lundy, you just have to ask. Nicely.” My pulse increases while I hold my smirk in place.

  “N-no,” she stutters.

  “We can go inside, and you can see the real life version of the cock that'd ruin you.” My brow lifts as if stating game on.

  Her exposed neck stretches as she swallows her uneasiness with force, but her cheeks tell it all as they turn a light shade of pink.

  “I will be so happy when you two bang. I can't take much more of this sexual tension.” Finn clears his throat. “I’m even getting a case of blue balls.”

  “Can we vote on it? Majority rules and I'm pretty certain it'll either be a yes do it now, hands down 4/0 vote, or a 3/1 vote for about time. Either way, majority wins and y'all do the dirty.”

  “This is not up for a vote. Why would I have sex with someone I hate?” Lundyn finally finds her voice, but it's weighted with lust, much like her gaze that’s pointed directly at me.

  “Watch out, that’s a fine line you're walking there, Blue.” And it is. We're both teetering on the barrier between being civil and pure sexual anarchy. Who knows which side we’ll fall on?

  “Is it?” She tilts her head to the side, assessing me with those blue eyes of hers, the same ones that are screaming at me to finish our conversation in her room. “Before we were interrupted, weren’t you trying to tell me something?”

  Her defensive stance makes me reconsider my weak moment I’d had with her earlier, “Moments passed.” I shrug and hold my pride close, not wanting to be weakened by her.

  Harlow must sense my mood because she pulls out her phone and starts talking with Lundyn about a Snap Chat story idea seconds before Finn hands me a beer and his eyes meet mine and I know he’s curious as to why I decided to shut down anything between me and Lundyn – yet again.

  Despite the way yesterday’s events played out I have been wearing a goofy grin all day. Why? A small victory. I got to Maverick Strong, and oh, does it feel so good. I have to admit, though, hearing that he has a date with some skank from that stupid dating app watered my jealousy seed a bit. It’s becoming harder and harder for me to hide my feelings that I’ve worked so hard over the past year to bury.

  “Why are you smiling like that Lundy?” Harlow asks from her station as she flat irons her client’s hair.

  “Oh nothing,” I lie as I pretend to shuffle through some papers. I am excited that today is my first day working in Harlow’s salon as the receptionist.

  “Ummm hmmmm, you’re still thinking about that dick pic aren’t you?” There’s a collective gasp and giggles throughout the semi-crowded salon from the clientele. Rolling her eyes, Harlow turns on her heel to face everyone else. “Oh, come on, you prudes, dick, dick, dick.”

  I giggle under my breath at my brash friend who was born without any type of verbal filter. Even though her mouth can sometimes be worse than a sailor, her clients adore her. She’s always been the eccentric, always the on the go, half of our duo, so college was no match for her free spirit. Harlow dropped out after the first semester. I believe her exact parting words were – fuck this bullshit. Two days after dropping out she registered for cosmetology school, where she excelled and was able to apprentice under Gustav Burtergen, a famous hair colorist in New York. Her talented hands have touched A-list celebrity’s hair, and even a few high ranking political officials. Offers poured in requesting her to join elite salons in New York, L.A, and Miami, but her heart was stuck in Lansing. Our little gang wasn’t surprised when she bought an empty space downtown and opened Salon Lo. When I grow up, I want to be Harlow Lane Strong.

  “You ready to check out, Mrs. Lunstrom?” I ask my old high school English teacher who has worn the same bouffant hairdo that resembles cotton candy for the past thirty years. She has always reminded me of Sophia from the show Golden Girls. Honestly, I can’t belie
ve she is still driving after she almost ran into the building when she drove in today. I swear she was knocking the door of hundred years old when Harlow and I had her sophomore year.

  “Now quit all the yelling and rushing, Lundyn,” Her small shaky voice scolds while she reaches into her purse for her checkbook. She is the only reason that Harlow still accepts this prehistoric form of payment. “That’s the problem with your generation, you are always in such a hurry to do everything.” She points her crooked finger at me like she used to back when she would scold me and Harlow for talking during class; which was all the damn time.

  I offer her my sweetest smile although I am overly annoyed. “Not rushing you, Mrs. Lunstrom, just doing my job.” She dismissively waves me off with a huff.

  “Well, do your job and tell me how much I owe you. All this babbling is going to make me late for my Mahjong game down at the senior center.” She says with heavy weighted annoyance. Gosh, I hope I'm not this cranky when I reach her age. Harlow snickers and I give her a quick evil eye.

  “It’s fifty-three dollars.”

  “Can’t believe I have to pay fifty-three dollars for a hairstyle,” she huffs out. Her slightly shaky hand scribbles out the check. She tears it quickly and thrusts it my way. “Here’s your money, and I left a two-dollar tip, also. Make sure this goes only to Salaj,” she instructs before she leans in a little closer. “I don’t want Ms. Strong and her potty mouth getting any of it.”

  “Don’t worry she won’t,” I tell her while giving her a wink. She nods in satisfaction as she tucks her purse under her arm and turns to walk out.

  “Did I miss out on her generous two-dollar tip?” Harlow sarcastically ask.

  “Yep, you’re potty mouth cost you big time Lo.” I lower my head to log the tip on the tip sheet just as the bell above the door rings.

  “Welcome to Salon Lo,” I greet a gorgeous blond with blue eyes and legs for day’s who just walked in. She smiles at my warm welcome before bouncing to the reception counter.

  “Hiya!” she says a tad too perky for my taste this pre-red bull afternoon. “I have an appointment at two-thirty with THE Harlow. My name is Avery.”

  Something about her face looks oddly familiar. However, I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. “Sure, she’s just finishing up her other client. Please help yourself to some refreshments and have a seat,” I offer her as I check her into the computer. Her ocean blue eyes linger on me just a moment before she turns her perfect tits and ass to sashay to the waiting area.

  “THE Harlow, your two-thirty is here.”

  “Ok, thanks.” I’m a little bummed she doesn’t catch my joke.

  A cell phone ringing removes my attention from the computer. “Hey, Diva!” Avery sings into her pink bedazzled phone. “Yes, tonight’s the night, here getting my hair done now.” She twirls a piece of her hair as she smacks on her gum. “I know he’s so hot and a sheriff's deputy, and with a name like Maverick—”

  “Holy shit.” A light bulb goes off as I realize where I’ve seen Avery with the ocean blue eyes. Maverick’s match from the app. Immediately, my inner bitch is present.

  “Holy shit, what?” Harlow asks, her eyes flickering with curiosity as she rests her elbows on the counter.

  “Ummm, nothing,” I deflect.

  “You ready to check out?” I ask Harlow’s finished client. She smiles sweetly as I run her credit card. I swear Harlow has magic hands, this woman’s hair looked like a straw broom when she arrived, and now it’s as shiny as freshly polished shoes.

  “Your hair looks great by the way,” I tell honestly as I hand her the receipt.

  Her face lights up as she gives an enthusiastic thanks before exiting. Immediately after she leaves, my attention is zeroed in on Avery. My head turns slightly as I double check to make sure Harlow is out of earshot.

  “Hey, Avery,” I say. She looks up at me, and I beckon for her to come to the counter. I hear her end her call, and she scurries her little self my way. If you ask me, the shorts she’s wearing could also pass for denim underwear. But who am I to judge if someone wants to parade themselves around like a slut.

  “Is Harlow ready for me?” I nearly get sea sick watching as her head bobs along with every syllable she speaks.

  “Umm yes, she’ll be with you momentarily, but I wanted to chat with you for a minute.” I give her the fakest smile I can make, and mimic her hair twirling motions from earlier.

  “Sure, is it about the appointment?” Ok something is seriously wrong with this lady. Who the hell can hold a smile wider than a football field and talk without moving their lips – The Joker, yeah and he is a psychotic serial killer.

  No, it’s about you having a date with the guy I’m secretly lusting over, but I can’t get my head out of my ass long enough to tell him this. “Well, I couldn’t help but overhear you saying you had a date tonight with Maverick?” My eyebrows arch, allowing her time to answer the question.

  She perks up just a bit, and I see a myriad of things pass over her eyes; excitement and lust being two of them. “Yes, do you know him?”

  “Well ... if it’s Maverick Strong the cop, then, yes.”

  She squeals, the lady – I use that term loosely - actually squeals like a runaway piglet. What the fuck are you thinking Maverick? I manage to control the epic eye roll that was about to happen. “You have got to tell me all about him. We are so like, you know, a match made in heaven. We seriously like all the same things, and I think we’d be a perfect couple, and he’s ridiculously hot!”

  My mouth hangs open. I seriously think my chin is touching the counter. Quickly, I recover from her assault of all the words she spoke. “Oh my, wow sounds like you guys are going to hit it off.”

  “I. KNOW!” She claps her hands. “Is there any advice you could shoot my way? I really want to make a good impression. I mean come on, have you seen the guns on that guy?”

  If only this poor lady knew I had a devil and an angel sitting on either of my shoulders trying to convince me what my next move will be. Unlucky for her, evil Lundyn won. I lean down onto my forearms and motion for her to come closer. “Let me tell you about this ridiculously hot man named Maverick Strong.”

  The bottoms of my cowboy boots tap along to the music that flows through The Den. It's not anything fancy, but it's also not The Brew Crew. It has a sleek modern feel without being too uppity.

  For the third time, I check my phone for any new messages. Avery was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. I take two heavy gulps finishing off my second beer at a record pace while my mind races.

  I'm doing this for the right reasons. The best, actually. I'm being the bigger person and letting any feelings I had or presently have for Lundyn drown in the alcohol I'm devouring.

  I want to devour Lundyn.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, shaking my head of the thought. No. That's not being a good brother to Harlow. In fact, it's being the shittiest brother if I hooked up with my sister’s best friend.

  Could I live with myself? Maybe.

  Shit. Where is Avery? I need a distraction in the form of mile long legs and platinum blond hair.

  Signaling the waitress, I order another beer and ignore her sympathetic stare. The second she walks off my phone dings.

  Avery-Swipe Right: I’m not going to make it. I thought you were a man. Like, have always been. Not 'I can use the bathrooms at Target, kinda man.’ Sorry! You transitioned nice, just not for me.

  What the fuck? Maybe I drank those beers too fast. I shut my eyes clearing my head so I can reread the message. Ok, yup, says the same thing.

  Where on earth would she get an idea so absurd? People on this app are crazy, and my dumb ass dove head first into the crazy pool.

  I stare a moment longer before pulling my eyes from the insanity. And when I do they hit a set of glacier irises and just like the Titanic, I sink myself into them while the pull submerges her to sit down right in front of me at my booth. She throws her hair over her sho
ulder with a swift flick of her hand, exposing her sexy neck. Her perky breasts play peek-a-boo as the tops of them are exposed due to her plunging teal V-neck shirt that matches her highlights.

  Mayday! Mayday! I try to call in, but my heart wraps itself around my brain effectively silencing the warning bells.

  “Why do you look so tortured, aren't you on a date?” Lundyn’s nose wrinkles with disgust over the word ‘date.’

  “Got stood up.” Taking a pull of my beer while I wait for a retort, not willing to tell her what the text message said. I'm not handing her the shovel to bury me with. She'd never let me live it down.

  “Ah,” she leans back into the soft leather of the booth. “That blows.” She glances around, her curious eyes observing the thick crowd. Her face looks gentler than normal, her eyes are not as guarded.

  My waitress appears out of thin air. When she eyes Lundyn, a relieved grin spreads across her face. She thought I was stood up. “What can I get you to drink, ma'am?”

  Spoiler alert. I was.

  “Three shots of tequila, por favor.” She giggles as the waitress leaves.

  “Inviting yourself to my date, Lundy?” I tilt my head toward her.

  “You look pathetic, someone has to save you.” The battle not to smile plays out across her lips and I have to say, watching her fight against it is fun. She loses when a lopsided smirk sneaks its way to her delicate face. A silence stretches between us; she fiddles with the cardboard coaster trying to avoid eye contact.

  One by one the shot glasses are placed down on the table decorated with salt and limes.

  The smirk that’s plastered on my face doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. I ask, “Who's the third shot for?”

  “One for you.” The thick shot glass slides across the wood table toward me with a dull scrape. “One for me.” Lundyn drags another, but this time toward her chest and now, my eyes are glued there. “And one for bad decisions. I'll let you decide who takes it.” Her smoky voice peaks my interest.