by R. D. Berg
Breaking my locked stare, I glance up at her, not caring one bit that she caught me. “Ladies first.”
“You're actually calling me a lady?” Lundy leans into the table and wraps her fingers around the chilled glass, “You're further gone than I'd originally thought.” Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s me getting stood up, but for some reason, her banter is cute tonight.
“Shoot them together?” I challenge. “1… 2... 3!” We click our glasses while engaging in a staring contest. We slam the glass to the table, and both raise them, lick the rim and toss them back as the liquid burns its way down before sucking the lime dry.
When the waitress stops by our table again, we order another round and ask her to keep them coming.
I scoot the third shot to the middle of the table as Lundyn’s eyes follow my movements like an alcoholic who’s worried I’m about to cut her off. “I'm not sure who's going to be the one to make the bad decision tonight. Not yet,” I admit.
We small talk about minimal things, the fall Texas weather, our favorite foods and surprisingly, we fall into a comfortable conversation without throwing accusations and hate. Our feet entwine on their own accord under the table. Shot after shot finds us until we're five deep and I throw up the white flag.
“What's the matter, Mad Mav, can't hang?” Lundyn’s words are slower than when she first arrived, but not quite slurring yet. This girl can hang with the best of them when it comes to Tequila.
“Nah, I have a whole bottle of tequila at the house.” Her eyes fall to the table, and as buzzed as I am, I’m still confused as to why I don’t want this night to end. “Want to come over?”
She looks up at me. This time, she really looks at me, and I swear she can see the want, the need and above all else, the lust I have for her. All of my walls are down, exposing the embers I've had buried for her, begging for oxygen.
And when she takes the last remaining shot from the center of the table, a rush of air causes my lust to engulf me.
Her tongue slowly licks out wetting her lips, tempting me to do the same. “Yeah. I do.” And apparently, the flames are licking at Lundyn, too.
After an Uber drops us off at my house, we stumble through the front door before I head to grab the handle of tequila from my freezer. “So, will you be meeting Avery another time?” That's funny, I think to myself, did I tell her the girl's name?
“I think I'm going to delete the app.” Shutting the freezer, I walk into the living room. “It's not for me.” Sitting the bottle down on the table with a thunk, she grabs it, twists the top and takes a pull from the bottle. “No to the shot glasses then.” I laugh and then repeat her performance taking a swig from the bottle.
“You basically just kissed me.” She states nonchalantly. I swear that a pin could drop and we’d hear it right now.
I sputter, spitting out a drop of liquid. With the back of my hands, I wipe the excess away “What?”
She stares at me as if to say ‘duh.’ “My lips were just wrapped around that same spot.” What I would give to have her lips wrapped around another spot – like my cock. “So, that's like, what? First base?” She fidgets with her fingers that lay in her lap.
“You thinking about what it'd be like to hit a homerun with me?” Sitting down next to her, I can feel my eyebrow quirk up. The close proximity is giving me free reign to greedily inhale her addictive scent of sweet coconut. And fuck me if it doesn’t amplify my want.
“No.” But her tone is uneven; that leads me to think otherwise.
“Okay.” I shrug one shoulder and then lean back and take another shot before she pulls the bottle from my hands and does the same.
“Do you ever wonder who drew the line in the sand with us?” She takes a huge pull from the bottle, her lips leaving it with a pop.
“Probably had something to do with the fact that I came home one summer, and you had boobs.” She chokes, but recovers quickly. “Do you know how hard it was not to glance your way? Shit.” I chuckle at the thought. “It’s still hard,” I admit.
“Really? That’s why you didn’t talk to me. Gosh, I thought about you like crazy the rest of the year. I wracked my brain to figure out what I could have done. We were all such good friends.”
“You would wear those tank tops and no bra,” I groan throwing my head back and adjusted myself. Just the memory is making me hard.
“They had a built in bra!” Lundyn interrupts smiling. She is so beautiful, but when she smiles, her whole face lights up emphasizing her features.
“It was a sad excuse for fabric. When we came back from vacation, and you were sitting on the porch waiting; the first moment I saw you, my eyes fell to your chest and I started to pitch a tent right there. It changed things. I think that’s the day I started hating you.” We’ve never really had an honest conversation that doesn’t end in a fight. Her response should be interesting.
“I didn’t notice.” I look at her, and her cheeks are tinged pink. “I think we both changed that summer. You had muscles that weren’t there when you left. You looked intimidating walking toward me—intimidating and hot,” she giggles at her thought of the memory. “My stomach began to float, and no matter how hard I tried, the smile wouldn’t leave my face. It terrified me, you terrified me, and the feelings I was beginning to have toward one of my best friends startled me. Before I could even get a grip on what I was feeling, you started drawing the line between us. Once I fortified my strength, I helped you. Eventually, my hate died down to a low simmer, but all my other emotions would wreak havoc on my mind. It took all I had not to run to your room when I would spend the night with Harlow… and just … touch you.” She laughs and shakes her head, like her need for me has passed.
“Your hate died down?” I lean in closer, turning my body toward her.
“Make no mistake,” Her voice fortifies her strength against me, so I place my palm against the soft skin of her cheek before she continues, “It’s always strong.” Her response is still weak with the whisper that comes out of her mouth.
“You better be glad you never crossed that line.” I’m cocky. I can’t help it.
“What line?” she asks, cocking her head toward me, challenging me back.
“Enemy lines.” My brows pull together as if she should know what I’m talking about. While my fingers caress the side of her face. “It’s a dangerous place, Blue.” Our bodies move together as if nothing separates us.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me Blue,” she murmurs while searching my eyes. Her breath smells like mint and tequila as it wafts across my face.
“It’s a thin line either way… Blue.” It’s her eyes that have me trapped. Those glacial blue eyes are anchoring my stare to hers.
Before I can rationalize it to myself, my lips are pressing against her soft mouth and fuck, I feel her body come alive under my touch. She opens up and allows me to take the lead, dueling for a logical response that never comes. She tastes like nothing I’d ever expected. A bad guy like me, kissing his sister’s best friend - I’d expect to be poisoned, but that taste never comes. Instead, it’s mint mixed with bad decisions. Our teeth clink when we move, but that and all other thoughts dissolve to the past. Past this kiss. Past this night. Past her lips touching mine, until she’s nothing but all I’ve ever really wanted but denied myself.
Sunlight aggressively beams through the slits of the blinds, rudely pulling me from my sleep. Begrudgingly, I pry my semi sore eyes open, with several hard, slow blinks allowing them to adjust to the harsh light. The drummer is pounding a beat of regret inside of my head causing me to groan aloud as I mentally ask the question of the day, What the hell did I drink last night? My hands move to my temples and slowly attempt to massage away this nagging hangover headache.
I startle as the bed suddenly shifts beside me, and nearly scream as a heavy arm is thrown over my exposed mid-section. Fear paralyzes my movements, as memories from the hazy night before expose themselves.
Holy shit!
/> Maverick, tequila, drunk talking and… kissing. Oh my gosh, and then there is the fact of me losing all my stomach contents over his favorite boots. I’ve never been able to hold my liquor, but I usually stop before my puking rally begins. However, being around Maverick last night stole any sense of sanity that I harbored.
It always seems as if I’m swimming upstream with him. Last night, for some reason he cast a line and I bit the bait allowing him to gradually reel me in. Inch by inch, I released the strong hate that I held against him for the past years. It was natural and only felt right as we drank, danced, and laughed. We talked and giggled like teenagers and finally opened and stepped through the door we’ve each been holding closed; we kissed. The smooth feel of his lips, the slight hint of his winter fresh gum tinged with the tequila was nothing compared to the way his eyes gently gazed into mine, unknowingly staking a claim on my heart. It was everything I imagined it would be. That was until I hurled all over him as he spun me around trying to recreate a scene in Titanic. You know the one, where Jack and Rose are in the lower class partying it up, and the camera pans to them holding hands and spinning around laughing. Just thinking about it causes my stomach to gurgle in protest.
A soft moan escapes his lips before he shuffles his body again. Fight or flight Lundyn, fight or flight? Being the coward that I am, I decide to jump ship—guess we aren’t Jack and Rose after all. With one hard tug, I manage to pry my eyes fully open. Only then do I realize I only have clear vision out of one eye; my left contact is missing. Knowing that I’m blind as a fucking bat without it, I devise a plan to get out from underneath his warm arm and hunt for it. My body transforms into a slithering reptile as I ease out from under his anchor and land with a soft thud on his rug.
“Argh,” I breathe out right before my head pops up like a jack in the box, checking if he’s still asleep. Silently, I count to ten before I splay my hands open-faced on the floor rubbing them against the carpet frantically trying to find my contact.
“Where are you?” I whisper. After a few moments, I give up the floor search moving my hands to the crumpled sheets to perform the same search. My heavy, panicked breathing fills the room. It’s too loud, so I inhale a huge breath and hold it, as my hands continue to swim across the sea of soft blue fabric. My search has led me to the pillows, and I halt as I start to appreciate how the sun glowing against Maverick’s sleeping face makes him look angelic. Geez, I must’ve had more to drink than I thought, I just used Maverick and angelic in the same sentence further proof that I need to get out of here STAT!
My search is about to resume when I am meet with a set of sleepy eyes. My chin drops as these hazy eyes paralyze me, and an unknown force suppresses my ability to utter a single word.
Slowly, he raises his head and looks at me wearing a mask of confusion. I’m just going to take a moment to express how incredibly sexy his bed hair is – forgive me. “What are you doing, watching me sleep?” he croaks groggily.
“Ummm, no, what?” Yeah, way to go Lundyn.
He sits upright triggering the sheet to creep down, showcasing his menagerie of muscles, and his delectable “V.” My greedy eyes appraise this masterpiece a moment too long. “You were watching me sleep, and now you're eating me alive with those beautiful eyes of yours… Blue.” His voice is husky with just a drop of sexiness. Damn, I know he upholds the law, but his body should be considered assault with a deadly weapon because it’s killing me just staring at it.
“No,” A huff passes my lips. “I wasn’t watching you sleep; just trying to find my contact,” I state flatly. Attempting to not be affected by his compliment.
He nods his head toward the open bathroom door. “I put it in a glass, in the bathroom.”
Only after I stand up and start toward the bathroom do I remember I am only dressed in my champagne colored lace bra and panties. He clears his throat causing me to pause mid-step before I peer over my shoulder.
“What’s wrong Maverick, see something you like?” I taunt seductively. He quirks his brow, which causes my body to instantly burn with unfulfilled want.
His eyes darken for a breath of a moment while a devilish smile leisurely spreads across his face. “Careful, Blue, you know what happens when you play with fire.” His voice is dripping with lust.
“What’s that?” I say just above a whisper.
“You might get burned.” He delivers more of a promise than a fact.
My head snaps around, and I make my way to the small bathroom, scanning the counter till I find the clear glass that holds my contact. My disheveled reflection stares back at me as I graze my trembling fingers against my lips, caressing where his lips delicately spoiled them just hours before. With three heavy breaths, I try and steady my erratic breathing. It’s futile because realization detonates within me that Maverick was speaking the truth. His warning was one drunken night too late because I recklessly played with his fire till it burned through my strong hate, engulfing my heart until it was branded with the initials— MS.
“So can we talk about last night?” Maverick asks from across the table after taking another bite of his cream cheese with a side of bagel.
My thumb skims over the words – coffee makes me poop, as I peer over my warm mug that I grip with both hands. After I finally got my contact in, Maverick offered to cook me breakfast. He also offered up one of his oversized shirts to dress in while my clothes dried. My stomach rudely declined breakfast, but my cold naked body greedily accepted his Lansing PD’s Finest t-shirt.
I take a sip of the steaming hot liquid, enjoying the soft burn as it travels down my throat before I set it down in front of me. “What’s there to talk about? You shoved copious amounts of alcohol down my throat and spun me around for your enjoyment.” A nervous giggle escapes while my fingers chip away at the label on the coffee mug.
“Riggghhttt, I had it planned as soon as you took the first shot at The Den. Get Lundy drunk as a skunk so she could puke all over my favorite pair of jeans and boots.” He winks, melting me into a puddle before he takes the sexiest bite of his bagel. I never knew carbs could be bad for you in a sexual way.
“Sorry again about that, you know how I am with liquor.” I avoid his piercing stare, and feign interest with the contents of my mug.
“Stop apologizing. I mean, it was my suggestion to reenact Titanic,” he laughs, and I’m drawn back to the memory of being in his arms, laughing together. “The kiss, Lundyn,” he blurts out.
My eyes widen. His features soften giving his usual stern expression a much needed break. “It was nice, Maverick,” is all I can say because if I allow myself to accurately describe it we would be here all day.
He takes his time and casts his eyes to the floor to avoid mine. “Yeah, it was. So what’ll we do now, Blue?”
“I don’t know, maybe start by being civil to each other?” I try to appear calm, but my heart and mind are running sprints throughout my body.
He twists his lips as his brows furrow deeply. “Yeah, that will be a good start. Although, Harlow and Finn might think we’ve smoked the station’s stash of seized narcotics.”
“Speaking of Harlow,” I begin as I reach for my phone. “She’s called me like a hundred times.” It lights up again. “Scratch that, one hundred and one.”
“Yeah, she and Finn have been blowing mine up too.” He shakes his phone in the air displaying all the missed call notifications. We laugh again, and I find that I like our laughs mixing together. I like that we are sharing jokes, instead of throwing hate. It’s less messy.
We both jump as the bell dings on his dryer, signaling the end of our night and now day.
“Guess my clothes are ready,” I say as I get up. He jumps up as well placing himself directly in front of me. A myriad of emotions dances across his face as hypnotizing hazel eyes search mine for some unspoken direction.
He runs his hand through his uncombed hair. “Fuck it.
I don’t have time to respond as he cups my face between his hands, and
crashes his lips to mine. Our tongues tangle, mixing my bitter coffee taste with his sweet cream cheese one. This kiss is ignited by hate but fueled by an unyielding force called fate.
Normally, it's easy to hate Lundyn, but there's been nothing normal in the past twenty-four hours with her. In fact, hate is the last emotion I'm currently working through in my mind. However, curiosity and lust are bombarding my thoughts. My cock wants me to calculate the fastest way to get her under me. I may need a warrant for that, since it's Lundyn and she's stubborn. The ease we had talking and laughing after we both let our guard down—I’ve never had that connection with any other girl. It reminds me of the last time we kissed…
It wasn’t right back then. I mean, she felt right— in all the right places—but all of her reasons were wrong. Hell, and me? It took all I had to see reason at all that night.
But, now, a year later— is this right? It’s a thin line we’re walking and on one side lust and hate mingle whereas the other side could hold promise of safety and love. I sound like a fuckin’ sap. What would it be like to have a girl like Lundyn? Such a spitfire, and turn that energy turn toward me, and love me with every ounce? I can feel my pulse increase at the excitement of it.
Watching her scurry out of my door this morning was bittersweet. The uncertainty of what’s going on between us and the fucking hot chemistry we have igniting needed a pause before we both burst into flames and blew out in ashes just as fast. This situation has to be handled delicately, because one wrong move and poof, chemical explosion.
Finn and Harlow have been blowing my phone up all morning, so once I see Lundyn out, I pull out my phone and sort through the madness.
SISTER: Brother, where’s my best friend? She didn’t come home last night and no one in town has seen her… I even asked Finn and he said he hasn’t seen or heard from you either!
GOOSE: Dude, did Lundy fuckin’ put a bag over your head and adultnap your ass? Harlow’s worried, I know you can handle your own.
