by Emma Hart
When she doesn’t text me back instantly, I look toward the gazebo. I should probably go in there and find her. Then again, she’s still on my shit list…
She saves me the trouble by darting out of the gazebo, a little wobbly on her heels. “Shit! Stupid grass!” she hisses, walking gingerly until she reaches the patio where I’m sitting.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her, looking at her.
She huffs out a big breath and sits on the seat next to me. She gently sets down her glass of vodka cranberry and looks at me. “Two things,” she says, holding two fingers up. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Give me the good first.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I like to enjoy a false sense of elation before my heart is ripped out. Keeps me humble.”
She giggles. “Okay, the good news is: Cain and Nina aren’t talking.”
My eyebrows shoot up so quickly I think they might go into orbit. “They’re not?”
Carly shakes her head, her voluminous curls bouncing like they’re part of Tigger’s tail. “Nope. Apparently she doesn’t accept his excuse that he accidentally saw you in your lingerie.” She says ‘lingerie’ with a suggestive wriggle of her dark eyebrows.
“It was accidental,” I reply. “It’s not my fault he decided to utilize his spare key when I was getting my groove on.”
“Of course I know that, you know that, and he knows that, but she doesn’t want to believe that.”
“So why is she mad at him? It’s obviously my fault, being the siren I am.” I roll my eyes.
“Well, that’s the funny part.” She snorts and grabs her wine glass. “Now, this is just what Gabriel told me, okay?”
“Wait, Gabe’s here?”
“Yeah, he was hiding out at Cain’s to avoid the party prep. He snuck in half an hour ago dressed literally as Danny Zuko in the T-Birds. Which royally pissed off Nina since she’s dressed like Sandy and Cain was supposed to be Danny.”
So Nina’s doubly pissed off. Does she have frown lines? Because if she doesn’t, then I know she’s nine parts silicone and one part human.
“Right. Back to me,” I say.
“Right,” Carly says. “So, she apparently lost her mind and screamed at Cain that it wasn’t an accident he saw you in your underwear, it was entirely deliberate on your part.”
“Even though I had no idea he was coming over.”
“Right. She doesn’t believe that. She thinks you knew he was coming over and planned the whole thing.” Carly pauses. “Which is really fucking stupid, because you can barely plan to leave your apartment on time for work.”
She’s not wrong. “Continue.”
“Cain got pissed because she didn’t believe him, but then, according to Gabe, the real cracker popped.”
“The what—never mind. What then?” Lord, this is a real-life soap. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this drama. I’m kind of exhausted. It’s way more fun watching people lose their shit on my Facebook feed.
“She called you a conniving slut,” Carly says flatly.
“She did what?” My jaw drops. “I haven’t had sex in twelve months! How can I possibly be a slut?”
“That’s my argument, Mother Teresa.”
“Well, I haven’t had sex with a real person. A battery-operated one, sure, but still.”
“Whoa,” Zeke says. “I entered this conversation at the wrong time. Or the right one.”
I shoot him a dark look. “Carry on, Car.”
Carly gives him the same glare. “So, she called you a conniving slut, and apparently, that’s when Cain lost his temper. He told her she’d been in a bad mood since she got there, and she had absolutely no right to speak about you that way. Then she got mad because he was defending you when he didn’t defend her against you earlier and accused him of caring about you more than her.”
Zeke whistles low.
“Exactly,” Carly says, nodding in his direction and tipping her glass slightly. “So then Cain laughs and says of course he does, he’s known you for ten years and her for barely a year. It’s completely normal for him to do that.”
“Damn,” Zeke whispers, putting two shot glasses down on the table.
“Oh, it gets better.” Carly holds up one finger, looking between us. “Then, Nina yells at him and asks him why, if he cares about you so much, doesn’t he date you instead of her?”
“Oh shit,” I mutter, grabbing my glass and swigging. “What did he say?”
Her lips twitch as she fights laughter, and her eyes sparkle. “He said he might just do that, because then he wouldn’t be dating a woman with more make-up than a club full of drag queens.”
My jaw drops.
Zeke doubles over, laughing loudly and infectiously. He rests his hands on his knees as his deep laugh roars out of him again and again.
Carly looks at him and then me with her eyebrows raised.
I press my lips together behind my wine glass. “Then what happened?”
“She stormed out. Cain and Gabe both thought she’d go home, but she came down here and joined the party. Gabe is sticking to Cain like glue to make sure Cain, good guy that he is, doesn’t go and apologize for something that wasn’t his fault.”
Which is probably what Nina wants. Flaunt herself around in those skin-tight leather pants, that tight bardot-style top, and hope Cain apologizes for reacting to her bitch fit.
“Okay,” I say, lifting my glass to my mouth again. “What’s the bad news?” I sip.
“Nina’s talking to your mom.”
I turn my head to the side and spit wine across the patio. Zeke only just manages to jump out the way in time not to get splattered.
Great. Not only does Nina have the guy and is talking to my mother who will no doubt adore her, she just made me waste wine.
The wine thing might be the worst of the three, if I’m being honest.
“She’s what?” I ask weakly. “Why didn’t you distract my mother?”
“So she can grill me about my dating life?” Carly fires back at me, her voice a little high. “Brooke, I love you and all, but it’s every girl for herself where your mother is concerned.”
It’s hard to deny that. So I do what any self-respecting twenty-four-year-old woman would do when faced with such a shitty situation. I grab the two shots Zeke brought out and down them, one after the other.
My throat burns as the harshness of the tequila goes down without being soothed by salt or lime.
“Shit,” I mutter. “You know what this means, Carly?”
“Time to evoke the runaway plans we created in fifth grade.” She nods solemnly. “At least now we have money, credit cards, passports, and a car between us. No doubt that’ll be easier than raiding our siblings’ piggy banks and getting the bus to London.”
“Yes. Definitely easier.”
“Y’all planned to run away to London in fifth grade?” Zeke questions, stacking the two empty shot glasses on the table. “How did you expect to pull that off?”
“The bus, duh,” we say simultaneously. “That was a completely reasonable plan back then,” Carly continues.
I nod. “We had it all planned out. Except the ocean thing, but I think we were smuggling ourselves onto a boat. That was negotiable though.”
“We would have been happy with Alaska.” Carly smooths her bangs from her face. “We figured the Canadian border police would let us through if we promised we were going straight back into US territory.”
“What a fucking flawless plan,” Zeke says dryly. “I can’t possibly imagine where that could go wrong.”
“Don’t be a dick, Zeke.” I reach across the table and smack him on the upper arm. “I know that’s hard for you to grasp...”
“Hard for me to grasp.” He smirks.
“Dude! You’re twenty-freaking-six. Grow up.”
“This is from one half of the ‘Run Away To Alaska Without Being Stopped By Canada’ brigade.”
“You’re s
uch a prick,” Carly says, draining the last of her wine glass.
Zeke raises his eyebrows. “And you’ve ditched your date to be out here, so now who’s the prick?”
“Shh!” She presses her finger to her lips. “He thinks I’m peeing.”
“Uh, Car?” I light up my phone. “You’ve been peeing for twenty-minutes. That’s long, even for you. And you pee like a club full of drunk girls on a good day.”
“Stop it!” She taps my knee. “He’s...grabby, okay? Like a toddler in a toy store. My ass is not Lego!”
Wordlessly, Zeke stands, grabs both our wine glasses, and heads toward the gazebo.
Smart, smart man. Even he knows Carly’s about to lose her mind.
“I tried, Brooke. I tried to be nice to him, but no, second date and he’s all over my ass like he owns it. You know who owns my ass? I do. Until he can squat like David Beckham is behind him and have my ass look this good, I own it.”
“You squat like David Beckham is behind you?”
“Who else should I pretend is behind me?”
“I squat like Ryan Reynolds is behind me. Actually, no, wait. I don’t squat. Or exercise.”
Carly stares at me for a moment, her lips quivering. Then, her jaw twitches. And she bursts out laughing. “You’re such an idiot,” she manages to eke out. She reaches forward and hugs me. “I think we should get drunk.”
I wrinkle my face up. “Really? With my mom here?”
Her eyes sparkle as she lifts her finger to her mouth again and pulls her phone from her bra.
Ah, bras. The invisible purse. Holding random shit since puberty.
“What are you doing?” I stare at her.
“Being the brains of our friendship.”
“Careful. You might hurt yourself.”
“You would know. Thinking is special for you.”
“Only on Sundays and holidays.” I nod. What? I don’t want to give people the wrong idea. Like I’m sensible or something equally ridiculous.
“Okay, let’s go.” Carly stands up.
“Go where?” I grab my phone.
“Cain’s. We’re going on the roof.”
“Without Cain?” I stand too.
She shakes her head. “He’s bringing the alcohol. Oh, look, he’s coming right now.”
I turn toward the gazebo, and she’s right. Cain, in his stupidly sexy suit, is bolting out of the gazebo and across the grass.
“Let’s go. Quick. Now!” He grabs both of us and yanks us off the patio.
“Eep! Heels!” I squeal.
“Take ’em off!”
“Sake,” Carly mutters as we both stop.
We pull off our heels and, grabbing the shoes by the heels, we follow him up and toward the house.
“Why’d we have to run?” I groan, the graveled path to his house cutting into the bottom of my feet.
Cain stops outside the access door to his apartment and grimaces, meeting my gaze in the semi-darkness. “Because your grandfather just told Nina she looks exactly like a whore he paid for a blow job on Main Street in nineteen-fifty-two.”
EIGHT
LIFE TIP #8: If you plan to sit on a roof with your best friends and drink irresponsibly, take your shoes off first. And wear big panties.
Cain barely has the door to the stairs open before Carly and I fall against the side of the building, doubled over with laughter.
That shouldn’t be funny. I know. Actually, it’s horrible. But coming from Grandpa... Well, it’s the context, isn’t it? Not that I want to know that my grandfather hired a whore for a blow job in nineteen-fifty-two, but still.
“Shhh!” Cain whispers, grabbing us both and yanking us inside. He slams the door behind us as we lean against the wall and laugh out the last of our amusement.
Well... probably not the last-last. The immediate last. There’s no telling when we’ll randomly giggle about this again.
“Okay,” Carly wheezes. “First things first. Alcohol from your apartment. Second, roof. Third, I have got to know why Grandpa Barker said that.”
“Oh boy.” Cain flicks the light switch and heads upstairs. “Come on, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, or no alcohol and I’m not helping you up onto the roof.”
“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” I trill, following him up the stairs to his apartment. “Sneaking up to your roof with alcohol.”
“Except the alcohol wasn’t readily available when we were sixteen,” Carly says from behind me. “And, B? I can see your ass.”
“Lucky you. It’s a great ass.” I follow Cain right into his apartment and reach for the light switch.
“No!” he says quickly, darting in front of me and covering it with his body. “If she sees it, she’ll come up, and this shit won’t end well for any of us.”
“You know something, Cain?” Carly says, closing the door behind her. “You’re kind of a dick.”
He stops. “Yeah, I know. But she pissed me off.”
“Because she called me a conniving slut?” I ask cheerily as Carly heads for Cain’s liquor stash.
Cain turns the key in the front door without moving away from me. His green eyes are bright as the lights coming in from the yard reflect off his face.
Unwillingly, my tongue flicks out of my mouth and wets my lips.
His gaze drops to my mouth for the barest second before he lifts it again and catches my eyes with his. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I told you the other night. She might be my girlfriend, but you’re my best friend.”
I drop my gaze to the rug beneath my feet and shuffle back. “You didn’t have to fight my corner, you know.”
“I know that, but I did anyway,” he says in a low voice. “What part of what I just said don’t you understand?”
Completely honestly, I shrug my shoulder. Ignoring the fact Carly has stopped rooting around in the alcohol cabinet. If Cain has noticed too, he doesn’t show it.
He reaches out and pushes my hair away from my face. “Brooke.” He trails a finger around the back of my ear until his hand falls away. “Unless I’m marrying someone, I’ll always care about you more. Nobody gets to talk shit about you to me unless it’s Carly, and that’s only because I know she’s already said it to your face.”
“True story!” she hollers. “I have beer and tequila. I’m going to the roof. If you hear someone scream, I frog-splashed your girlfriend!”
My lips tug to the side. Even Cain manages a chuckle as I turn in time to see her deposit the alcohol in a backpack, haul it onto her back, and head for the other door.
I peer up at him through my lashes, unable to hide my smile at him shaking his head at her. “Well...thank you.”
His lips twitch up.
Then he does something crazy.
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulls me toward him, and presses his lips to my forehead.
The warmth of the gentle touch spreads through me like wildfire, and although I try to fight it, a shiver ricochets down my spine, making my entire body move. I shudder just as he releases me, and I don’t dare look up at him. I can still feel his freaking lips on my skin.
Sure, he’s done it before. He’s kissed my cheek. I’ve kissed his hair. He’s kissed my forehead.
But he’s never kissed my forehead like that. He’s never pressed his lips to my skin so firmly and intently that I’ve felt every dip and crack in his lower lip and the definitive curve of his upper one.
I’ve never really wanted to fall into him and push him against the wall just so he’d never take his lips from me ever, ever again.
I’ve never wanted him to keep his hand around the back of my neck just to keep him so close to me.
And I have no idea what to do about this.
My feelings are getting stronger, and now I’m wondering if what I felt before was really me being in love with him or the idea of being in love with him.
Because this is nothing like I’ve ever felt for him.
“Come on,” he finally says, stepping away. “Carly�
�s going to pitch a fit if we don’t go up there now.”
“You think?” I say sarcastically.
He stops despite his words and grins. “The tequila bottle isn’t open, and we all know Carly can’t get into children’s medicine, let alone hard liquor.”
“Ahh.” I turn toward the door that’ll lead us into the house and, ultimately, into the attic to get to the roof. “Shit. This is a lot of stairs.”
“Don’t worry, Drunky Smurf. I won’t let you fall.”
“I’m not drunk!”
“I saw you take two tequila shots one after the other. Whatever you are, it ain’t sober.”
“Were you spying on me?” I turn in the hallway of the main house.
Cain locks the door to his apartment, pockets the key, and then he looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been here with Zeke all night. What did you expect me to do?”
“Pay attention to your girlfriend?”
“Brooke, shut up and go up to the attic before I lock you downstairs and tell your mom you got drunk and left with Jimmy Keller.”
I shudder. A horrified one this time. “Please don’t. Running the junkyard outside town is a perfectly respectable job, but my mom would prefer me to marry, oh, the President of the United States or something.”
Cain laughs and shoves me into the attic stairs. “Go up, you fucking idiot. Or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you up while you scream.”
I purse my lips. “That’s a lot of steps. Will you carry me if I promise to be quiet?”
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
I grin sweetly. “No. I’m not that heavy.” I grab the chair from the corner of the hall and position it behind him.
He sighs resignedly. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, because it’s the thing he’s done a thousand times before. “Come on, then. If I can hold your ass now.”
“I will kick you, Cain Elliott. Don’t think I won’t just because you look damn good in that suit.”
Oh. Shit.
He pauses. “You think I look damn good in this suit?”
“Shut up and let me climb on you.”
“That isn’t the right answer, B.”
“Cain.” My voice wavers. I swallow hard and then, “Catch!” I jump forward, launching myself off the chair toward him.
