Sugar Rush

by Belle Aurora

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Tina all but runs down the hall, her belly bouncing along the way. “Come on, you guys!”

  Nik and I walk behind closely. He chuckles. “She has no idea. She’s gonna freak.”

  I smirk. “Oh, I know.”

  As we exit the house, Tina stands by the car, waiting for Nik to open it. As he walks by her, he hooks an arm around her waist. “No use wasting gas.”

  Tina allows him to lead her away, but her eyes narrow at me in suspicion. I move to her free side to walk with them. We walk up the driveway, and when he reach the sidewalk, Tina squints into the sunlight, turning left then right. “Which way?”

  I move to stand behind her, gently grasp her hips in my hands, and move her body to face the street. I can feel the confusion coming off of her, but she doesn’t say a word. I know the exact moment it clicks. She gasps, and then covers her mouth with both hands. Her body turns to face me very, very slowly.

  Wide eyes meet mine. She whispers, “You’re moving across the street?” I grin so hard my dimple cuts into my cheek. Tina squeaks, then launches herself into my arms, laughing. “You’re a sneaky, sneaky man, Max Leokov. And I love you to death.” She yells through her laughter, “I love you!”

  Tina refuses to release her monkey grip on me, and that’s all right with me. I hold her while my gaze moves to my new house across the street. Nik’s hand squeezing my shoulder brings me back to reality. I look over at him, a question in my eyes. His face beams with pride, and although I don’t need it, it feels good to have it, especially coming from Nik.

  My throat thickens. I clear it and announce, “We’ll tell Ceecee tonight.”

  Tina moves back from me, and she looks nervous for me. She takes my hand in hers and utters, “Yeah. We’ll tell her as a family.” She smiles big, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

  I nod. Yeah. I’m sure it will.

  ***

  Ceecee’s tear-stained face breaks my heart. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

  This is not how I expected things to go. It happened so differently in my head. In my stupid, stupid head. I move to hug her, but she backs away from me. Tina and Nik immediately start trying to explain. “No, Angel! Most definitely not. We love you!”

  “Aww, Cricket. You know that’s not it.”

  Her breath hitches from crying. She whispers a mournful, “I don’t want to leave. I love it here.”

  I try to be the voice of reason. “Baby, we can’t live here forever.”

  She looks up at me and snuffles, “I don’t want to be alone.”

  I smile down at her, although my heart has effectively been ripped from my chest. “It’s not like we’re going to be far. We’re just across the street. You can come here anytime you like.”

  I’m not prepared for her anger. “Then you go!” She turns and wheels away from me. Just as she hits the hall, she calls out, “Go, if you want! I don’t care!” Her killer blow makes me wheeze out a breath. “I don’t need you anyway.”

  Nik moves toward me, his face full of sympathy. I hold my hands up in warning. I don’t want anyone near me right now. I look down to the floor and make an escape to the courtyard. I walk halfway down the steps and take a seat, closing my eyes, taking in the evening breeze. A sigh escapes me.

  Have a kid, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

  A humorless chuckle rumbles deep in my throat. I stay on the steps for a long time, hours even, and I still can’t figure out what the fuck I can do or say to comfort my baby.

  Sometimes, life is hard.

  Chapter Five

  Helena

  This morning was as uneventful as originally planned. And by uneventful, I mean crying relatives, rushing to the airport, and an awkward goodbye to my eldest sister.

  I woke at five am, had a shower, and ate a small breakfast of toast and coffee. My bags, already packed, stood by the front door ready to go. The boxes of my things had left a week ago, and Nat called to tell me they had been received already. I thanked the gods of shipment for that. It really would’ve sucked to not have my things when I got there. Nat asked me if I wanted her to unpack the boxes, and I quickly yelped a no. Truth is, I didn’t leave my vibrator at home. For two reasons.

  Reason one: My parents likely would have found it.

  Ewww.

  Reason two: I need it. It’s a part of my pre-bedtime ritual. It wears me out and helps me sleep. And while I have no boyfriend, or even a bed buddy, it’s coming with me. And I don’t need my sister seeing that shit.

  Don’t misunderstand me. My sisters and I talk about sex, and we talk about it openly, but it’s one thing to talk about sex, and another thing to actually see a long, thick, purple glitter jelly dildo vibrator that your sister named Sir Squeal-A-Lot.

  She doesn’t need to see that. No one needs to see that. I don’t need to see that. Why do you think I find my happy place in the dark before bedtime?

  We rushed to the airport, where I lined up with the ten thousand other people who were travelling at the butt crack of dawn. I all but threw my suitcases at the poor attendant. I just wanted to get to New York already. I was excited. This was going to be a huge change for me. A good one, I could feel it. But, I may have left a small detail out when I spoke to Nat.

  I may have told her I was arriving at six pm. Not midday. I’ll tell you why I did this. Firstly, Nat would’ve left work early to come get me, which would’ve been an inconvenience. Secondly, she would not have come alone. She would’ve brought all the girls and their guys, and it would’ve been made an event—something I don’t like at all. Thirdly, it may sound strange, but the first time in my new apartment, I’d like to be alone to get better acquainted with my new surroundings. And yes, I have visited Nat before, so I’ve seen the apartment, but I didn’t go through all of Nat’s drawers and cupboards.

  I need a little me time.

  As I said goodbye to my parents and held them tight, trying to memorize their smells, I was shocked to find I wasn’t even sad about leaving. I would’ve thought I’d have shed a tear or two, but no. After my parents, I stood in front of Nina. She placed her hands in her pockets and looked down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. Nina is never emotional.

  Never.

  Not. Ever.

  It should’ve had me worried, but it might make me a shitty sister to say it made me happy. I think I melted the ice queen. She cleared her throat. “You got everything you need?”

  I patted my hand luggage. “Everything. I’m all good.”

  She peeked up at me. “You’re coming home for Christmas, right?”

  I opened my mouth to say yes, but then I thought about it. I shrugged lightly. “If I get time off, definitely.”

  This answer did not placate her. At all. She scowled. “You better come visit.”

  I glared right back. “Why don’t you come visit me?”

  She made a face. “Because I have a salon to run and it would be easier for you to visit us here.”

  I placed a hand on my hip. Oh yeah, she knew she just threw down. “Well, you have two sisters in New York now. Get off your fat ass and come vacay with us sometime.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Why should I? You’re the assholes who left!”

  I continued to glare while she scowled. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  We stood there another minute or so before I caved. I’d miss my sister. I love my sister. Even if she is a total fucknut.

  With a sigh and roll of my eyes, I rushed over to her and wrapped her in a tight hug. The bitch didn’t hug me back for a full minute, but then her hands gently gripped the back of my jacket and she pushed her head into my shoulder. I felt wetness there. I kissed her cheek and whispered, “I’ll come home for Christmas.”

  She sniffled and choked out, “And I’ll come visit. I promise.”

  We held each other tight until an overhead announcement aired. My flight was now boarding. I
waved goodbye to my forlorn family and boarded a flight to my new life.

  Nat told me she’d left a key with the little old lady in apartment 309, the apartment across from mine. As soon as I landed, I gathered my suitcases and caught a cab over to the apartment complex. When it came into view, I broke out into a huge smile as butterflies flew around in my stomach, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flowing through me.

  The cab driver is sweet enough to help me with my suitcases. We walk them up the stairs to my apartment on the first floor, I pay him, and then I knock on apartment 309. Not a second passes before it opens with a jarring bang as the security chain stops it from extending all the way. I jump and hold a hand up to my heaving chest. She scared the crap out of me.

  A wrinkly face appears in the gap, covered by thick coke-bottle glasses. I force a smile. “Hello. I’m Helena Kovac. My sister Natalie told me she left a key with you for me.”

  The tiny woman’s face wrinkles in confusion. She yells, “What?”

  I blink.

  Are you fucking kidding me, Nat?

  I clear my throat and speak louder. “My sister Natalie says you have a key for me.” But the lady just blinks. I dip my chin to stop myself from laughing. After I get myself under control, I lift my face and smile. I point to my own ear and say, “Can you hear me?”

  But the woman just frowns at me. “You’ll have to speak up. My hearin’ isn’t what it used to be.”

  I nod sympathetically and near-shout, “My sister Natalie says you have a key for me. I’m Helena.”

  The woman scowls. “No need to holler, young lady. I hear just fine, thank you very much.”

  What the fucktruck?

  She heads inside and locks the door. I wait patiently, but nothing happens.

  She’s abandoned me.

  I knock again. The door opens and the little old lady looks up at me through her glasses expectantly. I’m not sure what’s happening here, so I go on and just stare back. When she attempts to close the door in my face, I quickly say, “I need the key Natalie left you to get into my new apartment.”

  The woman blinks. “You’ll have to speak up. My hearin’ isn’t what it used to be.”

  Oh, for the love of cake.

  I dip my chin and my body shakes in silent laughter. New York, I like you already. I lift my face and ask slowly, clearly, and loudly, “Do you know Natalie in 306?” I point at Nat’s apartment door to help her along.

  The woman looks over at Nat’s apartment, then back up at me. “She’s not home. She works.”

  I explain again, “I’m her sister. I just came from California.” I point to my suitcases next to me. “I need the key to my apartment.” I point to my new apartment before making a key-unlocking-a-door motion.

  The little old lady’s face beams in recognition. She smiles. “You’re the sister!”

  I beam right back at her. “I’m the sister!”

  She laughs. “You need the key.”

  I chuckle and confirm, “Yes! I need the key! The key, please.”

  She nods and steps back into her apartment. “Just a second, sweetie.”

  She closes the door and I sigh in relief. I wait. And wait. And wait some more.

  Nothing.

  I knock once more. Maybe she needs help finding the key. The door opens, and the little old lady looks up at me through her glasses like she’s seeing me for the first time.

  Part of me wants to laugh, but another part of me wants to knock her over the head with something so I can find the damn key myself. I smile sweetly. “Do you have the key yet? I really need to get inside.”

  The woman blinks. “You’ll have to speak up. My hearin’ isn’t what it used to be.”

  I run a hand down my face.

  Oy vey.

  ***

  It takes me a whole forty-five minutes to get Mrs. Crandle to give me the fracking key. Turns out she’s not only hard of hearing and forgetful, but she has a thousand cats, all of which she wanted to introduce me to. By name.

  She made me promise to come drink tea with her sometime, and I promised I would.

  As I put the key into the lock and open the door, I laugh in relief. Relief that this is actually the key and I won’t have to word battle Mrs. Crandle again. I open the door and shuffle my suitcases inside. Pulling the door closed, I look around. My boxes are stacked nice and neatly by the right-hand wall.

  A sudden thought comes to mind. You could pack your entire life into eight boxes?

  That’s kind of sad. They aren’t even extra-large or large boxes; they’re medium sized boxes, full of crap. Yes, crap, but all of that crap, I love. Pushing the thought aside, I pull my phone out of my purse and text Nat.

  Me: I’m at the apartment. Don’t be pissy. I didn’t want to bother you. The place looks amazing!

  Approximately thirty seconds later, my phone pings.

  Nat: YOU DIRTY TOERAG! I KNEW YOU WERE LYING. YOU ALWAYS LIE! WHY DO YOU LIE?

  I snicker.

  Me: Whatevs, bro. I’ll see you after work.

  Nat: I’m going to tear you a new asshole. But I’ll bring cupcakes.

  My eyes widen at the last part. I salivate. I freaking love cupcakes.

  Me: Oh Em Gee! Pls pls pls get the salted caramel ones. And the choc fudge brownie. And maybe vanilla creme. You know what? I don’t even care which ones, because CUPCAKES!

  Nat: Now you get none.

  Me: You’re a rugmuncher.

  Nat: And you have a hairy asshole.

  I burst into laughter. My sister is so vulgar. I love it.

  Me: Love you x

  Nat: LY2. Can’t wait to see you. Even though you’re a lying sack of shit x

  Ahh, feel the love?

  I take my suitcases and roll them over to the bedroom. And I stop dead in my tracks. I blink, then back away into the hall. Shaking my head, I tiptoe over to my bedroom.

  There’s a man on the bed. A man spread-eagle, face-down, right on my bed.

  My heart races.

  By the way his back moves up and down in an even motion, I know he’s asleep. My head tells me to call the cops, but if I do that, I need to be sure I’m in danger. A sleeping man on my bed doesn’t seem like much of a threat right now. I think hard for a moment before quietly moving back into the kitchen and going through my purse. I take out my pocket mace and my cell phone, and walk back to my room.

  It takes me a full minute for me to realize I have the mace to my ear and my phone held out as a weapon. Genius. I quickly switch them around and enter my bedroom. The man’s sock-covered feet hang over the foot of the bed. Lifting my own foot, I nudge his calf. He grumbles, but doesn’t wake. I nudge him again, harder this time.

  A sleepy, “Nik, fuck off,” comes out of the man, and my body goes rigid.

  I know that voice.

  I really like that voice. Why the hell is he in my apartment? In my bedroom? I lower my mace and clear my throat.

  “Fuck off, man. Not kidding.”

  I don’t bother with niceties. “You fuck off. This is my apartment.”

  His body stiffens. Without another word, he turns over, tilting his head up, blinking up at me. “Helen?”

  Oh, man, you’re on a roll, asshole.

  I glare. “It’s Helena! Not Helen!”

  He looks adorably mussed. His dark brown hair sticks up in the back and he blinks his sleepy golden eyes. His red-rimmed golden eyes. I don’t like that. I frown as I speak, “Are you drunk?”

  A look of confusion passes him. “What? No, I’m not drunk.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  He looks around the room, gathering his bearings before his body slumps. “Oh, shit. I was supposed to be fixing a leaking faucet, but I guess, I…uh…” He scratches at his chin—his amazing, strong, manly chin—and finishes, “…fell asleep.”

  My brows rise in disbelief. He watches me closely. We don’t say a word.

  I take in a deep breath and respond on an exhale, “Well, if you’re d
one, I need to move my stuff in…without anyone sleeping on my bed,” I look down at my pillow and accuse, “or drooling on my pillows.”

  He quickly opens his mouth to defend himself, but turns around to look for himself. “I didn’t drool…” He trails off as he sees the wet spot on my pillow. At least he has the grace to look sheepish. “I can wash that.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

  He stands and stretches, but as he lifts his arms over his head, extending his muscular arms as far as they can go, his tee lifts over the waistband of his jeans to reveal low-rise jeans, boxer elastic, and a well sculpted V.

  The dark blue jeans he wears encase his strong legs. The plain black tee is nice and fitted over his muscular arms, but looks well worn. His feet are covered in white socks. A very obviously child-made, bright yellow, purple, and blue elastic loom bracelet rests around his right wrist.

  He looks delicious.

  Warmth hits my dipping belly and works its way down. I squeeze my leg together tightly, holding the doorframe for support. Holy shit. I’m suddenly hyper-aware I have on no makeup and am wearing grey sweats with my white stay-at-home tank. It’s a stay-at-home tank, because it’s ratty. So extremely comfortable, but ratty.

  Okay, it’s more like a rag. Somehow, this only makes me angrier. “You can’t just come into people houses when they aren’t there.”

  Max rubs a hand over his face. Mid-yawn, he utters, “Sure I can.”

  My blood begins to boil. “No, you can’t.”

  He lowers his hand from his face and smiles at me. All I see are full lips, white teeth, and that magical dimple.

  That fucking dimple.

  He takes a step towards me, eyes trained on mine. His voice is still sleep-husky when he drawls, “I’m here, aren’t I?” He looks over my face then mutters distractedly, “A face like this should not be frowning.”

  My cheeks heat. I choke out, “What?”

  He says louder, more confidently, “I said a face like yours should never frown.”

  I flush and mumble, “What’s wrong with my face?”

  Max looks me over, slowly, meaningfully, “Absolutely nothing, from what I can see.” He smirks. “I’ll just use my imagination for the things I can’t.” Then he winks.