Loving on the Edge Series Book 7)Nothing Between Us

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NEEDYOUTONIGHT
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FALLINTOYOU
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CRASHINTOYOU
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CRASHINTOYOU
MELTINTOYOU
FALLINTOYOU
CAUGHTUPINYOU
NEEDYOUTONIGHT
NOTUNTILYOU
NOTHINGBETWEENUS
Novellas
STILLINTOYOU
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Loren,Roni.
Nothingbetweenus/RoniLoren.—Berkleytradepaperbackedition.
pages;cm.—(Alovingontheedgenovel;7)
ISBN978-0-425-26857-5(softcover)
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Version_1ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Everybookisalaboroflove,andeachstoryhasitsownuniquechallenges.ForColby’sbook,IknewIwastakingonabigstorylinewithalotofmovingparts(punintended,lol),soIexpectedbumpyroadsandblocksalongtheway.Andboy,wasIright.ButI’mblessedtohavepeoplearoundmewhokeepme(somewhat)saneandwhodon’tletmeburnmanuscriptswhenI’mconvincedI’vemuckeditallup.
So,thankyoutomywritingsupportgroup—JulieCross,JamieWesley,andTaylorLunsford—whowerealwaystherewithadvice,cheerleading,andasympatheticear(oranemergencybetaread)whenIwasfightingtogetthisbookjustright.
Tomyfamily,foralwaysbelievinginmeandwhatI’mdoing.Inevertakethatenthusiasmandsupportforgranted.
Tomyson,forbeingpatientwithMommyandmakingherlaughwhenshe’sinwriter-deadlinemode.
Tomyagent,SaraMegibow,forallyourpositivityandencouragement.
Tomyeditor,KateSeaver,forlettingmetakerisksinmybooksandforutteringthesweetwords(whenIwarnedherthisbookwasrunninglong):“Don’tworryaboutgoingoverwordcount.Tellthestoryyouneedtotell.Morewordsjustmeansmoreforreaders.”Thankyou!
Andtomyhusband,Donnie,forbeingtherealways—foreverything.Loveya,babeCONTENTS
PraiseforTitlesbyRoniLoren
TitlesbyRoniLoren
TitlePage
Copyright
Acknowledgments
CHAPTERONE
CHAPTERTWO
CHAPTERTHREE
CHAPTERFOUR
CHAPTERFIVE
CHAPTERSIX
CHAPTERSEVEN
CHAPTEREIGHT
CHAPTERNINE
CHAPTERTEN
CHAPTERELEVEN
CHAPTERTWELVE
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
CHAPTERNINETEEN
CHAPTERTWENTY
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
CHAPTERTHIRTY
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
CHAPTERFORTY
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
SpecialExcerptfromCallonMe
AbouttheAuthorONE
12:35a.m.—Spring
GeorgiaDelaunehadneverbeenparticularlydrawntoillegalactivity.Ortakingrisks.Or,okay,fine—sexuallydeviantbehavior.Shewaswomanenoughtoadmitwhatthiswas.Sofindingherselfhidinginthedark,peeringaroundthecurtainsofhersecond-storywindowwithasetofbinoculars,should’vetippedheroffthatshewasofficiallylosinghershit.
ButsincemovingintothehouseonFallenOaksLanesixmonthsearlier,she’dknownthismomentwascoming.Beforenow,she’dconvincedherselfthatshe’donlybeencatchinginadvertentpeeksandunintentionalglimpses.Herneighborwouldsurelyshuthiscurtainsifhedidn’twanttoriskbeingseen,right?
Shegroaned,loweredthebinoculars,andpressedherforeheadtothewindowframe.God,nowshewasblamingthevictim.Hegetsnakedintheconfinesofhisownhome.Ahomethat’sonatreedcornerlotwithtonsofprivacyandaseven-foot-tallfence.Howdarehe!
Thiswassoscrewedup.Whatifhesawher?Hecouldcallthecops,andshe’dbeslappedwithsomePeepingTomcharge—orPeepingTammy,asthecasemaybe.That’dbeanepicdisaster.EspeciallywhenthecopsfoundnoinformationonaGeorgiaDelaune.Plus,afterward,she’dhavetomovebecausethere’dbenofacingherneighboragain.Notafterheknewwhatshedidatnight.Andtherewasnowayinhellshewasmoving.Ithadtakentoomuchtime,effort,andplanningtofindthisspot,tofinallyfeelevenasmidgenofsecurityandsafety.Thesewallswereheronlyhaven,andshehadnointentionofleavingthem.
Butdespiteknowingtherisks,whenshesawalampflickonandlightglowinthewindowofColbyWilkes’sbedroom,shefoundherselfdraggingachairovertothewindowandliftingthebinocularstohereyes.Ittookasecondtoadjustthefocus,butwhenthelensescleared,thebroad,wetshouldersofherdark-hairedneighborfilledtheview.Herstomachdippedinanticipation.
Hewasn’talone.
She’dknownhehadfriendsover.She’dseenthegroupgoinginwhenshe’dclosedherlivingroomblindsearlierthatnight.Twowomenandthreeguys,plusColby.Later,she’dheardwatersplashingandthemurmuringofvoices,soshe’dgoneintoherbackyardforawhiletolistentothedistantsoundsoflifeandlaughter.Thatworldseemedsoforeigntohernow.Beingsurroundedbypeople,havingfriendsover,relaxingbythepool.Shecouldn’tseeanythingfromherbackyard.Colby’spoolareawasblockedbythehouseandborderedbytrees.Soshe’dlaininherloungechairoutback,closedhereyes,andhadimaginedshewasaguestathisparty,thatshewaspartofthatlaughter.Andshe’dalsofoundherselfwonderingwhatwouldhappenafterward.
Nowsheknew.Colbyhadsteppedintohisbedroom,obviouslyfreshfromthepoolwithhisdarkhairwetandonlyatowelknottedaroundhiswaist.Andhehadcompanywithhim.OneofColby’sfriends,atallblondguywhowasalsosportingatowel,hadfollowedhimin.Andthentherewasawoman.Sheworenothingatall.Georgia’sliptuckedbetweenherteeth,heatcreepingintoherface.Shesoshouldn’tbewatchingthis.Butshecouldn’tturnaway.She’dlearnedratherquicklythatherdearneighbor,despitehisaffablegrin,Southern-boycharm,andstraitlacedjob,wasafreakinthebedroom.Threesomeswereonlypartofit.Themanwasdominanttothecore.Consideringherlastrelationship,thataloneshould’veturnedheroff,sentherrunning.Guyswhowantedcontrol.Fuck,no.
Butthefirsttimeshe’dcaughtsightofColbybringingafloggerdownonalover’sback,Georgiahadbeentransfixed.She’dbeencompletelystuckonherlatestwritingprojectatthetime.ButafterwatchingColbydriveawomanintoawrithing,beggingstate,Georgiahadgoneintoheroffice,openedanewdocument,andwrittenuntilthesunhadbrokenthroughthecurtainsthenextmorning.Beforesheknewit,herthriller-in-progresshadtakenadecidedlyeroticturn.Thankfully,hereditorhadlovedthenewdirection.SonowGeorgia,inherguiltiestmoments,toldherselfthesestolenmomentsatthewindowwereallinthenameofbookresearch.
Yeah.Evenhersleep-deprivedbraindidn’tbuythatone.
Theguiltwasn’tenoughtomakeherstop,though.EspeciallynowwhenColbywasgrabbingfortheknotonhistowel.Sheheldherbreath.TheterryclothfelltotheflooratColby’sfeet,andeverythinginsideGeorgiawenttight.Holyheavenabove.She’dwatched—oh,howshe’dwatched—butneverbeforehadshebeenabletoseeeverythinginsuchintimatedetail.Thebinocularstransportedher,tookherbythehandanddraggedherintothatroomwiththosestrangers.Colbywasrightthereinfrontofher—strong,beautiful,aroused.Hishandwrappedaroundhiscockandstrokedeversoslowly,tauntingherwithunashamedconfidence.No,nother.Thewoman.God,Georgiashouldlookaway.Butneedrolledthroughherlikethunderfromanoncomingstorm,herfingerstighteningaroundthebinoculars.
Theothermanhadstripped,too,andalthoughhewasgorgeousinhisownrightwithhispolished,camera-readygoodlooks,Georgiawasdrawntotherough-around-the-edgesbrawnofherneighbor.EverypartofColbyhintedatthewildnesshehidbeneathhissurface—darkwavyhairthatwasalittletoolong,theclose-croppedbeardthatshadowedhisjaw,andabodythatlookedlikehecouldbench-pressaBuick.Hewastheoppositeofthepressedandcreased,Armani-cladbusinessmenshe’dbeenattractedtoinherformerlife.Hewastheguyyou’dbewaryofonfirstglanceifyouranintohiminadarkalley—thecowboywhosehatcoloryoucouldn’tquitedeterminestraightaway.
Perhapsthatwaswhyshewassofascinatedwithhim,despitethefactthathewasamanwhowantedwhatshecouldnevergive.She’dlearnedthatdangeroftenhidbehindtheglossofanurbanesmileandperfectlyexecutedWindsorknot.Colbywasnoneofthat.Butregardlessofthereasonforhermixed-upattraction,shecouldn’tstemthecrackleofjealousythatwentthroughastheothermanlacedhisfingersinthewoman’shairandguidedhertotakeColbyintohermouth.
TheviewofColby’serectiondisappearingbetweenthelipsofsomeotherwomanwaserotic.Therewasnodenyingthat.ButitalsomadeGeorgia’sjawclenchalittletoohard.Shecouldtell,evenfromthebriefmomentsshe’dbeenwatching,thatthiswomanbelongedtoColby’sfriend.TheywereacoupleandColbythethirdparty.ButitstillactivatedGeorgia’sHe’smine,bitch!reflex.
Georgiasniffedatherridiculous,territorialreaction,andtriedtoloosenthetensiongatheringinherneck.Sure,he’syours,girl.Youcan’twalkdownthestreetwithoutswallowingapillfirst,muchlessstartsomethingifhewereeveninterestedintheweird,spyingchicknextdoor.
Butsheshovedthethoughtaway.Shedidn’twantanythingtaintingthesefewpreciousminutes.Thiswasn’taboutfindingahookup.Onlywhenshestoodatthiswindowdidshefeelevenaglimmerofherformerselftryingtobreakthrough.Thiswashergossamer-thinlifelinetowhosheusedtobe,tothecapableandconfidentwomanwhowould’veneverhiddeninthedark.
Beforelong,theblondmaneasedthewomanawayfromColbyandguidedhertowardhimself,takinghisturn.Georgiatiltedthebinocularsupward,findingColby’sfaceinsteadoffocusingonthescenebetweentheothermanandhiswoman.Whatshefoundlurkinginhisexpressionwasn’twhatsheexpected.TherewasheatinColby’seyes,interestforsure,butasshestaredlonger,shesensedadistanceinthosehazeldepths.Likehewastherewiththembutother…separate.Alone.
Itprobablywasonlybecausetheothertwowereacouple.OrmaybeitwasGeorgia’smindslappinglabelsonthingstomakeherselffeelbetter.Butregardless,itmadeherchestconstrictwithrecognition.Shedidn’tknowwhatwasgoingoninhishead.Orhowseeinghisfriendstogethermadehimfeel.Butsheknewloneliness.Andforthosefewseconds,shewasconvincedColbydid,too.Shepressedherfingertipagainstthecoolglassofthewindow,tracingtheoutlineofColby’sface.Needingtotouch…something.
Theglassmightaswellhavebeenmadeofsteel,theyardsbetweenthehousesmadeofmiles.
Butshecouldn’twalkaway.Thenightwentonandthereshesat,watchingthethreeloversmovetothebed,thewomanbeingcuffedtotheheadboard.Thetwomenlavishedherwithhandsandmouthsandtongues.Itwaslikewatchingasilentsymphony,thearchingofthewoman’sbacktheonlythingGeorgianeededtoseetoknowexactlyhowthesemenwereaffectingtheirwillingcaptive.Themelancholyfeelingsthathadstirredearlierhadquicklybeensurpassedbyonesmuchmorebaseandprimal.Georgia’sbodywasgrowinghotandrestless,herpantiesgoingdamp.
WhenColbybracedhimselfbetweenthewoman’sthighsandenteredher,Georgiatrainedthebinocularsonhisface,unabletohandletheimageofhimhavingsexwithanotherwoman.Hermindwasdevelopingquitetheabilitytofocusonthefantasyandblockouttheunwantedparts.SheonlyhadaviewofColby’sprofile,butshewatchedwithraptattentionashisjawworkedandhisskinwentslickwithsweatinsteadofpoolwater.
Withoutgivingittoomuchthought,shebracedoneelbowonthewindowledgetoholdthebinocularssteadyandletherotherhanddriftdownward.Hercottonnightgownslidupherthighseasily.Somewhereherbrainprotestedthatthiswaswrong—sickandsad.Shehadaperfectlyfunctioningvibratorinherbedsidedrawer.Shehadanimaginationstrongenoughtofuelanorgasmwithoutdoingthis,withoutwatchingthemannextdoorscrewanotherwoman.Butherstarvedlibidodidn’tseemtogiveadamnaboutmoralsorethicsorpriderightnow.Therewasneed.Andasolution.Simpleasthat.
AsColby’slipspartedwithasoundshecouldonlyimagine,Georgia’sfingersfoundtheedgeofherpantiesandslippedbeneaththematerial.Herbodytightenedatthetouchandthelittlegaspshemadereverberatedinthedeadsilenceoftheguestbedroom.Colby’sheaddippedbetweenhisshoulders,andGeorgiaimagineditwasherhewaswhisperingpassionatewordsto.ThatdeepTexasdrawltellingherhowgooditfelttobeinsideher,howsexyshewas,howhewasgoingtomakehercome.Hewouldbeadirtytalker,shehadnodoubt.NosweetnothingsfromColbyWilkes.
SheclosedhereyesforamomentasshemovedherfingersintherhythmofColby’sthrust—long,languidstrokesthathadafirebuildingfromhercenterandradiatingheatoutward.Itwouldn’ttakelong.Herbodywasalreadysingingwithsensation,releasehurtlingtowardher.Butshewouldn’tgooveralone.Sheforcedhereyesopen,thebinocularsstillinhergrip,andfoundColbyagain.Hisdarkhairwascurlingagainsthisneck,sweatglisteningathistemples.Hehadtobeclose,too.Everymuscleinhisshouldersandbackhadtensed.Allofherattentionzeroedinonhim,andinhermind,thetouchofherownfingersmorphedintohis—hishandsandbodymovingagainsther,insideher.
Everymoleculeinherbeingseemedtocontract,preparingfortheburstofenergytocome.Herbreathquickened,herheartbeatpulsinginherears.Andrightasshewasabouttoclosehereyesandgoover,Colbyjerkedhisheadtothesidetowardthewindow.Hisheatedgazecollidedwithhersthroughthebinoculars—adead-oneyelockthatreachedinsideGeorgiaandflippedherinsideout.Heknows.
Butshewastoofargonefortheshocktoderailher.Orgasmcareenedthroughherwithaforcethatmadethechairscrapebackacrossthewoodfloor.Shemoanedintothequiet,thebinocularsslippingfromherhandandjerkingthestraparoundherneck.Thepartinthecurtainsfellshut,butshedidn’tnotice.Everythingwastoobrightbehindhereyelids,toogood,toworryaboutanythingelsebutthewayshefeltinthoselongseconds.Enjoy.Don’tthink.Justfeel.Thewordswhisperedthroughherasherfingerskeptmoving,herbodydeterminedtoekeouteveryounceofsensationshecouldmanage.
But,ofcourse,theblissful,mindlessmomentscouldn’tlastforever.Chillyrealitymadeaswiftreappearanceashergownslippedbackdownherthighsandsweatcooledonherskin.Shesatthere,staringattheclosedcurtainandlisteningtoherthumpingheart.Colbycouldn’tknow,right?Hisgazehadfeltintenseandknowingbecausethebinocularshadmadehimseemsoclose.Butherwindowwasdark,hercurtainsdarker,andthemoonwasthrowingoffenoughlightthatitwouldmaketheglasssimplyreflectbacktheglow.
Butherchestfeltlikeahundredhummingbirdshadroostedthere,beatingtheirwingsagainstherribs.Shewetherlipsandswallowedpasttheconstrictioninherthroat.Shehadtolook.Wouldherneighborbestridingoverheretodemandwhatwasgoingon?Wouldhebedisgusted?Embarrassed?Angry?
God,shedidn’tevenwanttothinkaboutit.Shewantedtoturnaround,gotoherbedroom,andhideunderthecovers.Butthatwasallherlifehadturnedintonow—hiding.Andthoughshecouldn’tfixthatsituation,sherefusedtocreateanotherone.Sosheforcedherselftoleanforwardandpeelthecurtainsbackonemoretime,leavingthebinocularshangingaroundherneck.
Whatshesawmadethehummingbirdsthrashmore.Colbywasn’tintheroomanymore.Hisfriendwasnowwiththewomaninthebed,andbothseemedtotallyabsorbedineachother.DidthatmeanthatColbyhadleftandwasheadingthiswaytoconfronther?Shewasabouttogodownstairstochecktheyardbutthenpausedwhensherealizednothinghadchangedabouttheview.Nothingatall.IfColbyhadbeenconcernedaboutanosyneighbor,hehadn’tbotheredtoclosethecurtainsorwarnhisfriends.Surelyhewould’vedonethat.
Shesatthere,debatingandworrying,butsoonColbyreturnedtothebedroom.Themanandwomanhadfinished.Colbyhadonapairofboxersandhadbroughtcleantowelsinforeveryone.Hedidn’tlookconcerned.Hedidn’tglanceoveratthewindow.Heseemedperfectlyrelaxedashehelpeduncuffthewoman’shands,kissedherforeheadinafriendlygesture,andthenlefthisfriendstosleepalone.
Georgialetoutalongbreath,sagginginthechair.
Hedidn’tknow.
Sheshouldstoptakingthisrisk—throwawaythebinoculars,putabookcaseinfrontofthisdamnwindow,andstopwhileshewasahead.
Butsheknewshewouldn’t.Shewouldfindherselfhereagain.
Becauseifshedidn’thavehersecretnightswithColbyWilkes,whatwasleft?
Fourwalls,longdays,andfear.
Sheneededthis.Shejusthadtomakesureheneverfoundout.TWO
October31
Rightbeforequittingtime,ColbygotavisitfromtheGrimReaper.Colbylookedupfromhisdeskatthehoodedheadpeekinginthroughhisdoorway.“YouknowwhereDr.Guthrieis?”
Thesullenvoicesoundedappropriatelygrimforthecostume.Colbyputasidethestudentfilehe’dbeenmakingnoteson.“Hehadtoleaveearlybecausehewasn’tfeelingwell.Wereyousupposedtomeetwithhimtoday?”
Thereapershruggedandpulledhishoodback,revealingthefaceofjuniorTravisClarkson.“Yeah.Butifhe’snothere…”
ColbycouldheartheindecisioninthedriftofTravis’svoice.Ifhiscounselorwasn’there,hehadtherighttoskiphisappointment,butColbysensedthekidneededtotalk.He’dheardthere’dbeenabullyingincidentthismorningandthatTravishadbeenthetarget.Unfortunately,notanuncommonspotforTravis.Poorkidcamefromoneofthewealthiestfamiliesinthearea,butmoneycouldn’tfixhisacne-proneskin,hiscripplingsocialanxiety,ortheresultingdepressionitcaused.
“Comeoninandgrabachair,Travis,”Colbysaid,keepinghisvoicecasual.“There’sonlyahalfhourbeforethebell.Youcanskiptherestofstudyhallandchatwithme.”
Travisshiftedonhisfeetinthatawkwardwayteenboysdidwhentheyhadn’tquitegrownintotheirnewlongerlimbs.“Idon’twant—youlookbusy.”
“Nope.”ColbystretchedhislegbeneathhisdeskandsentthechairinfrontofitrollingtowardTravis.“Iwasjustfinishingupsomenotes.You’llsavemefromboringpaperwork.”
Travistuckedhishandsintherobeofhiscostumeandshuffledin.HeglancedaroundatColby’soffice,hiseyesskimmingovertheshelvesofbooksandthefewphotoshe’dkeptfromhismusicdays.“YourofficeisdifferentthanDr.Guthrie’s.”
Noshit.ThatwasbecauseGuthrielikedtopretendhewasFreudhimselfinsteadofsomeguyworkingatthepedestrianinstitutionofGrahamAlternativeHighSchool.Guthrie’sofficehadaplushcouch,huntergreenpaintoverthecinder-blockwalls,mutedlighting,andafreakingdeskfountain.Ifsmokingweren’tbannedinthebuilding,Colbyhadnodoubttheschoolpsychologistwouldhaveapipehangingfromhismouthduringsessions.ButColbyhadlearnedthatthelastthingthesekidsneededwastowalkintosomethingthatlookedlikeatherapist’soffice.Infact,hespentmostofhissessionswithhisstudentsdoingsomethingactivewhiletheytalked.Itwasamazinghowakidcouldopenupifhewasshootinghoopsandnotbeingstaredatwhenheansweredpersonalquestions.
“Iliketokeepthingssimple.”
Traviswenttothewalltogetacloserlookataphotoinsteadofimmediatelysittingdown.“IsthatyouandBrockGreenwood?”
“Yeah,”Colbysaid.“Iplayedwithhiminabandwhenwewereyounger.Ofcourse,backthen,hewasn’ttheBrockGreenwood.Justaguywhocouldsinghisfaceoff.Youlistentocountrymusic?”
Travisturnedawayfromthepictureandloweredhimselfintothechair.“Ilistentoeverything.Ilikemashingshit—er—stuffuponmycomputer.Youknow,makingthingsthatdon’tseemtogotogetherblend.”
Colbysmiled.“Really?That’scool.Ican’tbetrustedwithallthosemusicprograms.Ihaveafriendwhodoesitandhe’striedtoteachme,buthe’sdeclaredmeahopelesscase.Justgivememyguitarandablankpieceofpapertojotdownlyrics.”
“Oldschool.”
“Orjustold.”
Travisalmostsmiled—somethingColbywasn’tsurehe’deverseenTravisdo—butthekidseemedtocatchhimselfbeforeheletitbreakthrough.Godforbidhelettheschoolcounselorknowhelikedtalkingtohim.“Youstillplay?”
“Ido.Iplayafewgigshereandthere.Nothingserious.It’sagoodwaytorelax—playingwithoutanypressureattachedtoit.”
Travisnodded.“Yeah,Igetthat.ButIcan’treallyimaginegettingonstageasbeingrelaxing.Ilikethebehind-the-scenesstuff.Puttingonmyheadphones…Idon’tknow,it’slikeaswitchthatshutsouttheworldandtransportsmesomewhereelse,anotherlife.”
“Anescape.”
“Yeah,”hesaid,rubbinghischappedlipstogether.“That’swhatIlike.Thatescape.Nothingelsematterswhenthemusicisplaying.”
Colbyleanedbackinhischairandhookedhisankleoverhisknee,understandingthatdesirebutalsohearingthelonelinesslacingTravis’swords.“Everthoughtaboutpursuingacareerinthat?Soundengineeringormusicproducing?”
Travisglancedup,hisfaceabithaunted—althoughthatcould’vebeenthewholeGrimReaperlookhehadgoingon.“I’vethoughtaboutit.Butmyparentswouldshitabrick—sorry.”
Colbywavedahand,dismissingthelanguage.Thekidwastalking,hedidn’tcareifheslippedupandcursed.
“Theyhatemefoolingaroundwithmycomputer.Theythinkitisolatesmeorwhatever.LikeifIjuststopdoingthat,suddenlymylifewillbeallFridaynightfootballgamesandpromsandcrap.”Hesneered.“Theycan’tseethatthosethingsaren’toptionsformeevenifIwantedthem.Maybetheyshouldbetheonesonmedication.They’redelusional.”
Colbyrubbedahandoverthebackofhishead,choosinghiswordscarefully.Itwasalwaysafinelinewhenkidscomplainedabouttheirparents.Ifyoutooktheparents’side,thekidshutdown.Ifyouunderminedtheparentsandagreedwiththekids,youhelpedjustifybehaviorthatmightnotbeonehundredpercenthealthy.“Sometimesit’shardforparentstoseethebenefitinsomethingthatfromtheoutsidelookslikewastingtime.Iftheydon’tsharethatpassion,itcanbehardforthemtounderstand.”
“TheyjustwishIweresomeoneelse.”Hisgazedroppedtohishands,whichwerefiddlingwiththestrapofhisbackpack.“Idon’treallyblamethem.”
Colbyhidhisfrown.“Wouldyouwanttobesomeoneelseifyoucould?”
Hetwistedthestraparoundhisfingers.“Maybe.”
“Andwhowouldyoube?”
Hegrimaced.“Idon’tknow.Someonewhocouldaskagirloutwithoutgettingpitstainsinfrontofeveryone.”
“IsthatwhatgotDaltonandhisfriendsafteryoutoday?”
Hechewedhislipandgaveanothershrug.
“Wouldyouwanttobehim?”Colbyasked,picturingDaltonWiggins—Mr.Popular,leadshit-stirreratGrahamHigh.AndakidwhohadanirrevocablybrokenhomelifethatColbywouldwishonnoone.Ofcourse,noonehereknewthatexcepthimsinceDaltononlysharedthatstuffintheprivacyofhiscounselingsessionswithColby.
“Fuck,no,”Travisbitout.“Theguy’sajerk.ButifIlookedlikehim,Iwouldn’tactlikehedoes.I’djust,Idon’tknow,useitforgood.”
Colbyliftedabrow.“Forgood?”
“Forgirls,”Travissupplied,alittlesmirktouchinghislips.
Ah,italwayscamebacktogirls.“Sowhathappenedtodaywhenyouaskedthatgirlout?”
“Shestartedoutbeingniceaboutit—eventhoughshewasgoingtosayno.Icouldtell.Theyalwayssayno.ButwhenDaltonwalkedupandteasedmeaboutsweating,shejustkindoflookedembarrassed.Andlike…”Hisjawclenched.“Likeshefeltsorryforme.”
Colby’schestsqueezed.Damn,thiskidcouldn’tcatchabreak.Hewasprobablyoneofthesmarteststudentsintheschool.Histestscoreswerealwaysoffthecharts.HewasonlyhereatGrahambecausehisdepressionhadbecomedebilitatinglastyear,andhe’dmissedtoomuchschool.Oneday,he’dprobablybesomebrilliantengineer,richoffhisass,clear-skinnedandsoughtafterbydrovesofthefairersex.ButColbyknewthefutureseemedsodamnfarawaywhenyouwereateenager.“Travis—”
“Ijustwantthecraptoend,youknow?Like,cantheycutmesomeslackforonegoddamnedday?YouknowhowharditwasformetogetthenervetoaskMalloryout?”
“I’llmakesureandtalktoDaltonabouthisbehavior.He’salreadyonwarningandisclosetogettingkickedoutifhekeepsitup.We’llmakesureyoucancometoschoolwithouthavingtoworryaboutbullies.”
Travissniffed.“Someoneelsewilljustreplacehim.”
Colbyflinched,knowingthatwasprobablytrue.“Howaboutwe—”
Thebellrang,startlingthemboth.
Travisjumpedup,slinginghisbackpackoverhisshoulder.“Igottago.”
“Hey,”Colbysaid,standing.“Wait,youdon’thaveto—”
“Ineedtopickupmysisteratherschool.IfI’mlate,mymomwillbepissed.”
“Travis,Iwanttomakesureyou’reokayafterwhathappenedtoday.Ifyouwanttotalksomemore,Ican—”
“I’mfine.”HepulledhisReaperhoodoverhisheadagain.“HappyHalloween,Mr.Wilkes.”
Colbyopenedhismouthtosaysomethingelse,thenshutitwhenTravisdisappearedintothenow-bustlinghallway.Colbysatbackinhischairandrubbedahandoverhisface.Mondayhe’dpullTravisoutofclassforafullsession.Atleastwiththeweekend,thekidwouldgetabreakfromschoolforafewdays.
Andaftertoday,Colbycoulduseone,too.Hepackeduphisthingsandheadedout.Hehadapartytohost.Andabettohonor.
Hewasn’tlookingforwardtothelatter.
—
“Damn,Colby,youweresupposedtodressup.Where’syourcostume?”KadeaskedwhenColbyopenedthefrontdoortolethistwofriendsinafewhourslater.
Colbyliftedhisplasticaxtohisshoulder.“Don’tfuckwithme,Vandergriff.Ihaveweapons.AndPaulBunyancouldtotallykickazombie’sass.Oneswingtotheheadandyou’redone.”
Kadegrinnedamacabre,deadman’ssmileandsteppedpastColbyintothehouse,carryinggrocerybags.“SoIguessthismeansyoulostthebetwithKelseyandWyatt?”
“Iwashustled.Ihadnoideathatgirlwassogoodatpool.”
Tessa,Kade’sgirlfriend,wasfightingasmilebeneathherblacklipstickasshefollowedKadein.“Evening,Mr.Lumberjack.”
Colbygroanedandcockedhisheadtowardhisax.“You’reluckyyou’regood-looking,zombiegirl.”
Formonths,membersatTheRanch,theBDSMresortColbyworkedatontheweekends,hadbeencallinghimTheLumberjackbehindhisback.Hehatedthenickname,andnowitwasdefinitelygoingtostick.EspeciallyafterhesawKadesetdownhisbagsandsnapapicwithhisphone.Itwasprobablyspreadingthroughtheirnetworkoffriendslikeavirusastheystoodthere.
Tessahandedhimaplastic-wrappedtrayofredandgreenJell-Oshotsthatwereshapedlikebrainsandtiltedherheadtogivehimanotheronce-over.“Don’tworry.It’sagoodlookforyou.Veryrustic.I’msureyoucouldheadouttoTheRanchandhaveacrowdofsubmissivesvolunteeringtoplayBabetheBlueOxforyoutonight.”
Helaughedandtookthetrayfromher.“There’snothingsexyaboutanox.”
Plus,hehadnodesiretogotoTheRanchtonight.He’dbeenworkingthereforafewyearsnowasatrainer.Itwaswhathedidforalittlefunandalotofextramoney.Andnormally,Halloweenwasoneofhisfavoritenightstogoouttheresincenooneknewhowtododeviantcostumes—orthetreatpartofthetrick-or-treatequation—likekinkypeople.ButtheenjoymenthadbeendrainingoutofhistimeatTheRanchoverthelastyear,andithadstartedtofeellikeworkinsteadofanescape.Hecouldn’tpinpointwhathadshifted.Butlately,thedynamicoftrainingsomeoneasabusinessarrangementhadsuckedalotofwhathelovedaboutkinkoutoftheexperience.Heusedtogetahighfromsessions.Nowtoooftenhefelthollowandexhaustedbytheendofthem.Evenwhenhewaswithsomeoneofftheclock,itstillfeltlikeatransactioninsteadofaconnection.
Infact,thelasttimeherememberedhavingareallygoodtimewithanyonewasthenighthe’dhelpedKadegiveTessaherthreesomefantasy.It’dbeenafunandsexynightwithfriends.ButColbyhadknownthenitwouldbeaonetimething.Hisbestfriendhadbeenstupidinlovewiththegirlalready—eveniftheidiothadn’trealizeditatthetime.AndthoughColbywasalwaysupforalittlefantasyandfun,heknewbetterthantomessaroundwithfriendsoncethingsgotserious.Kadehadn’tevenhadtosayit.ColbyknewTessawascompletelyoff-limitsnow.
Whichwasfinewithhim.Tessawasgreat—beautifulandsmart.ButtherewasnodoubtshewasmeanttobewithKade.ThetwoliteachotherupinawaythathadColbymorethanalittlejealous.Anddamn,whenKadeandTessahadfallenintotheirdominantandsubmissiverolesthatnighttheywerealltogether,it’dbeensomethingtobehold.Theairhadseemedtovibratewiththeenergybetweenthem.Thatwashowitwassupposedtobe.Thatwaswherethekinktransformedintosomethingbiggerthanhotsexanddirtywords.Itbecamesacred.Colbycouldn’tremembereverbeingwithanyonewhoflippedhisswitchlikethat.Thatnight,morethananythingelse,hadmadehimstarttoquestionhisjobatTheRanch.
Helikedhavingtheextracashbutnotenoughtostickaroundiftherolehadlostitsshine.Thesubmissivesheworkedwithdeservedbetterthanaguywhowasbecomingmoreandmoretemptedtophoneitin.HeplannedtotalktoGrant,theownerofTheRanch,aboutsteppingdownassoonashe’dsecuredthefull-timecounselorpositionatGraham.
Butregardlessofhisownissues,hewasthrilledforhisfriend.Kadehadfoundexactlywhoheneeded.Tessawasitforhim.Theyallknewit,andsomehow,they’dallmovedpastanypotentialawkwardnessfromtheironenighttogetherwithoutmucheffort.MostlybecauseKadewassodamncockyhedidn’tknowhowtobejealous.
Colbycarriedthetrayofwigglingbrainsintothekitchen.“Well,Ithinkyoubroughtenoughalcoholtotankthewholeneighborhood.Iapprove.”
Kadetuckedafewbottlesofwineandatwelve-packofbeerintothefridge,hisshreddedzombifiedsuitswingingwiththemovement.“Jace,Evan,andAndresaidthey’dpickuppizzaontheway.Kelsey’sbringingcandytohandouttothekids,andWyatt’scontributinghistopthreehorrormoviesofalltimeforustochoosefrom.”
“Soundslikey’allhavegotitallcovered.Ishouldplayhostmoreoften.Ididn’thavetodoanythingbutopenthedoor.”
“YourplaceisthebestforHalloween.Kidsaren’tevenallowedtotrick-or-treatinmyorWyatt’sneighborhood.It’sridiculous.”
Colbysniffed.Thatwasbecausehisfriendswereloadedandlivedinthoseswankyneighborhoodswithcodedgatesandamilebetweenthedamnhouses.Thekidswouldpassoutfromexhaustionbyhousenumberthree.
Colbyhadgottenusedtobeingoneofthefewofhisfriendswhowasn’trollingincash.He’dsavedupalotofmoneyfromTheRanchandhadinvestedthemoneyhe’dmadefromhisbriefmusiccareerearlyon,sohedidwellforhimself,betterthanmost.Buthetriedtobesmartandnotlivelavishly.Hedidn’tneed—orwant—thatcastleonthehill.Whathehadnowwasathousandtimesbetterthanthebroken-downrentalhousehegrewupin.Hehadanicehomewithapool.Quietneighborhood.Andprivacy.Thatwasallherequired.
Kadeshutthefridge.“Youknowthekidsaren’tgoingtounderstandyourcostume,right?”
“I’lltellthemI’manaxmurderer,”Colbysaid,liftinguptheplasticwraponthegelatinbrainsandsnaggingone.Hepoppeditinhismouth.
“Believable.You’rethetype.Thefriendlyneighborwhodisappearsforlongstretchesoftimeontheweekendwithimplementsoftortureinhistruck.Deviantbastard.”
Colbygrinned.“Takesonetoknowone.”
“Soyouhaveahotdatecomingovertonight?”Kadeasked,helpinghimselftooneoftheshots.
“Nah,I’dfiguredmeandyourbrothercouldrepresentthedwindlingsinglespopulationinourgroup,butIheardhesprainedhisankleyesterday.SoIguessI’lljustflirtrelentlesslywitheveryoneelse’swomentokeepmyselfentertained.Yourgirldidsaymyoutfitlookedgoodonme.”
“Uh-huh.Unlessyouplantousethataxtonight,Iwouldn’trecommendtreadinginmyterritory.”
Colbychuckled.“Lookwho’sdevelopedapossessivestreak.”
“Damnstraight.”Kadenoddedtowardthewindow,whereraysofduskysunwerestretchingoverthesideyard.“Whataboutyourhotneighbor?Shedoesn’tlooklikeshehasanybigplanstonight.”
Colbyleanedforwardonthecountertop,squintingattheviewthroughthewindow.Hisneighbor,Georgia,hadventuredoutofherhousewithapackageinonehandandgardeningglovesintheother.Hewalkedtowardthewindow,followingherwithhiseyes,andproppedhisshoulderagainsttheframe.ItwassucharareoccasiontoseeGeorgiaoutsidethathehadtotakethetimetosavorandappreciatetheview.
Shewasobviouslypreparedtogetdirty.She’dtiedapurplehandkerchiefaroundherheadtokeephercurlyhaloofblackhairawayfromherfaceandwaswearingthreadbarejeansandafadedWhiteSoxT-shirt.Buthellifhecouldimagineherlookinganybetter.Somethingaboutthewaythosejeanshuggedhercurvesandsatjustalittletoolowintheback,exposingthedipofhertailboneandaswathofcreamycocoaskin,hadeverythingelsefadingintothebackground.
Sheheadedtowardthesideofherhouse,peekingoverhershouldermorethanonceasifshewerewaitingforsomeonetoshowupinherdriveway.Shecouldn’tbeworriedabouttrick-or-treatersyet.Itwasstilltooearly.Aguest,maybe?Butnoonewasthere.AndColbywouldbetmoneythatnoonewouldbecoming.Georgianeverhadvisitors—unlesstheywereonlystoppingbywhilehewasatwork.Hisguttoldhimthatwasn’tthecase.
Sheploppedthepackagenexttoherherbgarden,kneeledinthegrass,andtookonelastglancetowardthefrontyard.Whensheseemedassuredshewasalone,sheputonhergloves,pulledaballofwiredplasticpumpkinlightsoutofthebox,andleanedforward,bracingononehandandstabbingastakeintothegroundwithherother.Herjeanssanklowerdownherbackside.
NowthatwasasightColbydidn’tneedtosee.Georgiaonallfours,thebarestpeekofherasstauntinghimandsendinghisthoughtsinadecidedlyX-rateddirection.Damn,whathewouldn’tgivetoendhisnightwiththatview,hishandsspreadingoverthoseflaredhips.
Butheknewitwouldneverfly.GeorgiaDelaunewaslikesomemysterious,unchartedisland.Onewithtall,craggy,stay-the-fuck-backrocksaroundtheperimeterandnolighthouse.Notthatshe’deversaidacrosswordtoColby,buthe’dgottenthemessagejustthesame.He’dtriedtoflirtwithherwhenshe’dfirstmovedinandthoughhecouldtellshewasn’t…unaffectedbyhim,he’dfeltthatthickwallriseupbetweenthem.Sincethen,he’dhadthefeelingthat,forwhateverreason,he’dbeengiventheLook,butdon’ttouchlabelinGeorgia’shead.
Because,Godknows,shelooked—andhadseenwaymorethanhe’deverallowedanyoneoutsidehiscircletosee.Buthelikedittoomuchtomakeherstop.
Hisneighborthoughtshehadasecret.
Colbyknewbetter.
“EarthtoColby?”
Colbysnappedoutofhisspinningthoughts.“What?”
Kadeliftedaneyebrow.“Isaidwhydon’tyougooverandinvitehertotheparty?It’dbeaneighborlythingtodo.”
Colbysnorted.“Neighborly?”
“Fine.Fuckneighborly.How’boutthis?You’vebeenworkingyourassoff.Youlookexhausted.AndIthinkyouneedalittlefuninyourlife.Goinvitehotneighborchickoverandhavesome.Wepromisetobehave—mostly.”
“Youtotallyshould,”Tessasaidwithasagenodfromthedoorwayofthekitchen.Colbyhadn’tevennoticedhercomein.“ThatlumberjackgetupislikegirlKryptonite.She’llsayyes.Plus,wecoulduseanotherwomanaroundheretoevenoutthetestosterone.”
Kadesenthiswomananarrow-eyedglance.“GirlKryptonite?”
Tessashruggedandwithhertattereddress,itremindedColbyofoneofthewalkingdeadfromtheold“Thriller”video.“Justsaying.It’sanempiricalobservation.”SheheadedovertoKadeandslippedherarmsaroundhiswaist.“Butdon’tworry,I’m,ofcourse,intoblond,blue-eyedzombies.”
Kadekissedthetopofherhead.“Yeah,you’rekinkylikethat.”
Colbysmirked.Tenseconds,tops.Thatwashowlonghe’dgiveitbeforehisfriendswouldhaveblacklipstickallovereachother.HeturnedbacktothewindowtoleavethemtotheirowndevicesandwatchedasGeorgialinedhergardenwiththepumpkinlights.Hermovementswereefficientandherposturestiff,likeshewasperformingadutyinsteadofsomethingshewantedtobedoing,whichwaskindofstrangeconsideringnooneneededtohaveHalloweendecorations.Butsheseemeddeterminedtogetthemsetup.
Heshouldprobablyleavehertoit.He’dtestedthewaterswithherbeforeonlytofindthemchillyanduninviting.Hewasn’tonetochase.Ifsomeonewasn’tinterestedinwhathewasoffering,sobeit.Plus,herarelyhookedupwithanyoneoutsideTheRanch.Thevanillaworldreallyhadnoplaceforhim.ButashewatchedGeorgialiftherhairoffthebackofherneckandlistenedtoKadeandTessakissingbehindhim,thepangofwantwentthroughhim.
Whatdidhehavetolose?Unlikearandomgirlhemetsomewhere,Georgiaknewwhathewas.Shemightnotunderstandtheextentofit,butshe’dseenitwithherowneyes.He’dseenhercurtainstwitchandswayonthatnighthewaswithTessaandKade.Andhe’dwatchedthosesamedrapesmovelateatnightwhenheundressedinhisbedroomorwhenhebroughtsomeonehome.Eitherthewomanwasterrifiedofhimanddocumentingallofhisdeviantactsincaseheturnedouttobeaserialkiller…
Orshewasturnedonbyit.
Tonight,heplannedtofindout.
Itwasabouttimehepaidanothervisittothatisolatedislandofhers.
—
ThefadingsunlightfeltgoodonGeorgia’sskin.Thatwaswhatshefocusedon—thewarmthofthelate-afternoonrays,thetickleofthefallbreezeagainstherneck,andthesmelloftherosemaryandthymegrowinginhersmallherbgarden.
Butonlypayingattentiontothosepleasantthingstookeffort.Itmeantignoringthepricklingofnervesthatwasanever-presentcompanionwhenshewasoutintheopen.Shewasgettingbetterathandlingtheanxietyeachtime,though.Thatwassomething.Evenonthedaysshefounditmoredifficult,sheforcedherselfoutatleastonceadayanywaytokeepthepromiseshe’dmadeviaSkypetoLeesha,herfriendandtherapist.Babysteps.ThatwaswhatGeorgiawasrelegatedto.Butatleasttheyweresteps.
Georgiagotthestringofpumpkinlightsalllinedupandturnedon.Shesmiledthattheywereworkingbutquicklyrealizedtheyonlyilluminatedabunchofweedsthathadpoppedupsincethelasttimeshe’dcleanedthegarden.Damn.Well,whatdidshehavebuttime?Thekidswouldn’tbecomingaroundforcandyforawhilestill.Andeventhen,shedidn’tplanonopeningherdoor.She’dboughtabigbowlandmadeasignthatsaidHelpYourselftoputoutontheporch.Soshewenttoworkweedingthegarden.
She’dneverbeenparticularlyintoyardworkbeforemovingtoTexas.Itwashellonthenails,andsheusedtocareaboutshitlikethat.Butnowithadbecomeanoutletforher—onewhereshecouldlethermindwanderandrelax.Grabandyank,grabandyank.Inaway,itwaslikemeditation.Andtonightshecoulduseabitofserenity.Itwouldbealatenightofhearingunfamiliarnoisesoutside.
Shepulledatastubbornweed,butitdidn’tgive.Anditwasblockingoneofherpumpkinlights.Thatwasn’tgoingtowork.Withahuff,sheputherotherhandatitsbaseandgotintoasquattotugharder.Therootsdidn’twanttoreleasebutshewasdeterminedtogetitoutofthere,soshegaveitonelastyank.Theweedcamefreeandsenthersprawlingbackward,atrailofsoilarcingthroughtheair.Shelandedonherasswithanoof,andthedirtshoweredhershirtandjeans.
Ashadowenvelopedher.“Andshe’sdownforthecount.”
Herheartgaveastartatthedeepvoiceandthenearnessofit.Shescrambled,spinningaroundontoherkneesandpullingthecanisteronherhipinanautomaticgesture.Butassoonasshehadthepeppersprayaimed,hersubconsciousthankfullyprocessedthevoicebeforehersystemscouldgocompletelyhaywire.“Colby.”
Hehadhishandsupinawhoa,theregesturebutdidn’tseemoverlyconcerned,asifinstinctivelyknowingshewasn’tgoingtoattack.
“Shit.”Sheloweredherarmandletoutashakybreath.“Sorry.I—youmustthinkI’malunatic.”
Hegazeddownather,blockingoutthesun,andthenputahandouttoher.“No,it’smyfault.Ididn’tmeantostartleyou.”
Sheeyedhishand,reluctanttoevengothere,butshedidn’twanttoberude.Sheputherhandinhislarge,warmoneandhehelpedhertoherfeet.“Thanks.”
Heletherhandgoimmediately,asifawarethatthecontactmadehernervous,andtookastepback.“Youokay?”
“Yeah,I’mfine.It’sjust…Halloweenmakesmejumpy.”Theexcusewaslamerthanmostshecameupwith,butthatwasallshehadatthemoment.
Hegaveherafriendlysmile.“I’mnotsurepeppersprayworksonghoulsandghosts,butit’sneverabadideatoprotectyourself.Didyouhurtanythingonthefall?”
“Onlymypride.”Sheglanceddownandbrushedthedirtoffherrattyclothes.Butitjustmadedarkstreakssmearoverhershirt.Nice.Shelookedlikeshe’dbeenrollinginthemudandhelookedlike…wait.Shelethergazetraveloverhimagain.He’dpulledaknitcapoverhiscurlydarkhairandhadlethisbeardgrowalittleextra.Andthoughitwascooloutside,theredplaidflannelshirtanddarkjeansseemedalittleoutofplaceforthenight.Frankly,thewholerusticwoodsmanlookwaskindofworkingforhim—andher—butshecouldn’tquitefigureoutifitwassupposedtobeacostume.
Hemusthavenoticedherperplexedexpressionbecausehesmirked.“I’msupposedtobePaulBunyan.IfIhadmyaxoranox,it’dprobablymakemoresense.”
Shebitbackasmile.Well,hewasagiantofaman—welloversixfootandbroad—soitsortofmadesense.“Right.That’s…creative.”
“Ilostabet.”
Alaughescaped,theactfeelingforeigninherthroat.“Well,Iguessitcouldbeworsethen.Theycould’vemadeyouwearatutuorsomething.”
“Idon’tknow.Ithinkmyfriendisbringingoverastuffedblueoxformetocarryaround,sothere’smorehumiliationtocome,”hesaid,hookinghisthumbsinhisjeansandmakinghisshirtstretchacrosswhatsheknewwasawell-honed,to-die-forchest.
Shehadtopresshertonguetothebackofherteethtokeepherselffrominadvertentlylickingherlips.Don’tthinkabouthimnaked.Don’tthinkabouthimnaked.
“Soanyway,Iwascomingovertoseeifyou’dliketoplaywitnesstothathumiliation.”
Sheblinkedandherbrainscrambledforamoment.“What?”
Hecockedathumbtowardhishouse.“I’mhavingsomefriendsovertonight.Nothingmajor,justpizza,movies,andalittlealcoholinbetweenhandingoutcandy.Ifyou’renotdoinganythingtonight,youshouldcomeover.”
Sheglanceddownattheground,thatfamiliarpushandpullyankingather.Theshadowofheroldselfleaptattheideaofgoingtoahousepartyandmeetingnewpeople,athangingoutwiththeguyshe’dbeenspyingonforoverayearnow.BeforeeverythinghappenedbackinChicago,she’dneverbeenanintrovert.Butthatwasthen.Shewasn’tstupidenoughtothinkshecouldhandlethis.Shecouldalreadyfeeltheelectricityworkingthroughher,thenervesprimingforfight-or-flight.Ifsheattemptedtogooverthere,she’dmakeascenewhethershewantedtoornot.No.Freaking.Way.
Hemust’vethoughtshewaslookingdownatherclothes.“Youdon’tneedacostumeoranything.It’sgoingtobelaid-back.”
Waslaid-backhiswayofsayingallhisfriendswouldendupinbedtogether?Becauseshe’dseensomeofthepartiesathishouse.Butshecouldn’timaginethathe’daskhertosomethinglikethat.Hedidn’tknowheratall.Andthoughsheknewhewaskinky,shegotthesensehekeptthatsideofhimselfveryseparate,onlyexposingittoatrustedcircle.Hedidworkatalocalhighschool,afterall,andhadtomaintainacertainimage.“That’sreallyniceofyoutoask.”
“Socome,”hesaidsimply.
Sheforcedaweaksmile.“I’msorry.Ican’t.Ineedtoworktonight.I’mdoingonlineinterviewsforavirtualassistantand…I’mnotgreatwithcrowdsanyway.”
Shit.Shehadn’tmeanttoconfessthat.
Hiseyesnarrowedashestudiedherforasecond.Ifhewastryingtofigureherout,shewishedhimluck.Mostofthetime,shecouldn’tfigureherselfout.
“Allright.”Hegaveanodandsheappreciatedthathedidn’tpushtheissue.
Thatwasoneofthemainreasonsshe’dmanagedtoacthalfwaynormalaroundherneighbor.Mostmenmadeheranxiousthesedays.Thegirlwhowasneverafraidtogoafteraguyandflirtcouldbarelybreathewhenguysapproachedhernow.ButColbyseemedtosenseherskittishnessandalwaysstayedacoupleoffeetawayfromher,givingherspace,andhenevergotpushyaboutanything.
“Iappreciateyouthinkingofme,though,”sheadded.
Hissexyhalfsmilealmostmadeherrockbackonherheels,thesensualpowerofitlikeaphysicalblow.“You’reeasytothinkabout,Georgia.”
Herstomachdipped.
Headjustedhisknitcap,moredarkhairescapingaroundtheedges,andturned.“Invitationstandsifyouchangeyourmind.”
“Okay,”shesaid,butitcameoutsmall,andshewasn’tsureifhe’devenheardher.
Whenhecrossedtheinvisiblelinebackintohisownyard,shefeltmorealonethanshehadinalong,longtime.
Ifhetookoneofthosewomenatthepartytohisbedtonight,Georgiaknewshewouldwatch.Anditmightkillher.Becausethistime,sheknewitcould’vebeenher.
Butwhenshewentupstairslatethatnight,Colby’scurtainswereshuttight.THREE
AtdawnMondaymorning,Georgiashuffledtoherlivingroomwithasteamingmugofcoffeeandaheadache.Shehadn’tsleptwell,butshewouldn’tbeabletosleepanymorethismorning.Onceshewasup,shewasup.Plus,shehadavideochatsessionscheduledthismorningwithLeesha,andtheyweresupposedtodiscussGeorgia’sprogressnowthatthetrialwasonlytwoandahalfmonthsaway.Georgiablewacrossthetopofhermug,butitwasmoreawearysighthananyattempttocooloffhercoffee.
Progress.ItwasgoingtotakeGeorgiathehourbeforethecalltocomeupwiththingstolistinthatcolumn.Everythingwasgoingsomuchslowerthanshe,Leesha,ortheprosecutionhadhopedfor.ThenotionthatshewassupposedtogetonaplaneinJanuary,flybacktoChicago,andfaceherex-boyfriend,Phillip,wastoomuchforhertothinkaboutrightnow.Inthelastsixmonths,herbiggestaccomplishmenthadbeenmanagingtogobackandforthtothegrocerystorewithouthavingacompletemeltdown.Eveninthat,shewasn’tahundredpercentsuccessfuleverytime.Lastweek,she’dleftabasketofgroceriesdefrostinginthemiddleofthestorebecauseshe’dseensomeonewholookedlikePhillipandhadtorunouttothecarbeforeshemadeascene.
Butifshedidn’tfigureoutawaytogetherselftoChicago,functioningatfullcapacity,Phillipcouldwalk.He’dmurderedthepersonshe’dlovedmostintheworld,andhecouldstrolloutafreeman.Thethoughtmadeherwanttoretch,butitwasarealpossibility.Phillipwasabrilliantattorneyandhadhiredanequallybrilliantonetorepresenthim.MostoftheevidencewasstillcircumstantialandGeorgia’stestimonywaskey.Butifshegotonthestandandfreakedout,jurorswouldbelievethethingsthedefenseattorneywouldsayabouther—unstable,overactiveimagination,dramaqueen.
Notanoption.IfPhillipwentfree,shewasdone.Revengewouldbeswiftanddeadlyathishands.Orworse.He’dtakeherandnotkillheratall.He’dtrytokeepher.
Georgiashiveredandwenttothefrontwindowtoletinsomelight.Thereweretoomanyshadowssurroundingherallofasudden.Butwhenshecrackedherblindsopen,herbreathingceased,andshealmostdroppedhermugtothefloor.
Therewasamaninherfrontyard.Fearsweptthroughherinarush.Butbeforeshecouldtumbleintofull-fledgedpanic,themanturnedandshecaughtsightofhisfamiliarprofile.
Colbyreacheduptowardthetreeinherfrontyardandtuggedsomethingfromit.Onlythendidshetakeintherestofthescene,hertunnelvisionwideningout.Herfrontyardwasacompletedisaster.Toiletpaperhunginsaggingloopsfromeverybranchandbush,andtheflowersaroundhertreewereflattenedintoabrightlycoloredcarpet.
Seeingallherhardgardeningworkdismantledhadthefearmorphingrightintoanger,helpinghershakeoffthedarkmemoriesshe’dbeenplaguedbyafewminutesbefore.
Shesethermugdownandwenttoherfrontdoor,unlatchingthethreedeadboltsanddeactivatingthealarmbeforepullingitopen.Thesightwasevenworseoutside.Herentiregardenoutfrontlookedlikeaherdofelephantshadtrampledthroughit.“Whatthehell?”
Colbyturnedatthesoundofhervoice,hisjawset.“Morning.”
Shewrappedherarmsaroundherself,rememberingshewasonlywearingathinrobe.“What’sgoingon?”
Hedroppedthepileofsoggytoiletpapertothegroundandtookafewstepstowardher.Hewasdressedforhismorningrun—baseballcap,trackpants,andablueNikeshirt.Themanwaslikeclockworkwithhisroutine.Notthatshe’dnoticedoranything.
“Apparently,someoftheneighborhoodkidsdecidedtogoontheirownpost-Halloweenrampageandwentalittleoverboardlastnight.Myhousegothit,too.WhenIcameout,IfigureditwasprobablyagroupfromtheschoolIworkattargetingthestaff.ButthenIsawyouryard.Mykidswouldknowbetterthantotearupsomeone’sgarden.AtleasttheybetterorI’dhavetheirbuttsoutherefixingallthis.”
Sheglancedoverathishouseandsawthatithadgottenthesametreatment.Thewhitestreamersoftoiletpaperbillowedinthebreeze.“Whyareyouoverhere,though?Lookslikeyouhaveyourownmesstohandle.”
Heshrugged.“Youworkhardonyouryard,andit’dbetoughforyoutoreachthisstuffinthetree.IfiguredI’dhelp.”
“Thankyou.That’sreallyniceofyou.”Shefoughtpasthertendencytoevaluatethekindness.She’dlearnedthatafavorcouldbeanaggressivemove,awaytomakesomeonefeelindebtedwithoutpermission.ButeveryinstincttoldherColbywasn’tadangertoher.Themanwasdominantandasadist,buthelivedbyacode.She’ddoneherresearchonhislifestyleandhadseenitinactionthroughthewindow—structured,practiced,controlled.Heonlyhurtwithconsent.“Doyouwantsomecoffee?Ijustmadeafreshpot.”
Hewipedhishandsonhispantsandsmiled.“Sure,that’dbegreat.”
Shesteppedbackinsideandputherhandonthedoor,givinghimthesubtlesignalthathewasn’tinvitedinside.Noonewas.“I’llgrabsomeandbringitouttoyou.Cream?”
“No,blackwithalittlesugarisfine.”
Sheshutthedoorandlockedit.Withlightning-fastprecision,shepulledonapairofyogapants,abra,andalong-sleevedT-shirt,thenmadeherwaybacktowardthefrontofthehousewithtwocupsofcoffee.Colbywassittingonherfrontstepswhenshewalkedout.Hestoodwhenhesawherandtookthecupfromherhand.
“Thanks,”hesaid,leaningagainstoneofthebrickcolumnsonherporch.“Iusuallydon’tletmyselfhaveoneoftheseuntilIgettoschool.”
Shewrappedbothhandsaroundhermug,theheatwarminghercoldfingersandsoothinghernervesabit.Thiswasjustcoffeewiththeneighbor.“IfIdon’thaveitwithintenminutesofopeningmyeyes,I’mruinedforthemorning.”
Hetookalongsipandrecoiledabit.“Whoa.”
Shebitherlip,tryingnottosmile.“Sorry,Imakethekindwithchicoryinit.Mydad’soriginallyfromNewOrleans,andIpickedupthehabit.Icouldgetyousomecreamifyouwant.”
Hecoughed,buthiseyesweresmiling.“No,I’llbefine.Justdidn’texpectthatkick.That’llgrowhaironyourchest.”
“Icertainlyhopenot,”shesaid,takinganothersip.
HechuckledandhisgazedrifteddownwardeversobrieflytotheV-neckofhertop,makingherinstantlyaware.Butasquicklyastheglancewasthere,hisattentionwasbackonherfaceagain.“Soisthatwhereyou’refrom?NewOrleans?”
Thequestionwasasimpleonebutheldmoredramathanhecouldknow.“No,mymom’sacollegeprofessor,sowemovedwhenIwaslittlefromNewOrleanstoChicagoonceshelandedatenuredposition.”
“How’dyouenduphere?”
Thishadbeenabadidea.Sheknewherstory,haditmemorizedforanyonewhoasked,butsomehowColbyhadherwantingtotellthetruth.Somethingabouthimmadeherwanttopouritalloutthereonherporch.Butofcourseshecouldn’tdothat.“Idon’tlikeharshwinters.AndsinceI’mawriterandcanworkfromanywhere,IfiguredI’dsetupshopsomeplacewarmwithalowcostofliving.”
Itallsoundedlogical.Ofcourse,itwasallbullshitexceptforthewriterpart.Shewassimplyrentingthisplacebecauseagoodfriendhadinheritedthehousefromhergrandmotherandofferedtoletherstaythere.Shehadn’tcaredwhereshelandedaslongasitwasn’tanywhereclosetowherePhillipwouldbe.Assoonashewassafelybehindbars,shecouldreturntohercutelittlehouseinEvanstonandstartlivingagain.Findthathappygirlwhousedtohavegreatfriendsandabusysociallife.
“Whatdoyouwrite?”Colbyasked,bringinghermindbackintofocus.
“Lately?”Reallyhot,kinkysceneslooselybasedonmyneighbor.“Idofreelancestuffforwebsitesandamworkingonanovel.Athriller.”
Hecouldn’tknowthatshealreadyhadanongoingthrillerseriespublishedunderthepennameMyraMcKnightandthatshemadeherlivingfromthat.Asfarasanyoneknew,Myrahadmovedtosomeexoticislandtowritehernextbookaboutwell-lovedundercoveragentHavenFontaineandwouldbemakingnopublicappearancesinthenearfuture.
“Wow,thatmustbefun,”hesaid,soundinggenuine.“I’dloveto—”
Buthiscellphonebuzzedandcutoffwhateverhewasabouttosay.Heapologizedandpulledthephonefromthecliponhispants.Hefrownedwhenhereadwhatevertextmessagehe’dreceived.
“Everythingokay?”sheasked.
Hislaid-backexpressionhadtightenedintoconcern.Helookedup,asifhe’dforgottenforamomentthatshewasthere.“Yeah,sorry,Ithinkso.It’sjustamessagefrommyboss.I’mgoingtohavetogetgoing.Something’scomeup.”
“Oh,right,sure,”shesaid,surprisedatthedisappointmentshefelt.It’dbeenalongtimesinceshe’dsharedcoffeewithanyone.AndsharingitwithColbyhadbeenmorepleasantthanshecaredtoadmit.
Hehandedhiscupbacktoher.“Hey,whenIgethometonight,howaboutIhelpfinishthecleanupandthenwegogrababurgerorsomething?I’dlovetohearaboutyourbook.”
Theofferwassotempting,buthemightaswellhaveaskedherifshewantedtoaccompanyhimtoParisforthenight.Eachwasequallyimpossibleunlessshewantedtoloadupwithheranxietypills.Thenshe’dbenocompanyatallanyway.“I’msorry,Ican’t.”
Hetiltedhisheadslightly,hisexpressionmorecuriousthananything.“Can’tordon’twantto?”
Shelookedaway.
“Hey”—hetouchedherelbowgently—“eitherway,it’sfine.I’venoticedyoudon’tgooutmuch.”
Shepressedherlipstogetherandforcedhergazebacktohis,thennodded.“Leavingthehouseis…difficultforme.”
Hiseyessoftened,andsheimaginedheprobablymadeaverygoodcounselortothekidsathishighschool.Despitehisseeminglyroughedgesandoverwhelmingsize,therewassomethinginthatexpressionthatheldunderstandingandsympathywithoutjudgment.Hegavealittlesmile.“Well,maybeI’llbringtheburgerstoyou,then.”
Shecouldn’thelpreturningthesmile,despiteknowinghowbadanideathiswas.Shewasn’tpreparedorequippedtopursueanythingwithanyone—especiallysomeonelikeColby.Buthermouthwasworkingonitsownvolition.“MaybeI’llletyou.”
Whensheshutthedoor,sheleanedagainstitandsmiled.MaybeshewouldhavesomeprogresstoreporttoLeeshaafterall.
—
Beingcalledintotheprincipal’sofficefirstthinginthemorningwasneveragoodthing.NotinColby’sschooldaysandnotnow.SowhenhisimpromptucoffeedatewithGeorgiahadbeeninterruptedbyatextfromPrincipalAnders,requestingthatColbycometoherofficebeforethefirstbell,anoldknotofdreadhadsettledinhischest.He’dwantedtocallherimmediately,insistonknowingwhatitwas,sohismindwouldn’thavetogodownallthepossiblepaths.Butthiswasoneofthefewrelationshipsinhislifewherehewasn’tinthedriver’sseat.PrincipalAnderslikedtodothingsherway.Andherwaywasface-to-facemeetings.Hesmirkedtohimselfasheheadedintothebathroomforaquickshower.She’dprobablymakeanexcellentdomme.
Buttheamusingthoughtdiedquicklyashehurriedthroughhisroutineandthepossibilitiesofwhatshecouldwanttoseehimaboutdriftedthroughhismind.Onthewaytotheschool,hetoldhimselfitwasprobablyjustarequesttofillinasasubstituteforthedayorsomething.Thathappenedonaprettyregularbasis.Hewouldn’trelishthedutytoday—he’dhadastringoflatenightsovertheweekend,startingwiththeHalloweenpartyFridaynightandthenputtinganewsubmissivetrainingclassatTheRanchthroughtheirpacesonSaturdayevening—buthe’ddoit.Itwasalwayseasierwhensomeonefamiliartothekidswasinchargeoftheclass.Thestudentswereprosatsteamrollingtheinexperiencedandunsuspectingsubstitutesthedistrictsometimessentthem.TheGrahamGauntlet.Thatwaswhattheteacherscalleditbehindthecloseddoorsoftheteachers’lounge.
ButwhenColbypulledintothehalf-emptyparkinglotandtwoDallasPDsquadcarswereglintingintheearly-morningsun,Colbyknewhisinitialqualmshadbeenwellfounded.Notthatitwascompletelyoutoftheordinarytoseecopsattheschool.Anyhighschoolhadissues.Analternativeschoolforkidswho’dgottenbootedfromthemainsystemhadmore.Buttherewerenostudentsinthebuildingyet.Schoolwouldn’tstartforanotherhour.Sothatmeantsomethinghadhappenedovertheweekend.Eithersomeonehadgottenarrestedorsomeone—
No,hewouldn’tgodownthatroadyet.Butthesamesickfeelinghe’dhadsixyearsagofilteredthroughhim,makinghisfewsipsofcoffeeburninhisstomach.Thoughithadbeenadifferentcityandadifferentschool,thatdayhadbeenalltoosimilar.Early-morningcall.Cops.AndquestionsforColby.Onlythen,therehadbeenanurgencytoeverything,acracklingfrenzy.Afeelingthatsomethingcouldstillbedonetohelp.Nothinghad.Intheend,astudenthaddisappearedinthenight—avulnerableseventeen-year-oldkidwho’dsatsilentineveryformoftherapybutwhohadopeneduptoMr.Wilkes,hismusicteacher,andhadsharedthingsColbyhadn’tbeenpreparedtohandle.He’dtriedtohelp,buthe’dfuckeditup.
Thestudenthadeventuallybeenlabeledarunaway,butmostofthestaffknewthatwasn’tlikely.There’dbeenanote.Amissinggun.Agood-byetotheworld.
Sothecopshadclosedthebook,stoppedthesearch.AndColbyhadbeenleftwiththeeat-you-from-the-insideguiltthathecould’vedonemore.Thatitwashisfault.He’dresignedhisposition,knowingthattheschoolwould’veencouragedhimtodosoevenifhehadn’tvolunteered.There’dbeenwhispersoflinesbeingcrossed.Afterthat,he’dmovedtoDallasandhadgonebacktoschooltogethismaster’sincounseling,vowingthatnexttimehe’dknowhowtohandleakidwhoneededrealhelp.
Nowanotherominousmorning.Anothercall.Andmorecopcars.
Hesentoutasilentprayertotheuniverseasheclimbedoutofhistruckandheadedinside.Thiswillbejustanotherordinaryday.Maybeifhesaidit,itwouldmakeittrue.
Butitwasn’t.
PrincipalRowanAnderswaswearinghersolemnfaceassheinvitedColbyintoheroffice,herusualeverything-in-placeappearancelooseattheedges,likeshe’dgottenreadyinanevenbiggerhurrythanColbyhad.Theschoolpsychologist,EdGuthrie—orDr.Guthrie,ashesooftenremindedhisstudentsandcolleagues—wasalreadythere,peeringoveratColbyfromoneofthechairsasColbytookaseat.
“What’sgoingon?”Colbyfinallyasked,donewiththicksilence.
Rowantuckedanerrantblondhairbackintotheclipthatwasprecariouslyholdingitupandsighed.“It’sTravis.”
Thenameandhertonehadhisstomachtumbling.“What’swrong?”
Shepressedherhandstothetopofherdesk.“Aroundelevenlastnight,hetookahandfulofhismother’ssleepingpillsandcuthiswristswithhisdad’shuntingknife.”
No.Colby’schestseizedattheinformation,shockandheartbreakcolliding.“Ishe,didhe…”
PrincipalAnderstookabreathandkepttalking.“He’sstillalive.Hisfatherwokeupwithindigestionlaterthatnightandwenttogetantacidsoutofthedownstairsbathroom.HefoundTravislyinginthebathtub,unconsciousandbleeding.Thankfully,thecutshadn’tbeendeepenoughtokillhimquickly,sotheambulancegotthereintime.He’shadhisstomachpumpedandhe’slostagoodbitofblood,buttheythinkhe’sgoingtobeokay—physicallyatleast.”
“Christ.”Colbybreathedadeep,bone-shakingsighofreliefatthatoutcomeandrubbedahandoverhisface.
Rowan’sshouldersliftedanddippedwithanotherlongexhale,andthatwaswhenColbyfelttheshiftintheroom.Thiswasn’tjustameetingtoinformhimaboutoneofthestudents.Hecouldseethebusinesswomanmaskslideoverherfeatures.“Colby,IunderstandthatyouwerethelastofthestafftotalktoTravisonFriday.”
Heblinked,caughtoffguardforasecond.“Yes,wehadashortsessionbeforethelastbell.”
“CanyoutellmewhathappenedinyourmeetingwithTravis?”sheaskedasshestraightenedafewpapersonherdeskwithoutlookingatthem.
Colbyrubbedahandalongthebackofhisneck,stilltryingtogethisheartbeattosettleafterworryinghe’dlostastudent.OnColby’sleft,Dr.Guthriegavehimasidelongglance.
Colbyignoredthestenchofjudgmenthecouldsensewaftingofftheothermanandfocusedonhisboss.“TraviswassupposedtohaveasessionwithDr.GuthriebutsinceEdwasoutthatafternoon,Iofferedtotalkwithhiminstead.IknewTravishadbeenhavingtroublewithafewoftheotherkids,andwediscussedthat.Hewasdownandfrustrated,butnothingthatsentupanyredflags.”
“Didheinformyouthathe’dgoneoffhismeds?”Edasked,hisvoicecool.
Fuck.“No.ButIdidn’task.”
“Whynot?”PrincipalAndersasked.
Ed’seyebrowsquirkedup,andheleanedforwardinawaythatsaid,Yes,Mr.Wilkes,pleasesharewithushowcompletelyincompetentyouare.
Colbyresistedtheurgetothroat-punchtheguy.ThejerkhadalwaysseenhimselfasfarsuperiorandhadbeenagainstColby’smoredown-to-earthapproachwiththekidsfromthestart.“ThesessionwasinformalsinceweonlyhadafewminutesandIdidn’thavehisfile.Plus,TravisandIhaven’ttalkedinanofficialcapacitybefore,andIneededtobuildsometrustandrapport.IfIhadjumpedrightintoquestionsaboutmedication,hewould’veshutdown.”
EdsniffedandPrincipalAndersgaveanunreadablenod.“Didyounoticeanydangersigns,anythingthatgaveyoupause?”
ColbythoughtbacktoFriday.Thekidhadlookedtired,alittlebeatdownbytheroughweek,butnothingoutofcharacterfromwhathe’dseenofthekidbefore.TheonlythingoutoftheordinaryhadbeenthatGrimReapercostume.Lookingback,maybethathadbeenaclue.Butthere’dbeenatleastthreeReapersroamingthehallsthatday.Itwasn’tanuncommoncostume.“Nothingthatmademeoverlyconcerned.HetoldmeabouthisaltercationwithDaltonearlierintheday.Hetalkedabouthowhelikedtocreatemusiconhiscomputer.Wediscussedhowthingslikemusiccanbeaniceescapefromstresssometimes.”
“Whatdidhesaytothat?”theprincipalasked.
“Heagreed.Hesaid”—Colbyreplayedtheconversationinhismind,thathollow-stomachfeelingreturning—“hesaidhecravedtheescape.”
Edgrunted.“ThisiswhyIshouldnevertakeanafternoonoff.Howdidyounotseethesigns,Wilkes?Didyouaskhimifhehadaplanforanescape?”
Colby’shandscurledaroundthearmsofthechair,butheforcedhimselftokeephisvoiceeven.“Itwasn’tsaidlikethat.”
PrincipalAndersfrowned.“Colby,I’msureyou’rewellawarethatifathreatorplanforsuicideisshared,wearelegallyboundtobreakconfidentialityandreportit.”
Colbycountedtothreeinhisheadbeforeresponding.“Yes,ofcourse.I’vealreadydoneittwicethisyearwhenstudentshaveadmittedthoughtsofself-harm.ThatwasnotthecaseonFriday.”
“Travistoldhisparentsthismorningthathetalkedtoyou,thathetoldyouhewanteditalltoend,”shecontinued.
Colbyfrowned.“Thebullying.Hesaidhewantedthebullyingtoend.”
God,hadhemissedsomething?It’dbeenlateonFriday.He’dhadabusyweekwithanumberofsmallsuccesseswithhisstudents.Buthe’dalsobeentiredandalittledistracted,knowinghewashostingtheHalloweenpartythatnight.AndTravishadrushedoff.Maybehehadn’tlistenedcloselyenough.Maybehehadmissedthesigns.Maybeheshould’verunafterhimwhenhe’dbolted.
PrincipalAnderssmoothedthepapersinfrontofher,hermouthpinched.“Colby,I’msureyoudidwhatyoucould.Youdoagoodjobhere,andIknowthekidsconnectwellwithyou.That’swhyI’vebeentryingtogetyoubumpeduptofulltime.Buttheschooldistrictisgoingtogetheatforthis.Travis’sparentsarewell-to-doandwerealreadyannoyedthattheirsonwasinanalternativeschoolafterthingsdidn’tworkoutathisprivateschool.Thecopssaidthewordslawyerandnegligencewerealreadybeingthrownaroundatthehospital.Youknowhowsensitivethesethingsarefortheschooldistrict.”
Colbycouldfeelit,theanvilhoveringabovehishead.
“So,untilaninvestigationhasbeenconducted,I’mgoingtohavetoputyouonleave.”
Bam.Flattened.“Rowan,youcan’tthinkthatI’d—”
Sheliftedahand,cuttinghimoff.“Iflawyersgetinvolved,they’lldig.They’llpullallofyourbackground,yourworkhistory.”
Coldmovedthroughhim.
“Theincidentwiththatstudentatyourpreviousschool”—sheglanceddownathernotes—“AdamKeats,issuretocomeup.Iknowthisisadifferentsituation,butfromtheoutside,itcouldlookbad.Likeapattern.”
Heshookhishead,tooguttedtorespond.EventhinkingaboutKeatsagainwastoomuchtohandle.Butthatwasn’ttheonlyproblemwithsomeonepokingintohisbackground.Colbyhadasidejobthatwouldmakeeveryschoolboardmember’sheadexplode.He’dbefiredfasterthanhecouldspellBDSM
“Dr.Guthriewilltakeoveryourcaseloadfornow,”Rowancontinued,allbusinessnow.“We’llbringinextrahelpifneeded.Butwehavetoshowthatwearetakingimmediateactionandlookingintothematter.Andyoushouldknow,theschooldistrictmaydecidethatourstudentsshouldonlybeseenbyapsychologistinsteadofsplittingthecaseloadbetweenyouandDr.Guthrie.Youknowthat’snotmyopinion.Ithinkyouaddadifferentperspectiveandapproach.Andfrankly,thekidshereneedalltheresourcestheycanget.ButImightnothaveasayifTravis’sfatherreallykicksupdust.”
Colbycaughtthebaresthintofasmileinhisperiphery.ThatfuckerGuthriewasprobablypreeningwithgleeontheinside.He’dneverwantedColbyhere.He’dwantedapromotionandaraise,notacounseloraddedtothemix.Sofromtheverybeginning,Guthriehadmadeitclearwhathethoughtof“awashed-upmusiciancounselingyoung,vulnerableminds.”Theirehadonlygrownwhenit’dbecomeobviousthatthekidsgravitatedmoretowardColby’sno-nonsenseapproachthanDr.Guthrie’scool,clinicaltactics.
NowallofColby’sstudentswouldgetmovedtoGuthrie’scaseload—temporarilyinthebest-casescenario,permanentlyifColby’spositionwaseliminatedaltogether.Thethoughtmadehimwanttothrowthings.Thefacesofthestudentshecounseledeachweekflippedthroughhisheadlikeaslideshowonfast-forward.Kidswhohadcometotrusthim,kidswhohadmadehard-foughtprogress,kidswhodidn’tneedanotherchangeintheiralreadyunstablelives.Kidswhowerealotlikehimwhenhewasthatage.
Hewasn’tundertheimpressionthathewastheonlyonewhocouldhelpthem.Butknowingthathecouldbetheonewaswhatgothimupeverymorning,whatkeptolddemonsatbay.
Buthehadn’thelpedTravisonFriday.Justlikehehadn’thelpedAdamKeats.Maybehe’dgottentooconfidentthatheknewwhathewasdoing.
“Iunderstand,”hesaid,thefightdrainingoutofhim.
PrincipalAndersgaveanothertersenod,asifputtingaperiodontheendofherdeclaration.“Thankyou,Colby.Hopefully,thiswon’tgotoofarorfortoolong.Hisparentsareunderstandablyupsetandpanicked.They’regoingtowanttofindblameeverywhereelse.We’retheeasiesttargets.”
No,hewastheeasiesttarget.Andmaybeitwasn’tunfounded.Heshould’veaskedTravisabouthismedication.Heshould’vegrabbedhisfiletoseeiftherewereanyhotpointstocheckinon.Maybeinsteadoftryingtoputhimateasebygettinghimtotalkaboutmusic,heshould’veaskedhimdifferentquestions.“I’llgetmyfilesandgooverthemwithDr.Guthriesohecanbeuptodateonmystudents.”
Guthrieslappedhisthighsandstood.“Noneed.I’vealreadyhadthemmovedtomyoffice.Yourstudentswillbeshiftedontomycalendarstartingtoday.”
Well,wasn’thetheeagerbeaver.Apparently,RowanhadcalledhimfirstandhadeverythingtakencareofbeforeColbywalkedin.Itwaslikebeingfiredonlywithoutthepinkslip.Everyoneknewitwasgoingtohappenexceptyou.
AfterGuthriestrolledout,Colbystoodandheadedforthedoor.
“Colby?”
HelookedbacktoRowan.She’dstoodaswellandhercoolprincipalmasksoftenedintoonemorehuman.“Forwhatit’sworth,Iknowthatifyouhadsuspectedhewasinrealtrouble,youwould’vereportedit.”
Henodded.
Butheheardwhatshedidn’tsay.Maybeyoushould’vesuspected.
Theywerewordshe’dheardbefore.FOUR
“Youplayingtonight,Wilkes?”
Colbylookedovertotheleftatthemanwho’dleanedagainstthebarandposedthequestion.JennerBodinesmiledbackathim,toothpickclenchedinhisteeth.Colbytookanothersipfromhiswhiskey.“Nope.Jus’drinking.You?”
Hadhiswordsslurred?Hecouldn’ttellanymore.
“Yeah,I’monstagenext.Fillinginforanactthathadtocancel.”Heglancedoutattheemptyseatsinthebar.“IhateplayingonMondays.OnlytherealdedicateddrunksshowuponaMonday.”
Colbyraisedhisglassinsalute.
Jennerlaughed.“Wow,thehardstuff,huh?Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenyouwithanythingbutbeer.”
Yeah,andColby’sbrainwasfeelingtheeffects.Hecouldhandlehisliquor,buthe’dbeenheresinceearlyafternoonandthingsweregettingalittlefuzzyaroundtheedgesnow.Good.Iftherewaseveratimetogetshit-faced,itwasthedayoneofyourstudentsalmostfuckingdied—andyourealizeditmighthavebeenpartlyyourfault.AllhekeptthinkingaboutwashowifTravis’sfatherhadn’tchosenThaifoodfordinnerthatnight,Traviswould’vebeendeadthismorning.Asixteen-year-oldkid.Dead.TwodaysafterasessionwithColby.
God.Herubbedahandoverhisface.Washethatfuckingblind?Thatuseless?He’dbeentoowrappedupinhisowncrapandmisseddangersignswithhislittlebrotherallthoseyearsago.Thenhe’dscrewedthingsupwithAdamKeats,andthekidhaddisappeared.Nowthis.MaybeheshouldjuststicktohisguitarandhisjobatTheRanchafterall.Everythingelsehetouchedseemedtogotoshit.
ColbytappedthebarandmotionedforLenora,thebartender,topourhimanother.ShegrabbedthebottleofJackDaniel’sbutfrownedathimbeforeshepoured.“Sugar,Iknowyou’reabigmanwhocantakehisliquor,andI’mguessingyouhadarealbadday,butyou’regoingtobesickashellifyoukeepgoing.”
JennerchuckledandgaveColby’sshoulderapat.“Lookslikeyou’recutoff,myfriend.Nowyou’llhavetosoberupwhileyoulistentomyset.”
Colbygruntedbutdidn’tprotestforLenoratopour.Eventhroughhisliquor-soakedthoughts,herecognizedthatshewasn’tgivinghimachoiceinthematter.Shewasaworld-classflirtandwouldgiveanycustomerthesweet-as-MoonPiesSoutherngirlroutine,butsheranthisbarwithanonnegotiablesetofrulesandwouldkickanyoneoutwhogaveherflakaboutit.
“ACokethen,”hesaid,thewordscomingoutslowerthanheintended.
“Nowwe’retalking.”Shepattedhishandandpouredhimasoda,thenpushedabowlofnutstowardhim.“Andeatsomething.”
Jennersaidgood-byeandheadedtowardthesidedoorthatledbackstage.Colbysighedandgrabbedahandfulofnuts,figuringhemightaswellstaytolistentoJennerplay.TheguywasalittlemorepopthancountryinColby’sopinion.Colbypreferredplayingstuffwithanold-schoolflavor.ButJennerhadagoodvoiceandaknackforwritinggoodlyrics.AndwhatelsedidColbyhavetodotonight?Itwasn’tlikehehadtogettobedearlytobeupforschooltomorrow.
Thethoughtwasmorethanalittledepressing.Hehadnoideawhathewasgoingtodowithhimselffortheweeksthatstretchedoutbeforehim.Hekepthislifebusyforareason.Ifhewasn’tworkingatschool,hewasatTheRanchgivingtrainingsessionsorhereatthebarwithhisguitarplayingagig.Thethoughtofsittingathomeanddoing…hedidn’tevenknowwhathe’ddo,madehimwanttocrawloutofhisskin.Hepulledthestrawfromtheglassandtookaswigofhissoda.He’dgocrazystuckinthathousewithnothingtodo.
Stuckinthehouse.Somethingaboutthethoughtniggledhim.Hetriedtopinpointwhateveritwas,thengaveupandpusheditaside.
Itdidn’thithiminthatmoment.Itdidn’tevenhithimforthefirstfewsongsofJenner’sperformance.Butwhenthealcoholstartedtofilteroutofhissystemandhismindbegantoclear,thethoughtcircledbacktohim.Stuckinthehouse…
Shit.
He’dtoldGeorgiathismorningthathewouldbringburgersby.She’dbarelyacceptedtheinvitationasitwas,butnowitwaspasttenandhehadn’tevenstoppedbytotellhersomethinghadcomeup.Goddammit.He’dfinallygottenhisneighbortoagreetoasemi-datewithhim,andhe’dfuckingblownit.
Waytogo,Wilkes.Hepushedawayfromthebar,relievedthattheworldtiltedonlyslightlyandthathewassteadyonhisfeet.“Hey,Lenora.”
Shespunhisway.“Yeah,hon.”
“I’mgoingtoleavemytruckintheparkinglotandtakeacab.I’llcomebyandgetitinthemorning,sodon’ttowme.”
“Surething,”shesaidwithasmile.“Getsomerest.”
Hesteppedoutofthebar,thebriskairsoberinghimevenmore.Thestreetwasmostlydeserted.Nocabsinsight.Heshould’veknown.ThispartofFortWorthwashonky-tonkpartyrowontheweekend,butonaMondaynight,itwasaghosttown.Hestuckhishandsinhispocketsandtookaleftdownthestreet.HeknewtherewasaHiltonafewblocksover,andthat’dbehisbestshotatgrabbingacab.
Thewindhadpickedupandwasblowingalongthesidesofthebuildingswithapunchofcold.Thunderrumbledinthedistanceandpromisedachillingrain.Buttheresidualeffectsofthealcoholkepthimwarmenoughfornow.Afewnotesofmusicdriftedthroughtheairaspeopleopenedthedoorstosomeofthebarsandclubs.Butashenearedtheendofthesecondblock,morethanasnippetofasonghithisears.Lonelynotesofafamiliarmelodyseemedtoechofromfarawayandstoppedhimdeadinhisstride.
Heglancedbehindhim,tryingtopinpointthesourceofthesound,butthesidewalkswereempty.Heclosedhiseyes,grabbingontothefaintsoundofthesong.Lyricsheshould’veforgottenbynowfilledintheblanksinhishead.
Theyellowtapewinds
Thesignsallwarn
Fingersgrabandtwine,
Andeverythingistorn.
I’matrespasser,neverwillIbelong.
Mylifeisoff-limits,everythingiswrong…
Colbyopenedhiseyesandshookhisheadasachillmovedthroughhim.No,itcouldn’tbe.Hemust’vehadmoretodrinkthanhethought.Hewassodrunkhewashearingghosts.Olddemonswereslidingoutoftheguttersandwrappingaroundhim.Hepickedupthespeedofhissteps.
Butashemovedforward,thesoundoftheguitaronlygotlouder,thechordsclearer.Likeamanpossessed,hetookasharpright,crossedthestreet,andfollowedthesound.Themusicgrewcrispashenearedaclosedrecordstore.Heturnedanothercornerandfoundhimselffacingasmallpark.Therewasastatueofahorseatthecenterofastonecircle,andbenchessurroundedit.Ononeofthebenchessataguywithaguitarandfullsleevetattoos,playingasongthatdidn’tbelongtohim.
“Hey,”Colbycalledoutashewalkedintothecircle.“Whatsongareyouplaying?”
Theguyglancedupforasecond,hisfaceintheshadowofthecanopyoftreesabovehim,andthemusicstopped.“FivebucksandI’lltellya.”
Colbypeeredattheopenguitarcaseattheguy’sfeet.Therewereafewbillsinit.“That’snotyoursongtoplay.”
“Thefuckitisn’t,”hesaid,andstartedstrummingagain.
Colbysteppedforward,hisheartbeatpounding.“Tellmewhereyouheardit.”
“Pricehasgoneuptotwenty,”theguysaid,notevenbotheringtolookupthistime.Thunderrumbledclosernowandagustofwindblewoverthem,rattlingtheleavesabovethem.
Colbygrittedhisteethandpulledhiswalletout.Hedroppedatwentyinthecase.“Tellme.”
Theguy’sblondhairhadfalleninhisface,butColbycouldseehissmirk.“Inmyhead.Iwroteit,asshole.”
Well,thatjustpissedColbyoff.Hekickedtheguitarcaseshutwithabang.
Theguy’sheadjerkedupward.“What’syourpr—”
ButhisgreeneyeswentwideandhiswordstrailedoffashisgazemetColby’s.
Forasecond,thepiecesdidn’tregister,didn’tfittogetherinColby’sfuzzyhead.Hejuststaredforafewlongseconds.Butwhenitallfinallyclickedintoplace,itwaslikeaswift,hardpunchtothegut.“Keats?”
Thatseemedtosnaptheguyoutofhisstunnedstate.Hegotoffthebenchwithhurriedmovementsandflippedopenhisguitarcasetosethisbatteredinstrumentintoit.“No,man,ain’tme.”
Colbyconsideredforamomentthathewasseeingghosts.He’dhadabadday.He’dhadalottodrink.Keatshadbeenonhismindearlier.ButwhenColbygavetheguyalongerlook,heknewhewasn’timaginingthings.Theboyhe’dknownhadgrownafewinchesandhadinkeduphisskin.HishairwaslongerandhewasleanerthanColbyremembered.Harder.Buttherewasnodoubtingthosepalegreeneyesortheawarenessthathadflashedthroughthem.
ThiswasKeats.Alive.
Keatsyankedhiscasefromthegroundandhitchedabackpackoverhisshoulder,turningtogo.HetooktwostepsbeforeColbyhadahandonhisupperarm.“You’rejustgoingtowalkaway?”
Keatstensedinhisgrip,andheturnedcoldeyesonhim.“Unlessyouplantothrowmoremoneyatme,bigman,I’mouttahere.”
Colbylethisarmgobutsquaredoffinfrontofhimtoblockhim,thedominantsideofhimshimmeringtothesurface.“Keats,ifyouthinkyou’regoingtoblowmeoffandpretendyoudon’tknowme,Isuggestyourethinkthat.”
Keats’ssmilewaswryeventhoughfearflickeredthroughhiseyes.“Blowyou?Sothat’swhatthisisabout?Notmything,dude.ButgivemetwohundredbucksandmaybeIcanforgetthatIdon’tlikecock.”
Colbysteppedintohisspace,unsurewhatpissedhimoffmore—thatKeatswasstillkeepingupthisactorthatwhathesaidcouldbetrue—thatthesmart,quietkidheusedtoknowwasnowsellinghimselftokeepafloat.HehopedtoGodKeatswasjustbluffing.Butifthekidwantedtoplaythisgame,hecould,too.
“Fine.”
Keatsblinked,thetough-guyfacefalteringforasecond.“What?”
“Fivehundredandyoucomehomewithmeforthenight.”
“Thatwasn’ttheoffer.”
“You’regoingtoturndownfivehundredbucksandawarmplacetosleep?”heasked,knowingKeatshadnomorethanthirtybucksinhiscaseandthatthecoldrainwouldstartfallinganyminute.
“Nobodygivesyouthatmuchmoneyfornothing,”hesaid,hisexpressiontight.“AndIdon’tfuckguys.”
EvenhearingthecrasswordsrolloffKeats’slipshadangerwellinginColby.Sohewasgoingtokeepthisbravadocrapup.ColbycrowdedKeatsagainstthesideofthebench,usinghissizetothefullestadvantage.Heknewhewasn’tfightingfair.Keatswasnervousevenifhewastryingtoplayitoff.ButtherewasnowayinhellColbywaslettinghimwalkaway.IfitmeantplayingasdirtyasKeatswasplaying,sobeit.Heleanedin,meetingKeatseyetoeye.“DoIlooklikesomeonewho’dneedtopayforafuck?”
“Col—”hestarted,thencaughthimself.“Shit.”
Colbysmiledandbackedoff,victorious.HetooktheguitarcasefromKeats’shand,theburdenofColby’sawfuldayliftingalittle.Thesituationwasbeyondscrewedup.Keatswasonthestreet—orcloseenoughtoittobebuskinginapark.Hehadn’tactuallyaskedhimifhehadsomewheretogo.Buthewasalive.Thatwasenoughtobethankfulfor.“Comeon.Let’sgetasandwichandgetindoorsbeforetheskiesopenup.IneedtosoberupbeforeIcandrive.Butwhenwe’redone,youaregoinghomewithme.”
Thenothing-bothers-meattitudedroppedfromKeats’sexpressionandhelooked…lost.“Why?”
“Doyouhavesomeplacebettertogo?”heasked,liftingabrow.
Keats’sjawtwitchedandheglancedaway,theshameinhiseyesmakinghimlookmorelikethekidheusedtoknowandlesslike—Colbycountedofftheyearsinhishead—thetwenty-three-year-oldmanhe’dgrowninto.“NotifIdon’tshowupwithsomecashinmypocket.”
“That’sreasonenough,then.I’mguessingfivehundredwillcoveryou.Comeon.”
KeatsfollowedhimwhenColbystartedwalkingbacktowardthemainroad.Hefellintostepwithhim.“Your…familyisn’tgoingtomindyoushowingupwithsomestranger?”
Colbypeeredoverathim,thequestioncatchinghimoffguard.“Ilivealone.”
“Oh.”Keatslookeddown.“That’scool.”
Ah,hell.
Thishadtroublewrittenalloverit.Colbyswitchedtheguitarcasetohisotherhandandputsomedistancebetweenthetwoofthem.
Linedrawn.FIVE
Georgiasatcurledupinherlivingroom,nursingaglassofwineandtryingtoplotoutthenextsceneinherbookonthelegalpadproppedonherlap.Arerunof48Hourswasoninthebackground,butshewasn’tlisteningtoit.Really,shehadn’tbeenabletoconcentrateonmuchofanythingallevening.Instead,hereyeskeptdriftingtoherlivingroomwindow.Colbyhadsaidhemightbringoverburgerstonight.Alldayshehadstressedaboutit,wonderingifshewouldbeabletomanageit.Sheknewshecouldn’tgoovertohishouse,butshewasn’tsureshecouldlethiminherseither.Everytimeshethoughtaboutit,shegotthatelectricfeelinginhermuscles—liketheywereallgoingtoseizeupatonce.
ButLeeshahadbeensoenthusiasticwhenGeorgiahadmentionedthepotentialdate-that-wasn’t-really-a-datetoherthismorning.AccordingtoLeesha—inallhertherapeuticwisdom—gettinginterestedinamanwasa“major”stepintherightdirection.Itshowedwillingnesstotrustagainandreconnectingtotheoutsideworldandblahblahblah.Georgiahadzonedoutalittleonthetherapist-speak.Evenso,Leesha’sexcitementhadbeencontagious,andGeorgiahadpromisedhershewoulddoallshecouldtogiveitachanceandnotchickenout.
Soshe’dstartedmakingplanstoeatonthebackyarddeck.Hergardenbacktherewasquietandthetreesofferedshade.Shecouldcontrolthesituationthere.Butalltheplanningandworryinghadbeenfornaught.Colbyhadn’tcomehomeathisnormaltime.Anditwasn’tlikehehadherphonenumber,sohehadn’tcalled.Soeithersomethinghadcomeuporhe’dsimplyforgotten.Orsomethingwaswrong.
Shepushedthethoughtaside,frustratedthathermindalwayswentthere.Hello,Paranoia,nicetoseeyouagain.Itwasalwaysthere,waitingintheraftersandreadytopounce.SometimesshewonderedifPhilliphadseareditintoherpsychepermanently,thattherewasnogettingbetterforher,thathehadkilledthewomanGeorgiausedtobespirituallyevenifherphysicalformhadmanagedtosurvive.Maybeshewassentencedtoalifeinsidethesewalls,watchingtheworldgobythroughherwindowsandonherTVscreen,andonlygoingoutwhenshepoppedapillthatmadeherthoughtsgoslowandsticky.Shesetherwineglassasideandpressedtheheelsofherhandstohereyesockets,thethoughtsmakingherbrainwanttoimplode.
No,shewouldn’tletthathappen.Shewastryingtogetbetter.Shewasgoingoutsideeveryday.Shewasdoinghertherapy.Hell,she’dheldafullconversationwithherneighbortoday.EvenLeeshawashopeful.Thingsweregettingalittlebetter,right?AndoncePhillipwasputawayforgood,thefearwouldsurelygoaway.Knowingthathewasoutonbondandcouldpopbackintoherlifewaswhatheldherhostage.Thechanceswereslimthathe’dleavethestatesinceifhetried,he’dbethrowninjail.Butitwastheexistenceofthatminutepossibilitythatshecouldn’tgetpast.Becausesheknewwithoutadoubtthatifhefoundher,therewouldbenoescapethistime.
Adoorslammedinthedistance,makingherjumpandalmostknockoverherwine.Sheturnedherheadtowardthewindow.Colbywasbackandsomeonewasclimbingdownfromthepassengersideofhistruck.Georgiashiftedonthecouchtoturnfullyaroundandwatch.Atleasthewassafe,evenifthethoughtofhimbringinghomesomewomanhadadifferentkindoffeelingtwistinginherstomach.Butwhenhispassengercamearoundthefrontofthetruck,itwasalankyguywithshoulder-lengthblondhair.NotanyonesherecognizedfromColby’sgaggleoffriends.
Jealousyrooteddowninhergutdespitethefactthatitwasaguy.GeorgiahadwatchedColbylongenoughtoknowhewasn’tonlyintowomen.Thoughnotrecently,she’dseenhimwithamaleloveroncebefore.Ithadshockedthehelloutofherinitially.Sheknewgayorbisexualmendidn’tnecessarilyfitastereotype.ButColbywastheepitomeoftheSouthern-boyalphamale—thelastpersonshewould’veeversuspected.Whenshe’dfirstwatchedhimfoolaroundwiththeguy,she’dexpectedtobeturnedoff.She’dalwaysdatedwhatshe’dthoughtofas“manly”men,oneswhowould’vebalkedattheideaoftouchinganotherguy.
Butshe’dbeenflooredbyhowhotithadbeentowatchColbytakeoveranotherman.Ithadn’tbeeneffeminateatall.It’dbeenroughandsexyandintense.Transfixing.Bythetimethenightwasdone,she’dbeensweating,breathless,andoutofhermindwithallthe…wanting.Shehadn’tquiteunderstoodherreaction,butshe’ddecidednottodigtoodeepintothatone.
However,tonightshewasn’tinthemoodtowatch.Herpridewasdinged.SheandColbyhadmadeplans,albeitlooseones,andthenColbyhadblownitoffandbroughtsomeoneelsehome.Itwasprobablystupidtofeelanyjealousy.SheandColbywerejustneighbors.Itwasonlyanofferforburgers.Sheprobablywouldn’thaveevenbeenabletoinvitehiminside.Butitdidn’tstopthefeelingsfromsurfacing.
Shewatchedtheotherguypullsomethingoutofthetruckbed,aguitarcasefromthelooksofit.ColbysaidsomethingtohimandthenglancedtowardGeorgia’shouse.Instinctively,sheduckedback.Allhe’dbeabletoseebetweenherblindswastheambientlightfromthetelevision,butevenso,Colbywasalreadyheadingherway.
“Shit.”Shescrambledoffthecouch.Shewasstillinherjeansandfavoritepinkcashmeresweater.Stupidly,she’dgottenalittledressedupforthenight,evenputtingonsomemakeup.Ofcourse,sheprobablyhadraccooneyesatthispointfromrubbingthem.Shestrodetothemirrorabovethesmalltableintheentrywayandranherfingersunderhereyestoclearthesmudgedmascararightbeforetheknockhitthedoor.
Shealmostdidn’twanthimtoseethatshewasstillfullydressed.Shedidn’twanthimthinkingshe’dbeenwaitinglikesomeforgottengirlonpromnight.Thatgavehimanedge,power.Butshedidn’thaveanychoice.Shecheckedthepeepholetomakedoublesurewhowasontheotherside,thendeactivatedthealarmandundidthedeadbolts.
Sheswungthedooropen,findingthehulkingmassofColbyWilkesfillingthedoorway.Helookednothinglikethefreshandspryguyhe’dbeenwhenhe’dleftthatmorning.Hishairwasdisheveled,hiseyesalittlebloodshot,andhisclotheslookedlikethey’dbeenrainedon.
“Hey,”shesaidtentatively.
Hegaveherabriefup-and-downglance.“Good,you’restillup.IsawtheTVwasonandtookachance.”
“Yeah,Iwasjustabouttogouptobed.”
Somethingflickeredoverhisexpressionatthat,butheshiftedhisweight,bracinghishandonthedoorjamb,andtheflickerwasgone.“IjustwantedtosayI’msorryIdidn’tstopbytonightlikeIsaidIwould.”
Sheshrugged.“It’sokay.Ididn’treallyknowifyouwereseriousanyway.”
Hesighedandranahandoverthebackofhishead.“Iwas.Buttodayhasbeen…complicated.”HeglancedtowardhishouseandtheguyleaningagainstthesideofColby’struck.“Andisstillcomplicated.”
“Everythingokay?”sheasked,eyeingColby’sguest.
“Idon’tknowifitcanbedefinedasokay,butIhavethingsundercontrol.Mostly.”
“Who’stheguy?”sheblurted,thencringedwhensherealizedhownosyshesounded.“Sorry,noneofmybusiness.”
Colbyrubbedhisjaw,consideringher.“He’s…aguyIusedtoknowandwhoneededaplacetocrashtonight.Longstory.”
Thewayhesaidit,theunderlyingcurrentofregretinhisvoice,hadhercuriositywelling,butshekeptherquestionstoherself.“AnythingIcandotohelp?”
“Notreally.”Hislipcurledatthecorner.“Havingdinnerwithyoutonightwould’vehelped.Iwaslookingforwardtothat.Raincheck?”
“Sure,okay.”
“Good.I’llholdyoutothat.”Heleanedover,cuppingherelbow,andpanicstiffenedherforasecondasheenteredherspace.Butallhedidwaspressalightkisstohercheek.
Hesmelledfaintlyofmaplesyrup,buttheroughbrushofhisbeardagainstherskinsentacurrentstraightdownward.Shehadtobitetheinsideofherliptokeepfrommakingasound.Helingeredcloseforamoment,andsheswallowedhard.Shecouldturnherhead—justafewinchesandthoselipswouldbeonhers.Ifshewereheroldself,shewould’vedoneit.Thatgirldidn’tcower.Thatgirltookchances.
Butthatgirlwasn’ther.Notanymore.
Hepulledbackbeforeshecouldevenattempttogetthenerve.Hegaveherthatheartbreakersmileofhis,thoughshecouldseethetirednessandstrainlingeringinhiseyes,andsteppedbackontoherporch.Thewholeexchangehadherwantingtoreachout,runherhandsalonghisjaw,andoffercomfort—possiblyofthenakedvariety.Butallshecoulddowastellhimgoodnightandclosethedoor
WhenGeorgiawentupstairsalittlewhilelater,shetriedtowalkpasttheguestroomwithoutstoppingin.Butitwasasirencallshecouldn’tshutoff.Afterslippingintoheroversizednightshirt,shepaddedbarefootintothedarkguestroom.AfewlightswentonandoffinColby’shouse,buteventuallyheappearedinhisbedroomdoorway.Heshuthisdoorandleanedagainstit.Heranahandoverhisfaceinafuck-my-lifemotion.Itwasthefirsttimeshecouldrememberseeinghimlooksobeatdown.Heheadedintohisbathroom.Sheknewsheneededtoclosethecurtainsandgotobed,butsheremainedinherchair,somehowfeelinglessalonesittinghereinsteadofinherroom.
Afewminuteslater,shewasrewardedwiththesightofColbysteppingoutofhisbathroomwithonlyatowelaroundhiships.Hishairwasstillwetandhisskinstilldamp.Shepickedupthebinoculars.Colbyturnedofftheoverheadlight,leavinghisbedsidelampon,andthenheglancedtowardherwindow.Herheartstutteredforasecond,buthisgazemovedawayasquicklyasithadcome.Heundidthetowel,exposingabacksidethatcouldinspirehertotakeupsculptingasahobby,andtossedthetowelintoahamper.
Whenheturnedtotheside,hermagnifiedgazetrackeddownhisprofile,tracingalongthelinesofhisnoseandjaw,goingoverhishonedbicepsandthecutofhiship,andthenhoveringonthehandhe’djustwrappedaroundhisquicklystiffeningerection.
AshiverwentstraightthroughGeorgia.She’dneverseenhimmasturbate.She’dlongagoassumedhediditintheshowerorsomething.Buttonightitseemedhehadotherintentions.Shecouldn’tpullherfocusawayfromthatbighandofhisstrokingupward.Shecouldseethefleshstarttobroadeninhishand,theheadgoingadarkershade.
Butrightwhenshewasgettinglostintheshow,hemovedoutofthebinoculars’view.Shequicklyadjustedthefocus,unzooming,andgaspedwhensherealizedhewaslookingrightather.Shejerkedbackforasecond,thatcaught!feelingracingthroughher.Butofcoursehecouldn’tseeher.Hewasjustlookingthatway.Maybehewasthinkingabouther?Theideasentwarmthstirringlow
Sheheldherhandssteadyonthebinoculars,watchingassomethingflaredinhiseyes—desire,need,maybealittleloneliness,allofitwasinthatlook.Butthemomentpassedandheturnedaway,grabbingsomethingfromabedsidedrawer—abottleofclearliquid.Withoutpullingbackthecovers,hestretchedoutonhisbedandtookhimselfinhislubricatedhand,strokinginlong,luxuriatingmotions.
God.Georgiawasgoingtofuckingloseit.
Thetipofhertonguetouchedthecenterofherlipassheletthedesirewakeupherbody.Thishadn’tbeenherplanwhenshe’dsatdowninfrontofthewindow.She’donlywantedtoseewhatkindof“friend”Colbyhadbroughthome.Butnowtherewasnowayshe’dbeabletosithereandwatchColbypleasurehimselfwithoutrelievingthetensionbuildingbetweenherthighs.
ShekeptherfocusgluedtoColbyasshepulledopenthedrawerinthetablethatflankedthewindowandpulledoutthesmallvibratorshe’dstowedinthere.Sheslippedherfingersinsideherpanties.Shegroanedunderherbreathatthefeelofhertouchandhowwetshewasalready.WatchingColbyflippedherswitchlikenothingelse,itseemed.Sheturnedthevibratorontoalowsetting,whichsentashudderofpleasureupherspine,butsheforcedhereyestostayopen.Colbyhadcuppedhisballswithonehandandwasslidinghisfistalonghisshaftwiththeother.Hedidn’tlooktobeinanykindofrush,andGeorgiaimagineditwashertheregivinghimthatslow,sensualpleasureinstead—teasinghimuntilhebeggedformore.Sheknewhe’dfeelheavyinherhandsandhot.Shecouldonlyimaginehowhe’dfeelslidinginsideher.It’dbeensodamnlong..
Theslowlyweavedfantasymadehersexclencharoundthevibratorandherthighstighten.Shewouldn’tlastlongatthisrate.Herheartbeatwasalreadypoundingrightbehindherclit,thedemandforreleasebuilding.Colbylookedtobegettingcloseraswell,hismovementsspeedingupandhisthighsflexing.
Shecouldn’twaitforhim.Herbodyseizedaroundthestimulationandorgasmrocketedthroughher.Shepantedherwaythroughthehillsandvalleysofit,tastingsweatonherupperlip.Butrightasshewasdriftingdownfromherquickhigh,shecaughtmovementattheedgeofherview.Sheswungherbinocularstotheleft.
Colby’sdoorhadcrackedopen.Aguysteppedafootinsideandhiseyeswentwidewithanoh,shitexpressionasherealizedwhathe’dwalkedinon.Shecouldn’tgathermuchabouthimbeyondthathewasrelativelyyoungandreallysurprisedbeforehebackedup.Everythingwashappeningtooquickly.ButColbyhadn’tnoticedtheintrusion,apparentlytoolostinhisfinalclimbtorelease.Colby’sguestwenttoshutthedoorbutthenhesitated,leavingacrackwhereGeorgiacouldonlymakeouthalfhisfaceinthelowlight.Heseemedfrozenthereashestaredatthemanonthebed.Colbycameinarush,hisreleaselandingagainsthisstomachandchest,andtheguyhurriedlyshutthedoorbeforeColbyopenedhiseyes.
Colbywasneverthewiser.ButGeorgiaknew.
Foronce,shewasn’ttheonlyPeepingTomintheneighborhood.SIX
Fuck,fuck,fuck.KeatscruisedbacktoColby’sguestroomatwarpspeed,almosttrippingoverhisfeetinhisefforttogetthehelloutofthehallway.Thatwalktothebathroomhadnotgoneasplanned.Apparently,itwastheseconddoorontheleft,nottheright.Heshuthisdoorsilentlyandthencollapsedagainstit,hisbloodpoundingathistemples…andmuchlower.
Heslidtothefloor,claspinghishandsbehindhisneck.JesusChrist.Hehadstoodtherewaytoolong.He’dbeenahalfsecondawayfromColbyseeinghim.Thatwould’vebeenfun.Hi,thanksforgivingmeaplacetocrashtonight.No,don’tmindmewhileIturnintoatotalcreeperandwatchyoujackoff.
God,whatthehellwaswrongwithhim?
Hehadn’tbeenabletolookaway.Itwasn’tlikehedidn’tknowhowjerkingoffworked.Hewasratherfondofithimself.ButrealizinghewasseeingColbyWilkeswithouttheteacherfa?ade,justtheman—naked—hadfrozenhiminplace.Allthemixed-upfeelingshe’dhadbackinhighschoolhadrushedbackinaflash.Backthen,whenhe’dheardthroughtherumormillthatMr.Wilkessometimesdatedguys,hismindhadn’tbeenabletoletthatgo.Imageshadpoppedintohisheadunbiddenandrelentless—followedbyfantasieshewould’veneveradmittedtooutloud.
He’dusedthosefantasiesonaconstantlooptogetoffbackthen,onlytofollowupwithalltheguiltandshamethatrushedinafterward.Andherehewas,twenty-fucking-threeyearsoldandthosestupidteenageurgeswantedtowellup—thatoldinnervoicecallinghimafagandacocksuckeranddisgusting.WordshisfatherhadsuppliedbutKeats’sbrainhadlatchedonto.
Hetappedthebackofhisheadonthedoor.No.Thatwasn’thimanymore.Henolongerbelievedthatbackwoodsshithisfatherhadpoundedintohim.Peoplecouldscrewwhotheywantedtoscrew.Buthewasstraight.TheweirdfantasiesaboutColbyhadbeenafluke,somewirescrossingbecauseColbyhadbeentheonlypersonhe’dtrusted,andhe’dwantedtobeclosertohim—hadwantedthosestudent/teacherboundarieskeepingeverythingformaltodisappear.Thatwasall.Assoonashelefthome,thosemixed-upfeelingshadfadedaway.
Keatslikedwomen,beddedthemregularly,andthoroughlyenjoyedit.Plus,he’dbeenonthestreetslongenoughandhadgottensickofmarriedguysinexpensivecarspropositioninghimwithafistfulofcashandahotelroomkey.Thoseoffershadcuredhimofanythoughtsofbisexuality.
Butwhenhe’dseenColbystepintohiscorneroftheparktonight,allofthataversionseemedtofallaway.Adeep,whole-bodyresponsehadtakenoverhisbrain.Keatswasgoodattellingpeopletofuckoff.Andhesureashelldidn’ttakedirectionfromanyoneanymore.ButifColbyhadtakenhimuponhissarcasticofferofablowjobforacouplehundredbucks,Keatswould’vegottenonhiskneesforhimfornocashatallandfiguredouthowtodoit.
Thethoughtscaredtheshitoutofhim.Heshould’venevercomehere.He’dhumiliatedhimselfinfrontofColby—well,Mr.Wilkesbackthen—oncebefore,readingtoomuchintothingsandmakingafoolofhimself.Thatwasenoughforonelifetime.Plus,heknewthatColbyhadlethimoffeasytonight.They’deatenatWaffleHouseinnear-silence.ButKeatshadnodoubtthatthequestionswouldcometomorrow.WhatKeatshaddonebackthenwasunforgivableonsomanylevels.AndColbyhadtakenheatforiteventhoughtheguyhaddonenothingwrong.Keatshadseenthenot-so-subtlereferencesinthenewscoveragewheneveryonewaslookingforhimbackinHickoryPoint.Theyoungmusicteacherhadfuckedupandcrossedlineswithhispoor,innocentstudent.Ha.Ifthey’donlyknowntherealstory.
ButnowKeatswasgoingtohavetodealwiththeconsequencesifhestuckaroundFuck.Thatwasthelastthinghewantedtoface.Heeyedtheneatlymadebedinthemiddleoftheroom.Thedamnthinglookedsofreshandinviting.Sincehe’dbrokenupwithhislastgirlfriendafewweeksago,he’dbeenbacktopayingweek-to-weekattheTexasStarMotelwiththecashhemadefromthedaylaborjobshepickeduphereandthere.Buttonighthisex’spunk-assbrotherhadcaughtuptohim,demandingmoneysheowedhim.Keatshadn’tknownNinawasrunningpillsforherbrother—ortakingthem.It’dbeenoneofthereasonshe’dbrokenitoffwithher.Butnowshewastellingherbrother,Hank,thatKeatshadtakenoffwithherstash.AndHankwantedhisgrandback.
HankandtwootherguyshadcorneredKeatsearlierthatday,catchinghimoffguard.Keatsknewhowtofight,buthealsowasn’tstupidenoughtotakeonthreedudeswhowereprobablyarmedandampeduponcrank.He’dhandedoverhisrentmoney,andHankhadkindlyofferedtogivehimuntilWednesdaytomakehisnextpayment.Fuckingpsycho.
SonowhehadtwodaystocomeupwithatleastanothercouplehundredbucksforHankandmoreforrent.And,ofcourse,it’drainedthismorningsotheconstructionworkhe’dbeenpickinguphadn’tneededguystoday,whichwaswhyhe’dresortedtohisoldstandbyofbuskinginthepark.Playinghisguitarwaswhatheenjoyedmostanyway.ButuntilColbyhadcomealong,hehadn’tearnedenoughtoevenpayforanotherweekatthemotel.
Thecashhehadmadewastuckedinhispocket.Itwasenoughforonenightatleast.Hecouldsneakoutnowandsavehimselfthedramaoftomorrow.It’dbeadickmove,buthedoubtedColbyreallywantedhimstayingthereanyway.He’dtakenhimhomeoutofguilt,likeastray.Butifheleftnow,hewouldneverknowifColbyreallyplannedongivinghimfivehundredbucks.Thatwouldn’tfixeverything,butitcouldgoalongwayforhimrightnow.Andhedidn’thavetodoanythingforitbutsleepinacomfortablebedandhaveanuncomfortableconversation.Thatwasworthit,right?
Hisstomachflippedover.Maybenot.
Thesmartthingwouldbetosneakout.Colbyprobablywasn’tgoingtogivehimthemoneyanyway.He’dprobablywanttoturnhimintothepoliceasaformermissingkidorsomething.Hell.No.
Hegottohisfeet,planningtograbhisshitandgetout,whentherewasaknockonthedoor.Hisheartjumpedinhisthroatatthesuddensound.
“Keats?”
Shit.HesentaquickpleatotheuniversethatColbyhadn’tseenhimstandinginhisdoorway.“Uh,yeah,comein.”
ThedooropenedandColbystoodontheotherside,wearingawhiteT-shirtandapairofbasketballshorts,hishairstillwet.HissheersizehadalwaysdonesomethingtoKeats—afewinchestallerthanhewasandbroadashell.ButnowthatColbywasn’tcloseshavenandhadlethishairgrowalittlelonger,theeffectwasevenmorepotent—likeanuntamedversionoftheteacherheusedtoknow.Addtoitthehintofcolorinhisface,warmthKeatsknewwasapost-orgasmglow,andKeatswascompletelyfuckingdistracted.
Colbyhandedhimathickwhitetowel.Clotheswerefoldedontopofit.“Ithoughtyoumightwanttoshowerbeforebed.Theguestbathroomshouldhaveshampooandsoapinthecabinetbeneaththesink.Feelfreetousewhatever.”Henoddedattheclothes.“Thoseareprobablygoingtobetoobig,buttheshortshaveadrawstring,soyoushouldbeabletotightenthem.”
“Thanks,youreallydon’thavetodothis.Imean,Ihavesomeextraclothesinmybackpack.”Thoughmostofitwasdirty.HehadplannedtogototheLaundromatthismorningbeforehisunfortunaterun-inwithHank.
Colbyfrowned.“They’reprobablywetfromtherain.LeavethemouthereinthehallwayandI’lltosstheminthewash.Thenyou’llhaveyourownstufffortomorrow.”
“Youdon’thavetodomydamnlaundry,”hesaid,scrapingahandthroughhishair.Colbybeingnicetohimwasmakinghimfeellikeanevenbiggershitbagforwantingtosneakout.“Icanhandlethings.Infact,Idon’tevenknowwhyIagreedtocomehere.”
Colbyleveledagazeathim.“Idon’tsuggestyougetanyideasaboutleavingtonight.Wemadeadeal.Iexpectyoutohonorit.”
Keatsturnedaway,hisdefensesrisinginresponsetothatdon’t-fuck-with-melookColbywassogoodatgiving.“Likeyou’regoingtogivemefivehundredbucksfornothing.”
“Thehousealarmison,”Colbysaid,soundingtired.“SoI’llknowifyoutrytoleave.Idon’tmakeahabitofholdingpeoplecaptivewithouttheirconsent.Buttonight,yougavemethatrightwhenyoutookmyoffer.Iboughtyourtime.Nowit’smineuntilmorning.Sotakeashower,putyourdirtyclothesouthere,andgotobed.Youdothat,andyou’llgetthemoneyyouwerepromised.Idon’tbreakmyword.”
Thewayhe’dsaidmineuntilmorninghadKeats’straitorousbrainspiralingdownaforbiddenpath.Hepushedtheridiculousreactiondownandreplaceditwithasaferone—sarcasm.“Whatthefuckisthatsupposedtomean?Youkeeppeoplecaptiveoften?”
Thecornerofhismouthtippedup,revealingadimplehidingbeneaththescruff.“Nevermind.Goodnight,Keats.”
Keatswatchedhimstrollbackdownthehallwayandgrimaced.Somuchforhisbrilliantescapeplan.
—
Colbyleanedagainsthiskitchencounter,sippingcoffeeandwatchingbaconfry.Thiswasnormallythetimehe’dbegettingintoschooltostarthisworkday.Buthe’dapparentlyenteredsomeotherdimension.Notonlydidhehavenojobtogotothismorning,butnowhehadasmart-mouthedhouseguestsleepingthemorningawayintheotherroom.
FuckingKeats.
ColbyhadbeensogoddamnedrelievedtofindoutKeatswasalive.Butseeingthishardenedversionofhimwasdifficulttostomach.Thekidhe’dknownhadbeenagentlesoul—smartandalittleshy,talentedashell.Thesongshe’dwritteninhighschoolhadshownadepthandabilitythatColbyhadn’tseeninanyonethatyoungsince.Butallofithadgonetoshitbecauseofstupidmistakes.MistakesbyColbywithhowhe’dhandledthings,howhehadn’tseenthewarningsignsthatKeatswasreadingmoreintotheirtimetogetherthanheshould.MistakesbyKeats’sjackassfather,who’dmadeithismissiontomakehissonfeelworthless.AndmistakesbyKeats,whohadrunawayinsteadoftrustingthepeoplewhoweretryingtohelp.
Nowwherethatgentlesoulhadbeenwasaworld-weary,angryguywhoseemedtobarelybegettingbybutwastoomistrustfultoacceptanyhelpfromanyone.ThewholethingmadeColbywanttopunchsomething.
Heflippedthebaconandheardmovementbehindhim.Keatsshuffledin,wearingonlytheshortsColbyhadlenthim.Thesightjarredhimforasecond.Hekeptexpectingtoseetheboybutkeptfindingagrownmanthereinstead.Thetattooshe’dnoticedonKeats’sforearmslastnightwentallthewayup—fullsleevesofcolorfulink,framingaleanbutdefinedtorso.Colbyclearedhisthroatandlookedaway.“Mornin’.”
Keats’sbarefeetsmackedovertheceramictileandhepulledoutachairatthebar.“You’regoingtoburnthatbacon.Heat’stoohigh.”
ColbyglancedbackatKeatsandloweredtheflameontheburner.“Baconexpert?”
Heshrugged.“Iworkedthegriddleatabreakfastjointforawhile.Youruinenoughbacon,youlearnthetricks.Lowandslow.”
Colbygruntedandturnedbacktothepan.“Iusuallymicrowaveit,butI’moutofpapertowels.”
“Microwave?”Keats’schairscrapedthefloor,andhewalkedovertoColby,puttinghishandoutforthetongs.“Igotit.Youhaveanyeggs?”
Colbywassurprisedtohavehisformerlyhostilehouseguestofferingtotakeoverbreakfast,buthewasn’tgoingtocomplain.Cookingwasn’texactlyhisstrongsuit.Hehandedoverthetongs,grabbedacartonofeggsandsomebutterfromthefridge,anddugaskilletout.Keatsgottheotherpangoinginnotime,crackingtheeggsone-handed.
Colbyslidintothespotbehindthebartosiphiscoffee.WatchingKeatsfrombehind,hisfaceobscured,madeiteasytoforgetwhowasstandingthere.Thetattoosaloneweresomethingtobehold.Theyweren’trushjobs;theywereart.Expensiveshitbythelooksofit.Fromthisdistance,hecouldn’ttellwhatallofitwas,buthecouldseetrailingmusicnotesandscrawledwords—probablylyricsifheknewKeats.Colby’sgazetracedoverthewordsandlingeredonthewayKeats’sshouldermusclesmovedasheshiftedhisattentionbetweenthepans—efficient,almostelegant.Colbyforcedhisattentiontohiscupofcoffee.
Havingahalf-nakedguyinhiskitchenwasn’tanewoccurrence.EventhoughColbytendedtogravitatetowardwomenmoreoftenthannot,he’dfiguredoutprettyearlyoninhislifethathedidn’tfitintoanarrowlanewhenitcametosexualpreference.Ittookhimalittlelongertofigureoutthatbesidesattractionheonlyhadtwotruerequirementswhenitcametohisbedpartners—submissiveandtoughenoughtohandlewhathelikedtodishout.Whatwasbelowthewaistmatteredalotlesstohimthanwhatwasinsomeone’swiringabovetheneck.Thatwaswhatgothisbloodpumping.
Butnoneofthatmatteredrightnow.BeyondthefactthatKeatshaddeclaredhewasn’tintoguyslastnight,thiswasKeats.Atwenty-something-year-oldguyhe’dpulledoffthestreets.Aformerstudent.Off-limits.
KeatsdishedupaplateofeggsandbaconforthembothandthenstoodatthecountertoeatinsteadoftakingthechairnexttoColby.
“Thanks,”Colbysaid,stabbingapieceofscrambledeggwithhisfork.“Thislooksgreat.”
Keatspouredhimselfacupofcoffeeanddumpedinsugarandalittlecream.“Noproblem.Ifiguredsomeonewhomicrowavesbaconcan’tbetrusted.”
Colbysmirked.“Areyoustillworkingasacook?”
Hisgazeshifteddowntohisplate.“Nah,IquitthedinerawhilebackwhenIgotagigatatattooshop.Thatwasagoodjob—decentpayandtheownerdidmyinkonthehouse.Butthenhegotsickandtheyhadtoshutdown,solatelyI’vebeendoingconstruction.”
TheyateinsilenceforafewmomentsandColbywastryingtofigureouthowbesttoapproachthatloomingelephantintheroomwhenKeatspointedhisforkatthewindowbehindColby.“Sowhat’swithyourneighbor?”
ColbyglancedoverhisshouldertoseeGeorgiainheryard,pickingthroughtheremnantsofthetoiletpaperhehadn’tgottentoyesterdaymorning.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Heswallowedhisbiteofeggs.“Nothing,justsawyouhightailitovertherelastnight,figuredI’dinterruptedplansorsomething.”
“Iwassupposedtohelpherfinishcleaningup,andIwasgoingtobringburgersoverbut…gotsidetrackedlastnight.”
“Byme?”
“Eventuallybyyou.Butbywhiskeyfirst.Hadashittydayatwork.”
“Howcome?”
Colbypushedathisbreakfast.“Astudentattemptedsuicideovertheweekend.”
Keatsflinched.“Sorry.Heokay?”
Colbyblewoutabreath,notsurewhyhewassharinganyofthiswithKeatsbutunabletostop.“Yeah,thankGod.ButI’vebeenputonleavesinceIwasthelastonetocounselhim.Hisparentswantaninvestigation.”
“Counsel?”
Colbytookanotherlongsipofcoffee.“Yeah,I’maschoolcounselornow.Iwentbackformymaster’safter…afterIleftHickoryPoint.”
Keats’sheadloweredandhepickedatthefoodonhisplate.TheystayedquietforafewmoreminutesuntilKeatsshiftedonhisfeetandclearedhisthroat.“Youlostyourteachingjobbecauseofme.”
Colbyleanedbackinhischair,thepastpressingdownonhimwiththat,smotheringhiminthebright,airykitchen.“No,Iresigned.Iknewtherumorswouldn’tstop.Andreally,Ididn’twanttobethereanymoreanyway.”
Colbywouldn’ttellKeatsthathe’dbeenphysicallysickwithgriefformonths,torturinghimselfwiththeconstantwhatifs,wonderingwhatcouldhavesavedKeats,andknowing,deepinhisgut,thathe’dhandledthingsallwrong.He’dseentoomuchofhimselfinKeatsandhadwantedtobethereforhim.Butheshould’veknownthatofferingthatlevelofopenconversationcouldbemisconstruedbyaconfusedkid.Hehadn’tkepttheboundariesclearenough.Andthatlastnight,whenKeatshadaskedifColbywasbi,Colbyhadadmittedthattherumorsweretrue.
Lookingback,ithadbeensoinappropriatetosharethat.Buthe’dseenKeatstearinghimselfupforfeelingsandurgeshewashaving,usinghisfather’shatefullanguageasaconstantinternalsoundtrack.Heandhisdadhadhadahugefightthatfinalnight,andhisfatherhadthreatenedtosendKeatstomilitaryschool.
Besidestheregularmusicclassesatschool,KeatshadbeentakingguitarlessonstwonightsaweekwithColby.Butthatfinalevening,hehadn’tshownupforhisappointmentatthereccenterwheretheymet.Latethatnight,he’dshownuponColby’sdoorstepinstead,carryinghisbrokenguitar.Keats’sfatherhadsmashedhisson’smostpreciouspossessionagainstthewall.
ColbyhadmadethefatalerroroflettingKeatsinside.Keatshadspilledeverythingaboutthefightwithhisdad.HisfatherhadfoundasheetoflyricsKeatshadwritten—asongcalled“OffLimits”thathadmadeitsoundlikeKeatswasinlovewithaboy.Hisfatherhadflippedhisshit,calledKeatseverydisgustingnameinthehomophobehandbook,andhadtoldhimhe’dratherbedeadthanhaveafagforason.EvenwhenKeatsdeniedthatthesonghadanythingtodowiththat—thatitwasreallyabouthoweverythinghelovedtodo,likeplayingmusic,wasoff-limits—hisfatherhadn’tlistened.Hisdadwasn’tgoingtobesatisfieduntilhisartsysonturnedintowhathewanted—atough-as-nails“man’sman”whowouldfollowinhisfather’sandolderbrother’sfootstepsintotheMarines.
IthadtakeneverythingColbyhadnottodriveovertoKeats’shouseandbeatthestupidoutofKeats’sfather.HowcouldanyonelookatKeatsandnotseehowtalentedandamazingthekidwas?Buthe’dcontrolledhimselfandhadtriedtobethereforKeatsasasympatheticearandtoofferasafeplaceforhimtoexpresshisfeelings.ButwhenKeatshadaskedhimpoint-blankabouthissexuality,Colbyhadn’tbeenabletolie.Insteadofsayingthatwasn’tanappropriatequestiontoaskhim,he’dbeenhonest.
Colbyhadlongsuspectedthekidwasconfusedabouthissexuality,andhe’dwantedKeatstoknowthatifhefeltdrawntobothguysandgirls,hewasn’talone,thatitwasokaytohavethefeelingshedid.Thatbeinga“real”manhadnothingtodowithwhoyouwereorweren’tattractedto.ButwhileColbywasbusytryingtobeMr.SavetheDayteacher,he’dbeentoostupidtorealizethatKeats’sconfusedfeelingswerealotlesshypotheticalandalotmorepersonal.NotuntilKeatshadleanedovertokisshimhadColbyrealizedhowwrongeverythinghadgone.
Andhe’dhandledthewholesituationinthemostimmatureanddangerouswaypossible,reactingoutoffear,thinkingofself-preservationfirst.He’dshovedKeatsawayandaskedhimtoleave.
AndKeatshad.Forgood.
“Soyouleftthereandcameheretobeacounselor,”Keatssaid,breakingColbyoutofhisreverie.“Gluttonforpunishment?”
Hehuffedaquietlaugh.“Maybe.”
“Andnowyou’reonleavebecausesomekidtriedtooffhimself?”Keatsshookhisheadandatehislastbiteofbacon.“Iguaranteeyoutheydon’tpayyouenoughtobeheldresponsibleforthedecisionsofteenagers.IrememberwhatIfeltlikebackthen.Ididn’tknowwhichwaywasup.Noamountoftalkingorinterventionwould’vemademechangemymindaboutrunningaway.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,”Colbysaid.“Iscrewedthingsupthatnight.Ishould’vehandleditdifferently.”
“No.”Keatsshookhishead,hisgazeshiftingawayfromColby’s.“Youdidwhatyouneededtodosothatyoudidn’tgettossedinfuckingjail.Iwasmessedupandterrifiedofwhatmydadwasgoingtodo.Youwerenicetome,listenedtowhatIhadtosay,andseemedtogiveashit.MyheadgotallmixedupaboutitandIthoughtthatmaybeifIkissedyou,you’dletmestaythereandnotsendmebackhome.Plus,IthinkIneededtofindoutifwhatIwasfeelingwasreallyattraction.Youknow,thatmaybethereasonIfeltsooutofplaceallthetimewasbecauseIwasintoguysorwhatever.Butitwasjustreachingforstraws.”
Colbyconsideredhim.“Wasit?”
Heshrugged.“Yeah.Ihaven’twantedtokissaguy—ordoanythingelsewithone—since.”
“SoIscaredyouoffguysforgood.Goodtoknow,”hesaid,tryingtolightenthemoodandchaseawaythedarkmemories.
KeatsmetColby’sgazeforhalfasecond.Butwhateverhehadplannedtosaynevermadeitout.Hegrabbedhisplateandturnedaroundtorinseitinthesink.
Whenhespunbackaround,hehitchedathumbtowardthehallway.“Thanksforthebreakfast.I’mgoingtograbmystuffandgetoutofhere.Youdon’thavetopaymethemoney.Youdon’towemeanything.Neverdid.”
Colbydidn’thavetimetorespondbeforeKeatshaddisappearedfromthekitchen.Butnowaywasthisgoingtobetheendofit.Hehadn’tgonethroughthetroubleoftakingKeatshomeonlytodrophimbackoffonthestreetthismorning.Colbyfollowedhimdownthehallwayandstoppedinthedoorwaytothebedroom.
KeatsglancedupafterpullinghisT-shirtoverhishead,hisexpressiongoingwarywhenhesawColbystandingthere.“What?”
Colbyleanedagainstthedoorjambandcrossedhisarmsoverhischest.“WhatifItoldyoutherewasawaytoearnthatfivehundreddollars?Wouldyoufeelbetterabouttakingit?”
Keats’sgazeflickeddownColby’sbodyalmosttooquicklytodetect,butthecolorthatinstantlydottedhischeeksgavehimaway.ColbyknewwhatthoughthadfirstcrossedKeats’smind.ThatKeatsthoughtColbywouldevengothereirritatedhim.Whatirritatedhimevenmorewastheansweringpingthatwentthroughhimatthethought.
Fuckinghell.
“Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”Keatsasked,tuckinghishandsinthebackpocketsofhisjeansandtryingtolooknonchalant.
Thatwasthewrongquestion.Colbydidn’twanttoadmittohimselfwhathadflashedthroughhishead.ButevenifKeatswasn’tstraight,Colbywassmartenoughtoknowit’dbeabadideaonsomanylevelstocrossanyofthoselines.BeyondthefactthatKeatswasaformerstudentandalmostadecadeyoungerthanhim,henodoubtstillhadamountainofissuesplaguinghim.Theguyneededabreak,notmorecomplications.
Colbymanagedtokeephisexpressionneutraldespitehiserrantthoughts.“Comewithme.”
Whenheturned,hehalf-expectedKeatstoignorehimandstaybehind.Buttohissurprise,withouthesitationorquestioningColby’sintentions,Keatsfellintostepbehindhim.“Aye,aye,sir.”
Blindtrust.
Hehadn’tearnedit.Notafterhowhe’dletKeatsdowninthepast.ButColbymadeapromisetohimselfrightthenandtherethatthistime,hewouldbeworthyofit.SEVEN
Georgiawascursingallhighschoolerswhoeverlivedandthemanufacturersoftriple-plytoiletpaperbythetimelatemorningrolledaround.She’dworkedfortwohoursintheyard,tryingtogetallthewetsoggymessoutofhershrubsandtrees,butitseemedlikethestuffmultiplied.Andthedamagethathadbeendonetoherflowerbeds—shecouldn’teventhinkabouttheworkitwouldtaketogetthembackinshape.Buthey,atleastshe’dspenthoursoutdoorswithoutanypanicattacks.She’dtakethatasawin.Butbyten,she’dgivenuptheeffortandhadgoneinsidetoshowerandwriteforawhile.
She’dgottenonechapterunderherbeltinrecordtime.Hermaincharacter,Haven,andherpartneronthejob,Mario,werehavingallkindsofsexualtensioninthisbook,whichwasfuntowrite.HavenhadwalkedinonMario,findinghimtiedupinhishotelroom,courtesyofthebadguys.Aftermakingsuretheyweren’tinanyimmediatedanger,Havenhadenjoyedhisstatealittletoomuchandhadtoyedwithhimmercilessly.Herbadassheroinewasdiscoveringhervixensideinthisbook,andGeorgiahadColbyandhermidnightviewingstoblameforit.ButshelikedthelayersitwasaddingtoHaven’scharacter,soshewasgoingwithit.
Afterthechapter,shehadtakenabreaktolookthroughrésumésforvirtualassistants,butrightwhenshewasabouttoemailone,thedoorbellrang.Asusual,thesoundsentanarrowofnervesthroughher,despitethefactthatsheknewdoorbellsranginneighborhoodsalldaylong.Packages,peoplehawkingservices,peoplepreachingtheirreligionofchoice.Itwasaworldofactivitythenine-to-fiverswereneverawareof.Butevenso,hermindautomaticallyshiftedfromgreentoyellowalert.Withasigh,shepushedherselfawayfromherdeskandwenttothefrontdoortocheckthepeephole.
Butitwasn’tadeliveryfromtheUPSguy.Instead,afamiliarfacegreetedher.Oneshewasbeginningtogetusedto.Sheunlockedeverythingandswungopenthedoor.
ColbysmiledfrombeneaththebrimofaBillyBob’scap.“Hey,neighbor.”
“Hey,”shesaid,returninghissmile.“What’sup?”
“Sorrytointerrupt.I’msureyou’reworking,butIwantedtogiveyouaheads-upinsteadofjustgoingforit,”heexplained.
Shetiltedherheadasshetriedtodecipherhismeaning.“Goingforit?”
ColbycockedhisthumbtotheleftandanothermanwalkedupherfrontstepstojoinColby.“ThisismyfriendKeats.Keats,Georgia.”
Hergazejumpedtothenewcomer,anystrangerstirringdistrustinher.ButsherealizeditwasColby’shouseguest.Theguyhadtiedhishairbackwitharubberband,buttherewasnomistakingthesleevesoftattoosthatcoveredhisarms.ItwassomethingGeorgiawouldn’tnormallyfindherselfdrawnto.She’dneverhadabad-boycomplex.Okay,maybeshe’dharboredabriefcrushonDavidBeckhamonceuponatime.Whatever.Buthellifitdidn’tlookexactlyrightonthisguy.Thisverybeautifulguy.
Eyesthecolorofseaglassmethers,buthedidn’tofferahandshake,hishandsstayingfirmlytuckedinhisfrontpockets.“Goodtomeetyou,Georgia.”
Hisvoicewasdeeperthansheexpected,melodicwithadashofDeepSouthdrawl,likeliquefiedbutter.Shewonderedifhesangaswellasplayedthatguitarhe’dbeencarryinglastnight.Shehadtheurgetodemandhesingafewnotesofsomething.“Samehere.”
“So,”Colbysaid,puttingahandonKeats’sshoulder.“I’mlendingKeats’sservicesandminetodaytohelpyougetyouryardbackinshape.”
“What?”shesaid,lookingbetweenthetwoofthem.“Oh,no,it’sfine.I’vebeenworkingonit.Youdon’tneedtoputyourselfout—”
“Well,actually,”Colbysaid,“you’dbehelpingusout.I’monabreakfromworkandbeingboreddrivesmenuts.AndKeatsowesmeafavorandishappytoworkitoffhere.ButIwantedtomakesureyouwereokaywiththatbecauseit’syouryard.”
Shelickedherlips.Thiswassooutofhercomfortzone,buttheguyswouldonlybeinheryard.AndsheknewColbywellenoughtoknowthathewouldn’tletsomeonehedidn’ttrustaround.“I—well,IguessIcouldusethehelp.”
“Fantastic.”Colbygrinned,andevenKeatsmanagedahintofasmile.“I’mgoingtoleaveKeatsheretostartpullingthetrampledstuffoutoftheflowerbedswhileIrunovertothegardencentertograbsomenewflowers.Iknowaguytherewhowillgivemeagoodprice.”
“Colby,youdon’thaveto—”shestarted.
Heheldupahand.“Notaproblem.I’mnolongerconvincedthiswasn’tsomeofmystudents.We’retheonlytwohousesthatgothitontheblock,andanotherteachertextedmethismorningsayingheryardhadbeentrashed,too,soIfeelpartiallyresponsible.”
“It’snotyourfault—evenifitwasyourstudents.”
Keatssniffed.“Colbyhasatendencytofeelresponsibleforhisstudents’behavior.I’mnotsurethere’sanyconvincinghimotherwise.”
Colby’ssmilewentflat,andGeorgia’seyebrowsliftedattheinstantshiftinmood.Therewasastorythere,butitwasn’therbusiness.“Okay,IguessI’lljustsaythankyou,then.”
“You’rewelcome,”Colbysaid,hisgoodhumorreturning,andjustlikethenightbefore,heleanedoverandpeckedheronthecheek.
Shewasstillstandingthereslightlystunnedwhenhejoggeddownherfrontsteps,gaveherawave,andheadedtohistruck.Whenhepulledaway,shewasleftstandingtherewithKeats,aperfectstranger.Forsomereason,shecouldn’tmusterupanytrueconcern.Hewasafewyearsyoungerthanshewasbuttallerandobviouslyfit,sohecouldeasilybeathreattoher.Buttherewassomethingdeepinhergutthattoldherhemeantnoharm.
“So,”Keatssaid,breakingtheawkwardsilence,“IhavesomeofColby’sgardeningstuff.Icangoaheadandgetstartedifyou’redownwiththat.”
Sheclearedherthroat.“Soundsgood,justgivemeasecandI’llgetchangedsothatIcanhelp.”
Hisgazeslidoverhergraythermalshirtandjeans,maleappreciationflickeringinthembeforehecouldhideit.“It’sokay.Youdon’thavetogetdirtyagainonmyaccount.Wesawyouworkingouthereearlier.Idon’tmindflyingsolo.”
Hislittleflareofinterestsurprisedherafterwhatshe’dwitnessedlastnight.She’dfiguredhewasintoguys.Italsosurprisedherhowmuchitpleasedhertobeonthereceivingendofit.Especiallyconsideringthemanwho’djustleftwaswhoshecouldn’tstopthinkingabout—orwatching.Butregardless,shesuddenlydidn’twanttogobackandsitaloneinheroffice.Thecompletelyout-of-characterurgemadealittleflutterofadrenalinegothroughher—ahappyone.Maybethebabystepswereworking.
“How’boutthis?”shesaid,feelingaseedofconfidenceforthefirsttimeinawhile.“I’llgomakeussomeicedtea,yougettowork,andthenyoucantellmehowyouknowColby.”
Hislazysmilemadeherstomachtightenalittle.Damn,thisonecouldprobablysingethepantiesoffagirlifheturnedonthecharmfullthrottle.“I’mnotsurethat’sastoryyouwanttoknow.ButIwon’tturndownthecompany.”
“Deal.”
Shetoldhimshe’dbeafewminutesandwentbackintothehousetobrewsometea.Whenshecamebackout,Keatswasalreadyonhiskneesinherfrontgarden,pullingcrushedplantsfromthebedswithhandsthatlookedusedtohardwork.Hehadn’tnoticedhercomebackoutyet,soshegaveherselfamomenttoadmire.
Keatswasn’tbrawnylikeColby,butshecouldtellhewasstrong,themusclesonhisarmsworkingashepulledattherootsoftheplants.AndwhereColbywasdarkscruff,Keatswassmoothandgolden.Notbaby-facedbutdefinitelyaglimmerofyouthstilllurkingthere.Ifnotforthewarinessinhiseyes,theink,andthosebatteredhands,Georgia’sstarvedlibidoprobablywould’velabeledKeatsastooyoungandtoopretty.Butwhenthosefewedgeswereaddedtothemix,shefoundherselfunabletodraghergazeaway.
Heglancedup,shadinghiseyeswithhishand.“Everythingallright?”
“Huh?”
“Youhaveafunnyexpressiononyourface.”
Ha.Yes,theexpressionwascalledinappropriatelyturnedonbyacompletestranger.Sheclearedherthroatandshookherhead.Herlackofsexlifewasofficiallymakinghercrazy.“Everything’sfine,justgotlostinthoughtforasec.”
Shewalkedoverandsettheglassofteanearhimandgavehimapairofgardeninggloves,thensettledontotheporchstepssohedidn’tfeellikeshewashoveringoverhim.
Hewipedhishandsonaragandtookalongpullfromtheglass,histhroatworkinginarhythmthatmadeherforgetnottostareagain.Whenheloweredtheglass,hesmiledovertherim.“Thanksforthis.Ihaven’thadfresh-brewedstuffinawhile.Isometimesbringthebottledkindonjobs,butit’snotthesame.”
Sheturnedsidewaysandleanedagainsttherailingsoshecouldfacehimfullyandletthebreezehitherheatedface.“Whatdoyoudo?”
Heputtheglovesontogetbacktoworkwhilehetalked.“Lately,constructionwhenIcanfindit.ButImostlydowhateveranyonewillpaymetodo.Cashiscash,youknow?”
Shefrowned.No,shedidn’tknow.Herparentshadgivenheracomfortablelifewhenshewasgrowingup.Andshe’ddonewellforherselfwithherwriting.Shewasn’twealthy,butmoneyhadrarelybeenaconcern.“Andyoulikedoingthatkindofthing?Theconstruction?”
Heshruggedandglancedherway.“Ilikeplayingmyguitar.Ilikeperformingmystuff.Butpeopledon’tpaymemoneyforthat.Funstuffdoesn’tpayrent.”
Shesippedhertea.“Youneverknow.Colbygetspaidtoplayhismusic.Igetpaidtowrite.”
Hesnortedlikethethoughtwasthemostridiculousnotionever.
“Youseemtooyoungtobesocynical.”
Thosecleargreeneyeslifted.“I’mnotthatyoung,Georgia.”
Theimplicationinthewordswasobvious,andshehadtosipherteaagaintohideherreaction.Whatwasitaboutthisguythatgotherskintingly?Shefeltlikesomedesperatehousewifeflirtingwiththetoo-younggardener.Maybeitwasjusttheresidualhumafterwritingsexystuffallmorning.“Howyoung?”
“Twenty-three.”
Sevenyearsyounger.Notaneternityinyears,butinlifeexperience,probablyahelluvalot.Damn,whywassheevendoingthemath?Itwasn’tlikeshewasgoingtoinvitehiminforaquickmiddayromponthecouch.Shedidn’tevenhavethegutstoinvitehiminforicedtea.
Whenshedidn’trespond,hefilledthespace.“Sowhat’sthestorywithyouandColby?”
Theshiftinsubjectbrokethetensionandtheeyecontact.Sherubbedherlipstogether.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“YouknowwhatImean,”hesaid,diggingagain.“Ishegoingtocomestompmewiththosebig-assfeetifhecatchesmeflirtingwithhiswoman?”
Sheliftedaneyebrowinplayfulchallenge.“Areyouflirting?”
Hegrinned.“Iwasthinkingaboutit.”
Oh,thisguywastrouble—ofthetemptingsort.“We’rejustneighbors.”
“Uh-huh.Hemustbeareallyfriendlyneighbortogothroughthismuchefforttofixyourgarden.”
“Heis.”Shesetherglassdown.“Butyouwouldknowthatsinceyou’refriendswithhim,right?”
“No,we’renotreallyfriends.”
Shefrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hesatbackonhisheelsandlookedoveratheragain,thegleamofsweatstartingtoshineonhisface.“Heusedtobemyteacherbackinhighschool.”
“Oh,”shesaid,theanswercatchingheroffguardandhermindrewindingtowhatshehadwitnessedlastnight.“Andyoutwohavekeptintouch?”
“No,Ihadn’tseenhiminsixyearsactuallyuntillastnight.Wekindofstumbledintoeachother,”hesaid,sittingdowninthegrassandreachingforhisteaagain.
“Andyoujustwenthomewithhim?”Thewordswereoutbeforeshecouldstopthem.
Hepausedwithhisglasshalfwaytohismouth.“It’snotlikethat.”
“I’msorry,Ididn’tmean—”
“Colbytookmehomeforthesamereasonhe’soutgettingflowersforyounow.Apparently,helikestohelp.”
“Youdidn’thaveaplacetostay?”sheasked,hertactfulswitchturningoffatthethoughtofKeatsneedingtheroof-over-your-headkindofhelp.
Hepickedatabladeofgrass.“Workhasbeennonexistentthelasttwoweeksbecauseoftherain.Rent’spastdue.Notabigdeal.Ialwaysfigureitout.ButColbymademeanofferIcouldn’trefuse.”
“He’spayingyoutodothistoday,isn’the?”sheasked,thepiecescomingtogether.
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Buthewould’vegivenittomewithnostrings.I’mjustnotintotakingahandout.”
Georgiasatthereforafewlongmoments,consideringKeatsashepushedhimselfbackintoakneelandreturnedtothegardening.Shehadnoideawhyshefeltsodamncomfortablearoundhim,especiallywhenhe’dbeenflirtywithher.Eventheseventy-year-oldmailman,whowasclearlyharmless,hadmadeGeorgianervouswhenhetoldherhowprettyshelookedoneparticularday.ButsomethingaboutKeatshadherwantingtoreachoutinsteadofshrinkback.
Anideawasforminginherhead—onethatwascompletelyoffthewallandoutofhercomfortzone.Butithitherwithsuchforcethatitwasimpossibletoignore.Keatsclearlywasstrugglingandprobablyhadissuesofhisownifhewaslivingjobtojob.Sheknewdesperatepeoplecoulddodesperatethings—steal,lie,whateverittooktosurviveanotherday.Apersonlikethatwasn’tsomeonesheshouldfeelsorelaxedaround.Butlong-dormantforceswererallyinginher,pushinghertowardtheplananyway.
Shescuffedthetoeofhertennisshoealongtheporchrailing,tryingtotalkherselfoutofit.Butbeforeshecouldgetthewordsoutonewayoranother,Keatsyelped.
HerattentionsnappedupwardtofindKeatsjumpingupandshakingthelegofhispants.Fireantswereracingoverhim.Shehoppedup,knockingherglassover.
“Shit,shit,shit,”hesaid,tryingtoshakethemoff,astheynodoubtbitthehelloutofhim.“Getwater.Ahoseorsomething.”
Georgiaglancedtowardthesideofthehouse,butherhosewastuckedawayinthegaragesinceshe’dhadasprinklersysteminstalled.Withoutthinking,shegrabbedKeats’sarm.“Comeon.Now.”
Inarush,sheshovedopenherfrontdoorandledacursingKeatsinside.Thedownstairsbathroomdidn’thaveashower,sodespiteherhammeringheart,sheguidedhimupstairs.Antswerefallinginatrailbehindhim,butshe’ddealwiththatlater.Theygottothetopofthestairsinrecordtime.Sheshovedthedoortotheguestbathroomopenandturnedontheshower.
Keatswasalreadyjumpingindespitetheicy-coldwater.“Fuck.They’regoinghigher.”
HewentforthebuttononhisjeansbeforeGeorgiacouldevenprocesswhathewasdoing.Thejeanscameoffinarush,leavingKeatsstandingunderthesprayinapairofblackboxers.Hekickedthejeanstotheothersideofthetub,hismotionsfrantic,andbrushedattheantswithhishands.
Notknowingwhatelsetodo,Georgiareachedforthehandheldshowerattachment,turneditontheblow-your-head-offsetting,thenaimeditatKeats’slegs.Finally,theantsstartedtofalloffandswirltowardthedrain.Butafewofthemweredeterminedtoholdon.
“Shutthecurtain,”Keatssaid,hiswordsfrantic.“Nowaythesebastardsaregoinganyhigher.”
“What?”
“Curtain,”hesaidthroughclenchedteeth,andshegotit.
“Oh,right.”Sheyankedthecurtainclosedandheardmorewetclotheshitthebottomofthetub.
Whilemorecursingensuedfromtheothersideofthecurtain,Georgiaworkedhardatnotgoingintoapanic.Someonewasinherhouse.Aman.Someoneshedidn’tknow.Noonehadbeeninsidebesidesonerepairmansinceshe’dmovedin.ButtheadrenalinepumpingthroughherseemedlesstodowithhersafetyandmuchmoretodowiththefactthatKeatswasnakedontheothersideofthatthinshowercurtain.
Sheoccupiedherselfwithstompingthestrayantsthathadfallenontothefloor,whileKeatswashedoffthelastofthelittledemons.Sherubbedthebackofherneck,tryingtofightoffthetension,andheardalongsighfromKeats.“Youokay?”
“Well,theydidn’tgettotheno-flyzone,sothere’sthat.”
“Canyoutellifyouhavealotofbites?They’repoisonousandtoomanycanbeseriousandmaybeyouneedadoctorandmaybe—”
Thecurtainshifted,cuttingheroff,andKeatsstuckhisheadout,ahalfsmileonhisdrippingwetface.“AllIneedrightnowisatowel.”
“Oh,right,sure.”Sheopenedthecabinetbelowthesinkandhandedhimafreshtowel.
Sheturnedtoleave,buthewasalreadysteppingoutoftheshowerbeforeshegotthere.Thetowelwassecuredaroundhiswaist,buteverythingelsewasbare.Aflashofdesirestabbedher.
“I…”shesaid,searchingforsomethingtosayandtryingtokeephereyesonhisfaceinsteadofonthesmoothmusclesofhischestandthosetattoosthatcurrentlylookedverywetandlickable.Stopit.“IthinkIhavesomecortisonecreamaroundhere.You’reprobablygoingtoneedit.”
Keepingonehandholdingthetowel,heusedtheothertotaketherubberbandoutofhiswethair.“Georgia—”
Butbeforehecouldsayanythingmore,therewereheavyfootstepsonthestairsandsomeoneelsecallinghername.Herheartleaptagainstherribs,andshesteppedoutintothehallway.Colbywastrundlingupthestairs,hisfeaturespinchedwithworry.WhenhesawGeorgia,hisfierceexpressionrelaxed.“Jesus,Isawthedoorwideopenandabrokenglassandbothofyouweregone.Igotworried.What—”
Ofcourse,Keatstookthatmomenttostepoutofthebathroominhishalf-naked,still-wetensemble.Colby’seyeswentwide.
AndeverythingcamecrashingdownaroundGeorgia.EIGHT
“Whatthehell?”Colbydidn’tknowwhattomakeoffindingKeatssoppingwetandmostlynakedinGeorgia’shallway.Hehadn’tbeengonethatlong.Theguycouldn’tworkthatfast,especiallywithsomeoneasstandoffishasGeorgia.Andifhe’dmanagedto—
“Georgia,”Keatssaid,hisworriedvoicebreakingthroughthetheoriesracingaroundinColby’shead.“Areyouokay?”
ColbyfollowedKeats’sgaze.Georgiahadbackedupagainstthewall,hereyeswereclosed,andherchestwasmovingataway-too-rapidrate.
Keatsputagentlehandonhershoulder.“Georgia?”
Sheflinchedatthetouchandshrankbackfartheragain,herpalmspressingagainstthewallbehindher.Keatsmovedhishandaway,givingherspace.
Colbyinchedcloser.“Georgia,hey,sweetheart,it’sokay.Areyouhavinganasthmaattack?”
Sheshookherhead,aquick,dartingmovement.Hereyesremainedtightlyshut.
KeatssentColbyawhat-the-fuck-do-we-dolook,andColby’strainingkickedin.“Keats,rundownstairsandseeifyoucanfindapaperbag,somethingforhertobreatheinto.She’shyperventilating.”
“Right.”KeatssnappedintoactionandjoggedpastColby.
SweathadbrokenoutonGeorgia’sskin,andherchestcontinuedtoheave.Colbyhaddealtwiththisafewtimesbefore—recently,withasubmissivetraineeatTheRanchwhoturnedouttobeclaustrophobicinrestraints.“Georgia,Ineedyoutotrytoslowyourbreathingifyoucan.Areyouhavingapanicattack?”
Aquick,tightnod.Herfingerscurledagainstthewall.
“Okay,it’sallright,”hesaid,tryingtokeephisvoicecalmandevenforher.“Keatsisgoingtogetsomethingtohelp,butIwantyoutolistentomeandtrytotakeadeep,slowbreath.You’reokay.You’resafe.Paniccan’thurtyou.”
Tohercredit,shegaveitashot.Hesawherpuffupforit.Butshewastoofargone,andherbreathsturnedevenmorerapid.Tearsslippeddownhercheeks.Thensheswayedonherfeet,andherealizedshewasgoingdown.Helungedforwardandgothishandsonherbeforeshecollapsedtothefloor.
Hereyelidsflutteredopen,thenshutagain.Shewasstillconscious,notdeadweightinhisarms,butshewasprobablydizzyasshitfromthelackofairandthepanic.“It’sallright.I’vegotyou.”
Hegothisarmssituatedbeneathherbackandkneesandliftedheragainsthischest.Keatschargedupthestairswithanemptypharmacybag.“Ohshit,didshepassout?”
“Notyet,butweneedtogetherlyingdown.”Heheldhertighttohim,butherbodywasstilljerkingwiththequickbreaths.
Keatshurriedpasthimandpulledopenthefirstdoorinthehall.Butitwasalinencloset.“Weneedacouchorabed.”
Keatsswungopenthenextdoor,revealingasmallguestroom.“Inhere.”
Good.That’dbebetterthaninvadingherpersonalspaceinhermasterbedroom.Butwhenhecarriedherinandsawasetofbinocularsonasmalltablenexttothewindowandasmallbulletvibrator,herealizedhe’dseriouslyfailedonthepersonalspaceissue.Thiswasn’tjustaguestroom,thiswastheroom—theoneshewatchedhimfrom.Atwistofdesirewentwiththatimage,hislibidohavingnodecencywhenitcametoappropriatetimeandplacetogetfiredup.Butheignoreditandfocusedonthetaskathand.Georgianeededtoliedownandgetherbreathback.He’dworryabouttheawkwardnessthismightcauselater.
Thebedwasmade,sohelaidheratopthemintgreencomforter,andKeatsputthebagupagainsthermouth.
“Breathe,it’sgoingtobeokay.We’vegotyou,”Keatssaid,brushingherhairoffherdampforeheadinatendergesture.
GeorgiaexhaledintothebagandblinkedhereyesopenlongenoughtogiveKeatsagratefullook.
Colbyfrowned,akickofjealousygoingthroughhim.Jealousyandsomethingelse.Watchingthetwoofthemsharealittlemoment,KeatshalfdressedandGeorgialyinginbed,hadhisthoughtsgoinginadangerousdirectionagain.Heshovedthethoughtsaside.Clearly,it’dbeentoolongsincehe’dhadsomeoneinhisbed.Hisbrainwasinone-trackmode.
Focus.
Thesoundofthecrinklingbagwastheonlynoiseforafewminutes,buttoColby’srelief,Georgia’sbreathingstartedtoregulate.“That’sit.”
Whenthebreathsbecamelongandsteady,Keatslefttheroomforaminute.Hecamebackwearingafluffypurplerobeandcarryingawetwashcloth.HekneelednexttothebedandwipedGeorgia’scheeksandforeheadwithgentleswipes,thenfoldedtheclothandputitoverhereyes.
KeatsgaveColbyapointedlook,thencockedhisheadtowardthetable.Colbydidn’twasteasecond.Heslidawayfromthebedanddiscreetlytuckedthevibratorintothehalf-opendrawerofthesidetable.Heeaseditclosed,hopingGeorgiawouldthinkthatwaswhereshe’dleftit.Hehadafeelingshe’dbemortifiedifsheknewwhatthey’dseen.
Hesteppedbacktowardthebedjustasshewasloweringthebagandpullingthetowelaway.Herdarkeyeswereclearerthantheyhadbeen,butthesetofhermouthwasweary,likeallherenergyhadbeensapped.“IthinkI’mokaynow.”
Colbyreachedoutandgaveherhandasqueeze.“Gladtohearit.”
Sheslowlypushedupontoherelbows.HergazeskitteredovertothetablebehindColby.Worryflaredthereinhereyes,butwhenshelookedbacktohimandapparentlyreadnoawarenessonhisface,sherelaxedabit.Hecouldalmosthearherthoughts.Phew,hehasn’tseenthemyet.
SheglancedatKeats.Herlipscurvedintoashakysmilewhenshesawhiminherrobe.“That’sagoodlookforyou.”
Keatspeereddownathispurpleensembleandgrinned.“Iwashavingtroublekeepingthattowelon.Ididn’twanttomakeyouhyperventilateagain.OrtraumatizeColby.”
Colbysnortedandshesmirked.“Thatscary?”
“No,thatimpressive,”hesaidsolemnly.
Georgiapressedherhandtoherforeheadandshookherhead.“Shameless.”
Colbyclampedhislipstogether,tryingnottolaugh.TheshyKeatshe’dknownbeforehaddefinitelyleftthebuilding.HewascharmingthepanicrightoutofGeorgia.
GeorgiapeekedoveratColbyandreachedforhishand.“Thankyouforcatchingme.Theyusuallydon’tmakemethatdizzy.Everythinginmyvisionflippedupsidedown.”
Hebroughtherhandtohismouthandpressedakisstothetopofit.“Happytohelp.Doyougetthoseoften?”
Hergazeslidaway,butshenodded.
“I’msorryifIstartledyoucomingupthestairs.Ithoughtsomethingwaswrong.Ididn’trealizewhat—well,Istilldon’tknowwhatwasgoingon.”
“Ants,”Keatssupplied.“Ashit-tonofredantsattackedmeintheyard.Imust’vekneeledinapile.Georgiahustledmeupherebeforethedamnthingscouldeatmealive.ButtheywereallovermyclothessoIhadtostripthemoff.”
“Oh.”
“AndI’msorryabout…allofthis,”Georgiasaid,sittingupinthebed.“Itwasn’tthatyoustartledme.It’sjust”—herjawtwitchedandshelookeddownatherhands—“Idon’tletpeopleinsidemyhouse.Ihave…issueswiththat.Ididn’tthinkaboutitwhenKeatsneededhelp,butwhenthatpartwasoverandyoucameupthestairs,itallhitme.”
Colbykeptholdofherhand,notentirelyshockedbytherevelation.He’drealizedearlyonthatGeorgiadidn’tliketoleaveherhouse.Shedidn’tevenstepintohisyard.Soitwasn’ttoofarofastretchtorealizeheranxietyextendedtopeoplecomingintoherspaceaswell.“I’mreallysorry.Iwould’venevercomeinsidewithoutpermission.”
Sheshookherhead.“It’sokay.Thisisbeyondembarrassing.Ihatewhatthisdoestome.Imean,normalpeoplecanhaveneighborsover.”
Keatsfrowned.HeprobablyfeltthesamewayColbydidaboutthewordnormal.Whatthehellwasnormal?Fucknormal.
“Butmaybethiswasgood,”shecontinued.“LikepullingoffareallybigBand-Aid.Becauselook,you’rebothstillhere,andI’mnotapantingmaniacanymore.”
Colbycouldthinkofbetterwaystoturnherintoapantingmaniac,especiallywithtwoguysandabed—andmaybethatvibrator,butheshouldprobablybestruckdownforhavingthatthoughtatthemoment.“It’sonewaytodoit.Likeguerrillaexposuretherapy.Theroomfullofspidersforthearachnophobe.”
Sheshuddered.“Yeah,IthinkI’lljustkeepmyfearofspidersthen,thankyouverymuch.”
Keatssmiled.“Ditto.Andaddfireantstothatlist.I’vehadenoughexposuretherapyforoneday.AfewmoreminuteswithmypantsonandImighthavelostmyabilitytofatherchildren.”
Colbychuckled.Fireantsinyourunderwear.Nowtherewasathoughttoinspirenightmares.Hehadafeelinghe’dmissedtheantversionoftheTommyBoy“Bees!”scenewhenKeatshaddiscoveredhewasbeingattacked.
“So,”hesaid,standingupandputtinghishandonthebackofKeats’sneck,makingsureneitherofthemturnedtowardthebinoculars.“HowaboutIgograbthisguysomeclothesandwegetoutofyourhairforalittlewhilesoyoucanrest?”
Georgiarubbedherhandsonherjeansinwhatlookedtobeacalminggesturebeforeshestood,revealingthatmaybeshewasn’taseasy-breezyasshewaspretendingtobe.“Yeah,okay.Ihaverogueantstocleanupanyway.”
“Doyouneedanyhelp?”Keatsasked.
Shereachedoutandsqueezedhisarm,givinghimawarmsmile.“No,youbothhavedoneenough.Thanksfornotmakingmefeellikeanidiot.”
WhensheleanedoverandkissedKeats’scheek,Colbyhadtofighthardnottoshowhissurprise.Itwassoun-Georgia-like.Butshewasn’tdone.ShesteppedovertoColby,pusheduponhertoes,bracingahandonhisshoulder,andgaveColbyone,too.
Ittookeverythinghehadnottoputhishandsonherandpullhercloser,inhalethatcoconutscentheonlygotabriefwhiffofduringthekiss.“Ourpleasure,gorgeous.”
Theyallwalkeddownstairstogether,butsoonKeatsandColbywerebackoutside.Georgialockedupbehindthem,andColbyandKeatsheadednextdoortogetKeatssomeclothes.Butassoonastheywalkedintothekitchen,Keatsspunaroundandcrossedhisarms.Thestancemighthavehadashotatlookingtoughifnotforthepurplerobe.“Well,thatwasinteresting.”
“That’sonewordforit,”Colbysaid,rollingthetensionoutofhisshoulders.“Thanksforthetowelthing,bytheway.Savedapotentiallyawkwardsituation.”
“Noproblem.Ididn’twanttoembarrassher,”hesaidwithashrug.“Notthatsheshouldbeembarrassed—Imean,howhotisthat?Butyouknowhowgirlscanbe.Anddude,thebinoculars?Doesthatwindow…”
“Itlooksintomybedroom.”
“Fuck,”hebreathed,puttinghishandoverhisheart.“That’ssodamndirty.IthinkI’minlove.”
Colbylaughed.“She’snotspyingonyou.”
“Anepictragedy,”hesaidwithagrin.“Maybeweshouldswitchrooms.I’mhappytogiveherashow.”
Colbyleveledhimwithalook,andKeatslaughed.
“No,butseriously,arey’allhookingup?”
Colbyleanedagainstthecounter.“Atthispoint,we’rejustfriends.”
“Sothat’swhyyougavemetheeat-shit-and-dielookwhenyousawmewalkoutofthebathroom?”
Colbysmirked.“No,thatwasmywhat-the-fucklook,noteat-shit-and-die,there’sadifference.IknewbeforetodaythatGeorgiahadsomeissueswithpeoplebeinginherspace.IguessIfeelalittleprotectiveofherandwhenIsawyouthereinherhouse,practicallynaked,Ihadnoideawhattothink.”
“I’mskilled,Colby,butnotthatskilled.EvenIcan’tgetagirlinbedthatfast.”
Colbylaughed.“You’rebetterthanyouthink.Shelikesyou.”
“Maybe,butshewatchesyou.Andapparentlyenjoystheshow.”Keatsliftedhimselftositontheisland,apparentlyforgettingheonlyhadarobeonornotcaring.Theflapsfellopen,revealinghischestallthewaytohisnavel,wherealighttrailofhairtrackeddownward.“Doesn’tmatteranyway.ShethinksI’mtooyoung.”
ColbypulledhisgazeupwardandfocusedonKeats’sface.Hislibidowasalreadyonahairtriggertoday;hedidn’tneedanyextraencouragement.HehadtokeepremindinghimselfthatthiswasKeats,hisformerstudent,astraightguy,andnotsomesubmissiveatTheRanchtryingtogethisattentionbyparadingaroundhalfnaked.“Youaretooyoung.”
Keatsscoffed.“You’realwaysgoingtoseemethatway,aren’tyou?Theinnocent,helplessstudent.Well,newsflash,Teach.It’sbeenalongtimesinceyou’veknownme.I’mfarfromhelplessanddefinitelynotinnocent.”
Colbylacedhishandsbehindhisneckandsighed.“WhydoesitmatterhowIseeyou?”
Heshrugged,droppingsomeoftheattitude.“Idon’tknow.Itjustdoes.”
“Whatdoyouwantmetosay,Keats?”heaskedtiredly.“Thatyou’reagrown-up?Thatyou’reaman?Thatyou’reoffuckableageformydearneighbor?Fine.Youare.Butthatdoesn’tmeanyoustilldon’thavealottolearn.”
Keatsleanedbackonhishands,preeninglikeapeacock.“Yeah?AndwhatexactlydoyouthinkIneedtobetaught?Ihaven’thadanycomplaintsfromwomen.”
Colbywatchedhim,halfamusedbythecockiness.“Beingamanhasalotmoretoitthanknowinghowtogetsomeoneoffinbed.AndIpromiseyou,attwenty-three,youdon’tknowhowtodothataswellasyoucouldeither.”
Heliftedabrow.“Andyoudo?”
“Youhavenoidea,”Colbysaidsmoothly.“Butthat’snotthepoint.Ifyou’regoingtochaseafterwomenintheirthirties,likeGeorgia,they’regoingtowantyoutohavesomestability,somedisciplineinyourlife.AndI’mguessingyourcurrentsituationdoesn’tallowformuchofthat.”
Hisjawtensedandhelookeddownatthetieontherobe.“Yeah,well,thejobmarketforahighschooldropoutdoesn’texactlyallowforalotofstability—unlessyourundrugs,sellwomen,orliketosuckcockforcash.I’veheardthosecareerpathspaywell.”
Colbygrittedhisteethatthatimage.ThankGodKeatshadn’tresortedtothoselinesofworkyet.“Igetit.Iknowhowshittyasituationyouhadgrowingup.Butnowyou’reanadult.Doyouplantolivetherestofyourlifelikeyou’redoing?Justgettingbyweektoweek?”
Thedefensivemaskdescendedoverhisfeatures.“Didyouforgetwhoyou’retalkingto?Iranaway.Thisismyfuckinglife.Thatbed’salreadymade.”
“Bullshit.Youcanalwayschangeyourdirection.”Colbyshouldknow.He’ddoneit.
Keatsscoffed.“Right.Letmejustdialupthatfairygodmother,andshecanwaveawandforme.”
“Fine.Youwantawand?Hereitis,”Colbysaid,crossinghisarmsandthrowingdownthegauntlet.“Comestaywithmeforawhile.”
Keats’seyesflickeredwithsurprise,andhestraightened.“What?”
“Youheardme.Ihaveanextraroom.Useit.”
“Ican’tdothat.I’mnotthatkidlookingforhisteachertosolvehisproblemsanymore.Idon’twanttobeyourcharitycaseagain.”
Colbyrubbedthespotbetweenhiseyebrows,pressurebuildingthere.“Look,Keats,Igetthewholepridething,butpridecanbirthstupidity.I’mofferinghelp.Takeit.”
Keatsslidoffthecounterandpulledhisrobemoretightlyaroundhim,closingoff.“Ineedtogetdressed.”
“Keats.”
“Thanksfortheoffer.ButIjustwanttogetsomeclotheson,getthisgardendone,andgohome.I’vegotshittotakecareof,”hesaid,reachingdowntoscratchhiscalf.
Colbyknewhe’dreachedtheendofKeatslisteningtoanythinghehadtosay.He’dgoneintoshutdownmode.ColbyglanceddownwhenKeatsscratchedagain,noticingforthefirsttimethered,swellingbumpsonKeats’slegsandfeet.“Thosearegettingworse.Areyouallergic?”
“Notanymorethananyoneelse.”Keatsreacheddownforbitesonhisotherleg.“I’llbefine.Justletmethrowonsomeclothes,andI’llmeetyououtside.”
“No,ifyoucomebackoutinthesun,they’regoingtoitchevenmore.Whydon’tyoutakesomeantihistamines—thereshouldbesomeinthehallcloset—andthengosoakyourlegsincoolwater.Icanfinishuptherest.”
“Butyou’repayingme—”
“You’veearnedyourkeep.Considerithazardpayfortheantbites.”Reluctantly,headded,“AndI’llbebackinawhiletobringyouhome.”
ButwhenColbycheckedonhimlatertomakesurethereactionhadn’tgottenworse,Keatswassprawledacrossthebedintheguestroom,soundasleep.Thebitesdidn’tlooktoobad,soColbyclosedthecurtains,threwablanketoverhim,andlethimsleep.
Helingeredinthedoorwayforamomentmorethannecessary.OnlyafewmorehoursandKeatswouldbegone.
Colbydidn’tknowwhethertoberelievedordamndisappointed.
Fuck.NINE
It’sonlyafewsteps.ThatwaswhatGeorgiarepeatedinhermindasshecrossedtheinvisiblebarrierfromheryardintoColby’s,butnervescrackledthroughherlikestaticanyway.Aftertheincidentfromearlier,theyhadneverreallygoneaway.Beyondtheresidualeffectsofthepanicattack,she’dbeenunabletostopwonderingwhetherColbyhadseenthebinocularsintheguestroom.Hehadn’tsaidanythingoractedanydifferentlythannormal,buthewasacounselor.Partofthatjobwaskeepingapokerfacewhenyouheardorsawoutrageousthings.Thathemight’vediscoveredhersecrethadfreakedherouttothepointofnausea.Soshe’dgiveninandtakenananxietypill,whichcombinedwiththedrainedadrenalinefromthepanicattackhadpromptlyputhertosleep.Whenshe’dwokenup,heryardhadbeenperfectlyrestoredandColbyandKeatsweregone.
She’dputinanemergencycalltoLeeshatooffloadeverythingthathadhappenedthatday.Itwasthebenefitofhavingabestfriendwhowasalsoatherapist.Shecouldtellherthingsshe’dbewaytooembarrassedtotellastranger.Butevenso,it’dbeenahellofahardthingtoadmitaloudthatshe’dbeenspyingonherneighbor.Leeshahadhardlyflinchedandhadassuredherthat,consideringherisolatedsituation,itwasn’tcompletelybizarrethatshehadresortedtothatkindofbehavior.Plus,she’daddedthatconsideringPhilliphadwatchedGeorgiawithoutherpermission,thiswasasubconsciouswayforhertofeelincontrol—bybeingtheonedoingthewatching.Whatever.GeorgiahadrolledhereyesanddemandedthatLeeshadropthetherapisthatandbethegirlshe’dknownsincegradeschool.Thiswasn’tasession.
Atthat,Leeshahadbrokenintoaconspiratorialgrin,calledheradirtybird,andaskedforafulldescriptionofhowhotherneighboractuallywas.Georgiahadgrowledintothewebcam.“Leesh,payattention.He.May.Know.Didyouhearthatpart?WhatthehellamIsupposedtodo?HeprobablythinksI’msomepervystalkergirl.”
She’dshrugged.“Feelhimout.Maybehedidn’tseeanything.Andifyoufindoutheknows,dotherightthingandapologize.”
Sonowitwastimetodotherightthing.Andthatthinginvolvedmovingoutofherbarricadedcomfortzoneandwomaningup.Shewastryingtochannelsomealternativeversionofherselfwitheachstep.Iamstrong.Iamincontrol.Iownthismoment.Goddamn,shesoundedlikethatguyStuartSmalleyfromtheoldepisodesofSaturdayNightLive.Pitiful.Sheclutchedthecasseroledishinherhandslikeit’dsaveherfromsomeimpendingdoomandkeptputtingonefootinfrontoftheother.Onlyafewmoresteps.
TheporchlightwasonandColby’struckwasstillinthedriveway,sosheknewhewashome.ShehadnoideaifKeatswasstillthere.MaybeColbyhadtakenhimbackhome.Shehopednot.ShehadafeelingKeatswasn’tgoingbacktoahappysituation,andhe’dbeensokindhelpingherearliertoday.Shedidn’twanttothinkabouthimstrugglingtokeepafloat.Plus,she’dneverhadachancetoaskhimthatquestionshe’dstartedwhentheantshadattacked.Maybeshecouldhelp.
HerheartbegantopoundharderasshewalkedupColby’ssidewalk,butshemanagedtokeepherbreathingeven.Shepicturedanaerialviewofherhouseinhermind—oneofLeesha’svisualizationexercises—andimaginedherhousewasagreenzone,thesafezone,thatstretchedtotheedgesofherproperty.Withsomeeffort,shepicturedthatcircleexpanding,thegreencreepingwiderandenvelopingColby’syardandhouse.Thiswasjustanextensionofherspace,nothingtogetfreaked-outabout.Sheprayedthattheimagewouldconvinceherfaultywiringthatallwasgoodinthe’hood.
Whenshereachedthedoorwithoutdrama,shewantedtodoavictorydance.Buttheharderpartwasyettocome.Shebalancedthedishinonehandandraisedtheothertoknock.Herewego.Becool.
Colbyansweredafewsecondslater,barefootintrackpantsandasnugwhiteT-shirt,obviouslyfreshfromtheshower.Hedidn’tbotherhidingthesurpriseonhisface.“Oh,hey.Everythingallright?”
Shestaredathimforafewseconds,nervesstealinghervoice,butshemadeherselfswallowandspeak.Unfortunately,everythingcameoutatonce.“Yes,everything’sfine.IfellasleepandwhenIwokeup,Isawtheyard,andit’s…beautiful.AndIwantedtotellyouthatIreallyappreciateeverything.Notjusttheyardbutearlier.AndIthoughtyoumightbehungrysinceyouprobablyworkedthroughlunchandsoImadeenchiladas.They’rechicken,andyoulikeburgers,soI’massumingyou’renotvegetarianand—”
Theslow,broadsmilethatcreptontohisfacestoppedhermid-ramble.Heleanedagainsthisdoorframe,armscrossedoverhischest.“You’reonmyporch,Ms.Delaune.”
Shepressedherlipstogetherandinhaledabreath,tryingtoslowherheartbeat.“Ineededtotalktoyou,andIwantedtothankyou.”
“Ican’tthinkofabetterthank-you.”Hereachedoutandpushedhisdooropenwider.“Wanttocomeinsidetodothetalking?”
Hergazedartedpasthisshoulder,takinginthespaciouslivingroombehindhim,alldoneinsoftbrownsandtans.TheTVplayedESPNbutthevolumewasallthewaydownandahalf-fullbeersatonthecoffeetable.Itlookedcomfortableandwelcoming.Somuchofherwantedtogoinside.Butshehadn’tbeeninsideanotherperson’shouseinoverayear,anditfeltalittlelikestandingontheedgeofacliffwithshiftingsoil.“I’mnotsure.”
Hereachedoutandtookthecasseroledishfromherandsetitonatablebythedoor.Thenheheldoutbothhispalmstoher.“Here,let’strythis.Iwon’taskquestionsbecauseitgivesyourmindtoomuchtimetoanalyze.Justlistenandfollowmyinstructions.Ifanyofitbecomestoomuch,yousaystopandI’llshutup.Deal?”
Shenodded,notgivingherselftimetothinkaboutit.“Okay.”
“Nowtakemyhandsandstepinside.It’sgettingcoldoutsideandit’swarminhere.Idon’twantyoutobecold.”
Sheplacedherhandsinhislargeones,andhetuggedhergently,easingherforwardlikeaparentteachingatoddlertowalk.
“Plus,Ihavenoideawhattemperaturetocookthisintheoven,soIneedyourhelp,”hecontinued.
Anotherstep.
“AndGodknowswedon’twantMrs.Bensonacrossthestreetgossipingaboutus,soweneedtogetwhereshecan’tseeus.”Hisdimpleappeared.
Anotherstep.Shewasinside.Hebumpedthedoorwithhisfoottoshutitbehindher.Theclickofitclosingsoundedasloudasathunderclapinherhead.Herfingerscurledintohispalms.“Keeptalking.”
“Andfortherecord,I’maboutasfarfromavegetarianasonecanget.Iputmeatontopofmymeat.”
Shesnorted.
“Right,goodpoint,probablyshouldn’ttalkaboutmymeat.”
Nowshecouldn’tstopalaughfrombubblingup.Shetookanotherstep.Andanother.ShekepthergazeonColbyandthatreassuringsmileofhis.Woodfloorboardssoundedbeneathhershoes,thenthesofthushofanarearug.
Soon,Colbystoppedmoving,buthermomentumcarriedherforwardanotherstepintohispersonalspace.Hebentandputhislipsclosetoherear.“Congratulations,neighbor,you’vemadeitallthewaytothecouchwithoutascratch.”
Shestraightenedandturnedherhead,surprisedtoseeshewasalreadyinthemiddleofthelivingroomandfarfromthefrontdoor.She’donlybeenwatchinghim,focusingonhiseyesandvoice,andsomehowhe’dcoaxedherallthewayinsidewithoutherpanicswitchbeingtriggered.Shewasinsomeoneelse’shouse.
Andshewasokay
“Holyshit.Wedidit!”Hervoicewaswaytooloudbutshedidn’tcare.
“Youdidit.”
“Ican’tevenbelieve—thankyou.”Victorysurgedinher,andwithoutthinking,sheputherhandsonhisshouldersandkissedhimrightonthelips.Smack!
Hestiffenedforahalfsecond,obviouslycaughtoffguard,andshehoppedback,puttingherhandtohermouth.“Ohcrap,Ididn’t—I’msorry.”
Hesmiledandtiltedhisheadinchallenge.“Areyou?”
Sheblinked.Anauto-responsejumpedtoherlips.Retreat,retreat,retreat.Butshedidn’tletthecowardlywordscomeout.Shesteeledherself,reachingdeepfortheoldseedsofconfidence,andheldhisgaze.“Okay,no,notreally.I’vekindofbeenwantingtodothatforawhile.”
“Yeah?”
Sherolledherlipsinward,feelinggiddyforsomereason—probablysomecombinationofresidualanxietyandtherushofbreakingthatboundaryandkissinghim.“Yeah.”
“Wanttodoitagain?”
Shelaughed,butnervesweretryingtopushin.“Idon’tknow,Imean—”
Hereachedforherbeltloopandtuggedhergentlyforward,hisaffableexpressionmorphingintosomethingfarmoreintentashelookeddownather.“BecauseI’dliketokissyouagain.Reallykissyou.ButI’mnotgoingtountilyoutellmeit’sokay.”
Shenodded,tryingtoswallowpastthefearbubblingup.“It’sokay.”
Hishazeleyessearchedhers.“RememberhowItoldyouonthewalkoverherethatyoucouldsaystop?”
Shebreathedthroughthebutterfliestryingtoovertakeherinsides.“Yes.”
Hemovedhishandtocupherjaw,hisfingertipsbrushinggentlelinesalongherneck.Thesoft,simpletouchhadherreadytomeltoncontact.God.Everypartofherfeltsostarvedfortouchitwasasifherneuronscouldn’tmakesenseofit.Everythingfiringoffinalldirections—want,need,fear,anticipation.Hiseyestracedthecurvesofherface.“Thatappliestothis,too.”
Withthat,heloweredhishead.Themomenthislipstouchedhersshecouldtellthatthiswasnotgoingtobeaquickpecklikeshe’dgivenhim.Thiswasgoingtobesomuchbetter.Hereyelidsfellshutashismouthmetherswithagentlenessthatbeliedtheintensityshe’dseeninhiseyes.Thekisswassotender,sosoftlysensual,thatshethoughtshewoulddiefromtheslowburnoftheconnection.ColbyWilkes,amaninnohurry.Heteasedherbottomlipwithaplayfultugandthentookitbetweenhis.Thetipofhistonguegrazedthelineofherlips,buthedidn’tpushordeepenthekissyet.Itwasataste,asipofwhathecouldgiveher.
Herhandswenttohischest,feelingthesolidmuscleandaquicklybeatingheartbeneathherpalms.HisT-shirtcurledinherfingersandasoftsoundescapedher—herstarvedlibidobeggingonherbehalf.Please,sir,mayIhavesomemore?
Hecontinuedtokissher,andthehandagainstherhiptightenedasheguidedheragainsthim,bringingherbodyflushwithhis.Thatwaswhensheopenedhermouthtohim,invitingadeeper,moreall-encompassingkiss.Likewalkingintoabakeryafterajuicefast,shewantedtogorgeonallthethings,tasteeverythinghecouldgiveher.Notjustasample.Butafteragentletwiningoftheirtongues,heeasedback.“Ican’ttellyouhowlongI’vewantedtodothat.”
Sheblinked,offbalanceforasecond,alreadymissingthefeelofhislips,thebrushofhisbeardagainstherskin.Pleasedon’tstop.Shefearedifshepaused,herbrokenbrainwouldtakeoverandruinit.“Youdon’thavetostop.”
Hesmiled,thatdimpleflashingagain,andsqueezedherhip.“Ido.”
“Why?”sheasked,herfrustrationflaring.
“Becauseyoucameheretotalktome,”hesaid,linesofstrainappearingaroundhiseyes,provingthatitwasn’texactlyeasyforhimtodialbackeither.Hepushedastrayhairoffherforehead.“AndIknowitwasadifficultchallengeforyoutocomehere.SoifIpushyoutoofartoofast,thepanicmightcatchup,andwe’lldomoreharmthangood.”
“Soundswaytoologicalandsmart,”shedeclared.“Ihatethat.”
Hechuckledandputhishandsoverhers,whichwerestillclingingtohisshirt.Heliftedthemandkissedherknuckles.“HowaboutyoutellmewhatIneedtodowiththoseenchiladas,thenwe’lltalk?Ifyoustillwantmetonotstoplater,Ipromisetothrowalllogicoutthewindow.”
“Deal,”shesaidwithasmile.“Andit’stwentyminutesinathree-hundred-and-fifty-degreeoven,thenaminuteortwounderthebroilerattheendtobrownthecheese.”
“Icanhandlethat.”Hereleasedherandguidedherdowntothecouch.“Sitandrelax.I’llberightback.Whatdoyouwanttodrink?I’vegotbeer,redwine,andsoda.”
“Abeerwouldbegreat.”
“Yougotit.”HechangedthestationontheTVtoonethatplayedmellowcontemporarymusic,thengrabbedthedishofenchiladasanddisappearedintothekitchen.Thefactthathehadn’tputonthecountrystationmadehersmilebecauseitwasobviouslyforherbenefit.Sheknewthatwashisdrugofchoice—old-schoolcountry.Itwaswhatheplayedatthebar—notthatshe’devergottentohearhimplaylive.Butthey’dtalkedaboutitonedaywhenthey’dbothbeenoutsideintheiryards.He’drattledoffafewnamesofhisfavoritesingersandbands,andshe’donlyheardofoneortwo.
Afterward,she’dgonetohercomputerandGoogledhim,findingafewYouTubevideosofperformances,mostofthemoldfootage,afewrecent.Apparently,he’dbeenabitofabigdealwhenhewasyounger—aguyonthebrinkofbreakingout.Buthe’ddisappearedfromthesceneforsomeunknownreason.She’dplayedthosevideos,transfixed,watchingthemmorethanonceintruestalkerstyle.Hehadasingingvoicesodeep,she’dwantedtorollaroundinit.Evenwhenhesangsongsaboutthingsshehadnopersonalconnectionto—growingupinasmalltown,fallinginlovewithagirl,andstirringuptrouble—themusichadresonatedwithherinawaynootherkindhadbecauseofthewayColbyhadsungthelyrics.Honestybledintohisperformances,andhehadavoicethatcouldmakethemostfrigidchickgoliquid.She’dbecomequiteafan.But,ofcourse,hehadnoidea.Justashehadnoideaaboutherotherstalker-likeactivities…
Shesighed.Withhimgone,hermindkickedintogearagain,dimmingsomeoftheheadyhighofthekiss.ShewasinColby’slivingroom.Andhadkissedhim.Therealitywashardtobelieve.Onherlistofsmallstepsshehopedtomovethroughtogetherselfhealthyforthetrial,she’djustjumpedfromnumbertwotolikenumbersixhundred.Sheglancedoutthesidewindowtofindherhousestaringbackatherlikeasentinelawaitingherreturn.Thatwastheextentofherwholeworldsittingnextdoor.Sure,shemanagedtogooutonceaweekandgethergroceriesandtakecareofnecessities,butitwasalwaysawhite-knuckledaymadepossiblebyhermedication.Thathousewastheonlyplaceshecouldexistwithoutthecrushinganxiety.Bothasanctuaryandaprison.
Buthereshewas,finallysittingoutsideit.Exhilarated.Terrified.Leeshawasgoingtoshootaconfettigunwhenshefoundout.Georgiaclaspedherhandsinherlap,herthumbrubbingherpalminaslow,methodicalmotion—upanddown,upanddown—anunconscioushabitthatsoothedher.Aslongasshedidn’tthinkaboutthistoohard,shewouldn’tloseit.Colbyhadbeenrightaboutthatpart.Assoonashe’dstartedgivingherinstructions,she’dbeenabletofocusonsimplyfollowingandshuttingdowntheracingpartofherbrain.She’dneverthoughtshe’dbeabletohearcommandsfromamanwithoutthinkingofPhillip,butwithColbyitfeltdifferent—lessofanaffronttoherfreewillandmoreanactofcaringdirection.It’dbeenalittleliketheyogashedidsomemornings.Shuttheminddownandlistentotheteacheronthevideotellyouhowtobreatheandmove.
Exceptyogadidn’tinvolveabig,sexymanandakissthat’dbeenhotterthansinonSunday.
ColbyreturnedtothelivingroomafewminuteslaterandhandedheraHeinekenbeforesittingnexttoheronthecouch.“Allright,dinner’sintheoven.Thanksforputtingthattogether.ItwasgoingtobeaPB&Jnight.”
“Noproblem.Iliketocook.”Well,she’dlearnedtolikeit.BackinChicago,ithadbeenallabouteatingout.Thefoodwastodieforinthecity,andshe’dtakenfulladvantageofit.Butnowshedidn’thavethatoption.Aftermovinghere,she’dmissedgoingouttorestaurantsandhadgottentiredofmicrowavemealsanddelivery,soshe’ddecidedifshecouldn’tmanagetogooutanymore,she’dlearnhowtomakeherfavoritesathomeviaherfriendtheFoodNetwork.
Colbyshiftedonthecouchsothathewasfacingherandleaningbackonthearmofit.“Sowhatdidyouwanttotalktomeabout?”
Hell.Talking.Thatwaswhatshe’dcomeoverherefor.Butshecertainlywasn’treadytotellhimhersecretnow.Notafterthatkiss.It’druinitall.Shescrambledforadifferentsubjectandtookalongsipofherbeer.Thenshetoedoffhershoessoshewouldn’tbetemptedtobolt.“IsKeatsstillhere?”
Hecockedathumbtowardthehallwaybehindhim.“Yeah,intheguestbedroom.Ithinkhetookthenighttimeallergymedicineinsteadoftheregular.He’sbeenoutforafewhours.”
“I’mgladhe’sstillaround.That’swhatIwantedtotalktoyouabout.”
“YouwanttotalkaboutKeats?”heasked,browsdippinginconfusion.
“Ido.AndIknowI’mbeingnosy,”GeorgiasaidrollingthebottlebetweenherpalmsandkeepinghervoicelowincaseKeatswokeup.“Buthowbadishissituation?”
Colbyconsideredher,lookingwaytootemptingwithhisstill-damphairandthatsnugT-shirt,butheseemedtobeponderingthequestion.“I’mnotahundredpercentsure,butI’mguessingnotgood.Ifoundhimbuskinginaparklastnight.Hesaidheneededmoneytomakerent.”
“Howlongishestayingwithyou?”
Colbyfrownedandglancedtowardthehallway,thentookadrawofhisbeer.“Hewantsmetodrivehimbacktonight.I’mgivinghimsomemoney.Hesaidit’llcoverhimforawhile.”
“Youdon’tseemtoothrilledaboutthat.”
“I’mnot.”Colbyleanedbackandlaidhisarmacrossthebackofthecouch,lookingwearyallofasudden.“Buttheguy’stoopridefulforhandouts.Iofferedtolethimstaywithmeforawhile,butheseesitascharity.Plus,hecomesfromaworldwherenothingisgivenforfree.Evenwithonenight,Icouldtellhewastryingtofigureoutmyangle,likethere’smoretoitthanmewantingtohelpout.”
Shepickedatthelabelonherbeer.“Isthere?”
“No,he’sakidIusedtoknowwhoneededhelp.Ihelped.Istillwanttohelp.”
“He’snotakidanymore,Colby,”shesaid,peekingupathim.“I’msureyou’venoticed.”
Heraisedabrowather.“Well,apparently,youhave.”
“Comeon,”shesaid,barelyresistingtheurgetorollhereyes.“Youknowneitherofyouishardtolookat.”
“Isthatright?Neitherofus,huh?”Hegrinnedandpointedtheneckofhisbeertowardher.“DoesthismeanIneedtochallengeKeatstoaduelforyourprimaryaffections?”
Shesniffed.“Onlyifyouplanontakingyourshirtsoffanddoinghand-to-handcombat.Possiblywhilethesprinklersarerunning.”
Abarkoflaughterspilledoutofhim,echoingthroughtheroom.“Dirtymind,Georgia.Ilikethissideofyou.”
Shesmiled,feelinglighterthanshehadinaverylongtime.Shelikedthissideofher,too—eventhoughshesuspecteditwaspartlyduetotheresidualeffectsofthatkissandmightnotlastlong.“Ihavemymoments.”
“Oh,Ihavenodoubt,”hesaid,theshiftinhisvoicelikeastrokeagainstherskin.
Shechewedherlip,thesimplestatementbringingtomindhernightsatthatwindow,thethingsshe’dseentakeplaceintheroomdownthehall.Butshecouldn’tletherthoughtswanderthere.Alreadyshecouldfeelherbodypricklingwithawareness.Shegrabbedathrowpillowandhuggeditagainstherchestindefense.“DoyouthinkKeatswouldconsiderstayingifIcouldofferhimajob?”
Hisforeheadscrunched.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Ineedanassistant.Simplestuff—errands,emails,mailingthingsforme.Ihaveanextralaptop.Hecoulddoitfromhere—ormyplace,ifIcanhandlethat.It’donlybeparttime,butit’dbesteadywork,andhecouldlookforsomethingfulltimeortakeclassesorwhateverheneedstodoinbetween.”
“Ithoughtyouwerelookingforavirtualassistant.”
Sheshrugged,thoughherattemptatcasualfeltstiff.Thiswasabig,majordealforher.“Iwas.Butheneedsitmorethansomecollegekid.And…Ithinkit’dbegoodforme,youknow,toinvitesomepeopleintomylife.”
Hestaredatherforalongmoment.“You’rekindofamazingformakingthatoffer.Butwhyhim?”
Shesetherbeeronthecoffeetable.“Becauseheseemslikeagoodguywho’shadsomebadluck.AndIdon’tknow,whenhehelpedmetoday,therewasjustsomethingabouthim.Ifeelcomfortablearoundhim—which,believeme,inmyworld,islikefindingaunicorn.”
Colby’smouthcurvedupward.“I’msureKeatswouldbethrilledtoknowyoucalledhimaunicorn.Verybadassimage.Yousurethisisn’tjustasinisterplantoliveoutsomeboss/subordinatefantasy?Becauseyou’vealreadyadmittedhe’snothardtolookat,andIhaveafeelingKeatswouldhavenoproblemvolunteeringforthatgame.Imean,youalreadygothimnakedafteronlyknowinghimforafewminutes.”
Shegrinnedandtossedthepillowathim,eventhoughtheimageshepaintedwereoh-so-temptingones.“Don’tberidiculous.”
Heheldhisbeeroutofthewayandbatteddownthepillow,mischiefdancinginhiseyes.“Oh,comeon,thethoughtdidn’tcrossyourmindevenonce?Yes,Ms.Delaune,shouldItypethisletterwithmyshirtofformaybewithoutpants?”
Shepressedherlipstogether,tryingnottolaugh,butitdidn’twork.“You’reterrible.”
“Andright,”hesaid,pointingtheneckofhisbeerbottleather.
Sheshookherhead,alittleamazedthathe’dpickeduponherattractiontoKeatsandthattheywereopenlydiscussinganotherman.“Youknow,you’renotlikeotherguys.”
“OfcourseI’mnot,butwhatmakesyousaythat?”
“Well,wejustkissedandyou’reteasingmeaboutanotherguylikeit’snobigdealifIthinkhe’shot.”
Colbyshrugged.“Ikissedyou.Ilikeyou.ButIdon’townyou.Idon’thaveanyrightordesiretocontrolwhoyoufindattractive.AndI’dratherhaveyourhonestythananythingelse.”
Georgiatriednottowince.Honesty.Yeah,shewasdoingastellarjobatthatone.Fakelastname.Shadybackground.Nottomentionthatwholeillegal-peepingthing.JustslapabigfatFonherreportcardforthatone.Herconsciencewaggeditsfingerather,bringingtheguiltdownheavy.Herthumbstartedrubbingatherpalmagain.Shewatchedtheback-and-forthmotion.Maybesheshouldleave.KissingColbyhadbeenfantastic,buthowcouldshepursueanythingwithhim?Allherissues.Thefactthathewasdominant.Everythingwassocomplicatedinherliferightnow.“It’sgettinglate…”
“Comeon,baby,”hesaidsoftly.“Don’tchickenoutonmenow.”
Shelookedup,findingthosehazeleyesstudyingher,flickeringgoldinthelamplight.“What?”
“Tellmewhatyoureallycameheretotellme.”
Ittookasecondfortherequesttoregister,butwhenitdid,itsqueezedaroundherthroatinadeathgrip.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Georgia…”
Theawarenessinhiseyeswaslikeaguillotineslicingthroughherlastshredsofhope.
Oh.Shit.
“Yousawthebinoculars.”TEN
Colby’sexpressiondidn’tchange,buthesetdownhisbeer.“Idid.”
Shestaredatthecouchcushionbetweenthem,humiliationbleedingthroughher.Thiswasn’thappening.“I’msosorry,I—”
Butherwordstrailedoffwhenheshiftedtowardheronthecouch.Heputhisfingersbeneathherchin.“Hey,lookatme.”
Thatwasthelastthingshewantedtodo,butsheforcedherfocusupward.She’ddonethecrime,nowitwastimetopaythepriceforit.Butwhenshetiltedherfacetohim,shedidn’tseeanycensureorjudgmentinhis.
“Youmustthink—”shestartedagain,buthehushedherwithashakeofthehead.
“Ialreadyknew,”headmitted.“SoI’masmuchtoblameasyouare.”
“What?”Sheblinked,herthoughtsscatteringlikefranticmice.Maybeshewashearingthings.“But—”
“IsawyourcurtainsmoveandaflashonenightwhenIhadfriendsover.Themoonlightmust’veglintedoffthelensofyourbinoculars.”
“OhmyGod.”Sheputherhandstoherface,officiallymortified.“Whydidn’tyoushutyourcurtains?”
Hechuckledandreachedforherwrists,easingherarmsdowntoherlap.“I’mguessingyoucanprobablyfigureouttheanswertothatyourself.”
Sheswallowedhard,therealizationstaringherintheface.“Youlikedmewatching.”
Hisdimpledsmilewasdownrightdevious.“Hello,Ms.Voyeur,meetMr.Exhibitionist.”
Sheclosedhereyesandshookherhead.“God,thatmakesmesoundlikesuchapervert.”
Hereleasedherwristsandleanedbackagainstthearmofthecouchagain.“Comeon,now.You’vewatchedmelongenoughtoknowIcouldbeatyouonthepervertscaleafewthousandtimesover.Noneedtofeelanyshameaboutit.Youwantedtowatch.Iletyou—andenjoyedit.”
Shecouldn’tprocessthis.Allthetimesshe’dwatchedhimflippedthroughhermindlikeadirtymovieonfast-forwardandrepeat.Allthosenights,he’dknownshewasthere.Thenanotherthoughthither.“Solastnight…”
“Lastnightwasprobablyoutofline,”headmitted.“Alltheothertimes,Iknewyouwerewatching,butIdidn’tchangemybehaviorbecauseofit.Lastnight,Idid.”
Herheartwasmovingtoofastagain,butforadifferentreasonthanpanic.“Why?”
Heconsideredherforamoment,thenreleasedabreath.“BecauseIwasselfish.Ineededtoknowifyouwatchedmywindowbecauseyoujustenjoyseeingotherpeoplebeintimateanddokinkythingsorifyouwatchedbecauseofme.”
Oh,hell.Shebittheinsideofherlip.
“Becausesomepeoplelikewatchingnomatterwhoitis.Andthat’scool.Icangetintothatsometimes,too.Butifthat’sallitwas,IwantedtoknowsothatIdidn’tgotraipsingwhereI’mnotwanted.”
Herbrowsmet.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“You’veseenwhatkindoflifestyleIlive,howIamwithlovers?”
“Yes,”shesaid,almosttoolowforherownearstoregisterthesound.
“Andwhatdoyouknowaboutme,Georgia?”
Shewetherlips.“You’rebisexual.”
“Iam.”
“Andyoulikethreesomes.”
Amusementlithiseyes.“True,what’snottolike?”
“Andyou’readominantandasadist.”
Hismouthliftedatthecorner.“Yes.Youknowthelanguage.Ihavetoadmitthatsurprisesmealittle.Google?”
“Ilookthatinnocent?”sheasked,deadpan.“IthinkI’minsulted.”
Okay,soitwastotallyGoogle.Butnowayshewasadmittingthat.
Helaughed,thesoundcomingfromdeepinthatwidechestofhis.“I’mnottryingtoteaseyou.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hetookherhandagain,hisexpressiongoingmoreserious.“I’monlytryingtofigureyouout—andneedtomakesureyouknowexactlywhoIambecausethatlistofthingswouldprobablyscareoffninetypercentofthepopulation.AndifyouwatchmesimplybecauseI’msoouttherethatyoufinditinteresting,that’sfine.Ifwekissedbecausethere’sattractionbutyou’renotreallyintotheotherstuff,I’llunderstand.Tellmethatandnothinghastochange.YoucancontinuetowatchandI’llletyou.”Histhumbtracedthedelicatebonesofherwrist,theheatofhistouchburningthroughher.“Butifyouwatchbecauseyouthinkyoumightcravesomeofthosesamethings,ifyoufindyourselfwonderingwhatit’dbeliketobetherewithmeinsteadofbehindtheglass,thentellmethat,too.Because,Georgia,allyouhavetodoisaskandnexttimeIwon’tstopunlessyoutellmeto.”
Everythinginhersparkedlikelivewireshittingwater—Colby’swordsoverridinganyresidualeffectfromthesmalldoseofanxietymedicineorabeercouldprovide.Justask.She’dimaginedthatpropositionsomanytimesinthequietofherguestroom.Yes,thethingshedidwereoutthere.Someofthemscaredher,intheory,butsheknewrealfearandshe’dneverfeltthatwhenthinkingofColby.Shedidn’tfeelitnow.Andthethoughtofexperiencingthatevenoncewithhim,havinghishandsonher,thatbigbodypressingagainsther…
Sheleanedback,needingsomebreathingspaceandsomesolidground.“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
“Saywhat’sonyourmind.Therearenowronganswershere.”
Shesighedandlookedupathim.“I’mnotgoingtosithereandliethatIhaven’tthoughtaboutwhatit’dbelikewithyou…likethat,submissive.Ican’tstopwatching…andthinking.Butit’sscary.Thethoughtofputtingmyselfouttherelikethat.”
Hewatchedherintently,asifconsideringeveryoneofherwords,thennodded.“Well,knowthere’snopressurehere.Youdon’thavetoanswernoworever.ButI’mtellingyouallthisbecauseI’mnotonetobullshitorplaygames.Ilikeyou.Iwantyou.ButIalsoamthewayIam,andthat’snotforeveryone.”
Noliesorgames—whatanovelconcept.Mostdaysshefeltherwholelifewasbalancingonintricatelyweaved,wispy-thinthreadsofdeceit.Somethingfreeofallthatwassogoddamnedtempting.Colbywassodamntempting.Butthiswasanythingbutsimple.Thiswasnolongersomefantasyscenarioshewaswatchingfromasafedistance.Itwouldbehertiedtothatbigbedofhis.
Sherubbedherlipstogetherandpeeredoverathim.“Idon’tknowifI’mcapableofbeingsubmissive.”
“Yousaythat.”Theshadowofhisdimpleappeared.“Butyoulikewatchingmeandimaginingyou’retherewithme?Inthosescenarios,doyoupicturebeinginchargeofme?”
Sheheldhisgazeforalongwhile,butthetruthsatfullonherlips.“No.Ican’treallyimagineyoulikethat.Itdoesn’tmakesense.”
“Andwhenyouthinkofbeingonyourkneesforme,doesthatmakesense?”
Sheswallowedpastthedrynessinherthroat.“Sometimes.Inthefantasyworld.”
“Thatfantasyworldiswherealotoftruthhides.Wecouldtestwhat’strueforyou.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Here,let’strysomething.”Hesettledbackagainstthearmofthecouch.“Turnaround.”
“Why?”
Hecockedaneyebrow.
Withahuff,shecomplied.“Youusethateyebrowthingonyourstudents?”
“Yes,it’sveryeffective.Now,putyourbacktome.IpromiseIwon’ttouchyouanywherethatIcouldn’tinpublic.”
Shehadnoideawhathewasupto,andthethoughtoflettinghimtouchherinanywaymadeherbellydoflips.Whatifshepanicked?ButeveryinstinctinhertoldherColbywasokay.Evenso,itwashardtotrustherintuition.IthadletherdownsospectacularlywithPhillip.Butlookingback,sheknewshehadignoredsignsearlyon.Shewouldn’tmakethatmistakeagain.
Butrightnow,sheneededtotakethisrisk,givehergutatestrun,trustthatColbywasn’tadangerousguy.He’dneverdoneanythingtomakeherthinkotherwise.Andevenifsomethingwentwrong,shehadenoughself-defensemovestogetoutofthispositionifsheneededto.She’dtrainedhardtomakesureshenevergotcaughtdefenselessagain.Sheturnedaroundfully,andheputhishandsonherwaisttodragherbackagainsthim.
Hesituatedheragainsthischest,wrappinghisarmsaroundherandlettingherheadrestonhisshoulder.Lord,hewasbig.Shebracedherselffortheinevitableanxietysheexpectedtorushforward.Butinstead,aftergivingherselfamomenttotakeabreath,sherealizedshefeltjustfine.Betterthanfine.ShewasdeliciouslycocoonedinColby’swarmthandthecleanscentoffreshlyshoweredman.Itwasprettydamnnice,actually.
“There,”hesaid,settlingintotheposition.“NowIwantyoutocloseyoureyesandkeepthemclosedwhilewetrythis.You’reawriter,soI’msureyouhaveavividimagination.Ineedyoutouseit.”
“But—”
“Hush,”hesaidsoftly.“Justrelaxandlisten.Ithinkthismayhelp.”Hisfingertipstracedalongherarms,andthemusicfromtheTVdriftedaroundthem.Hetookhistime,caressingherandlettingheradjusttobeingheldbyhim,andthenhestartedtospeaklowagainstherear.“Iwantyoutopicturestandinginthedoorwaytomyroom.I’veturnedthelightsdownandlitcandles.Theshadowsaredancingalongthewalls.Ittakesaminuteforyoureyestoadjust,butwhentheydo,allyoucanseeistheoutlineofmesittinginthearmchairinthecorner.I’mstillinmyworkclothesbutI’veloosenedmytie.I’mwaitingforyou.”
Georgia’sskinwarmedandtingledwherehetouched,thesceneappearinginhermind,colorsfillinginwithfinebrushstrokesasColbysharedmoredetails.Shecouldseehimsittingthere,legsspreadwide,thepostureofaconfidentkingholdingcourt—sexyandintimidating.Herheartbeatkickedalittleharderagainstherribs.
“Canyouseeme?”
“Yes,”shewhispered.
“Itellyoutocomein.You’vewornareddressandlookbeautiful,butthat’snotwhatIneedtonight.Iwantnothingbetweenus.Iorderyoutoundressforme.Slowly.”
Hisbreathbrushedagainsttheshellofherearwitheveryword,andahotshiverworkeditswaydownherbody.Shepicturedherselfstandingthereinthemiddleofhisroom,thewindowshe’dsooftenspiedthroughbearingsilentwitness.Shecouldalmosthearthezipperdraggingdownassheimaginedreachingbehindherandtuggingittoslipoutofthedress.
“You’rewearingalacybraandpanties,andIcanseejustenoughbeneathtodrivemecrazy.Iloveyourbody,thosecurves,thegorgeousglowofyourskin.Itremindsmeofwarmcocoa.”Hepressedhislipsagainstthecurveofherneckandgrazedherwiththetipofhistongue.“AndIknowitwilltastejustassweet.”
HolyMoses.Thetinytouchsenteverymuscletightening,andamoanbuiltinthebackofherthroat.
“Itellyoutocomeclosertostandbetweenmyknees.Youdosowithoutsayingaword.Ihaven’tgivenyoupermissiontospeak.Idon’ttouchyouyet.Youhaven’tearnedit.Butyournipplesaredarkshadowsbeneaththelacymaterial,thelittlepointsbeggingformymouth,andyourpantiesareclingingtoyou.”Hisvoicedippedevenlower.“You’resowetformealready,Icantasteyourscentintheair.”
Herthighspressedtogether,theimaginaryarousalbecomingalltooreal.
“Icanbarelystandtostaypatient.Mycockispressingagainsttheflyofmypants,achingforyou.ButIlikeridingthatedge,takingmytime.AndIoweyouapunishment.”
“Why?”sheasked,hervoicebarelyaudible.
“Becauseyouweresevenminuteslateforourdate.”Hisfingertipstrailedalongthetopsofherthighs,lightingupnerveendingsintheirwakeeventhroughthematerialofherjeans.“Itellyoutolosethebraandtokneeldownnexttome.You’rebeingagoodgirlandyoufollowmyinstructions.Thebrafallstothefloorandthosefullbreastsarethereondisplayforme.Ilayyouacrossmylapandcaptureyourarmsbehindyou.”Hisfingerscircledbothherwristsandappliedpressure.“You’reallminenow.”
Mine,hermindrepeated,thewordsoundingsexierthanshe’deverheardit.Philliphadusedthatwordlikeanangrychild—mine!—athreat.ButthewayColbysaiditwaslikehewascherishingtheprivilegeofhavingher.
“Itugyourpantiesdowntoyourknees,exposingthatheart-shapedasstome.Ican’twaittomakeitsting.ButIcan’tresistdippingmyfingersbetweenyourlegsfirst,slidingtheminside.”Alittlerumblingsoundwentthroughhischest,andaveryprominentbulgepressedagainstherbackside.“You’resohotandwetforme,Georgia.Perfect.Yourbodyclampsaroundmyfingers,andyoustarttobegalittle.You’reclosetocomingalready.Butthere’spunishmentbeforepleasure.Thenonewillblendintotheother.”
Sheshiftedagainsthim,herinternalheatbuildingtoanalmostunbearablelevel.Theseamofherjeansrubbedagainstherpanties,puttingjustenoughpressureagainstherclitoristoremindhertherewasnothingshecoulddoabouttheache.
“Islidemyfingersoutandsuckyoursweetnessoffthem.Youtastesogood,”hesaid,reverenceinhisvoice.“ThenIraisemyhand…”
Georgia’seyeswerepinchedshut,andshewasholdingherbreath.Thewholescenewassoclearinherhead—hersprawledacrosshislap,thatbighandofhisperchedaboveherbareass,herarousalslickbetweenherlegs.Abeggingwordplayedonherlips.
“Thenwhack!”
Shestartledasifshe’dreallybeenhit.
“Myhandcomesdownacrossyourflesh,andthestingradiatesthroughyourbody.YoucryoutbecauseI’mnotinthemoodtobegentle—Irarelyam—butIknowthatsoonthestingwillturntoaburnandthenintosomethingmuch,muchbetter.Ispankyouagain.Andagain.Seventimesforthesevenminutesyouwerelate.Youcanbarelystaystill.Iholdyourwriststighttokeepyouinplace.Butsoonyou’rebeggingmeforsomerelief.Pleaseletmecome.Please.
“I’mfeelinggenerousnowbecauseyou’vetakenyourpunishmentwithsexygrace,butI’mnotreadytofuckyouquiteyet.Ihavealotmoreplannedforyou.Butyou’veearnedyourfirstone.Islideyouoffmylapandmakeyousitonthefloorwithyourlegsspread.”
Georgiacurledherfingersintoherpalms,lostinthefantasyhewasconjuring.
“You’resoarousedandready.I’veneverseensuchanirresistiblesight.Iunzipmypantsandtakemycockinmyhand.Yourgazegoestoit.Ilovethatyouwantit.Thatyouwantme.Butallingoodtime.RightnowIwanttositbackandenjoytheshow.Itellyoutotouchyourself.Comeforme,Georgia.”
Georgiaclampedherthighstogether.
“Icantellyou’renervous,butyouneedtocome,sothat’smakingyoubolder,lessself-conscious,moremotivatedtopleaseme.Youletyourhandslipbetweenyourlegs.YoureyescloseandIknowyouwon’tbelong.Mybeautifulgirlisgoingtocomeforme.Thenwhenshe’sdone,she’sgoingtokneelformeandmakemecome,too,becausethere’snothingshelovesmorethantakingmycockinhermouthandmakingmegoover.”
God.Georgiacouldn’tspeak.Thescenewassovividandillicit.Heronthefloorathisfeet,spreadwideandpleasuringherself.Itwasn’tsomethingshewould’veimaginedherselfdoingforaman.She’dneverbeenaprude,butshe’dalsostucktothebasicsinthebedroom.Nowshefeltlikeshe’dexplodeatthethoughtofbeinginthatpositionforColby.
Colby’slipspressedagainstherear.“Stillwithme,gorgeous?”
Hermouthwasdryassheshiftedonhislap,hiserectionateasingpresencebeneathher.“Yes.”
“Areyouwet?”
Shebitherlip.Thiswasn’tthefantasyanymore.Hewasreallyaskingher.Hehadtoknowtheansweralready.“Yes.”
Hemadeapleasedsoundunderhisbreathandkissedherneckagain.“Wouldyouliketocome?”
Bloodwasrushinginherearsnow.Sheshouldprobablythinkaboutthis.Thingsweremovinglightningfast.Butherbodyhadshovedherlogicalselfoutofthedriver’sseatafewlongminutesago.“Yes.”
“Keepyoureyesclosedandunzipyourjeans,”hesaidinthattonethatcould’vetalkedthehabitoffanun.
“Ican’t,”shewhispered,buttherewasnoconvictionbehindit.
“Youcanandyouwill.”Thewordsfellhotonher.“Imagineit’smyfingersslippinginside,mytonguetastingyou.”
Shesighedattheimages.Andwithoutthinkingtoohardonit,sheunfastenedherjeansandpulleddownthezipper.
“Goodgirl,”hesaid,thelowassurancemovingthroughherlikeafull-bodycaress.“You’vewaitedalongtimeforthis.You’vebeenwatching,learning,wonderingwhatit’dbelikeoverherewithme.You’veleftmewondering,too,Georgia.I’vethoughtaboutyoumorethanIprobablyshould.Showmehowbadyou’vecravedit.Touchyourselfandcomeforme.”
Sheletoutasoftgasp.
Thiswascrazy.Fuckingnuts.She’djusttriedtobringoveradamncasseroleandnowhereshewaslikesomedesperate,needything.Thiswastoointimateanacttoshowsomeoneshehardlyknew.
Butno,thatwasasorryexcuseandsheknewit.Lastnightshe’dwatchedingloriousdetailashe’dstrokedhimselftoorgasm.He’dknownshewaswatching,givingherashow.Nowitwasherturn.Andifsheneededanyadditionalencouragement,thatvisualwasenoughtopushherovertheledge.Thatbigtanfistwrappedaroundhiscock,slidingupanddownwithslow,sensualglides.Sheletherhandslipinsideherpanties.Ifhecouldbethatbrazen,socouldshe.
Thewetheatthatgreetedherwasn’tasurprise,buttheinstantelectricitythatracedoverhernerveendingswas.Sheshudderedhard.Shewasrighttherealready,arubberbandstretchedtoitslimitbythisman’shotwordsandpoisedtosnap.
“That’sit,baby,”Colbysaid,hisvoicegoingsandpaperroughashelaidwarmkissesalongherneck.“Showmehowsexyyouarewhenyoucome.I’veimagineditsomanytimes.HavethoughtaboutitwhenIknewyouwerewatchingme,wonderingwhatyoulookedlikewhenyoutouchedyourself.That’swhatIwasthinkingaboutlastnightwhenIstrokedmycock.That’swhatI’llthinkabouttonight.”
Thetalkandherquickfingerswereenoughtosendhercareeningintoorgasm.Herbackarchedandshecriedout,everythingpulsingbeneathherfingersandsensationripplingoutward.Colbykeptherinplace,whisperingdirty,sexythingstoher,butshecouldn’tunderstandthemanymore.Thereleasewassomuchbiggerthanhertypicalones,likebreakingoutofadarkcaveandfeelingsunagainstherskin.Andthatfeltgood.Damn,diditfeelgood.
ShegaspedherwaythroughthelastfewpulsesofpleasureandthensankagainstColby,allthetensionevaporatingfromherbody.Shemovedherhandfrombeneathherpantiesandletherarmfalltotheside.
ButColbyhadotherideas.Hetookherhandandbroughtittohismouth.Hesuckedhertwofingersandthenranhistonguealongtheseamoftheminasavoringglide,makinghershiverallover.“Thatwasbeautiful,baby.”
“Mmm,”shesaid,stilldriftingintheafterglow.Maybeshecouldstayrightherefortherestofthenight.Maybeshe—
“Well,hell,”anothervoicesaidfrombehindthem.“HowlongwasIsleeping?”ELEVEN
Georgiaflewintoasittingpositionandspunaround,makingColbygruntasherassrubbedagainsthisstrainingerection.Colbyturnedhishead.Keatswasstandinginthedoorwaywithaplateofenchiladasinhishand.
“Whatthehell?”Colbygroundout,whileGeorgiatriedtobuttonherjeans.
KeatsflinchedatColby’stone.“Sorry.”
Goddammit.Colbyhadgottencaughtupinthemomentandhadcompletelyforgottenabouthishouseguest—aconsequenceoftoomanyyearslivingaloneandbeingaccustomedtodoingwhathewantedwherehewanted.ColbyglancedatGeorgiatomakesureshewasn’tfreakingout,thenlookedbacktoKeats.“Everheardofprivacy?”
“I’mreallysorry,”Keatssaidagain,andhitchedathumbtowardthekitchen.“ButIwokeupandsmelledsomethingburning.Ididn’trealizey’allwereuh,occupado,until,youknow,Iheardyoutalking.”
Fantastic.WhoknewhowlongKeatshadbeenlistening.ThiswasjustwhatColbyneeded.Headjustedthefrontofhisjeans,hiserectionbarelyregisteringtheturnofevents.
Keats’sgazeglidedoverwhereColby’shandswere,butthenheshiftedhisattentiontoGeorgia.Therewasnomissingtheflareofwantinhiseyes.TherewasalsonomissingtheoutlineofKeats’sobviousinterestinhispants.Someonehadbeenlisteninglongenoughtogetahard-on.
Colby’scockflexedagainsthiszipper,andhehadtoswallowbackthegroan.Hisdickwasonboardwithanyoneintheroomrightnow.Preferablyboth.Rightnow.
Heswunghislegstothefloor.“Dammit,Keats.Youcould’vesaidsomethingtoletusknowyouwerehere.”
Keatsshookhisheadandleanedagainstthedoorframe.“Nuh-uh,nowaywasIinterruptingthattrain.I’velivedwithenoughroommatestoknowthatifyouwalkinonsomething,youdon’tdoanythingbutkeepyourmouthshutandwalkaway.”HelookedtoGeorgia.“I’mreallysorryforinvading,butIwould’veruineditforyouifIsaidsomethingsooner.AndIdidn’t,youknow,seeanything.”
Justheard.Thatwastheparthewasn’tsaying.
“IthinkIshouldgo,”Georgiasaid.
Colbyturned.“What?No.”
“Yeah,seriously,pleasedon’tleavebecauseofme,”Keatssaid,turningallawwshucksTexasboy.“Ididn’tmeantomessupanythingorembarrassyou.I’llgoeatinthekitchenandyouwon’tseemefortherestofthenight.Swear.”
“No,it’sfine,”shesaid,puttingonhershoesandnotlookingateitherofthem.“It’sgettinglateanyway.Andthisis…awkward.”
“Wait,”Keatssaid,steppingintothelivingroomandsettinghisplatedownonanendtable.“Don’tfeelawkward.Imean,deadhonest?Yeah,Ishouldn’thavelistenedtowhatIdid.ThesecondIrealizedwhatwasgoingon,Ishould’veturnedandleft.Thisismyfault.Butgoddamn,Icouldn’tmakemyselfmove.Y’allwere,well,y’allwerefuckinghottogether.”
“Keats,”Colbywarned.
“It’sokay,”Georgiasaid,finallylookingup.ShesentColbyadrollsmile,nodoubtdecidingshewouldn’tthrowstonesatafellowPeepingTom.“Igetit.Aslongasyoudidn’ttakeanyvideosorpictures,Iwon’thavetokillyou.”
Keatslaughed,lookingrelieved.“Damn.Video.Ishould’vethoughtofthat.NexttimeI’llcomeprepared.Imaginethemoney,Icould—”
ColbygrabbedaninkpenfromthesidetableandlauncheditatKeats.Itpingedhiminthechest,shuttinghimup.“Keats,goeatyourenchiladas.”
Hesmirkedandgaveasalute.“Rightaway,Teach.Poof!Considermegone.”
Butrightasheturnedtoleave,Georgiacalledafterhim.“Hey,Keats,areyougoingtobearoundtomorrow?”
Hepeeredbackoverhisshoulder,hisaffableexpressionfalteringabit.“Didn’tplanonit.I,uh,havetotakecareofsomethingsthatcan’twait.”
“Willyoucomebackafteryou’redone?”sheasked,thatirresistiblefeminineliltdriftingintohervoice.“Ihavesomethingtotalktoyouabout,butnowisn’ttherighttime.”
Hestoodthereforalongmomentbutthenmanagedtomusterupthatdisarmingsmileofhis.“Allright.I’llseewhatIcando.”
Shesmiledbackathim,pleased.“Goodnight,Keats.”
“’Night.”
Hedisappearedbackintothekitchen,andGeorgiaturnedthoseprettydarkeyesonColby.“Well,thatisn’texactlyhowIwantedtostartthingsoffwithmypotentialnewemployee.”
Colbygrabbedherbythewaistandliftedherontohislaptostraddlehim,settlingherrightagainstwherehewantedhermost.“Yeah,butyou’llprobablygetareallydedicatedworker.Ithinkhe’shalfinlovewithyoualready.”
Shesmirked.“Half-hardforsure.LikesomeoneelseIknow.”
Helaughedandpushedherhairawayfromherface.“Can’tblamehim.Wearehottogether.Iwould’vestoppedandeavesdropped,too,ifIwerehim.ButI’mrealsorryifhemadeyouuncomfortable.”
Shelookeddown,hidingthesecretsmilethathadtouchedherlips.
Themovewassoendearinglysexythathehadtofighthisinstincttopickherupandcarryhertohisbedroom.“Wait,wereyouuncomfortable?”
“Idon’tknow.”Sheshrugged.“Isitweirdthatitwasn’tthatuncomfortable?”
Hetiltedhishead,thequestionspikinghiscuriosity.“Meaning?”
“Meaning,itwasashockandIreacted,butnow…Idon’tknow.NowIkindofdon’tcarethathesawus.”
Interesting.Hefiledthataway.“Andhowaboutthathe’sprobablyinthekitchenrightnowreplayingitinhisheadandstillsportingthathard-on?”
Herlipstwitchedintothatsmileagain,butshequicklyrolledtheminwardandshrugged.“Notsure.”
Uh-huh.Right.“Orthatprobablylatertonight,whenhe’salone,he’llcallupthosesoundsyoumadeandusethememorytogethimselfoff?”
“Colby,”shesaid,keepinghervoicelowandgivinghimascandalizedlook.“Stop.KeepgoingandI’llneverbeabletolookathimstraight,muchlesshirehim.”
Hegaveherawickedgrin.Whatanundeservedgift.Hisneighborwassomuchdirtierthanhe’dhoped.Notjustavoyeurbutanexhibitioniststreakhidinginthere,too.Apparently,hejusthadtogetpastthatouterlayerofanxietytoseethatsideofher.Rightnowshewasstillridingthebuzzfromherorgasm,anditwaslettinghimseebeneaththathardshellshealwayswore.“Hey,there’snoshameinit.Youlikeknowingyou’vegottenmorethanoneguyhotandbothered,enjoyfeelingthatkindofsexualenergydirectedatyou.Believeme,Igetthat.Thatkindofpowercanbeheady.”
“That’swhatitis,isn’tit?”shesaid,glancingtowardthekitchen,probablytomakesureKeatswasn’ttherelistening.“Power.”
“Quitetheaphrodisiac—bothhavingitandhavingittakenaway,”hesaid,hisfingertipsplayingalongthebaseofherspine.“Eveninthesubmissiverole,there’spower.Thesubmissiveknowshowmesmerizinghisorhersurrenderis,howdeeplythedominantcravesit.Bothsidesarenecessaryfortheothertobesatisfied.Verypowerful.”
Shepulledinabreathandnodded.“I’mstartingtounderstandthat.”
“Icanshowyou,Georgia,”hesaid,notwantingtopushorpressureherbutunabletoletherwalkoutwithoutatleastposingtheoffer.“Forreal.Youonlyhavetoask.Ipromiseyou’llbesafewithme.”
“Youdidn’ttouchmeduringthefantasy,”shesaid,hervoicesoft.“YouknowIwould’veletyou.”
“ItoldyouIwouldn’t.Ikeepmypromises.”
ShetracedthecollarofhisT-shirtwithherfingertip,keepinghergazedown,athoughtfulcreaseinherbrow.“Ilikethat.”
“It’swhatyoudeserve.Youtrustmewithyoursubmission,andImakesureI’mworthyofitbyneverbreakingmyword.”
“Mysubmission,”sherepeated,asiftryingoutthewords.
“Yes,”hesaid,puttinghisknucklebeneathherchinandmakingherlookathim.“That’swhatitwouldbe.Whenwe’reinthatmode,thecontrolwouldbemine.”
“Thatideaisstillscaryforme.I—mylifeisaboutcontrol.”
“Alittlefearcanbegood.I’dbeworriedifyouenteredthiswithoutany.Butsomethingdrewyoutoyourwindowallthosenights.Somecuriouspartthatmadeyoucravetheview.”
“Yes,butwatchingyoutakecontrolofsomeoneelseislikepeekinginonsomeeroticwonderland—afantasy.Asafe,distantone.”
“Yeah.”Hegentlyshiftedheronhislap.“Butvisitingwonderlandissomuchbetterthanspyingonit.Notjustfunthingstolookatbutthingstotouch,taste,feel…Ticketsarenowavailable.Andjustforyou,ondeepdiscount.”
Shelaughed,bracingherhandsonhischest.“EvenifI’mwillingto…try.I’myourneighbor.Idon’twantthistogetweirdorawkward.”
“Itwon’tifwe’rehonestandup-frontwitheachother,”hesaid,slidinghishandstoherhips.
Hermusclestensedbeneathhisfingersforasecond,astrangelooktighteningherfeatures,butthenitseemedtoslideofflikeithadn’tbeenthereatall.“Howso?”
“Whatareyouwantingfromthis?”
Sheseemedsurprisedbyhisstraightforwardquestion.“Nothingserious.Imean,I’vewatchedyoulongenoughtoknowyou’renotexactlyarelationshipguy.”
Hecringed.“Georgia—”
Sheshookherhead.“No.Honestly,youdon’thavetosayanythingtodefendit.That’spartofyourappeal,actually.”
“Partoftheappeal?”Whathewasgoingtosaydiedonhislips.He’dbeenreadytotellherthathewascompletelyopentoseeingwherethingswent.Foryears,he’dbeenfinewithbringinghometheoccasionalplaypartnerfromTheRanchforaone-nightthing—mutualfun,nostringsorexpectations.Butseeingallhisfriendsfallintoseriousrelationshipshadhimcravingmore—aconnectionnotjustinsidethebedroombutoutsideit.Someonehecouldactuallydate.ButifGeorgiawasn’tlookingforthat,hewasn’tgoingtopushher.Heknewithadtakenamassiveamountofgutsforhertoevengetthisfar.
“BeinghereinTexasisn’tapermanentsituationforme.I’msupposedtogobacktoChicagoinafewmonths,”shesaid,alittlefrownlinenestlingbetweenherbrows.“IfIcangetthere.YousawwhatI’mdealingwiththismorning.So,really,ifwedothis,youshouldknowwhatyou’regettingintoaswell.Thingsarecomplicatedformerightnow.”
ThefactthatshewasplanningtogobacktoChicagowasn’twelcomenews,buthewasn’treadytowalkawayfromherforthat.Andhewasalreadywellawarethatshewasdealingwithananxietydisorder.“I’mnotafraidofcomplicated.”
Shesmiled.“Iam.WhatIneedmostrightnowisfun.Likethereal,lose-yourself-in-itkind.Ihaven’thadthatinsolong.Andtonight,well,it’sbeennicetogetaglimpseofitagain.Iwanttohavethatkindoffunwithyou.”
Hisheartbrokealittleattheearnestnessinherwords,thatkeenneedforescape.Hewantedtoaskwhathadhappenedtoher,becauseclearlythelifeshelednowwasn’thowthingshadalwaysbeen.Buthecouldtellshewasn’treadytoopenupaboutpersonalstuff.Soifshewantedfun,abreakfromeverydaylife,hecouldgiveherthat.“Wecanmakethisascasualasyou’recomfortablewith.”
“Yeah?”shesaid,interestinhervoice.
“Sure.JustlistmynumberinyourcellphoneunderForaGoodTimeCall.”
Shelaughed.“I’ddialthatnumberrightnow.”
“Soisthatayes?”heasked.“Tothis,tous?”
“I’vewantedyouforalongtime,Colby,”shesaid,slidingherhandsfromhischesttohisshoulders,theslightesttremorinherfingers.“Idon’tknowifIcanplaythispowergame.ButI’mtiredofsittingonthesidelinestooscaredtotry.”
Hecouldn’thidehissmile.Hespreadhisfingersoverherflaredhips,lovingthesoftwarmthofher.“You’regoingtobeamazingatit.Ihavenodoubt.”
Shepressedawhisper-softkisstohismouth.“Imightfreakout.”
Heranhishandsalonghersides,enjoyingthefreedomtofinallytouchher.“AndI’llbethereforyouifyoudototakecareofyouandtalkyoudown.Plus,you’llhaveasafewordtopullthepluganytimeyouneedto.AndIwillalwayshonorthewordstopnomatterwhat.”
Sheliftedherhead,andthelastflickerofworryinhereyesseemedtofadeashergazewarmed.Shetouchedhisface,herfingertipsscoringoverhisbeardlikeshewaslearningthefeelofit.“Ican’tbelieveI’mgoingtodothis.ButIusedtobethegirlwhowouldn’thavebeenafraidtohaveaflingwithmyunfairlyhotneighbor.Iwanttofindthatgirlagain.”
“Unfairlyhot,huh?”heasked,teasing.
“Don’tgetcocky,countryboy.”Sheadjustedherselfonhislap,andherheatpressedagainsthim.Alldesiretojokefellaway.
“Tellmewhatyouwant,”Colbysaid,hisvoicegruffandhisarousalfiringanew.“Iwanttohearyouaskforit.”
Shedraggedherbodyacrosshishardeningerection.“Corruptmyboring,vanillaworld,ColbyWilkes.”
Hegroanedatthewordsandthefeelofheragainsthim.“You’realiar,gorgeous.”
Sheliftedhereyebrows.
“Thereisn’tanythingvanillaaboutyou.”Heleanedforwardandpressedanopenmouthedkisstothecurveofherneck.
Shetiltedherheadback,givinghimaccess.“Ifthat’sablackjoke,I’mgoingtokickyourass.”
Hechuckledagainstherskin.“Ooh,yougetfeistywhenyou’returnedon.Ilikeit.”Hemovedhispalmsdownfromherhipstocupherbackside.“Sohowdaringareyoufeelingtonight,neighbor?”
Hecouldtellshewaslosingthethreadofconversation,thathistouchesandkissesweredistractingherbecauseittookherasecondtoanswer.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Notimelikethepresenttostartyourcorruption.”
HergazedriftedtowardthehallwaywhereKeatshadgone,herexpressiontransparent—unsurebuttemptedbytheunknown.
“ItoldyouIwouldn’ttouchyouearlier,andIdidn’t.ButnowI’mgoingtogiveyouachoice.Wecanstopthis,andyoucangohomeandwatchmefromyourwindow.”Henestledhiserectionagainsther.“AndI’llgladlygiveyouashow—allwhilenotallowingyoutocomeuntilnexttimeyouseeme.Oryoucanstayrightwhereyouare.”
Hervoicewasbreathlesswhenshespokeagain.“WhathappensifIstay?”
“IfuckyourightherewhereKeatswillabsolutelyheareverythingfromthekitchen.”Henuzzledhisteethagainsthercollarboneandbitgently.
Shegaspedsoftly.
“Tellmetostop,Georgia.AndI’llletyougo.”
—
Thewordwasaperfectlyeasyonetosay.Itwasrightthereonherlips.Stop.Shewouldn’tevenhavetotakeinabreathtosayit.Butwithhimkissinghernecklikethatandthefeelofhiserectionrubbingexactlywheresheneededit,shecouldn’tfinditinherselftosayit.Keatswillhear.Thatwasaguarantee.Shecouldhearhimfiddlingaroundinthekitchen,probablyeatinghisdinner.
Thethoughtonlymadetheachebetweenherthighsburnhotter.Colbysuckedherearlobebetweenhislipsandteasedit.“God.”
“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikestop,”Colbymused.
“Wecouldgoinyourroom.”
“NotanoptionIgaveyou,”hesaid,thattonecomingintohisvoice.Theonehe’dusedinthefantasy.Theoneshe’dimaginedwhenshecouldn’thearwhatwasbeingsaidonhissideofthewindow.“Takeoffyourjeans.”
“Colby…”
“Isthatstop?”
“No,”shewhispered.
“Iknowyou’restillwetforme,”hesaidagainstherear.Hecuppedherthroughherjeans.“Icanfeeltheheatofyou.AndIshouldbepatient.IpromisedmyselfIwouldn’trushanything.ButI’malsonotaliar.Iwantyou.Rightnow.Here.Iwanttofuckyouhardandfast,andIdon’tcarewhohearsit.”
Jesus.Ifsheeverhadanydoubtaboutifshecouldappreciatedirtytalk,shehadheranswer.Philliphadalwaysgoneforthesweetandromanticwords,theflatteringones.Onceuponatime,she’dthoughtthatwaswhatsheshouldwant.Agentlemanwhotoldherlovingthings.Butrightnow,filthwasworkinglikewildfire.Herwholebodyburnedwiththeneedtobetouched,hernipplesbeadingagainstherbraandherpantiesclingingtoher.
Herbodywastakingoverherbrain,saying,Fuckitall.Thenerves.Theworry.Theconcernaboutwhocouldandcouldn’thearthem.Noneofitmatteredrightnow.Shescootedoffhim,stood,andtuggedoffherjeans.
Hewatchedhereverymove,hisgazehooded,hungry.Whenshe’dshuckedthejeans,hetouchedtheedgeofherblackpanties.She’dwornoneofthefewsexypairsshestillowned.Evenifshehadn’tplannedonit,hersubconsciousmusthavebeenhopingforthiswhenshe’dgottendressedtocomeoverhere.“Keeptheseon.”
“Okay.”
Hereachedbehindhim,openedtheendtabledrawer,andpulledoutafoilwrapper.Shewonderedifhehadcondomsstoredineverydraweraroundthehouse.Withthekindsofpartiesshe’dseenoverhere,probably.Heshiftedonthecouchandunbuttonedhisjeans,pushingthemdownalongwithhisunderwearjustenough.Hiscocksprangfree—hardandruddyandalreadyglisteningatthetip.
Herbellyclenchedlowandtight.She’dseenhimnakedfromafar,butinperson,hewasevenmoreimpressive.Themanwasbigallover.Shewantedtowrapherhandaroundthatprouderection,lickit…freakingworshipit.Theurgetookheraback.Neverbeforehadshehadsuchaprimaldesiretogettoherkneesforthesolepurposeofmakingamanfeelgood.
Colby’sgazeflaredwithdarkneed.“Ilikethewayyou’relookingatme,gorgeous.Onedaysoon,I’llletyoudoexactlywhatyoureyesarepromising.Butrightnow,Ineedtobeinsideyou.Straddleme.”
Sheshiveredatthecommandandclimbedontop.Shehadnoideawhyshestillhadherpantieson,butafterherolledonthecondom,shewasn’tleftwonderingforlong.
Hetuggedthecrotchofherunderwearasideandranhisfingersalongherslickfolds.“Ifacertainsomeonewalksin,you’llbeabletocoverupquicklyifyouwant.”
Ifshewanted…likeitwasadecision.Butthemoreshepicturedthepossibility,themoresherealizedmaybeitwasherchoice.Maybehetrulydidn’tcareiftheyscrewedoutintheopen.Theguyhadletherwatchhimformonths.“You’reafilthy,filthyman.”
Hegaveherasolemnnodandteasedherclitwithamaddeningstroke.“Iam.Stillwantme?”
“Hell,yes.”
Heheldherpantiesaside,positionedhimselfatherentrance,andstartedtoeaseinside.Oh,Jesus.Hernailsdugintohisshoulders,andshehummedasthesweetstingofthebreachskippedalonghernerveendings.Ithadbeensolongsinceshe’dbeenwithanyone,andthoughshehadtoysathome,nonewereColby’ssize.Herbodyseemedtofightandbegallatonce.
“Easy,now,”Colbysaidinthatlow,cajolingvoice,hisfingerstuckedbetweenthem,workingherclit.“There’snorush.Relaxandtakemeinslowly.Youfeelsogood,baby,butIdon’twanttohurtyou.”
Shepressedherforeheadtohisandconcentratedonsofteningthetensioninherbody,onlettinghisbeautiful,hardheatinsideher.Shewasslickforhim,sohernervesweretheonlythingfightingher.Shewasgettingtooinherhead.
Hegrippedherhip,kneadingthecurve.“Youknowhowfuckingsexyyoulookrightnow.Thesepantiesshovedtothesidelikeyouweresoinahurrytogetfucked,youcouldn’tevenbothertotakethemoff.Andyou’resowetagainstme.Lookdownandseeus.”
Sheglanceddownalongthescantspacebetweentheirbodies,andhemovedhishandawaysoshecouldseetheirconnection—thatperfectcarnaljoining.Thetightnessinhermusclesmelted,andshetookhimtherestofthewayeversoslowly,finallyseatinghimdeep.
Hegroanedandtippedhisheadback.“Fuck,yes.”
Shewasmakingherownsounds,lostinthefeelingofbeingfilledandstretched.ByColby.ShewaswithColby.Partofherwonderedifshe’dreallyfallenintosomeeroticdreamandshe’dwakeupinherhouseinafewminutes—coldandalone.
Colbyfoundherhotbuttonagain,andshebitherliptokeepfromcryingout.Thenoiseinthekitchenhadstopped.Keatseitherhadbailedorwaslistening.Sheshouldprobablybeasdiscreetaspossible.ButwhenColbybegantopumpintoher,shecouldn’tstayquiet.
“That’sit,”Colbysaid.“Rideme.Takewhatyou’vebeenwantingwhenyouwatched.Didyouthinkaboutwhatmycockwouldfeellikeinsideyou?”
“Yes,”shesaidonapant.
“Good.BecauseIsureashellthoughtabouthowyouwouldfeel,”hesaid,hisdeepvoicegoinggravelly.“Howyouwouldtaste.Whatyouwouldsoundlikewhenyoubeg.HowthisperfectassisgoingtofeelundermyhandwhenItakeyouovermyknee.”
Shemoaned,alreadycloseagain.
“Ican’twaittoseeyousurrender,”hesaid,alittlebreathlessbecausenowtherewasnomoreslowandeasy.Thecouchspringsprotestedbeneaththem.Hewasfuckingherhardanddeepandfast,grippingherhipandguidingherpace,eachthrustpunctuatinghiswords.Allthepent-upmonthsofwatchingandbeingwatchedcareeningtogetherinonedesperateactbetweenthem.
“Yes.God.”Sheshuddered,barelyholdingbackherorgasm,ashecircledherclitwitharoughfingertip.
Hesmiledagainsthersweatyneck.“NoneedtocallmeGod.SirorColbywilldo.”
Shewould’vesnortedhadshenotbeensofargone.Buttherewasnothingthatwasgoingtoderailhernow.Theslapofherskinagainsthisfilledherears,andtheirmingledscents—sexandsweatandsoap—wereinvadinghersenseslikeadrug.“Colby…”
“Comeforme,gorgeous.Letitgoandletmefeelyoucomearoundmycock.”
Thatwasallittook.Sexy,beastlymanplusdirtywordsequaledanimpossiblemixtoresist.Herhandswenttohishead,grippinghishairinherfists,andshecamewithasharp,shakingcry.Hefollowedrightwithher,apparentlyamasterofcontrolinallaspects,andheldhertightashepumpeddeepthroughhisrelease.
Thegruff,gruntingnoiseshemadewerequitepossiblythesexiestdamnthingsshe’deverheardinherlife.Goddamn.
Thiswassomuchbetteronthissideoftheglass.
Anditwasprobablygoingtobeamistake.Shealreadyknewthat.Heandhisproclivitieswereprobablygoingtobemorethanshecouldhandleoncetheyreallyslippedintothedominantandsubmissiveroles.Buttherewasnowayshewasturningbacknow.
She’dseenhisversionofwonderlandandnowshewantedaseasonpass.TWELVE
Keatswaschewinghisthumbnailtoaraggededgeatthekitchentable.Hisenchiladassatcoldanduneateninfrontofhim.
They’dfuckedinthegoddamnedlivingroom,knowinghecouldhear.Weretheytryingtokillhim?Ormaybetheydidn’tcarethathe’dbasicallybeenforcedtolisten.Maybehewassoinsignificantthatitdidn’tevenmatterthathewasrighthere.Heshould’vebeenpissed.Instead,hisbodyhadonlygottenhotter.Whenhe’dheardGeorgia’sbreathycriesandColby’shot-as-fuckgroans,he’dgottensohard,he’dalmosttakenhisdickinhishandrightthereinthekitchen.Fuckingtorture,thatwaswhatitwas.
Todistracthimselffromwhathewashearingandhisbody’sunrelentingreactiontoit,he’dgrabbedhisphonefromhisbagtocheckmessages.Hedidn’tleaveitonmostofthetimesinceitwasoneofthoseprepaiddeals,andhedidn’twanttowasteminutesonbullshit.Butwhenhe’dpowereditup,hehadmultiplemessagesfromAaron,themanageroftheTexasStar,sayingthatifhedidn’tbringmoneyoverbymidnight,hewasthrowingKeats’sshitoutandgivingtheroomtosomeoneelse.
Keatsdidn’thavealot,butwhathedidhavewasimportanttohim.Hecouldn’taffordtohaveittossedintheDumpster.Plus,he’dlefthisbeat-upbutwell-lovedmotorcycleinoneoftheparkingspots,andhehadnodoubtAaronwouldhavethattowedwhenherealizeditbelongedtoKeats.
Goddammit.Heneededtogetoverthere—andoutofhere.Hecheckedthetimeonthemicrowaveclock.Thingsgotquietoutinthelivingroomforawhileandthenheheardadoorshut.Colbystrolledin,lookingtousledandalittlesmug.ThebackofKeats’sneckburnedhot,buthetriedhisbesttolooknonchalant.
“She’sgone?”Keatsasked,hiskneebouncingbeneaththetable.
ColbyturnedhisbacktohimtoopentheovenandgrabthecasseroledishKeatshadleftonwarm.“Yeah,Iwalkedherbacktoherplace.”
“Shecanstillwalk?”heasked,tryingtoplayoffhowdamnaffectedhewas.
Colby’ssmilewaswry.“Canyou?”
Keatsfrownedandadjustedhisjeans,unsurehowtohandlethisversionofColby.Hewasusedtothestoic,always-in-controlversion.Theteacher.Mr.Responsible.Butbesideshisaccidentalspyinglastnight,he’dneverbeenprivytothisprivatesideofColby—thesexualside.Theman.
Gettingapeekbehindthecurtainfeltlikeasecretprivilege.He’dwantedColbytostoptreatinghimlikesomeinnocentkid,andColbyhaddefinitelylistened.Buttheshiftwasdamndisconcerting.BecausethoughKeats’sbraindidn’tknowhowtoprocessallthenewinformation,hisbodycertainlyhadideasonhowtorespond.
Keatsclearedhisthroat.“Thatwasadickmove,man.”
Colbysniffed.“Kindoflikeeavesdroppingonmeandawomaninmyownhouse?”
“Dude,IsaidIwassorry.Youcould’vejusttoldmeofforkickedmyassforwalkinginonyouandGeorgia.Youdidn’tneedtotorturemewithringsideseatstotheshow.”
“Youcould’vegonetoyourroom.Youwouldn’thavehadtolistentoathing.”
Keatsblinked.Thatoptionhadneveroccurredtohim.Hell,whowashekidding?Aherdofchargingelephantswouldn’thavebeenabletodrivehimoutofthatkitchen.
Colbyspoonedaservingofenchiladasontohisplateandturnedaroundwithaknowinglook.“Forwhatit’sworth,Ididn’tdoittotormentyou.Iletyoulistenbecauseitturnedheron.”
ThatsentKeats’sthoughtscareeninginanentirelydifferentdirection—straighttowardGeorgia.Heleanedforwardonhiselbows.“Seriously?”
Colbygavehimashrugthatseemedtosay,Hey,mygirlisakinkysexgoddess.WhatcanIdo?
“Fuck.Me.”IfKeatshadasparkforGeorgiabefore,itwasnowafull-fledgedcrush.“Well,ifmytorturediditforher,thenIguessIdon’tmindalittlesufferingonherbehalf.”
Colbycockedhishead,studyinghimforasecond.“Quiteself-sacrificingthere,Keats.”
Heshruggedandpushedhisfoodaroundonhisplate.“Whenitcomestoabeautifulwomanenjoyingherself,there’snotmuchIwouldn’tbewillingtodo.”
Colbytookabiteofenchiladas,watchinghimwithanalyticaleyes.“Thatmustmakeyoupopular.”
“Idoallright,”hesaid,unabletoholdColby’sgaze.Sometimesitfeltliketheguywaslookingrightinsidehim,seeingallthecrossedwiresandshortcircuits.Hewentbacktonoteatinghisfood.Afterafewquietminutesofrearranginghisplate,Keatspushedtheenchiladasaway.“Ineedyoutodrivemebackhometonight.”
Colbysetdownhisplate.“YoujustpromisedGeorgiayou’dbeheretomorrow.”
Keatsrubbedhispalmsonhisthighs,guiltnippingathim.ThelastthinghewantedtodowasdisappointGeorgia,butwhatwastheretogainbyhangingaroundherelonger?Disappointment,that’swhat.ColbyandGeorgiahadlivesthatexistedinanotherrealmfromhis—andtheywereobviouslystartingarelationship.NomatterhowmuchKeatspretended,thiswasn’thisplace.Sure,Colbywouldlethimstayforafewweeks,butitwasn’tlikehislifewasmagicallygoingtochangebecausehehadanicerroofoverhishead.Beforelong,Colbywouldgrowtiredofhavingaguest.He’dwanttofuckhishotgirlfriendonthecouchwithoutworryingaboutsomeonebarginginandgawking.
Tonight,whenKeatshadfirstwalkedinonthem,he’dbeenknockedoverwiththedesiretogooverthereandbeapartofsomethingthateroticandintense.Georgiahadlookedgoddamnedbeautifulstretchedoutandsighingintothefantasy.AndColby’swords,thepictureshe’dpainted…Keats’sbloodhadrushedstraightsouth,thoseimagesofbondageandroughnessmakinghimflushedandinstantlyhard.He’dclosedhiseyestoseeitall.Andforafewseconds,hismindhadfooledhimintothinkingthatmaybehebelongedtherewiththem.Likethemomentwasasharedone.But,ofcourse,it’dbeenaridiculousthought.Ifhe’dlearnedanythinginhislifesofar,itwasthathe’dalwaysbetheoutsider.ThatconclusionhadbeenconfirmedwhenColbyandGeorgiahadkickedhimoutandhadgoneontohavesexwhilehewasthereinthekitchen.He’dbeenapropatbest,anintruderatworst.
No,hedidn’tbelonghere.Thiswasn’thislife.
“I’lltrytocomeby.ButIhavetogetbacktonightorthey’regoingtotossmystuffout.Ineedtogivethemtherent.”
“Youdon’tneedtogivethemanything.Youdon’thavetostaythereatall.Itoldyouthere’saroomhereyoucanuse.”
“AndItoldyouIdon’twantahandout.”
“Thisisn’tcharity.It’safriendhelpingafriend.”
Keatsscoffedandpushedbackfromthetabletostand.“Friends?Comeon,Colby,that’snotwhatweare.Youseemeassomedebtthatneedstobepaidofftoeraseamarkonyourconscience.Amistaketofix.”
Colbyclosedhiseyesandrubbedthespotbetweenhiseyebrows.Keatshadseenhimdothatsomanytimesintheclassroom,especiallywhenKeatskeptscrewinguphischordssophomoreyear,butthatseemedlikealifetimeagonow.Twodifferentpeople.“Keats.”
“Look,man.”Hesteppedinfrontofhim,butColbydidn’topenhiseyes.“Stopputtingthatshitonyourself.YouwerethebestteacherIhadandtheonlypersonwhogaveadamnaboutmebackthen.WhenIleftthatnoteformydadandstolehisgunfromhimthatnight,Ifullyplannedonendingthings.”Colbylookedupatthat,flinching.“ButIcouldn’thelpgoingtoyoufirst.Andthereyouwere,theshiningexampleofwhatIcouldneverseemtomeasureupto—the‘realman,’thekindeverywomanwantedandnodudewouldchallengeinafight.ItwaswhatmydadalwayswishedIwouldbe.”
Colbymadeadisgustedsound,makinghisopinionofKeats’sfatherquiteclear.
“Butwhenyouadmittedyouwerebi,itwaslikegivingtheultimatefingertomyfatherandallthepeoplewhothoughtlikehim.Youdidn’tfitinthemold.Youplayedmusic.Youwerecreative.Andyoudidn’tgiveashitifpeopleknewyoufuckedguys.”
“Yes,thatwasexceptionallyappropriatetoadmittooneofmystudents,”hesaiddarkly.
“ItwaswhatIneededtohear,”Keatsreplied.“Andyeah,ItookittoofarwhenItriedsomethingwithyou,butthat’sonme.Astupidkidmakingastupidmistake.Sowhateverguiltyou’reholdingonto,letitthefuckgo.ThereasonwhyIdidn’tputaguntomyheadthatnightwasbecauseofyou.Youshowedmethatnoteveryonehastofitintoacertainbox.Thatarealmanisonewholiveslifeonhisownterms.Andthat’swhatI’vebeendoingsince.Sostopfeelinglikeyouneedtotakemeinlikeastraypet.”
Colby’sjawflexed.“It’snotlikethat.”
“Good,”Keatssaidwithanod.“Thenyoushouldhavenoproblemgivingmearidetomyplaceandlettingmegetbacktomylife.Likeafriend.”
Colbyeyedhimlikehewantedtograbhimandshakehim,butinsteadheletoutalongbreathasifsteelinghimselfagainsttheurge.“I’llbringyouhome.Butyou’recomingbacktomorrowtohearGeorgiaout.Iwon’thaveherdisappointed.Youunderstand?”
ThetoneinhisvoiceremindedKeatsofthewayhe’dissuedcommandstoGeorgiainthefantasy,anditmadesomethinglowinhisguttwist.Herolledhisshoulders,tryingtoshakeoffthefeeling.“Yougotit,Teach.”
“Andstopcallingmethat.”Hepushedawayfromthecounterandgrabbedhiskeysoffahookbythebackdoor.“Afterwhatyouwitnessedtonight,I’drathernotberemindedthatIusedtobeyourteacher.”
Keatsshovedhishandsinhispocketsandtriedtofightthegrin.LookedlikeMr.Responsiblewassurfacingagainandregrettinghowmuchhe’dallowedKeatstoseetonight.ButnowaywasKeatslettingColbyhopbehindthatlineinthesandagain.“Yeah,youprobablyprefersir,orisitmaster?”
Colbypeeredoverhisshoulderwithadon’t-push-itexpression.
“What?”Keatsaskedinnocently.
Colbygrumbledandtuckedhiswalletintohisbackpocket.“Well,nowIknowhowlongyoustoodinthehallway.”
Keatsgrabbedhisbagandguitarcasefromthetableandslungtheformeroverhisshoulder.“Sodoyoureally,youknow,gothere?”
“Gothere?”Colbywasonthemove,headingtowardthefrontofthehouse,obviouslywantingtobedonewiththisconversation.Keatsfollowedhim,knowinghedidn’thavetherighttoaskthequestionsbuttoodamncuriousnotto.
“Imean,wasthatjustafantasygameoristhathowyouarewithwomen?”
Colbylookedtiredwhenhesankontothecouchtopullonhisboots.“It’showIamwithanyonewho’sinmybed.”
“Oh.”Right.Withmen,too.Atthat,unbiddenimagesleakedintohisbrain.“Solikeadomorwhateverit’scalled?”
He’dwatchedporn.Hewasn’tcompletelyunawareofthatsubculture.
Colbysniffedandstood.“Let’sgo,Keats.It’sgettinglate.AndtheonlypeopleIdiscussmysexlifewitharethosewhoarepartofit.Sounlessyou’remakingapassatme,Isuggestyoustoptalkingandgetinthedamntruck.”
Keats’sjawsnappedtogether.
Colbysmirkedashepassedhimonhiswaytothedoor.“Yeah,that’swhatIthought.”
Fuck.Keatsignoredtheflushofheatthatbroughttohisfaceandfollowedhimoutthedoor.
Yeah,forgetthequestions.Thesoonerhegotoutofhere,thebetter.BeingaroundColbyWilkeswasafuckinghazard.
—
ColbywasinatrulyfoulmoodbythetimehistruckrolledtoastopinfrontoftheTexasStarMotel—oractuallytheTexastarMotelsincethefluorescentShadburnedout.Twooverlymade-upwomen—onewiththigh-highbootsandtheotherwearingaspandexdressthreesizestoosmall—weresmokingcigarettesundertheVacancysign,probablytakingabreakinbetweenjohns.Onthecurbinfrontoftheoffice,ahomelessmanwasmutteringtohimselfandpluckingathispants
“Thisiswhereyou’restaying?”Colbyasked,fingerstighteningonthesteeringwheel.
Keatspushedhishairbehindhisears,hisfacemoredrawnthanithadbeenafewmomentsbefore.“It’scheapandtheyusuallyaren’tdicksifI’madaylateonpaying.Otherplaceswould’vealreadypurgedmyroom.”
“Fuck,Keats,yousaidyouhadaplacetostay.”
Hisexpressionhardened.“Ido.It’sherewhileI’msavingupforsomethingmorepermanent.”
“Youcan’t—”
ButKeatswasalreadypullingthedoorhandleandclimbingout.“Thanksforeverything.I’llstopbytomorrowtotalktoGeorgia.”
“Kea—”
Thedoorslammed.
Hardheadedbastard.Colbyhadn’thadadoorshutinhisfaceinalongdamntime.Hehitthebuttontorolldownthewindow.HewantedtoyellatKeatsanddemandhegethisassbackinthetruck.Buthestoppedhimselfjustshort.Heknewhowthatwouldgo.Keatswasanadultandhadmadeuphismind.TheonlycomfortwasthathebelievedKeatswouldkeephiswordtoGeorgia.
HewatchedKeats’sretreatingformuntilsomethingblockedhisview.Oneofthesmokingwomenleanedalonghisopenwindow,gavehimanappraisinglook,andofferedasure-thingsmile.“Ooh,you’reabigone,aren’tya?Lookingforadate,cowboy?”
Hewantedtobarkatherforinterferingwithhisview,buthemanagedtoholdhistongue.Nohookerwaswalkingthestreetsbecauseshewantedtobethere.Thetherapistinhimcouldrewindandseethebrokenlifebehindher.Soheforcedhistoneintoaneasybutclearone.“Nothanks,you’renotmytype,darlin’.”
ShetiltedherheadthenlookedbackoverhershouldertowardwhereKeatshadgone.Sheturnedbackandwinked.“Oh,Igotya.WishIcould’veseenthat,cowboy.Yowza.”
Shegavehiswindowalittletapandstrolledbacktojoinherfriend.Keatshaddisappearedfromview.Motherfuck.
Colbyleanedoverthesteeringwheel,tryingtoseefartherintothelot,buttherewasnoonethere.ThehomelessmanwasamblingovertoColby’struck,obviouslyintentonpreachinghiscrazy-speaktoanother.Colbywasn’tinthemood.Withafrustratedgrunt,heputthecarintogearandpulledoutofthelot.Thiswasn’thisbusiness.Keatswasn’thisbusiness.
ThiswasjustresidualangstaboutfeelingresponsibleforthekidKeatsusedtobe.Thatwasallthiswas.He’dofferedtohelpanditwasn’twanted.Whatmorecouldhedo?Hepressedabuttononhissteeringwheel,activatinghisphone,andcalledanumberhe’donlyprogrammedtonight.
“Hello?”Georgiasaid,hervoicealittlesleepsoft.
“Shit,I’msorry.DidIwakeyou?”
“Lookslikeit.”Thesoundofwatersloshingfilledthebackground.“Butthat’sagoodthing.IthinkIdozedoffinthetub.”
“Thetub?Areyoutryingtotortureme?”heasked,withvisionsofwhatheimaginedGeorgia’snakedbodywouldlooklikeallwetandsoapyfillinghishead.He’donlygottenaglimpseofhertonight.
“Youcalledme,”sheremindedhim.“You’retryingtotortureyourself.”
“Right.”
“Iseverythingokay?”Morewatersounds,andhecouldtellshewasgettingoutofthetub.
“IdroppedKeatsoff.He’satsomeshitholemotelonHinesthatprobablyhasmoredrugdealersandhookersinitthancountylockup,andI’mtryingtotalkmyselfoutofturningaroundanddragginghisassbacktomyhouse,willingornot.”
“Soyou’recallingmetoconvinceyounottodothat?”sheguessed.
“Yes.”
“Turnaroundandgogethim.”
“What?”heasked.“You’resupposedtobetherationalonehere,notrepeatmyowncrazyideasbacktome.”
“Sorry,buthe’sbeingstupidandbullheaded.Someoneneedstotalksomesenseintohim.Especiallysincehe’slikelyjustfreaked-outbecause—well,stayingwithyouwouldprobablybehardforhim.”
“Hard?Why?BecauseIusedtobehisteacher?”
“No,ofcoursenot.”Shemadeanimpatientsound,liketheanswerwasobvious.“Becausehe’sintoyou.”
ColbyglancedatthescreenshowingGeorgia’snumberonitasifhecouldseeherfaceandeffectivelygiveherthewhat-the-fucklook.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?He’sstraight.Andhewasalleyesforyoutoday.”
“Idon’tthinkit’sthatsimple.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Sheletoutaheavysigh.“Look,Iprobablyshouldn’tsayanything.ButlastnightwhenIwas,youknow,watchingyou,Iwasn’ttheonlyonewithafront-rowseat.Keatswalkedin.”
“What?”
“Youwerealreadyonthebedandhadyoureyesclosed,buthewalkedin—anaccident,Ithink,becausehelookedsurprised.Butthenhestayed.Andwatched.”
“Fuckinghell.”ThatwaswhyKeatshadbeensoskittishwhenhe’dbroughthimatowellastnight.EverythingwentannoyinglyhotatthethoughtthatbothGeorgiaandKeatsweretherewithhimlastnight.
“Imean,Idon’tknow,”Georgiasaid,andhecouldtellshewaschoosingherwordscarefully,“maybeImisreadit.Maybehe’sjustintowatching…orlistening,liketonight.”
“That’smorelikely,”hesaid,jerkingthewheeltotherightandexitingthehighwayagain.“He’smadeitclearhe’sstraight.ButwhenIwastalkingwithhimtonight,Igotthesensehe’skindoffascinatedthatI’mkinky.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hepulledtoastoplightandtappedhisheadagainstthebackoftheseat.Hehadnoideaifthevibehe’dgottenfromKeatsearlierwastrulyanuntappedinterestinkinkorifhewasprojectingthatontoKeats,seeingwhathisdirtymindwantedtosee.Ifmytorturediditforher,thenIdon’tmindsuffering…ThesimplestatementhaddrawnallkindsofpicturesinColby’shead.Andithadmadehimlookattheguysittingathistablewithneweyes.“JustafeelingIgot.”
“Wouldyoucare?”
Colbyscoffed.“Ifhe’skinky?Ofcoursenot.That’dactuallymakeiteasier,consideringthethingshemayhearorseelivingwithme.”
“Andifhe’sbi?”sheaskedgently.
Hehithisturnsignalwithmoreforcethannecessary,almostbreakingthearmoffthesteeringcolumn.“He’snot.Butit’snotmybusinesswhatheisorisn’t.”
Shemadesomenoise,buthecouldn’ttellwhetheritwasassentorjudgment.“Justgogethim,Colby.Makesurehe’ssafe.Therestwillworkitselfout.”
Sure,itwould.
Justlikelasttime.Hecouldalmostlookbackoverhisshoulderandseethepavedpathofgoodintentionsstretchedoutbehindhim.Heknewwherethatroadled
Buthewasgoinganyway.THIRTEEN
Keatsfishedouthiskeycardasheapproachedthedoortohisroom,tryingnottolookbacktoseeifColbywasstillintheparkinglot.It’dbeenanassholemovetoboltonhimlikethat,butheneededtogetoutbeforeColbywentintotakeovermodeagain.Yes,tosomeonelikeColby,wholivedinaposhsuburb,thisplaceprobablyseemedlikeathirdworldcountry.ButforKeatsthiswasjustanotherday,anothermotel.Nothingtogetalltwistedupabout.
Heslidhiscardintothereaderandthelightblinkedyellowinsteadofgreen.Hetriedagainandgotthesameresult.“Dammit.”
Heglancedbacktowardthemainoffice,whichwasonthefarsideoftheparkinglot.AaronhadprobablyalreadydeactivatedKeats’scard.Butthathadhappenedbeforeandthelightusuallywentredforthat.Hegrabbedthedoorhandleandgavealittlepush.Thedoorgave—apparently,ithadn’tclickedfullyintothelock.
Thatshould’vegivenhimpause,buthewasintoomuchofarushtogetinside.Heswungthedooropen,sethisbagandguitarcaseonthefloor,andwasgreetedbyaloomingblackmassinthedark.Keatsdidn’thavetimetomakeasoundbeforeafistcamecrashingintothesideofhishead.
Thedoorknobslippedfromhishandasthemomentumfromtheunexpectedpunchpropelledhimtothefloor.Herolledonthedingycarpet,tryingtogettohisfeet,buttheblowhaddazedhim,andhecouldn’tgethisbearingsinthedark.
Asharpkicklandedagainsthisribs.“Beenwaitingforyouallnight,prettyboy.Aaronsaidifyoudidn’tshowupIcouldhaveyourshit.Butthisissomuchbetter.”
“Whatthefuck?”Keatsgroaned.HerecognizedthevoiceinstantlybutnotthereasonforHank’svisit.“YousaidIhaduntiltomorrowtogetyoucash.”
“It’salmostmidnight,asshole.Youhavemymoney?”
“Igotit,”Keatsgroundout.Well,someofit.Hiseyeswereadjustingtothedark,andhetriedtocalculatehowfarhewasfromapossibleweapon.Thelampwouldbewithinreachifhecouldgettohisknees,butthemotelboltedeverythingdown,sothatwouldn’twork.Thephonehadpossibilities.Butifhecouldgethisarmunderthebed…Hegotonhiskneesandliftedhishandinaplacatinggesture,tryingtolooklikehewascooperating.“Justlaythefuckoffandgivemeasecondtogetit.”
ButHank’sdirtybikerbootplantedagainstKeats’schestandshovedhimbackdown.ThewindleftKeats,andhequicklyrealizedHankdidn’tgiveashitaboutthemoney.Hewashighordrunkoffhisassandlookingtobeatsomeoneforentertainment.Super.
AngermovedthroughKeats.Allthisbullshitandhehadn’tevenstolenanythingfromtheguy.Hegrittedhisteeth.Thisidiothadgottenthejumponhim,butthatwouldn’thappenagain.HescrambledtotheleftbeforeHankcouldkickhimagainandrolledtohisfeet.
“Aww,lookatMr.ToughGuyrun,”Hankteased.“IalwaystoldNinayouwereapussy.”
TheinsultechoedbacktowhatKeats’sfatherusedtocallhim,andallrationalthoughtlefthismind.Hecharged,leadingwithhisfists.
Hewasgoingtokillthisfucker.
—
ColbystalkedintothedimlylitofficeoftheTexasStarMotel.AmanwithafrayingCowboyscapandcigarettehangingoutofhismouthlookedupwithdisinterest.“Allbookeduptonight.”
“IneedtoknowwhatroomAdamKeatsisstayingin.”
Themansnuffedouthiscigarette.“Wedon’tgiveoutguestinformation.Companypolicy.”
Right.Colbysuspectedexactlywhattheirpolicywas.Hepulledouthiswallet,pluckedatwentyfromit,andslappeditonthecounter.“Roomnumber.”
Theguy’stobacco-stainedfingerssnatchedthebillandtuckeditinhisfrontshirtpocket.“One-thirty-two.Farleftside.”
“Thanksforthehospitality,”Colbysaid,nothidingthesarcasminhisvoice.Heshovedopentheglassdoor,thericketyhandlenearlycomingoffinhishand,andstrodethroughtheparkinglot.
Afewguysweresittingaroundadinged-upOldsmobile,blastingasongwithsomuchbasshecouldfeelitvibratehischest.Theringleadergavehimanarrow-eyedlook,probablysizinghimuptoseeifthethreeofthemcouldbeenoughtogethiswalletoffhim.Thiswasthepartoftownyouonlywantedtovisitinthemorningbecausethecriminalswereeithersleepingitofforinjail.ButColbyglaredrightback,daringthemtotryit.Hecouldbench-pressoneoftheseassholesforfun.
Oneofthemensmiledinthatain’t-no-thingkindofwayandturnedbacktohisfriends.Good.Messagereceived.
Themotelwasn’tbig,andColbyfoundKeats’sroomwithoutmuchtrouble.Butwhenheliftedhishandtoknock,heheardacrashingsoundfrominsideandangryvoices.Everypartofhimwentonalert.Hegrabbedthedoorhandleandshoved.Thedoorhadn’tclickedintothelockanditswungopeneasily,butwhatwasontheothersidewasmuchworsethanheexpected.Keatswasinatangle,scrappingwithsomegreasy-haireddude,fistsflying.BeforeColbycouldevenprocesswhathewasseeing,theotherguybrokefreeandshovedKeatsontothefloor.TheresoundingthumpofKeatshittingthegroundsnappedColbyoutofhismomentaryshock.
Colbydidn’tthink.Helaunchedhimselfattheguy.Surpriseandsizewereonhisside,andhepropelledthemanintothewall.Thecheapdrywallrattledbehindhimastheguyslammedagainstit.ThemantriedtoswingoutatColby,buthewastoodisorientedtolandapunchwithanyaccuracy.
Colbypressedhisforearmagainsttheguy’sthroat.Keatsmust’vealreadylandedafewgoodpunches.Thedude’snosewasbleedingandhisjawwasstartingtoswell.“Whatthefuckdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”
Theguystruggledandspat.“Thisfuckerstolefromme.I’mheretocollect.”
ColbypeeredoverhisshoulderatKeats.
Keatsgottohiskneesandwipedhisbloodymouthwithhisforearm.“Idon’toweyoushit,Hank.Talktoyourgoddamnedsister.She’stheonestealingfromyou.”
“Youfucking—”Hanklurched,butColbyheldfast.
“IfIwereyou,Hank,I’dstopstrugglingandwatchhowyoutalktomyfriend,”Colbysaidcalmly,eventhoughhereallywantedtoslamthisguytothefloorandbeathimlikeHankhadbeendoingtoKeats.“I’dhatetohavetocrushyourwindpipe.”
AwildlookflashedthroughHank’sdilatedeyesandherearedback.Colbysawtheheadbuttcominghalfasecondbeforeitwould’veconnected.Colbytiltedtotherighttododgetheattempt.Buttheclickofsomethingdeadlyhadhisheartstilling.
Colbyturned,findingKeatsholdingagunwithhandsassteadyasasurgeon’s.Hiseyewasalreadyswellingandhislipwascut.“Hank,youneedtogetthehelloutofhereanddropthis.Idon’toweyouanymoney.Nina’sjustpointingthatshitatmebecauseshe’smadwebrokeup.”
“Liar!”
“Youwanttoarguewithmerightnow?”Keatsasked,voicecold,guntrainedonHank.“YouthinkIhaveanythingtoloseifIpullthistrigger?Lookaround,whatdoIhavetofuckinglose?”
Hank’sAdam’sapplebobbedbeneathColby’sforearm.
“Listen,”Colbysaidinaquietvoice.“Youknowyou’vegotnochanceagainstmeorthatgun.Butthisdoesn’tneedtoturnintoanything.Youwalkoutthatdoor,leavehimthefuckalone,andthisisdone.”
Hankdidn’trespondatfirst,andKeatssteppedcloser.ThatwaswhenHankfinallysawthelightoflogic.“Fine.”
ColbyeyedKeatsandtippedhisheadtowardhim,lettinghimknowthedirectionhewasgoing.ThenheeasedhisforearmfromHank’sthroatandgrabbedtheguy’sbicepinafirmgrip.“Move.”
Hankseemedtogrowafewbraincellsbecausehedidn’ttrytofight.Colbyledhimoutthedoorandusheredhimintotheparkinglotwithafewmorewarningwords.Helethimgobutdidn’ttakehiseyesoffhim.Theguywashypeduponsomethingandcouldmakeanotherrashmoveatanymoment.SoColbyreturnedtothedoorway,walkingbackward,anddidn’tmoveawayuntilHankcrossedtheparkinglotandclimbedintoabeat-upblackMustanganddroveoffwithafuckyouandaone-fingersalute.OnlywhenthetaillightswinkedoutofsightdidColbylethisshouldersrelax.ThebedsqueakedbehindhimasKeatsdroppedontothemattress.
Colbyshutthedoorandlockedit,addingthechaintoitforgoodmeasure,thenwentovertothebed.Keatswashunchedover,holdinghisside,andcursingunderhisbreath.Thegunwasonthesidetable.Colbywenttothegunfirstandcheckedthatthesafetywasbackon.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Keatsasked,lettingoutasoftgroanwhenhetriedtoturntolookatColby.
“Agun,Keats?”
HeflinchedatColby’stone,ormaybeitwasfrompain.“Yeah.It’stheoneIstolefrommyfatherwhenIranaway.I’veneverhadtofireit,butyouhavetoprotectyourself.”
Colbysighedandcroucheddowninfrontofhim.HegraspedKeats’schinandtiltedhisfacetowardthelight.Theskinhadn’tbeenbrokenexceptfortheminorcutonhismouth,buthe’dprobablyhaveablackeyetomorrow.“Doyouneedahospital?”
Keatslickedthespotofbloodoffhislipandgingerlypressedathisribs.“No,Idon’tthinkanything’sbroken.Luckily,hewasn’twearinghissteel-toedbootstonight.”
Colbyrubbedahandoverhisface.“Fuck.”
“Look,it’snotabigdeal,allright?”Keatssaid,thetightnessinhisvoicemakingliesoutofthewords.“Justafewwarwounds.I’llbeallright.”
“Yeah,youwill.Packyourshit.”
“What?”
“You’recominghomewithmeandnevercomingbackhere.”ColbystoodandwalkedtothewindowtomakesureHankdidn’treturnforasecondroundwithhisownweapon.
“Colby—”
“Thisisn’tanegotiation,”hesnapped.
“But—”
Hestaredoutthewindow,tryingtokeepthereinsonhistemper.“Didthatguyhaveareasonforcomingafteryou?”
“No,myexisthrowingmeunderthebus.Ididn’ttakehisstash.”
Helookedhisway.“Youdodrugs,Keats?Sellthem?”
Keats’smovementswereslowandtentativeashepushedupfromthebedtoastand.“No,notanymore.”
“Meaning?”
“IusedtosellweedwhenIfirstgotoutonmyowntomakesomequickcash.ButtheguysIsoldforwantedmetogetintotheharderstuff.Iwasn’tupforthat.Itrytostayawayfromthingsthatwillgetmearrestedordead.”
“Fantastic,”Colbysaidwithexaggeratedenthusiasm.Hestalkedtotheothersideoftheroomandopenedthecloset.Alargeduffelbagwasontheground.Hegrabbeditandtosseditontothebed.“Thenyoushouldhavenoproblemcomingwithme.Becauserightnow,listeningtomeiswhat’sgoingtokeepyoufromgettingarrestedordead.”
Colbyfoldedhisarmsacrosshischestandleanedagainstthewall,daringKeatstochallengehimagainonthis.Butafterabriefstare-off,Keatssworeunderhisbreathandstartedpacking.FOURTEEN
TheridebacktoColby’splacewasaquickandquietone,andKeatswaslookingforwardtocrawlingintobedandpassingout.Hisheadwaspounding,ithurttomove,andhiseyefeltlikeithaditsownheartbeat.Hejustwantedtosleepforafewdays.ButColbyhadotherideasbecausenottwentyminutesafterthey’dgottenbackandKeatshadloweredhimselfontothebed,Colbywasbackintheguestroom.
Colbyleanedoverthebed,frowning.“Liestill.I’mgoingtotakealook.”
“I’mfine.”ButKeats’sfingersdugintothesheetswhenColbydraggedKeats’sshirtupandofftoinspecthisbackandribs.Thesorenesswassettlinginnow,andeventhebrushofcottonoverhisskinfeltliketoomuch.Colbypressedawarmpalmalonghisside,applyingthebarestamountofpressure.
“Anytroubletakingafullbreath?”
“Notreally.”Keatsdemonstratedandmanagedtokeephisgruntofpaintohimself.“Icrackedaribinmiddleschool.Thisdoesn’tfeellikethat.I’llbeallright.”
Colbyleanedback,lookingunmoved.“We’llsee.Ihaveadoctorcomingovertocheckyououtanyway.”
Keatsrolledontohisstomachtooquickly,sendingasharppainuphisside,andhisbreathlefthimforamoment.“What?”
Colbyhookedhisthumbsinthepocketofhisjeans.“Iknowaguywho’swillingtomakeahousecallandwon’tasktoomanyquestions.”
“Youknowaguy?”Keatsasked,adjustingthepillowbeneathhisheadandtryingtokeepthebracingpaineachmovementcausedfromshowingonhisface.“Didyouforgettotellmeyouwereinthemafiaorsomething?”
Colbysmirked,hisdimplemakinghimlooklikeamischievouskid.“Notthemafia.”
Afewminuteslater,thedoorbellrangandColbylefttheroom.Keatspulledtheblanketoverhimselfandlethisfacedropbackontothepillow.Thelastthinghewantedtodowasseeadamndoctor.Hejustwantedtocrashandforgettonighteverhappened.ButColbywasn’tgoingtobeswayed,sohe’dhavetogrithisteethandgetthroughthis.
Footstepsandvoicessoundedinthehall,andColbyreturnedtotheroomwithhisguest.“Keats,thisisDr.Montgomery.He’sgoingtotakealookatyou.Lethim.”
Keatskepthisfaceplantedinthepillow.“Pleasetellmeyoucomebearingfistfulsofpainpills.”
Thedoctorsniffed.“Roughnight,huh?Whydon’tweseewhatwe’redealingwith?”
Keatspeekedoutwithhisgoodeye,surprisedthatthedoctorseemedvaguelyamused.Colbyleanedashoulderagainstthedoorjamb,obviouslyintendingtostayfortheexam,andDr.Montgomery—whowashardtothinkofasadoctorwithhisjeansandfadedOregonDucksT-shirt—cametothesideofthebed.Atleasthehadastethoscopearoundhisneck.Keatsgingerlyrolledontohisbackandmovedtheblanketaside.
Thedocrecoiled.
“Jesus.”Angercrossedhisfeatures.HesentahardlooktowardColby,accusationinhiseyes.“Whatthehelldidyoudo,Wilkes?”
Colbyfrowneddeep,hisgazedartingtoKeatsforabriefsecondbeforereturningtothedoc.“Seriously,Theo?Youknowmebetterthanthat.Theguygotinafight.”
“Oh.”Thedoc’sshoulderssaggedashereleasedabreath.“Sorry.Ijust—”
Colbywaveditoff,thoughhestilllookedannoyed.“Justmakesurehe’sokay.”
Keatspeeredbackandforthbetweenthem,tryingtofigureoutwhatwasgoingon.WhywouldthedoctorthinkthatColbyhadhurthim?
Theexamproceededwithoutmanywordsexchanged.Dr.Montgomerypokedandprodded,askedafewquestionsaboutpainlevels,andcheckedKeats’svitals.Whenheseemedsatisfied,hestoodanddeclaredthatKeatshadbruisedribsandamildallergicreactiontoantbitesbutwasotherwiseokay.Thenthebastardprescribedregularol’ibuprofenbecausehefiguredKeats“couldhandlealittlediscomfort”andprescribingpainmedsoutsidethehospitalcouldraiseeyebrows.
Colbythankedthedoctorandwalkedhimout,leavingKeatsnotmuchbetteroffthanhehadbeenbeforethedoctorcame.WhenColbydarkenedthedoorwayagain,thegrimexpressionhe’dbeenwearingsincehe’dfoundKeatsatthemotelhadsoftenedabit—relief.SoColbyreallyhadbeenworried.ThatconcernburrowedintoKeatsandsettledintoaplacehedidn’twanttoexamine.Heshiftedonthebed.“Well,ahelluvalotofgoodhedidme.Ibuprofenandrest.Icould’vetoldhimthat.AndwheredoeshegetoffknowingwhatIcanandcan’thandle?Thisshithurts.”
“Allthetattoosandthefactthatyou’reatmyplaceprobablygavehimthatidea.”Colbygavehimawrysmile.“Hethinksyou’reamasochistwho’susedtohandlingpain.”
“Whythefuckwouldhethink—”Thenithithim.“Shit.HethinksI’mlike—”
“Mine,”Colbysaid,leaningagainstthewallandlookingwaytooentertainedbyKeats’sreaction.“Hethinksyou’remysubmissive.That’swhyhewaspissedwhenhesawhowhurtyouwere.Hethoughthewascomingovertotendafewbattlescarsafterafunnight.That’susuallywhathe’scalledinfor.”
Keats’slipsparted,theinformationalmosttoomuchtoprocess.“Usually?Youinjurepeopleoften?”
“No.Ihurtpeopleoften,butwiththeirpermission,andIknowwhatI’mdoing.I’veneverhadtocallinTheoforoneofmyown.ButIworkatakinkresortontheweekendsasatrainer,andTheo’sthego-toguyifsomethinggoeswrong.Accidentscanhappen.”
“Sohe’slike—finewithallofthat?”
Colbyshrugged.“He’spartofallofthat.VerypopularwiththefemaledommesatTheRanch.Excellentlytrainedsubmissive.”
Keatsscooteduptheheadboardandrakedahandthroughhisknottedhairwhiletryingtopicturethesmugdoctorkneelingatsomewoman’sfeet.“Idon’tgetit.Theguyseemslikeabossyasshole.Iwouldn’tthinkhe’dbethetype—”
“Thereisnotype,”Colbysaidsimply.“Theman’saworld-classtraumasurgeon.Successful,wellrespected,inchargeinhisday-to-dayworld.Butbehindcloseddoors,helikessomethingdifferent.Whatpeopleareontheoutsidedoesn’talwaysmatchthedesireshidingbeneaththesurface.”
Keatsconsideredthat.“IguessIjusthadanimageofwhatasubmissiveguywouldbelike,andIwasexpectingsomewimpydudewhowantedsomeonetotakecareofhim.”
Colbyrubbedahandalonghisjaw,observinghiminthatwaythatmadeKeatswanttosquirm.“Submissiontakesmorebraverythananythingelse—especiallyforaguybecauseofallthestereotypesoutthere.Puttingcompletetrustinsomeoneelse,someonewhohappenstoenjoyusingimplementsoftortureonyou?Cowardswouldn’tgonearadom.Andyes,adominanttakescareofhisorhersubmissive,butthatgoesbothways.SomeoftheworstfightsI’veseeninmyyearsinthekinkworldaresubmissivesgoingintoprotectivemodewhensomeonetriestomesswiththeirdominant.”
“Iguessit’sjusthardformetounderstandit.”
“Isit?”Colbyaskedwithalittleheadtilt.“Lastnightinthekitchen,yousaidyouwerefinesufferingthetortureoflisteningifitturnedGeorgiaon.Yousaidtherewasn’tmuchyouwouldn’tdotopleaseabeautifulwoman.”
Keatsblinked.“AllImeant—”
Colbyheldupahand,haltinghim.“SoifGeorgiawantedtotieyourhandsbehindyourback,putyouonyourknees,anddemandthatyoumakehercome,thatwouldturnyouoff?”
Keatsgroanedattheimage,atwingeofheatsparkinglow.“Well,fuck,ofcourseitwouldn’t.Butwhatguywouldn’tbeturnedonbythat?”
“Iwouldn’t,”Colbysaidmatter-of-factly.“IhadtodosubmissivetraininginordertobeatraineratTheRanch.Iwasterribleatit.Couldn’tgethardwhenIwasn’tincontrol.”
Keatsstiffened,embarrassmentandangermixingintoone.“Sowhat?You’resayingsomething’swrongwithme?”
“ItellyouIcouldn’tgetitupforsomething,andyouthinkI’msayingsomething’swrongwithyou?”HumorsparkedinColby’seyesandahintofasmileappeared.“Ofcoursenot.Peoplewholiketobetiedupandforcedtodothingsaresomeofmyfavoritepeople.”
Keats’sstomachdipped,andhehatedthathisbodyrespondedevenwhenheknewColbywaspurposelygoadinghim.
“I’monlytryingtohelpyouunderstandthatthere’snothingwrongwithbeingoneortheother,orbothorneither.Youaskedmeearlieraboutmylifestyle.Sinceyou’regoingtobestayingwithmeawhileandprobablymeetingsomeofmyfriends,I’msimplyansweringsomequestions.”
“AndyouthinkI’msubmissive,”hesaidflatly.
Colbycrossedhisarms,impassive.“Idon’tmakeassumptionsaboutanyone,especiallysomeonewho’snevertriedkinkbefore.Nobodyreallyknowsuntiltheyexperimentandfindoutwhatdoesitforthem.Therearen’talwaysneatboxes.Iknowmasochistswhoaredominants.Submissiveswhohatepain.Peoplewhoswitchrolesdependingonwhothey’rewith.It’scomplex.Sono,Ihaven’tslappedsomelabelonyou,Keats.”
“Sothepeopleyoutrainatthatresort,theyalreadyknowwhattheyare?”
“No.Someofthemarestillfiguringitout.Ihelpthemwiththatiftheyneedit.”
Keatsfocusedonfoldingtheedgeoftheblanketintosmallzigzagfolds.“Sothat’swhatgotyouthishouse,huh?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Thisisn’taneighborhoodforateacher’ssalary.”
“Counselor.”
“Whatever.Betitpaysalotlessthanfuckingpeopleforcash.”
Colby’sjawclenched.“I’mnothavingsexformoney.I’matrainer.Idon’tfuckstudents.”
Keatscouldn’thelpthesnortthatescaped.“Yeah,Igotthatmessagethenightyoutossedmeoutofyourhouse.Loudandclear.”
Colbyblewoutabreathandranahandoverhisface,lookingdrawnandexhaustedallofasudden.“Youknowwhat,Keats?PartofmewishesIhadkissedyoubackthatnight.Nomatterhowwrongorinappropriateorillegalitwould’vebeen.Maybethatwould’vekeptyouthereforthenightandoffthestreetthenextdayandthedayafterthat.”HemetKeats’sgaze,regretrestinginhis.“Youweretoogoodakidtohavetotraveldownthisroad.Theworldhadbiggerthingswaitingforyouthanthis.”
Keats’slungsfelttight,andithadnothingtodowithhisribs.Hedidn’twanttothinkaboutthewhatifs.Hedroppedhisgazetothecomforter,memoriesfloodinghim.Memoriesoftheboyheusedtobe,thedreamsheusedtoclingto,andhowhisdadhadfinallycrushedthelastbitofthemthatnight.Rememberinghowdesperatelyhe’dwantedtobelievethatifhemeantsomethingtoColby,thenmaybehewasn’tasworthlessashefelt.“Idon’tevenknowwhatIwould’vedoneifyouhadkissedmeback.It’snotlikeIhadanyideawhatIwasdoing.”
“Would’veneverhappenedanyway.”
Keatssmirked,stillstaringatthecomforter.“You’rebadformyego.Ihadnoshot,huh?”
Colbymadesomeindecipherablesoundandmovedtowardthedoor.WhenKeatsdaredtolookup,Colby’sbackwastohim,hishandbracedonthedoorframe.“No,Keats.Youwereakid.Ididn’tthinkofyouthatway.Notbackthen.”
Withthat,Colbydisappearedintothedarkhallwayandshutthedoorbehindhim,leavingKeatsstaringafterhim.Notbackthen.Butnow…
Belowthecovers,Keats’sbodystirredtoattention.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Heplantedapillowoverhisfaceandgroaned.FIFTEEN
“Sohow’ditgo?”
Georgiasippedhercoffeeandtriednottosmileattheeagerfacestaringbackatherthroughhercomputerscreen.“Areyouaskingasmytherapistormyfriend?”
Leeshasatupstraighterinherofficechair,pushedherdreadsbehindhershoulders,andputonherreadingglasses.“Therapistfirst.Wereyouabletocompleteyourgoal?”
“Yes.Imadeitintohishousewithnopanicattack.”
“Anxietylevelfromonetoten?”
“Ithitaboutaseven,buthetalkedmedown,helpedmetobreathethroughitandtodistractmyselffromthenegativethoughts.”
Sheliftedabrow—hermildlyimpressedface.“Intuitive.”
“He’saschoolcounselor.”
“Oh,”shesaid,shiftingintoherfullyimpressedface.“Well,thathelps.”
“Yeah,he’sreallyunderstandingaboutit.Iwasabletostayawhilewithoutanyoftheanxietycomingback.”
“Awhile,huh?Didyoutellhimaboutthewatchingyou’vebeendoing?”
Shesethercupdown.“Healreadyknew.Apparently,Iwasn’tquiteasstealthyasIthought.Cancelmyapplicationtobecomeaninternationalspy.”
“Heknew?”Leesha’sgreeneyeswentbig.“Sohe…”
“Yes,heletme.He”—Georgia’sfaceheated,butshepushedon—“hesaidhelikedthatIwaswatching.”
“Ho-leeshit.”Shetookherglassesoff,apparentlyswitchingoutoftherapistmodeintoBFFmode.“Thatiseitherexceptionallycreepyorfreakinghot.”
“Hot,”Georgiasaidwithasolemnnod.“Believeme.So.Hot.”
“Damn,girl.”Leeshaglancedtotheside,probablydouble-checkingthatherofficedoorwasstillshut.“Sowhathappenedafterthatbigrevelation?”
Georgiasippedhercoffeeagainandgaveashrug.“Youknow,stuff.”
“Oh,hellno.”Leeshaleanedclosertohercamera.“Youcan’tgetvagueonmenow,woman.Whathappened?”
Sheattemptedanonchalantexpression.“Oh,youknow,Imight’vebrokenmydryspell.”
Leesha’sfacelitandshesmackedahandonherdesk.“Hotdamn!Really?That’sahugebreakthrough—huge!”
Georgialaughed.“Oh,itdefinitelywas.Huge,thatis.”
Leeshablinked,obviouslysurprisedtohearhermakeajoke.ItwassomethingoldGeorgiawould’vedone.ButLeesharecoveredquicklyandgrinnedwide.“Luckybitch.”
“Soyou’renotgoingtolecturemeonwhyIshouldn’tsleepwithaguyonthefirstdateorhowIshouldtakethingsslow?”
Shesnorted.“Thiswasn’texactlyafirstdate.Ifheknewyouwerewatching,you’vebeensomewhatintimateformonths,evenifitwasthroughglass.Andhonestly,Ithinksomethingcasualandfunwithaguycouldhelp.Beyondneedingface-to-faceconnectionswiththeoutsideworld,trustingsomeoneenoughtobesexualwiththemisabigstepinrepairingthedamagePhillipleftyouwith.Itshowsprogress.”
“Mescrewingmyhotneighborisprogress?Ilikeyourversionoftherapy,Dr.Richards,”sheteased,tryingtokeepthemoodlight.Shewantedtohaveafunchatwithherfriend.Shedidn’twanttothinkabouttreatmentplansandgoalsandhowColbycouldfitontothatlist.Shedidn’twanthersexyflingtobesomethingtocheckoffonalisttoshowthatshewasA-OKagain.
“Thisisn’tDr.Richards’sadvice.Thisisadvicefromthegirlwho’sknownyousincesixthgradeandwantstoseeyouhappyandhealthyagain.”
ThattookGeorgia’ssmiledownanotch.“Iknow,Leesh.I’mtrying.”
“Iknowyouare,”shesaid,hervoicesympathetic.“Thisishardwork,andI’mproudthatyou’repushingyourself.Keepsteppingoutsidethosecomfortzones,andwe’llgetyouintothatcourtroom.Thenyoucanputallthisshitbehindyou.”
Putitbehindher.Likeit’djustbeenabadmarriageormisguidedcareerdecisionorsomething.Thatgoalsoundedlikeapipedreamifevertherewasone.
Somescarswouldneverdisappearnomatterhowmuchsalveyouputonthemorhowmuchtimeyouletpass.Butmaybeshecouldlearntolivewiththosemarksonher.Alifethatdidn’tinvolvehidinginsideherhouselikesomescared,helplessthing.
Ofallthethings,thatwaswhatshehatedthemost.Thehelplessness.Hersisterwouldn’tevenrecognizeher,lookingdownfromwherevershewas.Ifshewerestillhere,she’dbegivingGeorgiaahelluvatalking-toforbeingsuchacoward.
Ofcourse,ifhersisterwerestillhere,Georgiawouldn’tbeinthissituationinthefirstplace.HerdoctorshadsaidthetraumaoflosingRaleighandfindingoutthetruthabouthowherfriendTysonhaddiedhadbeenwhatsetoffherbreakdown.Whenshe’dturnedinevidenceonPhilliptothecops,Georgiahadalreadybeendealingwiththecoldrealizationthatthepolished,successfulmanshe’ddatedwasasick,dangerousperson.
Whenshe’dbrokenupwithhim,ithadtakenonlyaweekbeforethephonecalls,letters,anddrive-byshadstarted.First,it’dbeenthesweet,please-take-me-backapproach.Butwhenshe’dignoredhim,it’dturneduglyandviolentquick.She’dprotectedherself,hadtakenprecautions.Butshehadn’tthoughttoconsiderherfamily.AndPhilliphadknownwhatwoulddevastatehermorethananything.Raleigh,herbabysister,dead.EverythinghadfallenapartinGeorgia’sworldafterthat.
Chilledbythememory,GeorgiawrappedupherconversationwithLeeshaandpromisedtocheckinlaterintheweek.ShehadnodoubtLeeshawouldendthecallandimmediatelysendtheemailupdatetothelawyer.Whatwoulditsay?
DearMrs.Ramirez,Clientleftthehouseandscrewedherneighbor.Wearemakinggreatprogressonhertreatmentplanandareconfidentshewillbereadytotestifyincourtwhenthetimecomes.
Georgiasnortedtoherself.Ofcourse,Leeshawouldn’tgivethoseexactdetails.Beyondconfidentialityrules,shewouldprotectGeorgia’sprivacyasafriend.Butstill,Georgiahadthedistinctfeelingofbeingobservedlikeacircusanimal—everyonepeeringinandwonderingifshe’dbeabletoperformforthemasseswhenitwastime.
Herdoorbellrang,startlingherfromherthoughts.Shepushedbackfromherdeskandheadedtothefrontdoor,thefamiliarrushofadrenalinefillingherasshecrossedthebottomfloorofherhouse.Shehatedthatitwassuchahairtrigger.ItwasprobablyjustasalesmanorBiblepusherandalreadyherbodywasgoingallfight-or-flight.Butwhenshegottothedoorandpeekedthroughthepeephole,therewasafamiliarprofileinview.
Nervesofadifferentsortcrackledthroughher.Shetookabreathandunlockedthedoor.Bythetimeshepulleditopen,she’dmusteredupsomesemblanceofacasualsmile—oratleastshehopeditlookedcasual.Shedidn’tfeelcasual.“Hey,there.”
“Hey.”Keatstuckedhishandsinhisbackpocketsandliftedhisfacetoher.“Youwantedtotalktome?”
“OhmyGod.”Shesteppedontotheporch,andherhandwenttopushhishairawayfromhisblackenedeye.“Areyouallright?”
“I’mfine,”hesaidgruffly.Buthisgazeflaredwhensheranathumbalonghisswollencheekbone.
Shequicklyloweredherhand,realizingthemovehadcomeacrossmoreintimatethanshe’dintended.“Whathappened?”
“HadawelcomingcommitteewhenIshowedupatmyplacelastnight.Kindofalongstory.TheotherguylooksworsethanIdo,atleast.”Heshrugged.“It’snotabigdeal.I’malittlebangedupbutnothingtofreakoutabout.”
“I’mguessingColbyfreakedout,”shesaid,resistingtheurgetocheckhimheadtofootforinjuries.
KeatssmirkedandglancedtowardColby’splace.“Understatement.IhaveafeelingifIhadn’tcomehomewithhimlastnight,hewould’vetiedmeupandtossedmeinthebackofhistruck.”
Shecrossedherarms.“Idon’tblamehim.Iwould’vedonethesame.”
Keats’sgazehoppedtohersatthat,greeneyessparking.“Yeah?Imight’veenjoyedthat.Nexttime,youcomeandgetmeinstead.”
Shelaughed.“Therewon’tbeanexttimebecauseyou’renotgoingback.”
Hisplayfulexpressioncloudedover.“Well,I’mnotgoingtofreeloadoveratColby’sforever,nomatterhowmuchhesayshedoesn’tmindmestayingwithhim.”
“Nofreeloadingnecessary,”shesaid,takingastepbackintoherhouseandpushingthedooropenwider.“Becausesoonyou’llbeabletopayColbyrent.I’mgoingtoofferyouajob,andyou’regoingtotakeit.”
Hiseyebrowsarched.“Iam?”
“Yes.”
“O-kay,”hesaid,doubtlingeringinhisvoice.“Youneedremodelingdoneorsomething?”
“Ineedalotofthingsbutnotremodeling.”
“Alotofthings,huh?”Hisattentiontraveleddownherbodyandupagain,notbotheringtohidehisperusal,andthenhegrinned.“Whatkindofjobisthisexactly?”
Shepressedherlipstogether,attemptingasternlook,butfailedwhenhermouthtwitchedupatthecorners.“Stopflirting,newhire.”
Hechuckledandwalkedpastherintothehouse.“Withyou?Notpossible.AndIhaven’tsaidyesyet.”
GeorgiabreathedthroughtheshimmerofanxietythatarosefromKeatsenteringherhome.Goddamnherbrainanditscrossedsignals.Butafterafewsecondsoffocusingonherresponses,shewasabletorecapturethecalm.Eachtimehecameoveritwouldgeteasier.Thatwaswhatshehadtokeepremindingherself.“Youwill.”
“Confidentwoman.Ilikeit.”Hestrolledintoherlivingroomandsankontohercouch,totallyatease.Novisitorhadeversatinherlivingroomhere.Butsomehowhisnonchalancehelpedhertonotpanicabouthispresence.“Sowhatisityouneed?”
Sheshutthedoorbehindher,headedintothelivingroom,andsatinthearmchairfacingthecouch.“Officework,mostly.Easytasksbutthingsthatcanbetimesucksforme.AndIneedhelpwitherrands.I’mnot—”Shewastemptedtomakesomelameexcuseabouthowshedidn’thavetimetorunerrands,buthe’dseenherpanicattackyesterday.She’dbefoolingnoone.“I’mnotgoodwithleavingthehouse.It’sapainintheass,butIcan’tseemtofixit.Soit’dbeahugehelpifIhadsomeonewhocouldtakestufftothepostofficeorpickupthingsatthestore.”
Heshiftedonthecouch,hisfingersrubbingalonghissidelikeithurt,butsaidnothing.
“Itwouldonlybeparttime,butitcouldgetyoustartedandwouldgiveyouachancetolookforsomethingfulltimeintheoffhours.Plus,Icouldhelpyouputtogetherarésumé.I’mgoodatthose.”
“Areyoumakingupapositionforme?”heasked,histonegrim.
Sheshookherhead.“Notatall.Iwaslookingforavirtualassistantalreadyfortheofficestuff.ButIfiguredthiscouldbeevenbetterbecauseyou’rehereandcouldhelpwithphysicalthingsaswell.”
Hesmirkedatphysicalthings
AndshehadtowonderifithadbeenaFreudiansliponherpart.Maybethiswasn’tawiseidea.Sheshouldnotbehavinganyinappropriatethoughtsabouthertoo-young,too-good-lookingfutureemployee.Especiallywhenshe’dsleptwiththeguy’shousematelastnight.“You’reshameless.”
Butshewasreallydirectingthataccusationatherself.
“Agreed,”hesaidwithoutremorse.“Butthissoundslikekindofacop-outforyou.”
Sheblinked.“What?”
Hestretchedanarmoutoverthebackofthecouch,takingupthespacelikeheowneditandlookingolderthanhisyears.“Foryourpanicattacks.Insteadoffacingit,you’lljustsendmeinstead.Soundslikecheating.”
Herspinestraightened.“It’snotthatsimple.”
Hefrowned.“Orthatcomplicated.”
Thattickedheroff.“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutwhatI’mgoingthrough,Keats.”
“Maybenot.ButIprobablyunderstandmorethanyouthink.Iknowwhatpanicattacksare.WhenIwasinjuniorhigh,myfathermademejoinasummerfootballcamphewascoaching.Ihatedit.Hated.Alltheworstofthekidswhotormentedmeinschoolwerepartofthecampandnowinsteadofjustteasingme,theycouldcrushmeonthefieldinthespiritofthegame.AndwhentheydidandIcouldn’tgetupquickenough,notonlywouldtheylaugh,butmydadwouldcallmeapussyinfrontofeveryone,takeoffmyjerseyandreplaceitwithapinkT-shirtthatsaidPrincess,thenmakemerunlapsforlackofeffort.”
Herstomachturned.
“I’dmakemyselfsickandhavepanicattacksovershowingup.IresearchedeverytricktherewastomakingmyselflooklikeIwassicksomydadwouldn’tdragmeoutthere.Ofcourse,withhim,noneofitworked.Icouldn’tsleeporeat,thinkingaboutwhatI’dfacethenextday.Thedreadwaskillingme.Itwasruiningmywholesummer—theonlytimeIusuallyenjoyed.Sothethirdweek,IdecidedthatI’dstopworryingoverwhatcouldhappenandmaketheworsthappen—takethecontrolback.Ishoweduptopracticeearlyinthatstupidshirtandtoldthosedouchebagstomakegoodontheirthreatsorfuckoff.”
“Didtheybackdown?”
Hemadeadismissivenoise.“Noway.Theyjumpedme.Sixonone.ButIgotwhatIwantedafterall.Afterknockingouttheringleaderwithanexcellentuppercut—whichwasawesome—Igotshoveddownsomebleachersandbrokemyankle.Couldn’tplayanysportsformonths.Ispenttherestofthatsummerlearninghowtoplayguitarwhilemydaddisappearedeverydaytocamp.Best.Summer.Ever.”
“God,Keats,that’sawful.”
“Probably,butittaughtmethatbeingscaredisusuallyworsethanwhatyou’rescaredof.Facingitsucks,butitsuckslessthanalwaysworryingaboutthewhatifs.”
Shesighed.Shecouldtellhimthatherfearwaswellfounded,butitwasn’treallyanymore.Phillipwasinanotherstate.Allthatwasleftwastheresidual,nebulousterrorofwhatcouldhappen.“Iknowitprobablydoesn’tseemlikeit,butIamworkingonitandtakingsmallsteps.Thefactthatyou’rehereinthehousewithmeisone.AndlastnightwasthefirsttimeIwentintosomeoneelse’shouseinoverayear.”
Shehadnoideawhyshewasadmittingallthis,butKeatshadthatwayabouthim.Hehadafaceyou’dconfessdeep,darksecretstobecauseyoucouldtellhe’dkeepthem.
“Sowhydon’tIhelpyoukeepthatup?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“I’llrunerrandsforyou,butonlyifyoucomewithme.”
Herchesttightened.“Idon’tthink—”
“Thinkofmelikeyourpersonalbodyguard.I’lllookoutforyouandifyoustarttopanic,Icangetyououttothecarbeforeanyoneknowssomething’swrong.Andifyoudon’tpanic,I’llproviderewards.”
Shecouldn’thelpbutsmirkatthat.“Rewards?”
“Yes,I’mallaboutthepositivereinforcement,George.CanIcallyouGeorge?”
“Uh…”
Buthedidn’twaitforananswer.“Youknow,cookies.Chocolate.Full-bodymassages.Rewards.”
Shelaughed.
“What?”heaskedinnocently.
Sherolledhereyes.“I’mnotsureHRwouldapproveofanemployeegivinghisbossamassage.”
“ArewereallygoingtotalkaboutHR?IwasoneroomoverlastnightwhileyouandColbyscrewedonthecouch.Ithinkwe’vejumpedthatshark.”
Sherubbedherhandoverhereyes,chagrinrushingtothesurface.“Right,yeah,I’msorrythingsgotalittle…outofhand.”
“I’mnot.”Heleanedforwardandbracedhisforearmsonhisthighs,meetinghergaze.“Lastnightwashot.Nooneforcedmetolisten.Icould’vemindedmyowndamnbusiness.Butlet’snotpretendthatweweren’tallinonit.Y’allwantedmetohear.Iwantedtohear.Andhonestly,ifgivingmethisjobmeanswe’regoingtohavetobeallformalwitheachother,thenyoucankeepit.”
“What?”
“Ilikeyou,George.AndI’mhappytoworkforyou—thankfultobeofferedthechance,believeme.ButI’mnotgoodatformalandpolite.Iworkhard,butwhatyouseeiswhatyouget.”
Shewetherlips,hisdeclarationmakingherfeelalittleoffbalance.
“Webothalreadyknowmoreabouteachotherthanweshould,right?Sopretendingwedon’twouldbebullshit.You’resleepingwiththeguyI’mstayingwith,andhehappenstobekinky,soI’mguessinglastnightwon’tbethefirsttimeIseeorhearmorethanIshould.”
Sheleanedbackinthearmchair,herneckburning.“Maybethiswasabadidea.Youdon’thavetodoanyworkforme.I’mputtingyouinanawkward—”
Hewasoffthecouchinablink.Hewentdownononekneeinfrontofherandtookherhands.“Hey,stop.DoIlooklikeI’mweirdedoutbythisorbeingforcedtobehere?”
Shestareddownathim.Eventheblackeyecouldn’tmarhowdamnbeautifulhewas.Shehadthesuddendesiretopushherfingersthroughhishair,tofeelthosestrandsagainstherskin.Shit.ShepulledherhandsfromKeats’sandtuckedtheminherlap.Thisplanwasfeelingmoredangerousbytheminute.
“Listen.I’mheretohelphoweveryouneed.Idon’tcarewhatthejobis.Ifit’shardlaboroutintheyardorlickingenvelopesororganizingyoursockdrawer,that’sfine.I’min.Butcan’twejustleaveallthecrapthatnormallycomesalongwithjobsaside?I’mnotgoodatfakingshit.”Hemadeacirclearoundhismouthwithhisfinger.“Nofilter.”
“Keats,”shesaid,notsurehowtorespond.
Hebracedhishandsonthearmsofherchairbutstayedonhiskneeinfrontofher,likesomeknightreadytodeclarehisloyaltytothequeen.“Look,I’malreadydealingwithColbytreatingmelikeI’mstillakidhalfthetime.Honestly,iflastnighthadn’thappened,Idon’tcarehowmeanhewould’vegottenatthemotel,Iwouldn’thavecomebackhomewithhim.Idon’tneedorwantanotherparent.Butlastnightshowedmethathe’scapableofseeingmeasanadult.SoI’mgivingthisashotforafewdays,eventhoughIknowhe’sgoingtoslipupandtreatmelikeI’mstillsixteenattimes.ButIdefinitelydon’twanttoleavethateverymorningandcomeoverhereformoreeggshellwalking.”
Sheletoutalongbreath.Couldshedothiswithouttheformalwallsandlinesmarkingtheboundaries?Theformalityandcontrolwerewhatshe’dhopedwouldgetherthroughtheanxietyofhavingsomeoneinherspace.
“Okay,”shesaidfinallyandmethiseyes.“Nofaking.Thisdoesn’thavetobeformal.Butifatanytime,youfeellikethisisn’tworkingoryoufeelawkwardoruncomfortable,youtellme.Nohardfeelings.”
Hislipscurved.“Deal.AndifIsuckasanassistant,youfiremyass.Also,fortherecord,I’mexceptionallyhardtomakeuncomfortable.Justsoyouknow.”
Shecockedhereyebrowathim.“Colbymakesyouuncomfortable.”
“Colbymakesmecrazy.There’sadifference.”Hestoodandwentbacktohisspotonthecouch.“Andit’sonlybecausewehavehistory.”
“Beyondbeingteacher/student?”
Alittlecolorcametohisface.“Nothinglike…inappropriateorwhatever.Ijust—Iwasafucked-upkid,andColbywastheonlypersonIcouldturntobackthen.Theonlyonewhogaveashitaboutme.WhenIranawayfromhome,IleftColbywithalotofrumorsandcraptodealwith.Itwasadickmoveonmypart.Butsomehow,Colbythinksitwasallhisfault.Ican’tseemtogetthatdumbideaoutofhishead.Ithinkallofthisrightnowissomeself-imposedpenanceorsomething.”
“Ormaybehejustcares.”
Hesniffed.“He’dbestupidtowastethatconcernonme.Butifmestickingaroundforawhilemakeshimfeelbetteraboutit,thenI’lldoit.IowehimmorethanIcouldeverpaybackalready.IlethimthinkIwasdead,andheblamedhimself.Ididn’trealizehe’ddothat,butlookingback,itwasafuckingcruelthingtodototheonepersonwho’dtriedtohelpme.”
Herthroattightenedatthethought.ShewasstillgettingtoknowColby,buteventhroughcasual,neighborlyconversations,shecouldtellthathisstudentswereeverythingtohim.Shecouldn’timaginehowharditmust’vebeenonhimbackthen—theyoungteacherlosingafavoritestudent,onehe’dtriedtohelp.
“Youdoowehim,”sheagreed.“AndIhaveafeelingit’sgoingtotakemorethanhangingoutathishouseforafewweekstopayoffthatdebt.”Shestoodandgrabbedablanknotebookoffthecoffeetable.ShetossedittoKeats.“Startwritingdownanyjobexperiencesyou’vehadandanyrelevantskillssowecangetstartedonthatrésumé.ThebestapologyyoucangivetoColbyistoshowhimthatyou’regoingtoaccepthishelpandtakethisopportunitytogetonapaththatdoesn’tinvolvegettingjumpedinahotelroom.Youknowhe’snotgoingtoletyoumoveoutuntilhethinksyou’resafe.”
Keats’sexpressionturnedsour.“Thedudehasamajorcaretakercomplex.”
Shelaughed.“Hedoes.Butthat’spartofhischarm.”
Hetiltedhishead.“Yougonnalethimtakecareofyou?”
Shegrimacedandwalkedtowardheroffice,whichwasactuallythesmalldiningareathatwasopentothelivingroom.“Idon’tneedanyonetotakecareofme,Keats.WhatColbyandIaredoingisjustforfun.”
Keatsturnedaroundonthecouch,bracinghisforearmsonthebackofittofaceher.Hissmileturnedchallenging.“Yougonnaletmetakecareofyou?”
Shefrowned.
“BecauseI’mgoingtoearnmykeep,George.Tomorrow,we’regoingonourfirsterrandtogether.Justthinkhowbadassyou’lllook—abodyguardwithablackeye.Noonewoulddarefuckwithyou.”
Sherolledhereyesevenasnervesknottedherstomach.Butshedidn’tsayno.
Shehadafeelingshewouldn’ttellKeatsnoformuch.SIXTEEN
Georgia’smusclesachedfromallthewritingshe’ddonethisafternoon.Keatshadstuckaroundforawhile,helpinghergetorganizedandlearningherfilingsystemonthelaptopshe’dgivenhim.She’dbeenworriedthathavinghimtherewouldbeacompletedistraction,buthewassurprisinglygoodatbeingquietandsoonthey’dbothzonedintotheirwork.
Butshecouldtellafterawhilethatallthesittingwasgettingtohim.Whateverinjurieshehadfromthefightwerebotheringhim.He’dwavedheroffwhenshe’daskedhimaboutit,butshe’dseenhimpopopenabottleofibuprofenafewhoursinandhadsenthimhometorest.He’dagreedtoleaveonlyifshepromisedthattomorrowshe’datleastattempttogooutonanerrandwithhim.
Shewanderedintothekitchen,planningtofigureoutwhatshewantedtothrowtogetherfordinnerwhenherphonerang.Shestrodebackintothelivingroomandgrabbedherphoneoffherdesk,smilingwhenshesawthenameflashacrossthescreen:ForaGoodTimeCall.
“Hello?”
“Ican’tseemtostopthinkingaboutyoutoday.ButI’vebeentryingtobegoodandnotinterruptyourworkday.Stillbusy?”
Sheranherteethoverherbottomlip.Forsomereason,thesoundofhisvoicemadeherfeellikeaschoolgirl.“Iwasjustwrappingupanddecidingwhattodofordinner.”
“I’vegotdinnercovered.Take-outfromBarcelonaawaits.”
“Youdidn’thaveto—”
“OfcourseIdidn’t,butIdid.You’recomingovertonight,andIrefusetosubjectyoutomycooking.”
“WhosaidIwascomingover?”
“Iwasn’tasking,gorgeous.Ihaveplansforyou,soyou’llbehere.Butfirst,Ineedyoutogoupstairstoyourguestroom.”
Sheglancedatthestairs.“Why?”
“Upstairs,Georgia.Gotothewindow.”
“Right.”Shewasalreadyforgettingthatthiswasthegameshe’dagreedto.Herheartbeatpickedupspeedassheheadedupthestairs.Whenshepulledbackthecurtainatthewindow,shefoundColbylookingrightbackatherfromhisroom.“Well,hello.”
Heliftedahandingreeting.Shecouldn’ttellifhewassmilingwithoutherbinocularstozoomin,butshegotthesensethathewas.Itwasabizarrefeelingtobeatthiswindowandnothidinginthedarkbutstandingthereproudly.
“Now,Iknowyou’vewatchedmeforalongtimeandhaveseenalot.AndIknowyou’vedoneyourresearch.SoI’msureyouhavesomeideaofwhatyou’dliketotryoutandexperience.”
“Maybe.”Thelistwaslong.Butshewasn’tsureshehadthegutstoannouncethatlist.
“Good.Now,haveyoueverseenthatshowLet’sMakeaDeal?”
“Theonewherepeopledressupinweirdcostumes?”
“Yep.That’swhatwe’regoingtoplayrightnow.Let’sseehowmuchyou’vepaidattention.Behinddoornumberone”—hepointedataclosedclosetdoor—“wehavethingsthatwillhelpyourmindshutdownbutrequireabravesoul.”
Shesquintedatthedoor,tryingtorememberwhatshe’dseenhimgetfromthere.Thatwaswherebiggeritemswouldprobablybestored.Thefloggersandridingcropsmostlikely.“Okay.”
“Doornumbertwo,whichistechnicallynotadoor,butachestofdrawers,holdsthingsthatwillbringintensefocusbutrequirethemosttrust.”
Sherubbedherlipstogether.Focus.Maybebondageequipment,maybeitemsforpain,too.Becausesheguessedpaincouldmakeyourmindshutdownorfocusonlyonthat.“Ihaveafeelingthesearetrickoptions.”
Hegaveasoftlaugh.“Thegoodnewsis,unliketheTVshow,noneofthemaregoingtohaveayear’ssupplyofhotdogs.”
“Howaboutanevening’ssupplyoforgasms?”
“Thatcoulddefinitelybeapossibility.”
Shegrinned,morethanalittlerelievedthateventhoughtheyweregoingtotryoutthispower-plaything,Colbywasapproachingitinalightheartedwaywithher.Sheknewhedidn’talways,sosheappreciatedthathewasattunedtowhatwouldn’tscareheroff.“Isthereadoornumberthree?”
“Doornumberthreeisalinenclosetinthebathroom.Thatholdsonlythingsforpleasure,butthoserequirethemostpatience.”
Huh.Nowthathadtobethetrickonebecausewhowouldn’tpickthat?Shepicturedwhatcouldbeinthere.Vibrators,dildos,massageoils—allthingsthatweregreatintheirownright.Butthemoreshethoughtaboutit,themoreshefoundherselfnotallthatexcitedbyjustthat.She’dusedthosethings,beendownthatroadalready.ThereasonshewassodrawntoColbywasthatitwasn’tallaboutthesweetsideofpleasure.
“So,gorgeous,thisistheonedecisionyougettomaketonight.Iwantyoutowritedownthenumbersomewhereonyourbody.WhenItakeyoutomyroomafterdinner,I’llknowyourdecision.Doyouunderstand?”
“Ido.”Sodidherbody.Alreadyshefeltwarmer,flushed,andwoundup.
“Good.Nowcomeoverfordinner.Wearadressandnothingbeneathit.”
Shelickedherdrylips.“WhataboutKeats?”
“He’salreadyeatenandisinhisroom,saidhewantedtoworkonhisrésumé.Heknowsyou’recomingover,soIthinkhe’smakinganefforttogiveusprivacy.”
“Won’thestillhearthings?”
“Maybe.Idon’tthinkheminds.Butifyou’reworried,Icanalwaysgagyou.”
“No,nothingthatmakesmefeellikeIcan’tbreathe.It’stooclosetohowIfeelwhenIpanic.”
“Understood.Andwhilewe’retalkingaboutit.Yoursafewordisred.Ifyouneedtostopforanyreason,yousaythatword,andIstopnomatterwhat.AndlikeIsaidlastnight,thewordstopwillgetmyattention,too.Youalwayshavethepowertoshutthingsdown.”
“Okay,”shesaid,noddingeventhoughheprobablycouldn’tseethatfromallthewayontheothersideofthefence.Thesafewordreallydidmakeherfeelbetter.She’dlearnedwhattheymeantfromherresearchandknewthatitwasrespectedaboveallelse.ShehadnodoubtColbywouldhonoritifshecalledherword.
“Youhavefifteenminutestogetdressedandoverhere.Thenweeat.Afterthat,you’reallmine.”
Sheshivered.“Ican’twait.I’veheardBarcelonahasexcellentfood.”
Helaughed.“Smartass.Youjustearnedanextraswatforthatone.”
“Lookforwardtoit.”
Withthat,shehungup,shuthercurtains,andcollapsedontotheguestbedwithasmilesobigithurtherface.
Allthesemonthsshe’dbeensittinginthedark,watchingtheerotictableausofColbyWilkesthroughthatwindow,wonderingwhatitmustfeelliketobesofree,howheadyitmustfeeltobethecenterofthatman’sattention.Tonight,she’dfinallyfindout.
Tonightshe’dbehis.
—
Keatsshouldputinhisearbuds.Thevoicesandlaughterfromthekitchendriftedthroughhisdoorlikeasirencall.HeknewColbyandGeorgiawereonadate.Colbyhadn’ttoldhimtomakehimselfscarce—tellinghimthiswashisplacerightnow,too—butKeatsknewit’dbeadickmovetohangaroundandinserthimselfintotheirevening.Butpartofhimwasdyingtogointhere.
Somethingaboutthosetwodrewhimlikeamosquitointhesummer,dazedbythebuzzingelectriclightthatwouldzapitdead.HeknewitwasbadforhimtoevenpayattentiontowhatwasgoingonbetweenGeorgiaandColby.Hehadagoodthinggoingatthemoment.Georgiahadgivenhimajobtohelphimgetonhisfeetwhilehelookedforsomethingmorepermanent.Colbywasgivinghimaplacetostaywherehedidn’thavetosleepwithadamngununderhispillow.He’dbestupidtofuckitupwithdumbthingslikehislustforGeorgiaandhismixed-upfeelingsforColby.
Buthisgoodsensewasfightingabattlewithallthethingsthelastfewdayshadkickedup.Andbeforelong,hefoundhimselfclimbingoffthebedandheadingoutofhisroom.Hewasthirsty.Thatwasall.Yeah,andifhecouldconvincehimselfofthat,hereallywasasstupidasoneofthosemosquitoes.
Hewaslostinhiswhirlingthoughts,walkingwithhisheaddown,whenhenearlycareenedrightintoGeorgia.
“Whoa.”Sheputherhandsuptoblockhim.
Keatstriedtostop,buthismomentumcarriedhimforward,andhehadtograbherarmstokeepfromknockingherover.“Shit.”
Herhandslandedagainsthischest,andheheldherthere.Forasecond,therewassilence,bothofthemlookingateachother,herbrowneyessearchinghis.TheoverwhelmingurgetokissherhitKeatslikeafisttothegut.Hemanagedtoforceouta“Sorry.”
Shebackedupastepandloweredherhands,smoothingthemoverherdress.“Noproblem.Everythingallright?Youlooklikeyou’reinahurry.”
“I—”Heshrugged,feelingallkindsofawkwardnow.“Iwasthirsty.”
Hereyebrowquirked.
“Reallythirsty.”
Lame.Solame.
“Okay.”
Hecouldn’tkeephiseyesfromroamingdownward.Georgialookedsodifferentthanshehadafewhoursagowhenhewasworkingatherhouse.Thecasualjeansandsweaterhadbeentradedinforawine-reddresswithadeepVneckline.Hisgazelingeredandasifoncue,hernippleshardenedbeneaththethinfabric.Henearlygroanedaloud.Nowayshewaswearingabra.
Heimaginedcrowdingheragainstthewallandslidinghishandinsidethatneckline,feelingtheweightandwarmthofherinhispalm,runninghistonguealonghernippleuntilitwasripeandwet,pressinghisteethintoherflesh.
Sheclearedherthroat,snappinghimoutofhisownpersonalpornreel.“Well,comeon,Iwasheadingbacktothekitchen,too.Wehavefoodleftifyouwantanything.”
Oh,therewassomethinghewanted.Butitdefinitelywasn’tdinner.
Headjustedthefrontofhisjeansandfollowedherintothekitchen,wheretheotherobjectofhistormentedthoughtswasclearingthetable.ColbylookedupfromhistaskandseemedsurprisedtofindGeorgiaandKeatswalkingintogether.“Hey.”
“Hey,”Keatssaid,wishinghe’djuststayedthehellinhisroom.Aftertheencounterinthehallway,hiswholebodyfeltflushed,hissensesedgy.Hehadtobewearinghisfrustrationlikeafuckingbillboard.Hewalkedovertothefridge.
“Keatswasthirsty,”Georgiaexplained.
“Ah,”Colbysaid,reachingoutahandandtuggingGeorgiatohim.“Ithoughtyou’dgottenlostonyourwaytothebathroom.”
“No,shejustpickedupastray.”Keatsgrabbedasodafromthefridge.
“You’renotastray.”ColbyfrownedathimoverGeorgia’shead.He’dpulledheragainsthim,backtofront,andhadhisarmswrappedaroundherwaist.Keatscouldn’tdecidewhohewasmorejealousof.
Fuck.Whatthehellwaswrongwithhim?
“Maybenot.ButI’mdefinitelyathirdwheel.”Hebumpedthefridgeshut.“SonowthatI’vegotsupplies,youwon’tseemefortherestofthenight.”
“Youdon’thavetogo,”Georgiaoffered.“Wecouldallhangoutforawhile,watchamovieorsomething.”
“No,”ColbyandKeatssaidsimultaneously.
NowayKeatswasgoingtobesomepitiedhanger-on.
GeorgialookedupatColby,andhesmileddownatherinawaythatmadeKeats’sbodysurgewithwant.Whathewouldn’tgivetobetheonetakingGeorgiatobedtonight,theonepeelingheroutofthatdress.
OrtheonegettingthoselooksfromColby,hismindwhispered.Heshovedtheerrantthoughtaside.
“I’vegotplansforyou,gorgeous.Youdon’tgettodecidewhathappensnext.AndIassureyou,whathappensnextdoesn’tinvolveamovie.”HesentKeatsapointedstare.“Plus,nomorefreeshowsforKeats.”
Keatslaughed,butitsoundedforcedtohisownears.“What?You’resellingticketsnow?”
Colbysmirked,challengeinhiseyes.“Ithinkthepriceofadmissioniswaytoohighforyourtaste,Keats.Bettergettobed.”
Histhroatwentdryatthat,buthedidhisbesttoappearunaffectedbythecomment.Hegaveaquicknodandheadedstraightbacktohisroom,hisheartpoundingandhiscockstiffening.Untilthisweek,he’dthoughthimselfprettyhardtoknockoffbalance.He’dlivedalifeonthefringeandhadbeenexposedtomorethanmost.ButaroundColby,hefeltlikeagoddamnedblushingvirginsometimes.Theguycouldbeaslaid-backandgoodol’boyasanyonehe’devermet.Butwhenheflippedthatdominantswitch?Fuck.Inthosemoments,Keats’sbodydidn’tseemtogiveashitthatColbywasadudeorthatKeatswasathirdwheelinthisscenario.ItjustknewthatitwantedapieceofwhateverColbyandGeorgiahad.
Fuckmylife.
Keatsleanedagainstthedoor,pressinghisforeheadagainstit,andtriedtocooldown.Longminutespassed.Butbeforehecouldgethisheartbeatorerectionundercontrol,heheardthefirstsmackagainstskinandGeorgia’sansweringgasp.
Hesliddownthedoor,unzippedhisjeans,andwrappedhishandaroundhimself.
Maybesleepingwithagununderhispillowhadn’tbeensobad.Tryingtosleepherewasgoingtobeanabsolutefuckingnightmare.SEVENTEEN
GeorgiawatchedKeatsgowithmixedfeelings.Partofherhadinvitedhimtohangoutforawhilebecauseshehatedthethoughtofleavinganyoneout,especiallywhenshe’dlearnedtodayhowmuchofanoutsiderKeatshadbeengrowingup.Butsheknewthathadonlybeenasmallpartofhermotivation.Theother,biggerparthadbeenpurelyselfishandseriouslyill-advised.
SomethinghadpassedbetweenherandKeatsinthehallway.It’dbeenbrief—ablinkandshewould’vemissedit—butthere’dbeenashift.He’dcheckedherout,whichreallywasn’tanythingnew.Keatswasanaturalflirt.Butthistimethelookhadn’tbeenplayful.It’dbeenallman—alphaandhungry.He’dwantedher.
Andherbodyhadclamoredtoattentionandresponded.She’dthoughtmaybeitwasbecauseshe’dalreadyspentaslow,sensualdinnerwithColbyfeedingherthingsfromhisfingers.Ormaybebecausesheworenothingbeneaththestretchymaterialofherdress,soshewashyperawareandsensitive.Butevenwithallthat,sheknewinhergutitwassomethingmorethanthosesimplethings.Itwasn’therintenseattractiontoColbybleedingoverontoKeats.Itwassomethingseparateandmaybejustaspotent.
Colbywasstillpressedupagainstherfrombehind,andheranhishandsoverherarms.“Whathappenedoutthere?Youbothwalkedinlookinglikeyou’dstolenallthecookies.”
Shetensed,anoldreactionsurfacing,defensive.“Nothing,wejustbumpedintoeachotherinthehallway.Likeliterally.Itwasn’t—”
Heturnedherinhisarmsandgaveherasoftsmile.“Hey,I’mnotaccusingyouofanything.Iwasjustcurious.”Hecuppedherfaceinhishands.“Remember,I’mnotthatguy.Really.”
Shetookabreathandnodded.Hewasusingthewordsthatguygenerally,butitfitexactly.Sheneededtorememberit.Hewasn’tPhillip.Hewasn’tgoingtofliphisshitifsheglancedatanotherman.“Webumpedintoeachotherandhelookedatme,Idon’tknow,likehewasgoingtokissme.”
Colbyseemedamused.“Didyouwanthimto?”
“No,”shesaid,probablytooquickly.“He’sworkingforme.”
“Butifheweren’t?”
“Heis.”
Colbysmiledatthatandkissedher.“That’saveryblack-and-whiteworldyou’relivingin,Georgia.Now”—heputhismouthclosetoherear—“getonyourkneesandletmeshowyouwhathappenswhenyoutrytochangeourplanswithoutmypermission.”
Herbreathcaught.“Here?”
Hereleasedherandgrabbedoneofthechairsfromthediningroomtable.Hespunitaroundandpointednexttoit.“Here.”
Herheartbeatturnedintoawildthing,butshemanagedtowalkthefewstepsovertothechairandgettoherknees.Thetilewascoolbeneathherskin,hard,buttheslightdiscomfortgroundedher,givinghersomethingtofocuson.
Colbyswungopenakitchencabinetandpulledoutacrockofkitchenutensils.Woodenspoons,plasticspatulas,awhiskwithathickrubberhandle.Shewatchedhimwithraptattention,gnawingtheinsideofherlip.Hewalkedoverandsetthemonthetablenexttothechair,thenreachedforher.Heranhishandoverthebackofherhead,asweet,tendergesture,thensatandpattedhisleg.“Drapeyourselfovermythighsandflipyourdressup.YouwantedKeatstobepartofthis?Well,I’llgiveyouyourwish.Hiswallsharesonewiththekitchen.He’llbeabletohearyourfirstspanking.”
Sheshookherhead.“No,Idon’twanttodothattohim.It’snotreallyfairand—”
“Idon’trememberaskingyouropinion,love.Andifyou’resoconcernedaboutit,thendon’tmakeanynoise.”Insteadofpattinghislegagain,hegrippedherarmandgentlyguidedherupandoverhislap.“Nowliftupyourdress.”
Thepronepositionsentherbodyintoaninstantcapitulation,andanyfurtherprotestsseemedtofadeintotheloudsoundofherheartbeatthumpinginherears.Shereachedbackanddraggedherdressup,exposinghernakedbackside.Thecoolaironherheatedskinmadegoosebumpsriseandthedampplacebetweenherthighsburnevenhotter.Herfingertipstouchedthefloor,andshewasn’tsureifitwastheheadrushfromthepositionorsomethingelse,butshefeltgiddy.Colbyadjustedhimselfbeneathher,strongmuscularthighspressingintoallofhersoftestspots.
“Youlookfuckingsinfullikethis,baby,”Colbysaid,runningawarmpalmoverherbackside.“Ican’twaittomakethisprettyasssting.”
God.Herbodywasthrobbingalready.She’dneverbeenspanked—notinasexualwayorinadisciplinaryone.Buttherewassomethingaboutbeinginthispositionthatwastotallydoingitforher.Shehadafeelingitwasgoingtobehardtostayquiet.
Heslidhishandbetweenherthighs,findingherwarm,wetsecret.Histhumbslidinsideherandhisfingersmoveduptostrokeherclitintandem.“Mmm,someone’sbeenreadyforawhile.”
Shegasped,tryingtostaystill,tryingtostayquiet,butdamnthemanwasgoodwithhisfingers.Hegaveherafewmorestrokesandthenpulledaway,wipingherarousalonthebackofherthighasiftosay,Look,howmuchyouwantthis.
Itwouldn’tbealie.
Shebracedforthenextthing,knowingahitofsomesortwouldcome,butinsteadafingertiptracedaroundherbackopening.Shejoltedwithsurprise,butheheldherdowneasilywithhisotherhand.“Haveyoueverbeentakenhere?”
Shetriedtoswallowthedroolpoolinginhermouth.Thesensationwasso…decadent,forbidden.“Withavibrator,neversex.”
Andonlyonherown,ahandfuloftimes,thoughshe’ddieifshehadtoadmitthat.She’daskedPhilliponceifhewantedtotryit,andhe’dlookedatherlikeshe’dgrownanotherhead.Thatkindofthingdidnotfitintotheprincessimagehe’dpaintedinhishead.Sohe’dlaughedandtakenitlikeshe’dbeenjokingwithhim.
“Didyouenjoyit?”Colbyasked,squeezingherbuttockinafirm,almostpainfulgrip,thenreleasing.
Sheshudderedfromthesensation—tinglingpain,notunpleasant.“Ididn’thateit.”
Hechuckled,thatwarmlowlaughofhisthatseemedtocomefromdeepinthatbarreledchest.“Goodtoknow.”
Thenhesmackedherwithhisopenpalm,rightoverthespothe’dgrabbed.One.Two.Three.
Shemadeachokednoise,halffromsurpriseandhalffromthefeeloftheblows.
“Painlevelonetoten,”heasked.
Shetriedtosuckinabreath,getherthoughtsback.Herasswasstingingbutnotinanunbearableway.“Five.”
“Good.”Hereachedforoneoftheutensils.“Ifwegettoaneightornine,youstopme.”
“Okay.”
Shetriednottobraceforit,knewitwouldmakeitworse,butwhenthespatulacamedownonher,shewasastenseasafist.Thestingdidn’tspreadoverasbigaportionasithadwithhishand,butitwassharpandwicked.Shebitherliptryingnottomakenoise.Shewouldn’tdragKeatsintothis.
ButgoodintentionswereaboutallshehadbecausewhenColbycontinuedtoworkherassoverwithswats,itfeltlikeanavalancheofsoundwasbuildingupinherthroat.Everythingwasonfire—herass,thebacksofherthighs.Thepainwascrawlinguptoasevenandshewasn’tsureshewasastoughasshethought.
“Spreadyourlegswider,”Colbysaid,calmasabrightblueskyinJune.Damnhim.Howcouldhebesocalmwhenhewaswhalingonher?
Butshecouldn’tstopherselffromobeying.Sheopenedherthighswider,balancingonhertoes.Thesoundoftoolsbangingaroundinthecrockfilledherears,andthenhegaveherasoftpoprightagainsthersex.Whack.
Shemadeagrindingmoan,thesoundleakingoutbetweenherteeth.GoodGod.Hepoppedherafewmoretimesagainstthatoh-so-sensitiveskin,nothard,butfirmenoughtotakenote,andallthatpainfrombeforestartedtoturnintoahottinglingburningoverherskin.Shesquirmed,needingmorepressureagainstherclit,butColbyshiftedandhitherwithwhatfeltlikethewoodenspoononthebackofherthigh,sharp.
Alittlecryofpainslippedout.
“Nocomingyet,gorgeous.IgivethattoyouwhenI’mready.Youstillhavethreemoretoolstogo.”
Herheadwasspinning,butshedidn’tprotest.Heworkedheroverwiththewoodenspoonandthenwithsomeotherkindofspatulafromwhatshecouldtell.Butfrankly,itwasallstartingtoruntogetherinahazeinhermindnow.Thepainhadleft,morphingintosomethingaltogetherdifferent.Nowheronlydiscomfortwasfromthefactthatshewantedtocomeandcouldn’t.
Theswatsslowedandthenstopped.Colbypressedahandtothesmallofherback.“Doyouwanttocome?”
“Yes,please.”
“Doyoutrustmenottoharmyou?”
“Ido.”Andshedid.Inthatmoment,shetotallydid.
“Excellent.”Hemovedhisfingersagainsther,andshealmostcamefromthat,butheknewwhathewasdoinganddidn’tgiveherenoughstimulationtoputherovertheedge.Thensomethingforeignwaspushingagainsther.Shestiffened.“Thisisasoftrubberhandle,baby.You’rewetenoughtotakeit.Relax.”
Oh,God.Thewhisk.Hewasgoingtofuckherwithadamnkitchenimplement.“Colby.”
“Shh,”hesaid,hisvoicemoresoothingnowthancommanding.“You’reokay.I’vegotyou.”
Thehandleslippedinandshegroaned.Thehandlewasn’toverlylargebutitwasgroovedandtexturedandthefeelofitinsidehermadeherheelslift.Jesus.
“That’smygirl,”Colbysaid,hisvoicegoingthick,ashemovedthehandleinandoutslowly.“You’resogoddamnedsexy.”
Thefactthathewasgettingsoarousedonlydialedupherneedmore.Shecouldonlyimaginewhatshelookedliketohimrightnow,tippedoverhislapinthemiddleofhiskitchen,halfnaked,andbeingviolatedathisbidding.Herfingerspressedagainstthefloor,thecoilingtensioninheralmostatitsbreakingpoint.
Herockedheragainsthimwitheachslideofthehandle,rubbingherclitagainsttheroughdenimofhisjeans.Shewasn’tgoingtomakeitmuchlonger.Thenwithhisfreehand,hebegantopinchher.Thefleshofherass,thebacksofherthighs,littlebitingsqueezesthatreignitedtheeffectsofthespanking.Pinchandstroke,pinchandstroke.Rasp,rasp,raspagainsthisjeans.Hermindbegantofuzz.
“Colby,”shepleaded.
“Comeforme,Georgia.”Hereachedaroundwithhisfreehandandfoundherclit.“Comeformeandletmehearit.”
Thatwasallsheneeded.Shelaunchedintoorgasm,herbodyclampingaroundtheinvasion,herhipsrockingagainsthisfingers.Anddespiteherbesteffort,shecouldn’tkeepherselfquiet.Shecriedoutloudandlong—adesperate,wantonsoundthathadtohavereverberatedaroundthehouse.
Butinthemoment,shedidn’tcare.Colbywantedtohearit,andshewantedtogivethattohim.
Rightnow,she’dgivehimjustaboutanything.EIGHTEEN
GeorgiafollowedColbytohisbedroomafterthey’dcleanedupthekitchen.Herlegsstillfeltliketheyweremadeofpuddingafterherorgasm,butshemanagednottostumbleasshemadeherwaydownthehall.WhenshepassedKeats’sroom,sheputherpalmtothedoorforabriefsecond,offeringasilentapologyandpromisingherselfthatshewouldtalktohimtomorrow.Maybetheyneededsomeboundariesafterall,becauseitseemedbothofthemwereplayingwithfirewithoutthem.
ButwhenshesteppedintoColby’sbedroom,findinghimstandingthereinfrontofhisbed,bigandbroadandintimidatingashell,sheforgotallthoughtsoftomorrow.Becausefinally,rightnow,she’darrivedatthesiteofsomanyofherfantasies.Sheglancedatthewindow.
“Noonetowatchustonight,gorgeous.”
“Idon’tneedanaudience.”Sheclosedthedoorbehindher.
Hesmirked.“Thoughyoulikeonesometimes.”
“Saidthepottothekettle.”
Hesatdownontheendofthebed,legswideinthatcowboydon’t-careway,andleanedbackonhishands.Henoddedatthespotinfrontofhim.“Takeoffyourdressandshowmewhatnumberyoudecidedon.”
Nerveshoppedinherbellyasshewalkedovertowherehewanted.She’dlefthershoessomewhereinthekitchen,soshehadonlyonethinglefttotakeoff.Shepulledtheshouldersofherdressdown,thestretchyfabricgivingwayeasily,andslidthedresstoherwaist,exposingherchesttothecoolair.
Colby’shazeleyeshomedin,appraising,appreciating.Thiswasthefirsttimehe’dseenherbaredlikethis,andsomehowhemadeherfeelcompletelycomfortable.Shepushedthedressdownherhipsandsteppedoutofthepuddleoffabric.
Colby’stonguedartedoutandtouchedhisbottomlip,anunconsciousgesturethatmadehergohotwonderingwhatthoughthadcrossedhismind.Heclearedhisthroat.“Where’sthenumber?”
Sheswallowed,tryingtofindhervoice.“Ididn’tpickone.”
Hisbrowslowered.“Why?”
“Iappreciatewhatyouweretryingtodo—givingmesomeshredofcontroltoclingto.Butthat’snotwhatIwant.Ineedthistobealittlescary.Ineedmysurrendertobereal.IwanttoknowIreallydidit.”
Theflareofpleasurethatflickeredoverhisexpressionwasarewardinandofitself.Heshiftedforward,bracinghisforearmsonhisthighsandpinningherwithhisgaze.“Nobunnyslopeforyou,huh?”
Sheclosedhereyesbrieflyandshookherhead.“Mywholelifeismadeofbabystepsandbunnyslopesrightnow.Ineedaleap.AndIfeellikeIcandothatwithyou.”
Hereachedoutforher,andshesteppedbetweenhisspreadknees.Hetookherhandsandlookedup,somethingshecouldn’tpinpointburninginhisgaze.“I’mhonoredthatyou’regivingmethattrust.Really.Itmeansmorethanyouknow.IpromiseIwon’tmisuseit.”
Forsomereason,shewantedtocry,butshepressedherlipstogetherandfoughtbacktheurge.Shewouldnotfallapart.Notbeforethishappened.
Hestoodandputhishandatherwaist,pullingheragainsthim.Hislipsmetherswithahushedreverenceatfirst,liketheyweresealingsomeagreement,andthenthekissturnedhotterandmoreurgent.Shecouldfeelthemusclesthathadtensedfromnerveslooseningagainandmelting.Histonguestrokedagainsthers,andasshelatchedontohisshirt,shecouldfeelhiserectionhardeningagainstherbelly.
Hegroanedintothekissandpulledaway.
Thequickbreak-offofthekissstartledher.“Everythingokay?”
Hegavealittlelaugh,soundingchagrined,andrubbedahandoverthebackofhishead.“I’vepracticedthisself-controlthingalongdamntime.Butkissingyoulikethatmakesmefeellikeateenagerwhojustwantstogetinsideyou.Right.This.Second.IfIkeepkissingyoulikethat,I’llenduppawingyoulikeit’spromnight.”
Shesmiledandtouchedthebandofhisjeans.“Icanhelptaketheedgeoff.MayI?”
Sheloweredtoherknees.
“Aw,propergrammarandeverything?”hesaid,cuppingherheadandrubbingathumboverherbottomlip.“HowcanIresistsuchapoliterequesttosuckmycock?”
Eventhewordshadexcitementpingingthroughher.She’dneverbeenonetogetoverlyenthusiasticaboutblowjobs,butsomethingaboutColbyhadhadhercravingthatfromtheverystart.She’dwatchedhimgetoffthatwayfromherperchatherwindowandhadalwayslovedhowhelookedwhenhegavehimselfovertothepleasure.
Hereachedforhisbeltandunfastenedit,thenpulleditoutoftheloops.“Givemeyourwrists.”
Sheliftedherarmstohim,andhewrappedthebeltaroundthemwithsurprisinglyefficientmotions.Whenhewassureitwassecure,heletherlowerherboundhandstoherlap.
Heundidhisflyandtuckedhishandinside.Whenhefreedhiscock,puttingitonprouddisplayrightinherlineofsight,hermouthactuallywatered.
“Onlyyourmouth,”hesaidgruffly.“AndIcontrolthepace.”
Therewassomethingabouthimbeingfullydressed,hernakedandboundathisfeetthatmadethisfeelsomuchdifferentthananythingshe’ddonebefore.Shehadthisdeepurgetopleasehim.
Hewrappedhishandinherhair,firmlyenoughtomakeherscalptinglebutnotenoughtohurt,andguidedherforward.Thefirsttasteofsaltyskinagainsthertonguemadehotthingscurlinsideher,asdidthegruntingsoundhemadeatthecontact.Herhandstwistedinthebindingsandsheclosedhereyes,savoringtheflavorandfeelofthissinful,sexyman.
Hewasbig,andshewasn’tskilledenoughtotakehimall,buthedidn’tforcehertoacceptmorethanshecouldhandle.Hekepthisfreehandaroundthebaseandstrokedtowardherwitheachthrust,hisfingersmeetingherlipsinanerotickiss.Sherolledhertonguearoundhim,suckingandteasingandmappingthefeelofhim.
Hisfingerstightenedagainstherhead.“God,baby,yourmouthisgoingtokillme.Yougiveheadlikeyoukiss—witheverythingyou’vegot.”
Shemmmedatthepraiseanddoubledherefforts,wantingtoknowwhathewaslikewhenhecompletelylostit.ButColbyhadotherideasbecauseafterafewminutes,hegentlyeasedheraway.Sheblinkedupathim,surprised,buthegraspedherchinandbentdowntokissher.“Notlikethis.Iwantyouinmybedbeneathme.AndIwanttoseeyouwearingmyrope.”
“Rope?”
Hereleasedherbindingsandhelpedhertoherfeet.“Doornumberthree.Oneofmyfavorites,givesmealotofpleasure,butittakessomepatience.”
Shesatontheedgeofthebed.“I’vegotallnight.”
“Saysthegirlwhojusthadascreamingorgasminthekitchen.”
Shegrinnedandlethereyestraveldowntohisveryhard,veryobviouserection.“Yougoingtobeokay?”
“Keepgrinning,smartass,”heteased.“You’lllearnhowdangerousitistogoadyourdom.”
Heleftforafewminutestogatherhissupplies,andwhenhecameback,shelearnedthethreathadn’tbeenanidleone.Hemadeherkneelonthebed,thighsspread,andstrappedasmallvibratoragainstherclittokeepheroccupiedwhileheworked.HedialedittothesettingthathadtobecalledSlowRidetoHellbecauseitwaslowandslowandmadeherwanttodiewithneedafterabouttenminutes.
Meanwhile,hewaswrappingsoftropesaroundhertorsoinanintricateloopingpattern.Hehadawrinkleinhisforeheadwhileheworkedandalookinhiseyethattoldherthiswasameditativeactforhim.Buthiserectiondidn’tflagtheentiretime—sonotjustmeditativebutdeeplysexual.Andshecouldunderstandwhy.Thepressureoftheropesagainstherbodyandthewaytheygentlyabradedherskinhadherseeingtheeroticisminit.
Withthatnewsensualexperienceandthetorturouspaceofthevibratorshewasnearoutofhermindbythetimehecinchedthelastknot.Itwaslikeherbodyhadcompletelyforgottenaboutthepreviousorgasm.Likeitnolongercounted.Sheneededhistouch.
Colbypulledthevibratorawayandsteppedbacktoadmirehiswork,givingheralookthatalmostsentherovertheedge.Pure,unabashedlust.“Youlookamazing,Georgia.Ican’tevendescribeit.”Heopenedanearbyclosetdoorandangledthemirrorinsidethedoorherway.“Lookatyourself.”
Thereflectionstunnedherforasecond.Shecouldbarelycomprehendthatitwasherimagelookingbackather.Colbyhadwoundtheropeintoacorset,tightlycoiledaroundhertorsoandtworingsofropeaboveherbreasts,leavingeverythingelseonnakeddisplay.Herhipsflaredinapleasingheartshapeoutfromunderthebottomcircleofrope,andherbreastsstoodproudinthespacebetweentheropes.Itwasutterlyobscene.Shelovedit.
Shetouchedtheropesoverherbelly,theintricateloopinghe’ddonetogeteverythingsnugbutnotpainful.“Thisisanart,Colby.”
“You’retheart,”hesaid,movingtothesideofthebedagainandpalmingoneofherbreasts.“You’reluckyI’mhavingalapseinself-controltonightbecausethesadisticsideofmekindofwantstoliebackandwatchyougettothebrinkwiththatvibratoroverandoveruntilyou’resweatingandbeggingforme.Icouldlookatyouallnight.”
Hepinchedhernipplebetweenhisfingertipsandshegasped.“I’malreadysweatingandifyouwantmetobeg,Ileftmypridesomewhereinthekitchen,sonotaproblem.”
Hisdimpleappearedbeneaththeshadowofhisbeard.“I’mnotlookingtostealyourpride,beautiful.Justalittlebitofyoursanityforafewminutes.”
“Ha.That’salreadygone,soifyoufindit,letmeknow.”
“Hush,”hesaid,givingheraquickkissandreachingbetweenherthighstostrokeherforafewmaddeningseconds.“Stayonyourkneesandgettothemiddleofthebed.I’mnotquitedonewiththerope.”
Allsnappycomebacksfadedfromherthoughtsashisfingersbroughtherrighttotheprecipiceoforgasmagainbeforehepulledback.Shewantedtograbhiswristandforcehishandtostaythere,buthewasalreadyoutofherreach.Shecrawledtothemiddleofthebedandsettledintoposition,herheartbeatofficiallyrelocatingtothespotrightbehindherclit—throbbing,throbbing,throbbing
Colbytookhistimewrappingherforearmsinrope,leavingherwithwhatlookedlikethewesternversionofsuperherocuffs,andthenhedrewherdownontoherelbowsandtookthelongendsoftheropetosecurehertotheheadboard.Shetuggedontherestraintsandtheydidn’tgive.Alittleflutterofpanicwentthroughher.
“Anythingfeeltootight?”heasked,checkingthebindingsatherwrist.
“WhatifIneedtogetoutquickly?Likeifit’sanemergency?”
Allofasuddenshewaspicturingthehousecatchingonfireortheintenseneedtopeeoraspidercrawlingontothebed.Itwasallridiculousbutsomethingaboutbeingtiedtothebedhadpushedherfearbutton.
“I’vegotyou,”hesaid,rubbingathumboverherknuckles.“There’saswitchbladeinthebedsidedrawerthatwillslicerightthroughthisrope.Yousaythewordandyou’reoutinlessthanthirtyseconds.”
Shenodded.“Okay.”
“Hey,lookatme,”hesaid,cuppingherchinandtiltingherfacetowardhim.Hiseyesmetherswithunwaveringsincerity.“Yoursafetyisalwaysgoingtobemynumberonepriority.Always.Nomatterwhat,I’mlookingoutforyou.”
Thewordswerespokenwithutterconfidence,andthatconfidencewashedoverher,fillingthespaceswherethefearwastryingtodigroots.“Thankyou.”
Shebreathedouttherestofthenervesthathadtriedtocropupandclosedhereyesashemovedbehindher.Shecouldhearclothescomingoff,andshecouldn’tresist.Shepeekedbackoverhershoulder.Colbyhadjustkickedoffhisjeans,andhestoodthereinhisfullnakedglory.Broadandbuiltandbigallover.Helookedlikeabeast.Orsculpture.Oreveryfantasyshe’deverconjured.Italmostwasn’tfair.
Hesmiledwhenhecaughthergawking.“IfeelthesamewaywhenIlookatyou,Georgia.Allthatprettyflesh,thosegorgeouscurves.Iwanttoputyouonthedinnertableandeatyoubitebybite.”
Yep.Thatwasexactlyhowshefelt.Hewasfuckingedible.
“Infact,”hesaid,climbingontothebedbehindher,“Idon’tthinkIcanresistatasterightnow.”
Hepalmedherassandangledherhipsup,puttingaswayinherbackandexposingeveryprivatepartofherforhisperusal.Shecouldfeelhisbreathcaressingher,hismouthgettingcloser,andthenhishottonguewasonherandshelostwhatlittlecalmshehadleft.
Colbywasastalentedwithhismouthashewaswithhishands,andsoonshewasyankingbackontheropes,havingahardtimekeepingstill.Heknewexactlyhowtokeepherridingtheedge,onthevergeoforgasmbutnotreachingit.Shewhimperedintothesheetsandbangedherforeheadintothemattress.Please,please,please.
“God,youtastegood,”hesaid,inbetweendrivingheroutofhermindandmakingherwanttoharmhim.“Andyou’resohotagainstmytongue.Icanfeelhowcloseyouare.”
“Please,Colby,”shefinallysaid.“Ican’ttakethismuchlonger.I’mreallybeggingthistime.Please.”
“Mmm,”hesaidagainsther.“Youknowthatjustmakesmewanttoteaseyoumore.”
“Colby…”Nowshewaswhining,whichsheknewwasaridiculousthingforagrownwomantodo,butshecouldn’thelpherself.
Asoftchucklesentapuffofbreathagainsther.“Allright.LuckyforyouI’mlosingmypatience,too.”
Heshiftedbehindherandwrappedfirmfingersaroundherhips,gettingintopositionbehindher.Butittooklongerthanshecouldstandbecausehehadtogetacondomonfirst.Sheswayedrestlessly,tryingnottobegagain.Everythingfeltoversensitive,desperate.Theropeshadtheirownwayofcaressingher,remindingherofeveryinchofskinthatwascovered,andtheexposedpartsfelteverychangeintheair.
Butwhenhefinallypressedtheheadofhiscockagainstherentranceandthrustforward,everythinginherconvergedtooneaching,needypoint.Herbodystillwasn’tusedtohissizeandfoughttoaccommodatehim,butthepressureofhimstretchingandfillinghersenthersensessailing.Shepressedherfaceinthesheets,surrenderingtohimfullyandwithoutreservation.
Hedidn’trush,eventhoughshewould’vebeenperfectlyfinewiththat,buthewasn’tpurposelytorturingheranymore.Hewasenjoyinghimself,sinkingindeepandtakingherwithfull,savoringglides.Thispartwasabouthim,basedonthegruff,pleasedsoundshewasmaking,andshewasalongfortheride.Thehair-curling,sexy-as-hellride.
“Youlooksofuckinghotboundinmyropeandspreadaroundmycock,”Colbysaid,histwanggettingheaviertheclosertoreleasehegot.Heranafingeroverherbackentranceashepumpedintoherharder.Thetouchwaslikeaboltoflightningstraightthroughher.“I’mgoingtotakeyouhereoneday,too.Iwanteverypartofyou,Georgia.Iwanttofindouteverybuttonthatmakesyoumoanlikethat.”
Thewords,hiscockpumpingintoher,andhimtouchingherthereweretoomuch.Apowerfulwavewasbuildinginsideher,readytotakeherdown.
“Letgo,baby,”hesaid,reachingaroundwithhisotherhandandfindingherclit.“Comeforme.”
Shewould’veevenifhehadn’tsaiditwasokay.Itwastoomuchtoholdback.Shecriedoutaseverythinginherburstthroughlikesunshinepiercingathousandtinywindows.Herneckarchedandsheshriekedwiththerushofitall,thesheerpleasure.Colbyletoutashoutbehindher,thrustingdeepandflatteninghertothebedashefoundhisownrelease.
Shemeltedintothesheets,floatinginahaze,herbodystillcontractingwithaftershocks,andclosedhereyes.
Itwassomuchbetteronthissideofthewindow.
Toobadshewouldn’tbeabletostay.NINETEEN
Colby’seyesburnedfromlackofsleepasheliftedhischinabovethebarinhisgarage/workoutroom.Lastnighthe’dbeenexhaustedwhenhe’dgottenbackintobedafterwalkingGeorgiahome,buthe’dtossedandturned,wakingupeveryhouronthehour.Lastnighthadbeengreat.Beyondgreat.ButGeorgia’sleavinghadlefthimunsettled.Heunderstoodwhysheneededtobebackatherplace.Anditwasn’tlikeitwasarequirementforhim.Herarelyhadloversspendthenight.Butwhenhe’dgottenbackfromGeorgia’s,hisbedhadfeltdamnempty
Beingwithherlastnighthadfeltmorerightthananythinghadinalongtime.He’dstartedoutkeepingitfocusedonexploringsomeofherboundaries,almostmakingitlikeoneofhisbeginnertrainingsessions.Funandsexybutclinicalinaway.Thatwaswhathewasusedto.Butoncehe’dgottenherintohisbedroomandhadseenthatshe’dwrittennonumbersdown,everythinghadshifted.SomethingaboutGeorgiamadehimfeelmoredialedin,morepresent.Eventhemildkinkthey’ddonehadfeltmoreintensethananyoftheextremestuffhe’dpracticedatTheRanchlately.
Plus,thosemomentsinthekitchenwhenhehadherunderhishand,knowingsheknewKeatswaslistening.Well,it’daddedalayerthatColbyhadn’tbeenabletoignore.He’dfeltlikehewasgettingatasteofwhathe’dbeenstarvingforoverthelastfewmonths.Anditwasalltemporary.
Temporary.Likehisjobmightbe.Likehiswholelifemightberightnow.
He’dfinallygivenuphopeforsleeparoundsixthismorningandhadgottenuptogetsomethingsdone.First,he’dcalledPrincipalAnderstocheckin,andshe’dtoldhimthatshe’dsetupanappointmentforhimlatethisafternoontospeakwiththepowersthatbetogivehisside.She’dalsoinformedhimthatadoctorhadinterviewedTravis,andthekidhadadmittedhe’dbeenoffhismedsfortwomonthsandhadbeenlyingtoDr.Guthrieaboutit.SoevenifColbyhadaskedhim,hewouldn’thavegottenanaccurateanswer.AndershadsaidshethoughtthatbodedwellforgettingColbyclearedandbacktowork.
It’dbeenwelcomenewsforsure.He’dgoneoverthatsessionwithTravisinhisheadagainandagain.Andthoughhewishedhecould’vedonesomethingtopreventwhathadhappened,inhisheart,heknewhehadn’tbeennegligentinTravis’scare.Buthestillcouldn’trelax.Travis’sparentsweren’tgoingtostoplookingtoplaceblame.Andtheyhadmoneytoburniftheywantedtodragthisthingout.ButatleastRowanseemedtobeinhiscorner,andhewouldgetachancetotellhissidelatertodaytotheboard.Hejusthopedthatandthetruthwereenough.
ThinkingaboutallhisstudentsbeingshuffledaroundandtossedontoDr.Guthrie’scaseloadmadehisstomachhurt.He’dmadeapromisetothosekids.Hewassupposedtobetheonewhowasthereforthemwhentheyneededit.He’dpromisedKatelynBowiethathe’dteachherrelaxationexercisessothatshecouldcalmdownbeforeherbigalgebratest.Thattesthadnowcomeandgone.Andhe’dfinallygottenJakeLatham,aftermonthsofnear-silentsessions,tostarttalkingabouthismother’sdeath.NowthekidwouldhavetostartoveragainwithGuthrie.
Itwasfuckingbrutalbeingstuckathome,doinggoddamnednothing,whenhecouldbeworkingwiththosekids.Byseven,Colbyhadwhippedhimselfupintoarestless,angrystatejustthinkingaboutit.Sohe’dturnedtohisfirstmethodofstressrelief—music.He’dlockedhimselfinhisofficeandhadmanagedtobangoutachorusforasonghe’dbeenworkingon.
Butevenafterallthecreativeeffort,he’dstillfeltwiredandrestless.He’dgonedownstairstoseeifKeatsneededanything,butKeatshadalreadylefttorunanerrandforGeorgia.Sohe’ddecidedtogotohissurefiremethodofclearinghishead—exorcismbyexercise.Mostpeoplewhosawhimprobablyassumedhewasobsessedwithworkingout,butreally,itwastheonlyformoftherapybesidesmusicthathadeverworkedonhim.Sohe’dgoneforalongrunandwasnowwellintohisweightsroutine,drippingwithsweat,butfinallystartingtofeelalittlemorecentered.
Hehadtokeepremindinghimselfthatthingsinhislifehadgottencomplicatedquickly,andhisheadwasscrewedupfromalltherapidchange.Inthematterofafewdays,hisjobhadblownup,hisneighborhadendedupinhisbed,andhisformerstudentwasbackfromthedeadandallgrownup.Evensomeoneusedtorollingwiththepunchescouldn’tbeexpectedtorollwithallthat.
Atleastnotallofitwasbadnews.
Keatswashereandsafe.Sure,livingwithhimwasgoingtobe…interesting.Colby’swireswereallkindsofcrossedwhenitcametoKeats,butitwasn’tlikehecouldn’thandlehimselfaroundhim.He’djustneedtosetupsomeclearboundariesandstopdoingstupidshitthatblurredit—likelettingKeatslistenagainlastnight.That’dbeenalust-baseddecision,notaresponsibleone.Colbyusuallydidn’tlethisdickovertakehisgoodsense.Hewasn’ttheguywhowentofftherailswithpassion.Disciplineandself-controlwereabitofareligionforhim.ButthewayGeorgiaandKeatshadlookedateachotherlastnightwhenthey’dwalkedintothekitchenhadknockedColbycompletelyofftrack.He’dwantedthingsheshouldn’t.
Nowheneededtogethisbearingsback.He’dsetitallbacktorights.He’dtalktoKeatsandestablishsomerules,apologizeforlastnight.He’denjoyhistimewithGeorgiaevenifheknewithadanexpirationdate.Livefortoday,right?That’dalwaysworkedbefore.
Hedidafewmorechin-ups,countingoff,thendroppedbacktotheground.Hegrabbedatowelofftheweightbenchandmoppeditoverhisfaceandchest,lettingthefast-tempomusiche’dputonbeatthroughhim.Finally,hecouldfeelhismindsettlingabit.Butwhenheturnedaround,Keatswasstandinginthedoorway,leaningagainsttheframe.
Colbythrewthetoweltothesideandpulledhisearbudsout.“Hey.”
“Sorry,didn’tmeantointerrupt.”
“Noproblem.”ColbysethisiPodtotheside.“WereyouabletogetwhatyouneededforGeorgia?”
Keatssteppedintothegarage,lookingaroundattheequipmentashedid.“Yeah,justgotback.Sheneededsomeboxestoshipbooks.Itriedtogethertocomewithme,butshewasn’tready.”
“Givehertime.”
“Iknow.Butit’stoughseeinganyonecoopeduplikethat.Itmustfeellikeprison.”HetossedColbythebottleofwaterhe’dbeenholding.
“Thanks.”Colbycaughtitandtwistedthecapoff.“Yeah,it’shardnottowanttopush.”
“Iimagineit’sevenharderforsomeonelikeyou.”
Colbytookalongswigofwater.“Meaning?”
“You’reusedtogettingyourway.”
Colbysniffed.
“Shewouldn’tstaylastnight,huh?”
“Eavesdroppingagain?”
Keatsgavehimacome-on-nowlook.“Don’tpretendy’alldidn’twantmeto.Youtwoweresonoisy,theyprobablyheardyouacrossthestreet.”
Colbygrimaced.“Sorry.Honestly.I’msurethat’sthelastthingyouneededwhenyou’restillhealingupandneedingrest.I’mnotusedtoworryingabouthavingotherpeopleinthehouse.I’llputonmusicnexttime.”Hetookanothergulpofwater,desperatelywantingtochangethesubject.“DidyouatleastgetsomesleepafterGeorgialeft?”
Heshrugged.“Notmuch.”
Colbysetthewaterasideandstraddledtheweightbench.“Areyouinalotofpainstill?”
Keatsgrabbedthechin-upbar,hisarmsstretchingoutabovehishead.ItraisedthehemofhisT-shirt,revealinghowlow-slunghisjeanswereandhowdarkthebruiseonhissidehadgotten.Colbyforcedhisfocusupward.
“No,that’snotwhatkeptmeup,justcouldn’tstopthinking.”Heswunghisbodyforwardabit,hangingfromthebarlikealazymonkey.
ThepositionhadColbyimaginingwhatKeatswouldlooklikeifColbycuffedthosewriststothemetalrodandlockedaspreaderbarbetweenKeats’sankles,tuggeddownthosejeans,leavingKeatshelplessandondisplay.Colby’scocktwitchedwithawareness.Fuck.EvenafterafantasticnightwithGeorgia,hisbodystillwantedtohopupandpantforoneAdamKeats.
ThiswasexactlywhyColbyhadnevertriedtogetmarried.Helovedwomen,buthecouldneverfullyturnoffoneswitchfortheother.Hewasthatannoyingguywhoperpetuatedtheunfairassumptionthatbisexualscouldn’tcommittoonesidelongterm.
Colbyscootedbackward,willinghisdicktostanddownsohecouldliebackanddoafewbenchpresses,anythingtogethiseyesoffKeats.
Whenhewassurehisbodywascooperating,herolleddownontohisback.KeatssteppedbehindtheheadofthebenchandputhishandsontheweightbartospotColby.HeloomedoverColbynow,hisexpressionpensive.Colbyliftedthebarandbroughtitdowntohischest,tryingtoignorehowcloseKeatswas.Heclosedhiseyesandbegantopumptheweights.One.Breathe.Two.Breathe.Three.
“Thinkingaboutwhat?”Colbyaskedfinally.Itwaseasiernowthathewasn’tlookingathim.
“Allthestuffyoutoldmetheothernight.AndallthestuffIheardlastnight.”
“Mmm,”Colbysaidnoncommittally.Four.Five.Six.
HecouldhearKeatsshiftingbehindhim.Breathingalittletooquickly.HesmelledliketheIrishSpringsoapColbykeptintheguestbathroom.
“IwanttoknowwhatIam,”Keatssaidafteralongpause.
ThebarslippedabitinColby’shands,andKeatsreachedouttograbitandtakesomeoftheweight.Colbypressedhisteethtogetherandpushedtheweightsbackintotheholder.Hecouldn’thavethistypeofconversationonhisbackwithacouplehundredpoundshangingoverhim.HeslidforwardandsatuptofaceKeats,whowasmanagingtokeephisexpressionentirelyimpassive.
“Youmeanthesubmissivething?”
“Imeanallofit.”
Allofit.Colbycouldtakethatahundreddifferentways.Hegrabbedthetowelagaintogivehishandssomethingtodo.HecouldfeelKeats’sgazeonhim.“You’regoingtohavetobemorespecificthanthat.”
“Theothernightyousaidyoucouldn’treallyknowuntilyoutriedit.”
Colbyscrubbedthetowelthroughhisdamphair.“Idid.”
“Areyouworkingatthatplacethisweekend?”
Scrub,scrub,scrub.“Haven’tdecidedyet.”
“Ifyoudo,canIgo?”
Colbydroppedthetowelandstood.“Nope.”
“What?”Keatsasked,steppingaroundthebench.“Whythehellnot?”
Colbyheadedtowardthekitchen,thegaragefeelingtoosmallallofasudden,theairtoothick,butKeatsfollowed.“Becauseunlessyouhaveadomwho’samembertogetyouin,it’stengrandtojoin.”
“Fuck.Tengrand?Jesus,”hesaid,soundingawed.“Butyou’reamemberandanemployee.Couldn’tyougetmein?”
Colbyyankedthefridgehandlesohard,herattledallthecondimentsandknockedoverajarofolives.“Onlyifyouweregoinginasmysubmissive.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.Oh,”Colbysaid,pullingoutacartonofyogurtandsettingitonthecounter.Hebumpedthefridgeshutwithhishipandtuggedthedishwasheropentofindacleanspoon,hisbacktoKeats.Hedidn’twanttothinkaboutKeatslikethis.Hedidn’twanttoimaginewhathe’dlooklikenakedorchaineddownortakingthestingofaflogger.Andheespeciallydidn’twanttothinkofsomestrangerdoingthattohim.Butguiltnippedathim.It’dtakenballsforKeatstoevenbringthisup.AndGodknowsColbyhadsubjectedhimtoanearfulofshitoverthepastfewdays.Iftheguyreallywascuriousaboutkink,hehadtherighttoexploreit.Hesighed.“Look,ifyoureallywanttochecksomestuffout,thereareafewlocalclubsthataren’tasexclusive.There’sagooddominatrixIknowatthe—”
AhandgrippedColby’sshoulder,andeverymuscleinhisbodywenttaut.Hespunaroundandbeforehecouldprocesswhatwashappening,KeatsbracedhishandsonthecounteroneachsideofColby.“WouldyoudoitifIsaidyoucould?”
“Dowhat?”
“Showmewhatit’slike.You,notsomerandomperson.”
KeatswastoocloseandthoughColbystillhadafewinchesonhiminheight,hewasnothappybeinginthelessdominantposition.HemovedKeats’sarmasideandsteppedaroundhim.“No.”
“Why?”Ahard,determinededgewascreepingintoKeats’svoice.
Colbygroanedandrakedahandthroughhisstill-wethair.“Youdon’tevenknowwhatyou’reasking,whatshowingyouwouldlooklike.”
“Yousaidyoudon’tfuckyourtrainees.”
Hescoffed.“Youthinkthat’sallthereistoworryabout?Youwantmyhandsonyou,Keats?Everywhere?Thisisn’tgoddamnedguitarlessons.”
Keatswasacrossthekitcheninthreestrides.BeforeColbycouldevenreact,KeatsgrabbedColby’swristandbroughthishandrightagainstthecrotchofhisjeans.HewashardbeneathColby’spalm.“Idon’tfuckinggetthis.”HeshovedColby’shandawayandsteppedback,hisneckshadingpinkeventhoughhiseyeswerefullofchallenge.“Ilikewomen.Infact,Ilikeyourwoman.Dudesdon’thitmyradar.Butwhenyousayshit,thathappens.AndlastnightwhenIheardwhatIheard,Iwantedtobepartofit.Thesoundofyou…hittingherturnedmeon.Soifthat’sthewholesubmissivething,thenIwanttoknow.”
Colbyblinked,startledintospeechlessnessforamoment.
“Ihatefeelinglikethis.Offbalance.Confused.IfeellikeagoddamnedteenageragainwhenI’maroundyou.IfI’mgoingtobestayinghereawhile,Idon’twanttolivelikethat.Ineedtoget”—Keatswavedhishandbetweenthem—“whateverisgoingonherefiguredout.”
Colbygrippedthecounterbehindhim,tryingtowillhisbody’sreactionintostoicism.“AndyouthinkI’mthepersontohelpyoufigurethisout?”
“Thisishardenoughtotalkaboutalready.Idefinitelydon’twanttotryshitwithsomeoneIdon’tknow.Butlook,Iknowyou’vegotagoodthingwithGeorgia,andIdon’twanttomessthatupbecauseshe’sgreat.AndIdon’tknow,Imean,Idon’tevenknowifyou’relike…attractedtomeorwhateverneedstobethere.Ijust—”
“That’snottheissue.”
Keatslookedup.“Huh?”
“Attractionisn’ttheissue,”hesaidsimply.
Keatsswallowed.“Oh.”
“Butyou’reyoungandinexperiencedwhenitcomestokink,andyou’veneverbeenwithaguy.Yes,I’matrainer.Butthiswouldn’tbesplashingaroundintheshallowend,Keats.Don’ttrickyourselfintothinkingthiswouldbesomesterilebusinessarrangement.EvenifIneverfuckedyou,it’dbeaninherentlyintimateandsexualdynamic.”
“Isthatalwaysthecase?”heasked.“Witheveryoneyoutrain?”
“No.Butitwouldbewithyou.IknowmyselfwellenoughtoknowI’mnotcapableoftreatingyoulikeoneofmypayingstudents.AndI’mnotsureyou’rereadyforwhatsubmittingtomereallyentailsorifyou’reevencapableofit.”
Keats’sthroatbobbed.
“Thefactthatyougetturnedonaroundmemaysimplybeyourespondingtodominance.Maybethat’swhatitalwayswas.Yousaidyou’veneverbeenattractedtootherguys.WhathappenswhenIputyouonyourkneesandtellyoutosuckmycock?Ortieyoudownandslideapluginyourass?”
Keatslacedhishandsbehindhisneckasalittleflashofpaniccrossedhisface,confirmingColby’sfears.“I—”
ColbymovedforwardandputahandonKeats’sshoulder,givingitasqueezeandtryingtohidethetwingeofdisappointmentthathewasright.“TherearewonderfulfemaledommesItrustwhoIcouldintroduceyouto.Itdoesn’thavetobeme.Maybeit’sbestitisn’t.”
Keatsliftedhishead,andColbystartedtostepaway.Butbeforehecould,KeatslockedafirmgriponColby’shipandsteppedintohisspace.
“Whatare—”
Keats’smouthwasonhisinthespanbetweenblinks.Colbyfrozeforasecond,completelyunaccustomedtosomeoneelsemakingthefirstmove.Peopledidn’tputtheirhandsonhimwithoutpermission.Butaftertheinitialrushofshock,hislipsrespondedbeforehisbraincaughtup.
Keatswasn’ttentativeorcareful.ThekisswashotandhungryandthegriponColby’sbarewaist,hard.IfKeatswasscared,hewasn’tshowingit.LipspartedandKeats’stongueslippedintoColby’smouth,elicitinganunintentionalgroanfromColby.HishanddriftedfromKeats’sshouldertolockaroundthebaseofhisneck,takingbacksomecontrol.Hardagainsthardmetinthequietofthekitchen,Colby’sstill-sweatychestmashingagainstKeats’sT-shirt.Asthekissdeepened,Colby’scockbegintostiffen,hislengthpressingagainsttheridgeinKeats’sjeans.
NowitwasKeats’sturntogroan.HisfingersdugintoColby’sskinlikehecouldn’tgetcloseenough,likehewantedeverypartofthemtouching.Colbyknewtheyshouldstop,figureoutwhatthefuckwashappening,butitallfelttoogood,toohot,tooeverything.Therewassucharoughhungerburningbetweenthemthatifhelethimselfmove,heworriedthathemightjuststripKeatsoutofhisclothesandfuckhimacrossthecountertop.Forthefirsttimeinaslongashecouldremember,hedidn’ttrusthimself.
Butbeforehecouldgethimselfintrouble,asoundfromtheothersideofthekitchendistractedthemboth.KeatsstiffenedagainstColby,andtheybothjoltedbackfromeachotherasifthey’dbeensimultaneouslycattle-prodded.Colbyturnedtowardthesidedoor.Throughtheglass,hecouldseeGeorgiastandingtherewide-eyed,herhandstillpoisedfortheknockshe’dgiventhedoor.
“Fuck,”Keatssaidbehindhim.
Georgiaturnedonherheel,lookinglikeshewasgoingtoheadrightbacktoherhouse.
“Shit.”Colbylurchedforward,crossingthefewstepstothedoor,andyankeditopen.“Georgia,wait.”
Shekeptmoving,herbacktohim,andwavedahand.“Um,no,that’sokay.I’llleaveyoutwoalone.Ididn’tmeantointerrupt.”
Damn.Damn.Damn.ColbytoldKeatshe’dberightback,thenjoggedtoreachGeorgia.Heputahandonhershoulder.“Hey,holdup.”
Shestoppedandturnedtofacehim.Shehadherlipsrolledinwardandlookedlikeakidwho’dgottencaughtspying.“Really,it’sfine.IwasonlycomingoverbecauseKeatslefthisphoneatmyplacewhenhedroppedofftheboxes.Butclearly,hedoesn’tneeditatthemoment.”
Colbyrubbedahandalongthebackofhisneck.God,hemustlooklikeamajorassholerightnow.Theyhadn’tmadeanyexclusivearrangements,butthey’dsharedsomethingspeciallastnightandtoday,hewas…“Georgia,I’msorryyouhadtoseethat,I—”
“I’mnot,”shesaid,cuttinghimoffwithalittlelaugh.ShehandedKeats’scellphoneovertohim.“That’sanimageI’llholdonto,thankyouverymuch.”
Helookedup,eyebrowsraised.“What?”
Thosefulllipscurvedupwardashergazetraveledoverhisnakedchest.“Allthatwasmissingwerethesprinklers.”
“You’renotpissed?”heasked,staringatthisstrangecreaturewhodidn’tseembotheredhe’dbeenlockinglipswithsomeoneelse.“Hurt?”
Shesighed.“Look,ItoldyouupfrontIdidn’twantthisthingbetweenustobeserious.Ididn’taskforittobeexclusive.Andyeah,ifithadbeensomeoneIdidn’tknowkissingyou,I’dprobablybehurt,butIdon’tknow…”Shegavealittleshrug.“It’sKeats.Ialreadycouldtelltherewassomethingtherebetweenyoutwo,soit’snotatotalshockthatthiscouldhappen.Andit’snotlikeIhaven’tseenyouwithotherpeoplebefore,somaybeI’vebuiltupsomeimmunity.Plus,well,youtwolookhottogether.”
Hecrossedhisarms.“Isthatright?”
Shepokedhim.“Nowdon’tgofishingforcompliments.”
“Never.”
Shegavehimayeah,rightlookbutwenton.“Look,I’magrownwomanwhounderstandswhatcasualmeans.Iwasn’tputtingupafrontonthat,secretlyhopingyou’dcommittome.ButifyouandKeatsaregoingtopursuesomethingmorethanthat,thenyoujustneedtotellme.IknowI’mleavingsoon,andifthiscouldbesomethingrealbetweenyoutwo,Icanstepaside.Idon’twanttointer—”
“Wait,that’snotwhatI’msuggestingatall.”
Shetuckedherhandsinthebackpocketsofherjeans,herheadtiltedandherhaloofdarkcurlyhaircatchingthesunlight.“No?”
“Imean,I’mnotsurewhatallthisiswithKeats.It’s…Idon’tknow.Fuck.”Herakedahandthroughhishair,allthequestionsrushingtothesurfacenowthathisbrainwascatchingupwithwhathadhappenedinthekitchen.“Keatsisconfusedandtryingtofigurethingsout.Hekissedme,butthatdoesn’tmeananything.He’stryingthingsonforsize,Iguess.”
Georgiasniffed.“AndstartingwithExtraLarge.Thatlookedlikemorethantrying,Colby.”
It’dfeltlikemore,too,buthewasn’tgoingtomarkthatdownastruthyet.Keatscouldbeinthehousefreakingthefuckoutrightnow.“Hethinkshecouldbesubmissive,sohewantsmetoshowhimsomethings.Training.Thatkiss…well,thatjustkindofhappened.It’scomplicated.Butitdoesn’tchangehowIfeelaboutyou.Lastnightwasamazing,andthere’snowayI’mreadytoletyouslipawayfrommesosoon.”
“Wait,hethinkshe’ssubmissive?”Herbrowneyeswentalittleroundatthat.“Wow,that’s…”
“That’swhat?”heasked,catchingherchangeintone.
Sheglancedtowardthehouse.“Thatjustgivesmereally,reallyimpurethoughts.Imean,yourdominanceobviouslyworksforme.Reallyworksforme.ButIwon’tpretendthatthethoughtofKeatsgoingallslaveboyisn’tridiculouslyhot.NotthatI’mtotallystunned.He’sgotthatwayabouthim,youknow?”
Colbygaveheraslowgrin,herwordstampingdownsomeofhisanxietyoverthesituation.“Thatlooklikehe’ddoeverythingpossibletoblowalover’smind?”
“God,yes,thatone.”
Colbychuckled.“You’readirtygirl,Ms.Delaune.”
“Iam.It’sanewpersonalityflaw,apparently.IthinkIcaughtitfromyou.”
Colbyslippedanarmaroundherwaistanddrewheragainsthim.“Ilikeit.Alot.”
“Me,too.”
Heleanedbackalittle,gazingdownather.“Sowe’regood?Pleasetellmewe’regood,becauselastnightwasfantastic.”
“We’regood,bigman.”Shewrappedherarmsaroundhim.“Andreally,ifitturnsouttobemorethanakisswithKeats,I’mokaywiththat.”
Hesmiled.“Youknow?Ibelieveyouonthat.ButIthinkit’stimetosetupafewguidelines.Becauseeventhoughwe’redoingcasual,IwantyoutoknowI’mnotinterestedinbed-hoppingallovertheplace.Itakethisseriously.”
“Whatkindofguidelines?”sheasked,herheadtippingtothesideinthatoh,dotellwaythathefoundunbearablysexy.
“Whilewe’reseeingeachother,thisdoesn’tgobeyondthethreeofus,”hesaid,theplanforminginhisheadashespoke.“IfIdecidetotrainKeats—andthat’sabigif,becauseGodknowswehavealottodiscussbeforethat’sevenapossibility—youhavemywordthatnooneelseisinmybedbesidesthetwoofyou.”
“Okay,”shesaidslowly.
“Andyougivemeyourwordonthesame.”
“ThatIwon’tseeanyoneelse?”
“Thatyouwon’tsleepwithanyoneelsebesidesme…orKeats.”
Herbrowsscrunched.“Keats?Butthat’snot—he’sgoingtobeworkingformeandhe’stwenty-threeand—”
“Andyou’reattractedtoeachotherandmighthavewantedtokisseachotherlastnightandstuffcouldhappen,”Colbyfinished.“I’mnotsayingithasto.That’suptothetwoofyou,butI’mlettingyouknowthatit’sfineifitdoes.”
Sheblinked,obviouslystunnedintosilence.
Hecuppedherfaceandkissedher.“Deal?”
“I’mnotgoingtofoolaroundwithKeats.He’sworkingforme.”
“Yourcall,gorgeous,”hesaid,notwantingtopushher,butknowingthatifKeatsdialedupthecharm,Georgiamightfindhimhardtoresist.Colbyclearlywasn’tdoingwellwiththatparticulartemptation,andKeatshadbeenanythingbutcharmingtowardhim.Plus,hehadafeelingthatGeorgiahadwatchedColby’sthreesomeswithmorethanapassinginterest.
Shesighed.“You’vegotmyheadspinning,ColbyWilkes.”
“Good.”Hetuggedononeofhercurls.“Comeoverfordinnertonight.”
“Don’tyouthinkyouandKeatsneedtotalkthisout?I’llbeintheway.”
Hegrimaced.
Shepokedhiminthechestagain.“Don’tbesuchaman.Theguyjusthadhisfirstboy-on-boykiss.Andyoumadeoutwithyourformerstudent.Thatstuffneedstobediscussed,orhe’sgoingtoenduprunningawayagain.Hemightbepackinghisbagsalready.”
Colbylookedtothesky,feelingtheweightofallofit.“I’llhandleit.”
Thoughhewasn’tsurewhathewasmoreafraidoffindingoncehegotbacktohishouse—Keatsregrettingthekissandbacktracking.
OrKeatsnot…TWENTY
KeatswassittingonthelivingroomcouchwithhisheadbackandarmoverhiseyeswhenheheardColbywalkbackin.Hefeltsicktohisstomachandcouldn’tstopbouncinghisknee.It’dtakeneverythinghehadtosithereandnottojumponhisbikeandbail.
“Youokay?”Colbyasked,hisdeepvoiceuncharacteristicallyquiet.
Keatsdidn’topenhiseyes.“DidImessthingsupforyouwithGeorgia?”
“No.Notatall.”
Heloweredhisarmatthat.“You’rekidding,right?”
Colbyleanedagainstthewall.He’dputonashirtbeforecominginhere.Maybehe’dwantedtheprotectionsinceKeatshadbasicallymauledhiminthekitchen
“She’swatchedmethroughmybedroomwindowforayear.Seeingmewithsomeoneelsewasn’tthatshockingtoher.Andshe’sbeenveryup-frontthatshe’snotlookingforaseriousrelationship.Sowe’regood.”
Keatsshookhishead.“Evenifshe’sokaywithyouseeingotherpeople,shedoesn’tcarethatyou’rebi?Doesn’tthatfreakwomenout?”
“Sure,itcanfreaksomewomenout.Alotofwomen,actually.ButGeorgiaalreadyknewthataboutme.Shethinksit’skindofhot.”
Keatsstaredathimforasecond,processingthat.“Unbelievable.Wheredoyoufindwomenlikeher?”
“Nextdoor,apparently.”
Keatssnorted.“Luckyyou.”
“Yes.Lucky.Georgiaisaspecialwomanwithaveryopenmind.She’snotjudginganybody.Includingyou.”
“Right.”
Quietcreptinbetweenthemeventhoughtheirgazesheld,andKeats’sstomachtwistedagain.
Colbyrubbedahandoverthebackofhishead.“Well,ifyou’reallright,Ineedtograbashower,so—”
“I’mreallysorryabout,youknow,everything.Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking.”Hewipedhisdamppalmsonhisjeans.“Iwasn’tthinking.”
He’dneverplannedtokissColby.He’donlywantedtoaskifhecouldgototheresortColbyworkedfortofigureshitout.Butwhenhe’drealizedColbywasshuttinghimout,tryingtosethimupwithsomestranger,he’dreactedoninstinct,wantingtoshowColbyhewasn’tscared.Keatshadneededtoknowiftheurgeshewasfeelingwerereal.Andunlikethelasttimehe’dperformedasneakattackonhisformerteacher,thistimehe’dknownwhathewasdoing—atleastintheory.Colby’sbeardandtheaggressiveedgetothekisshadbeenanaltogetherdifferentsensationthankissingthesoft,pliantmouthofawoman,butthewayKeats’sbodyhadrespondedhadbeenfartoofamiliar.
Andwhenhe’dfeltColbygethardagainsthisthigh,histhoughtshadsmashedintoaten-carpileupinhishead.He’dneverhadthedesiretotouchanydickbuthisownuntilthatmoment.Hishandhadflexed,itchingtoslidebetweenthemandseewhatit’dbeliketotouchColbythatway.Butchasingthatdesirewasalsoadeep,coldfearofwhatwasontheothersideofthatline.Washereallyreadytogothere?Kissingaguy,eventouchingone—thosethingshecouldprobablywriteoffasexperimentationormisguidedmoments.ButwhatColbywouldwantifKeatsstartedsomethingwithhimwouldleavenoroomforKeatstorationalize.Hehadnodoubtwhowouldbetheonegettingfuckedinthatscenario.
Visionsofallthosemiserableyearsoftormentinschoolflittedthroughhisbrain.ThePrincessnicknamethathadstuckafterfootballcamp,therumors,theinsultsanddigshurledhisway.Thegoddamnedlockerroom.Hey,Adam,whatareyoudoinginhere?Thegirls’showersarethatway.Hey,Adam,what’sitfeelliketotakeituptheass?Isthatwhyyou’reinprivatelessonswithMr.Wilkes?Doeshetellyouyou’reprettywhileyousuckhimoff?
“Youdon’thavetoapologize,”Colbysaidwithasighashemovedcloser.“Iknowwhatit’sliketobeconfused—aboutthethingsyoulikeordon’tlike,aboutthedesiresthatflashthroughyourmind,aboutalltheoutsideconsequencesthataretiedtothosekindsofdecisions.”
“Yeah,butyou’reso…togetherandcoolwithitall.Idon’t—”
ColbylaughedandproppedahiponthearmoftheloveseatacrossfromKeats.“Youthinkbeingattractedtoguyswasafundiscoveryforme?YouthinkI’vealwaysbeenatpeacewithwhoIam?”
Keatsshrugged,rememberingColbywhenhewashismusicteacher.Theguyalwaysseemedtobeonanevenkeeldespitelivinginaconservativetownthatwaspronetojudginghim.“Idon’tknow,seemslikeyou’reofthe‘hatersgonnahate’schoolofthought.”
“Bythetimewemet,thingsweresettlingintoplaceforme.YousawtheAftershot.Butittookawhiletogettothatpoint.Igrewupinamorebackwoodstownthanyoudidandwasanall-staroffensivelinemanonthefootballteam.IhadagirlfriendwhoIcaredabout,whoeveryonethoughtI’dmarryaftergraduation.Sogettingabonerinthegroupshowersbecausethequarterbackhadaniceasswasnotonmyhighschoolbucketlist.Addinalltheotherstuff—thesadisticfantasies,thoughtsofbondage,younameit—andIthoughtIwasaboutasfuckedupastheycome.Ididn’ttellanyonehowIwasfeeling.Notinhighschoolandnotafterward.Noteventheguysinmybandhadaclue.Well,untiltheguitaristcaughtmeinthetourbusscrewingoneoftheroadies.”
Keatsfrowned.He’dknownColbyhadleftapromisingmusiccareertogointoteaching,buthe’dneverthoughttowonderwhy.Atseventeen,he’dbeentooconcernedabouthisowncrap.“Isthatwhyyouleftthemusicscene?”
“Yesandno.IleftbecauseIwasonapathtonowheregood.Theotherbandmembersdistancedthemselvesfrommeaftertheyfoundout—likeIwasgoingtorapethemintheirsleeporsomething.Theywould’vekickedmeoutifmyvoicehadn’tbeenwhatitwas.Plus,Iwrotemostofthemusic.ButtheisolationhadmedrinkingmoreandpartyingharderthanIshould.Thenmydaddied,mylittlebrothergothimselftossedinjail,andmymomneededmehometohelpout.Withoutanotherincome,shewasgoingtolosewhatlittlewehad.”
Keatsleanedbackonthecouch,runninghishandsoverhisface.“Jesus.Soyoujustwalkedawayfromyourdream?”
“Ishould’veneverbeenoutontheroadchasingitanyway.Myfamilyhadnexttonothing,andmybrotherwasahandful.IfIhadstuckaroundandhelpedoutsooner,maybemydadwouldn’thavehadsomuchstressonhim.Andmaybemybrotherwouldn’tbesittinginprisonrightnowforarmedrobberybecauseIwould’vekickedhisasshadIknownwhathewasgettinginto.Itwasaone-in-a-millionshotthatI’dactuallymakemoneydoingthemusicthinganyway.”
KeatswatchedColby’sfaceforsignsofregret,butallhesawwashisregretoverhisfamilystuff,notwalkingawayfromthecareer.Thathecouldn’tunderstand.Fromwhatheknew,Colbyhadbeenclosertoachievingthatdreamthanhewaslettingon.Hecouldn’timaginegivingupthechancetoplaymusicforaliving.“I’mnotsureIcould’vebeentrustedtobesoself-sacrificing.Didn’tyouhavearecorddeal?”
Hegaveadismissiveflickofhishand.“Yeah,withasmallindielabeloutofNashville.ButImadetherightchoiceforme.AsmuchasIlovemusic,Iwasn’thappyinthatlifestyle.Ilikeperformingandwritingmysongs,butalltheshitthatwentalongwithitwasn’tmyscene.Myheartwasn’tinit.AtthetimeIdidn’trealizethat,butwhenIgotthejobatHickoryPoint,thatwasthefirsttimeIfeltlikeIwaswhereIwassupposedtobe.Teaching,mentoring,counseling—that’swhatdoesitforme.”
“Whetherit’steachingsomeonehowtosurvivehighschoolorhowtosnapawhip?”
Dimplespeekedoutfrombehindthebeard.“Yeah,Iguessso.ThoughIwon’tlie.ThetrainingIdoatTheRanchhasbeenmorepersonalnecessitythanacareer.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“JustbecauseI’mcomfortablewithmytastesandpreferencesdoesn’tmeanit’seasy.Ican’texactlygoaboutmysociallifelikeatypicalguywould.SoTheRanchiswhereIfindmyfriends,mylovers,aplacewhereIknowIwon’tbelookedatlikeanoutsider.”
Thatsankin,andthenauseawelledupinKeatsagain.Anoutsider.Whathehatedbeingmost.Hescrapedhishandthroughhishair.“God,Idon’tknowifIcould—”
“Whatareyoumorefreaked-outabout?”Colbyaskedgently.“Thepossibilitythatyou’rebiorthatyoucouldbesubmissive?”
AheadachewaspoundingbehindKeats’seyes.“Allofit.Onesoundsasbadastheother.Ican’thelpbutthinkthatmaybeallthoseassholes,includingmyfather,wererightaboutmeafterall.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Heshookhishead,thepastasvividasamoviescreenbeneathhiseyelids.“Allthosenamestheycalledme.MaybeI’meverythingtheysaid…fag,pussy,cocksu—”
“Shutyourmouthwiththatshit,Keats,”Colbysaid,cuttinghimoff.
Keatsopenedhiseyes,findingColbyleaningforward,ascowlonhisface.
“Yourfatherwasasmall-mindedprickwithaGodcomplex.”Hestoodandjabbedafingerhisway.“AndifIeverhearyouuseoneofhiswordstodescribeyourselfagain,Iwillpersonallybeatthatnotionoutofyou.”
Keatsstilled,Colby’spalpableangerdoingsomethingtohim.
“Areyougoingtocallmethosenames?”Colbyasked,holdingouthisarms,creatinganimpressivewingspan.“Becausethey’dapplytome,too.YouthinkifIgotonmykneesrightnowandsuckedyouoff,it’dmakemelessofaman?”
Keatsswallowedhard,theimagealmosttoointensetowraphismindaround.Though,evenwithhisheadwhirling,hisbodyregisteredthefantasy,bloodrushingsouth.“No,butyoudon’tdothat.”
Colbyscoffed.“YouthinkbecauseItopIdon’tgivehead?”
Keats’sneckheated.Hehatedbeingtheoneinthedark.HepushedupfromthecouchandmovedpastColby,readytoescapetohisroom.“Look,IguessIdon’tknowhowitallworks.IfIdid,Iwouldn’thaveaskedtogotothatdamnresort.”
HeheadedtowardthehallwaytoputhisbacktoColbyasquicklyaspossible.Hiscockwasrebellingdespitehismentalprotestsforittobehave,andthelastthingheneededwastoembarrasshimselfevenmore.
“Keats,stopwhereyou’reat.”
Hehalted,theresponseautomatic,buthewasn’tsurewhyhewasdoingit.
“Ineedyoutohearthis.WhatIsaiddidn’tcomeoutright.I’mnotmakingfunofyou.Ofcourseyoudon’tknowhowitworksbecauseyou’veneverdoneanyofit.Youdon’thavetobeafraidtoaskmeanykindofquestion.I’llanswerit.”Heletoutalongbreath.“Or…”
Footstepssoundedbehindhim.Keatsstareddownatthegroundinfrontofhim,hisheartbeatinghardinhischestasColbystoppedrightbehindhim.
“OrI’llshowyou.Ifthat’swhatyouwant,”Colbyfinished.
Keatsclosedhiseyes,someweirdcombinationofpanicandanticipationwellinginhim.Buthedidn’tdaremove.
“Isitwhatyouwant?”Colbyasked,hisvoicebarelyaudible.
Idon’tknow.ThewordshoveredinKeats’sheadbutwouldn’tmovepasthislips.Maybe.Yes…
Long,silentsecondsstretched,andwhenKeatsdidn’tmoveaway,Colbyseemedtotakethatasananswer.
“LaceyourfingersbehindyourheadandkeepthemthatwayunlessItellyouotherwise,”Colbysaid,theundercurrentofauthoritythatalwayslingeredinhisvoicebrimmingtothesurface.“Youwantthistostop,yousayred.Doyouunderstand?”
Keatswasconvincedhisheartwasabouttojumpoutofhismouthandontothefloor.Hemanagedanod.
“No,Ineedtohearyousayyouunderstand.”
Keatsforcedhistonguetowork.“Iunderstand.Redmakesitstop.”
“Putyourbackagainstthewall.”
Keatsfelthimselfgoingintosomestrangeversionofautopilot.Heclosedhiseyesandturned,pressinghisbackagainstthewallacrossfromthedoorwaytoColby’sbedroom.
“First,”Colbysaid,hisvoiceclose,“doesthispositioncauseanypaininyourribs?”
Mentally,Keatsdidaquickscanofhisinjuries.Hewassoreeverywherestill,buthavinghishandsbehindhisheaddidn’tmakeanythinghurtworse.“No.”
“Good.I’mgoingtotakeashower,”hesaid,catchingKeatsoffguard.“Thisisn’tadecisiontomakeonimpulseorbecauseyourdickishard.Ifyou’restillhereinthispositionwhenIgetback,I’llgiveyouyourfirstlesson.Doyouunderstand?”
“Yes,”Keatssaid,histhroattryingtoclose.
“AndKeats,”Colbysaid,soclosetoKeats’searthathestartled.“Knowthatifyou’restillherewhenIgetback,I’mnotgoingtoletyoukeepyoureyesclosed.Youwon’tbeabletogetawaywithpretendingit’ssomegirltouchingyou.”
“You’retryingtofreakmeout,”hesaid,finallymanagingtoopenhiseyes.
Colby’smouthwentlopsided,buttherewaswickedintentlingeringinhiseyes.“Firstthingtolearn,Keats,whatgetsmeoffisnotaboutfuckingsomeone’sbody,thoughthat’sanicepartofit.Ifyouwantthis,knowthatmyendgoalisn’ttogetinyourpants.”HepressedhisfingertiptoKeats’sbrowthentapped.“It’stogetinhereandfuckyoufromtheinsideout.”
Withthat,hepattedKeats’scheekandwentintothebedroom,shuttingthedoorbehindhimandleavingKeatsstandingthereinthehallway.
Andforthefirsttime,Keatswastrulyterrified.
Givinguphisbodyinanewwayhecouldprobablyhandle.Itwasjustsexafterall—gay,straight,orinbetween.Bodiesonbodies.Physicalrelease.
Butlettingsomeoneinhishead…
Heloweredhisarmstohissideanddidwhathedidbest—hebailed.TWENTY-ONE
Colbyknewwhathe’dfindwhenheopenedhisdoor,sohewasn’tsurprisedtoseeanemptyhallway.He’dscaredKeats.He’dmeantto.HecouldtellhimselfitwasforKeats’sowngoodbecausethekidwasn’tready,butColbywasn’tmuchforlyingtohimself.Themovehadbeenhisownpanicmanifesting.He’dplannedtogetonhiskneesrightthereinthehallwayandshowKeatsthatevensomeoneasdominantashim,thestereotypical“man’sman”orwhateverKeatssawhimas,couldgetaguyoffandtakepleasureinit.
Butwhenthemomenthadarrived,everythinghadfelttoointense,tooat-the-surface.Keatswasn’tsomesubmissiveatTheRanchhewasplayingwithforthenight.ThiswasKeats,andhewaslivinghereandtherewas…stuffbetweenthem.Italreadyfeltcomplicated,andallthey’ddonewaskiss.Hedidn’tknowwhattodowiththat.Thethoughtofsleepingwithsomeoneforthefirsttimewasn’tsupposedtofeelthatheavy.Butinhisgut,heknewcrossingthatlinewithKeatswouldfeelfardifferentthanjustafunfirsttimebecauseoftheirhistory.
Heneededtofixthis.LetKeatsknowthatitwasn’tagoodideaforthemtostepoverthatboundaryafterall.Takethepossibilityoutofplayanddefusethetension.MaybeKeatscouldfindwhatheneededwithsomeoneelse,maybeevenwithGeorgia.Colbyshouldn’tbetheone.
Heheadedtothekitchentofindhiscellphone,butitrangbeforehecouldgettoit.Hegrabbeditastheopeningnotesof“AmarillobyMorning”filledtheroom.“Hello?”
“Wanttotellmewhyyourhouseguestiscurrentlyhere,beggingformetopilesomeworkonhim?”Georgiaasked,hervoicelow,asifshewerecuppingherhandoverthemouthpiece.
Colbyclearedhisthroat.“Imayhavescaredhimoff.ButI’mgladhe’sthereanddidn’trunsomewhereelse.”
Shesighed.“Whathappened?”
“Nothingdid.Hischoice.Agoodchoice,actually.”
“Mmm-hmm,”Georgiasaidinthatwaythatmadehimthinkshedidn’tbuyit.“Sowhatnow?I’dlethimcrashonmycouch,butIdon’tthinkIcanhandlesomeonesleepinginmyhouseyet.I’mstillalittlejitteryhavingsomeonehereatall.”
“That’snotnecessary.TellKeats…well,tellhimwe’recool.Everything’sfine.I’vegotameetingattheschoollatethisafternoon,andthenI’mgoingtoplayasetattheIronSpoketonight,soifKeatswantstoavoidmefortherestoftoday,itwon’tbehard.”
“Andtomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,I’mnotgoingtoletyouturnmedownfordinner.Evenwithallthis,youhaven’tbeenfarfrommymind.EverytimeIclosemyeyesIcanseehowdamnsexyyoulookedwrappedinmyropeandcomingformelastnight.Iwon’twaitanothernighttoseethatagain.I’llcommandyourpresenceifIhaveto.”
“Idoubtacommandwillbenecessary.I’vebeenthinkingaboutyou,too.ButwhataboutKeats?”
Hereleasedalongbreath.“TomorrowI’mgoingtositdownandtellhimnothing’sgoingtohappenbetweenus.”
—
Georgiahungupthephonewithasigh.Colbyhadsounded…resignedaboutKeats,andshehadnoideahowtohelp.Thoughshedidn’twanttointerfereandshouldprobablybehappytohaveColbyalltoherself,herinstinctstoldherthatColbyandKeatsneededtoworkoutwhateveritwasbetweentheminafarlesscivilizedmannerthantalking.MostofthefemalepopulationoftheworldwouldprobablythinkshewasnutsforwantingtoshareColbylikethat.ButafterbeingcaughtintheinescapablebeamofPhillip’sobsessiveloveforsolong,beingwithsomeonewhowasinterestedinherbutnotfixatedwasawelcomechange.IthelpedherbreatheandnotfreakoutabouthowpowerfuleverythinghadfeltwithColbylastnight.
Butitdidn’tmatterwhatshewantedforthetwoguys.Itwasn’thercall.ColbyandKeatswouldhavetofigurethingsoutforthemselvesintheirownway.
Sheheadedbackintothelivingroomtojoinherunexpectedguest.Inthefewminutesshehadlefthimalone,Keatswasspreadoutonhercouchwithastackofpapersinhislap.Helookedupfromtheonehewasreadingandsmiled.“Youtoldonme,George?”
Shesmirked.He’dtakentocallingherGeorgeandforsomereason,shefoundthatshelikedit.“Itoldhimyouwereheresohewouldn’tgoonateartofindyouagain.”
“Mybike’sstillinthedriveway.Hewould’vefigureditout.”
Sheeyedthepapersagain.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Thesehadastickynoteonthemthatsaidproofread,soI’mproofreading.”
“What?”
“I’vemarkedafewtypos,but,goddamnGeorge,thisis—”
“Notreadyforoutsideeyes,”shesaid,annoyanceseepingintohertone.
“It’sawesome.Andlikeholyshithot,”hesaid,atouchofaweinhisvoice.“ThisHavenwoman—damn.”
Herteethclenchedandshestalkedovertograbthepagesfromhim.Phillipusedtodigthroughhermanuscripts,tryingtoget“insight”intohowhermindworked—orsohesaid.Whichjustmeanthe’dgetjealousofwhoevertheherowas.Hispossessivenessdidn’tdiscriminate,evenwhenthemenshewasspendinghertimewithwerefictional.“Don’treadsomethingunlessItellyouit’sreadytoberead.”
Hegavethemovertoherwithoutafight,chagrined.“Hey,I’msorry,Ididn’trealize—”
“It’sfine,”shesaid,straighteningthepapersunnecessarily.“Youdidn’tknow.It’sjust,thisismyworkinprogress,andit’snotreadyforotherstosee.”
Hehelduphishands.“Totallygetit.Idon’tlikepeoplehearingmysongsuntilthey’redoneeither.Ididn’tmeantoinvade.IjustsawthenoteandthoughtIcouldhelp.”
Sheletoutabreathandsatnexttohimonthecouch,knowingherangerwasn’treallyabouthim.“It’sokay.Butnexttime,askbeforeyoudiveintosomething.”
“Yes,ma’am,”hesaid,allcharmandgreeneyes.“IpromiseIwillnotpeekintoyourbookwithoutpermissioneveragain.Yourverysteamybook.”
“Keats.”Shesenthimawarninglook.Ofcoursethestackofpageshe’dpickeduphadbeenthetie-the-guy-to-the-bedscene.Hecouldn’thavegrabbedthegunfightinstead.
Hegrinned.“SoisthatMarioguygoingtogetthegirlorisHavenjustgoingtoteasehimuntilhisbrainexplodes?”
“Ihaven’tdecided.”
“Evil.Ilikeit.”
“Doyou?”sheasked,cockingherheadathim.“SoisthatyourplanwithColby?”
Hestraightened,hisaffableexpressionsagging.“What?”
“Runninghotandcold,teasinghim.”Sheturnedonthecouchtofacehimfully.“Becauseearlieryoutwowereallovereachotherandnowyou’rehidingatmyhouse.”
Hisfacewentcrimsonallthewaytotherootsofhisblondhairandhisjawtwitchedashelookedaway.“Jesus,George,youdon’tpullpunches.”
“No,Idon’t.ButI’mnotsayingittoembarrassyou.”
“Well,it’sembarrassing,allright?”Heshiftedhispositionbutwouldn’tlookather.“That’snothowIwantyoutoseeme.”
“Idon’tseeyouanydifferentlythanIdidbefore.”
“Right.”
“I’mserious,Keats.YouthinkIdon’tunderstandtheurgetokissColby?Ihaveabadcaseofthatafflictionmyself.”
“Youknowit’snotthesame.”
“No,Iknowit’snotallthatdifferent,thatyouprobablyknowaswellasIdohowhecanmakeyourbodygohotwithoneofthosedamnlookshegives—theonesthatpromisehe’llrockyourightoffyourfoundationifyougivehimaninch.”
Hisfingerscurledintohisjeans.“George.”
“Ialsobetyoucouldn’tpullawayfromthatkissafteritstarted,thatonceColbytakescontrol,youjustwanttosayyestohimoverandoveragain.”
Keatsclosedhiseyes,hisexpressionstrained.“Pleasestop.”
“Hey,lookatme,”shesaidsoftly.
Afterabreath,hedraggedhisgazetohers.
“I’mnotoneofthosekidsinyourfootballcampwho’slookingtojudgeyou.BeingattractedtoColbydoesn’tmakeyouweakorlessofaman.”Shenudgedhiskneewithhers.“YouknowwhatIseewhenIlookatyou?”
“Ahotmess?”hesuggestedwithaself-deprecatingsmirk.
“Well,hot,yes.Definitely.Butnotamess.You’restillfiguringthingsoutlikemostofus.There’snothingwrongwiththat.I’mstillworkingthroughsomestuffmyself.Believeitornot,Colbyisn’tmytypicaltypeeither.”
“No?”
“I’mnotexactlyafanofgivingovercontrol.”
Hepeeredupagainatthat,curiosityflickeringthere.
“ButIwantyoutorealizethateventhoughit’sfinetobeconfused,alltheback-and-forthishardonColby,too.AndIknowwehaven’tmadeiteasyonyouoverthelasttwonights.It’snotfairtoputyouinapositionwhereyou’reforcedtolistentothings,especiallyifyou’rehavingmixed-upfeelingsaboutColby.”
“Icould’veleft.”
“Still,Iwon’tletithappenagain.Butregardless,maybeitwouldbewisetothinkhardaboutwhatyouwantbeforeyouactagain.”
Henoddedslowly,asiftakingallthatin,andthenhislipsbegantocurlupward,someofthatroguishlightreturningtohiseyes.“So,youthinkI’mhot,huh?”
Shegavehimadrolllook.“Ofcoursethat’swhatyouwouldhearinallthat.”
Thegrinwentwider.“Howhot?”
“Gofishingoffsomeotherpier,Keats,”shesaid,gettingupbutunabletohidehersmile.“Youknowyou’reeasyontheeyes.It’slikeoneofthoseHemsworthboysandanarchangelhadalovechild.”
Heburstoutlaughing.“George!”
“I’llgograbthatprojectIwantedyoutoworkon.Keepyourhandsoffthosepages.”
Shecouldfeelhisgazeonherasshewalkedaway.“I’msoreportingyoutoHR.Ifeelcompletelyobjectifiednow.”
“Sosorry,”shesaid,noremorseinhervoice.
“Don’tbe.Ifuckingneededthat.”Sheglancedbackathim,findinghimwithaseriousexpressionagain.“Really,thanks.Myhead’sallscrewedupwiththis,andit’snicetofindtherearestillsomethingsIknowforsure.”
Shecrossedherarmsoverherchest.“What’sthat?Thatyou’rehot.”
“No,”hesaid,meetinghereyes.“ThatIcanstillbeattractedtoabeautifulwoman.”
“Oh.”Awarenesspingedthroughher,andherbackstraightened.Thesetwomenwereamenace.“I’llberightback.”
Hislipsliftedandheproppedhisfeetonhercoffeetable.“Sure,George.I’llbewaitingformymarchingorders.”
Orders.HerearlierconversationwithColbycamebacktoheraboutKeats’ssupposedpreferences,andreally,reallybadthoughtszippedthroughhermind.ColbyputtingKeatsonhiskneeslikehehadputherlastnight.BothofthembringingKeatstotheedgeandback.Sheturnedawayfromhim.“Feetoffthecoffeetable,Keats.”
“Yes,ma’am,”hedrawledagain,andeverythingwentwarminsideher.
Ah,hell.Shewasturningouttobetheworstbossever.TWENTY-TWO
Keatssatatthebaronthefarend,whereitwasdarkenoughthatnoonewouldnoticehimorhisblackeye.He’dpainthimselfinvisibleifhecould,butheneededtobehere.HenursedhissecondShinerBockandkepthiseyestrainedonthestage.Theactwrappingupwasprettygood—achickwhosoundedlikethecountryversionofJanisJoplinbutlookedlikeJossStoneincowboybootswiththepink-streakedhair.Itwasagoodcombination.Onethatprobablywould’vecapturedhisattentionaweekago.Butnowallhecouldthinkaboutwasthewomanwhosehousehe’dleftanhouragoandthemanabouttogetonstage.
Atall,blondguysqueezedintothespacenexttoKeatsandtappedthebar.Thebartenderturnedandgavethenewcomerawidegrin.“Well,howyoudoing,stranger?Heretoseethebigmanplay?”
Theguysmiled,alleffortlesscharm.“Justluckedoutonthatone.Robyn,thegirluponstage,worksformeatmystore,andIpromisedI’dstopbyandwatchherplay.Plus,EvanandAndreareatapolicefund-raisertonight.”
“Poorthing.Allalonetonight.”
“Don’tworry.Thereareplansforwhenweallgethome.”
“Nice.”Thebartenderslidaglassofamberliquidinfrontofhim.“Here’stogettinglucky,then.”
Heraisedtheglassinsalute.“I’lldrinktothat.”
Thebartendermovedtotakecareofanothercustomer,andthemansettledhisbacktothebarinbetweenstoolstolookatthestage.HeglancedatKeats,asifnoticinghimforthefirsttime.“She’sprettygood,yeah?”
Keatstookapulloffhisbeer.“Herguitarskillsneedalittlework,buthervoicecutsrightthroughyou—inagoodway.”
Hesmirked.“YousoundlikemyfriendColby,theguyplayingnext.Iswearthatdudedoesn’tthinkanyoneplaystheguitarwell.”
KeatspausedatthesoundofColby’sname.“You’refriendswithColby?”
Theguysethisdrinkdown.“Iam.Youknowhim?”
“Yeah.”
“Ihaven’tseenyouaroundbefore.Youworkattheschoolorsomething?”Heheldouthishand.“I’mJace,bytheway.”
“Keats.”Heshooktheguy’shandandthenreachedforhisbeeragain.“Andno,notfromtheschool.”
Jace’seyebrowarchedandhegaveKeatsamoreassessinglook,thensmiled.Keatsmust’vegivensomethingawayinthecommentbecauseJacelookedlikehe’dansweredsomequestionforhimself.“NowonderIhaven’tseenColbyaroundlately.”
EmbarrassmentwelledinKeatswhenherealizedwhatJacewasassuming.“It’snot—”
“Anyofmybusiness,”Jacefinished,andliftedhisglassagain.“Here’stobothofusgettingluckytonightthen,huh?”
JaceclinkedhisglassagainstKeats’sbeerandappearedfartooamusedathowuncomfortablehe’dmadehim.Keatswantedtohightailitoutofthererightthen,buthewasn’tgoingtobeacowardaboutthis.
Robyn,thegirlwho’dbeenperforming,wrappeduphersetandthenstrolledoutafewminuteslater.ShewasgrinningasshewalkeduptoJaceandgavehimabighug.“Youcame!”
Jacereleasedherfromthehugandlaughed.“That’swhatshesaid.”
Robynrolledhereyes.“Seriously,boss,yougottagivethatlineup.”
“Never.Iwillclingtoitwithmydyingbreath.”HemovedoutofthewayandlethertakethestoolnexttoKeats.“Youdidgreat,kiddo.You’rewaytootalentedtobeworkingforme.”
“Whatever.”
“Hey,haveadrinkonme.ThisisKeats,Colby’sfriend.He’llkeepyoucompany.I’llberightback.”
RobynbarelyglancedKeats’swayatfirst,butthenturnedtotakeasecond,slowerlookthatsaidshelikedwhatshesaw.Normally,Keatswould’veflippedontheswitchandsentaflirtysmileback.Thegirlwaspretty,talented,andclosertohisagethanGeorgiaandColbywere.Buthecouldn’tmusterupthatsideofhimself.Plus,hewastoobusybeingannoyedthatJacehadassignedhimajob.DidColbyonlyhavefriendswholikedtodishoutorders?
Robynslidontothestool,orderedabeer,andthentwistedhercurlyhairintoalooseponytail,securingitwitharubberband.Shefannedherneck.“Damn,thoselightsarehotupthere.”Sheleanedhisway.“Atleastthat’swhatI’mtellingmyselfandnotthatI’msweatinglikethisfromnerves.”
Keatssmiledatthat.“FirsttimeIeverplayedatanopenmicnightIlookedliketheBeforeshotinadeodorantcommercial.Ilearnedtoalwayshaveajacketonhand.”
Shepoppedthecollarofherkhakiarmyjacket.“Alreadyaheadofyou.”Shetookasipfromherdrink.“Soyou’reamusician,too?”
Heshrugged.“WhenI’mnotdoingthingsthatmakeactualmoney,yes.”
Shelaughed.“Ihearya.I’dstarvetodeathifIusedthistosupportmyself.ButIhaveagoodgigwithJace.I’mthemanagerofhisstore,andhe’seasytoworkfor,evenifheinsistsoncallingmekiddonomatterhowoldIam.”
Keatssmirked.“Iknowthefeeling.”
Sheturnedtofacehimfully,thepinkhighlightsandherdarkhairmakinghergreeneyesstandoutinthedimlightofthebar.“Sohowcomeyou’renotplayingtonight?It’sopenmic.”
Keatsshookhishead.“I’mjustheretoseemyfriend.Ihaven’tdonethestagethinginawhile.I’dprobablybomb.”
Shepressedherlipstogetherinmockconsternation.“Nowayyoucouldbeworsethanthedudewhowentonbeforemeandsangabouthisdeaddog.”Sheputahandtohiskneeandleanedforward.Forallthesweatingsheclaimed,shestillsmelledlikesomelight,floweryperfume.“Comeon.Youcanevenborrowmyguitarifyouneedone.I’dlovetoseeyouplay.”
Keatslickedhislips.Ifhe’dhadanydoubtshewasflirtingbefore,heknewforsurenow.Herhandwasmoreonhisthighthanhisknee.Aweekago,thiswould’vebeenaperfectsetup.He’dalwayshadathingforconfidentgirlswhoweren’tafraidtomakeamove.Butitdidn’tfeelrighttonight.
BighandslandedonRobyn’sshoulders,andJacegaveheralittlesqueeze.“Fallback,kiddo.Thisone’snicetolookat,butIthinkKeatsbelongstosomeoneelse.”
RobynpeeredupatJaceandthenbacktoKeats,sendinghimaslightlyapologeticlookasshemovedherhandfromhisleg.“Iwasonlytryingtoconvincehimtotakeaturnonstage.”
“Uh-huh,”Jacesaid,hissmilesly.“Sureyouwere.”
KeatshadbeenrenderedspeechlessatJace’scomment—Keatsbelongstosomeoneelse—butnowhismindsnappedbackintoplace.Irritationedgedhisvoicewhenhefinallyspoke.“Idon’tbelongtoanyone.”
Andfuckit,maybethiswaswhatheneededafterall.Aprettygirlwhoseemedmorethaninterestedinwhathehadtooffer.Butjustwhenhewasabouttomakeareallyself-servingmove,thedeep,rumblingvoiceofoneColbyWilkesfilledthespacearoundhim.Keatsstoppedeverythinghewasabouttosay,hisattentiondrawninexorablytowardthestage.Colbywasperchedonastool,onefootbracedontherungandtheotherlegstretchedtothefloor.Hisballcapwaslowoverhiseyesbuthishaircurledaroundtheedges,andtheflashofdimpleshidinthealmost-smile.Evenonthatsmallstageinthissmallbar,wearingjeansandasimpleflannelshirt,Colbylookedlikeafuckingrockstar.
Colbygaveabriefgreeting,thankedthecrowdforcomingouttonight,andthenlauncheddirectlyintowhathesaidwasanewsong.Deep,molasses-lacednotesresonatedthroughtheroom,wrappingaroundhimandinfiltratingeverypartofKeats.Andwhenheheardthechorus,lyricsachingwithwantanddesireforuntouchablethings,feelingsthatKeatsknewalltoowell,hesankbackagainstthebarlikehe’dbeenpunched.
Jaceleanedover,closetohisear.“Yousureaboutthat?BecauseIonlylookatoneotherguylikethat,andIcertainlybelongtohim.”
Keatsclosedhiseyesandranahandoverhisface.“Fuck.”
Jacegavealowchuckle.“Iknowhowyoufeel,brother.Thatshitisneverconvenient.Now,comeon,youtwo.Let’sgrabatablesowecanseebetter.”
Asifhisfreewillhaddecidedtoputupthewhiteflagforthenight,KeatsletJaceleadhimandRobyntoatableclosertothestage.ItwasdarkenoughinthebarandthelightswerebrightenoughonColbythatKeatswouldstillbehidden.Butatleastnowhewouldn’thavetopretendhewasn’tstaring.
Colby’ssetwasonlysupposedtobeacoupleofsongs,buttheaudienceencouragedhimtoplayafewmorewhenhetriedtosaygood-bye.AccordingtoJace,Colbywasapaidactandrarelycametotheopenmicnightsanymore,sothiswasaspecialtreatforthecrowd.Atthepraise,Colbytippedthebillofhiscap,thepleasureonhisfacewarmandgenuine,andaskediftherewereanyaudiencerequests.
ThehouselightswentupbeforeKeatscouldregisterwhatwashappening.Heblinkedinthebrightness,starsimprintingonhisvision,andheimmediatelyslunkdowninhischair,tryingtoblendintothecrowd.Butwhenhisvisioncleared,Colbywaslookingstraightathim.Colbystared,asifconfusedforamoment,andthenhisjawtightened.NoonebutKeatshadprobablynoticed,butthechangehadtwistedKeats’sgut.
Awomancalledoutthenameofasong,andColbypulledhisgazeawaytoaddressher.Hegaveherthatsmileofhis,evenifitdidn’tlighthiswholefacelikeitusuallydid,andstartedthesong.ButsuddenlyKeatsfeltasiftherewereawireoftensionstrungbetweenhimandColby,thewholethingvibratingwithColby’sclearannoyance.
Jaceleanedover.“Hedidn’tknowyouwerehere?”
“No,”Keatssaidonahardswallow.
Jacefrowned.“Sorry,Iwouldn’thavedraggedyouoverhere.Ithought—”
Keatsshookhishead.“It’sokay.I’lllive.”
Jacesniffed.“Maybe.IhaveafeelingColbyisthinkingthroughallthreehundredmillionwaysheknowshowtotorturesomeonerightnow.”
Keatsgroanedbutrealizedthesoundwasn’tbornofdread.Itwasofneed.Heputhisheadonthetable.Theimpossible-to-ignorereactionwaslikeahammerhittingthatfinalnail.Boom.HereliesKeats.Buried.
Hetookalong,steadyingbreathandforcedhimselftostraighten.Hewouldn’trunthistime.HereachedoutandtouchedRobyn’selbow.“Doesthatofferfortheguitarstillstand?”
Shegavehimaconspiratorialsmile.“Absolutely.Comeon.”
Right.Sothiswaswhatjumpingoffabridgefeltlike.
—
Colbywasmorethanreadytogetoffstagebythetimehewrappedupthelastsong.Usually,heleftaperformancefeelinglighterandmoreenergized.Buthe’dhadafrustratingmeetingatschoolearlier,andthestressofstillnotknowingwherehestoodwithhisjobhadalreadybeenwearingonhim.Thenhe’dspottedKeatsintheaudience,andhismoodhadplummetedtoanevendarkerplace.
Whatthehellwashedoinghere?AndhowdidheendupsittingwithJace?ColbyknewJacewouldn’tmakeapassatKeatsoranything.Thedudewasoffhisrockerinlovewithhistwolovers.ButJacealsohadaknackforsayinginappropriatethingsandputtingpeopleonthespot,evenifitwasdeliveredwithaheavydoseofcharmandhumor.AndKeatswasinnoconditiontobeputonthespot.
Colbyquicklymadehiswayovertothetablewherehe’dspottedKeatsbutfoundonlyJaceandRobyn.“Whereishe?”
Jaceleanedbackinhischairandcrossedhisarms.“Oh,lookatthat,you’reworseoffthanhim,Wilkes.IneverthoughtI’dseeitfromyou.”
“Shutthefuckup,Austin,”Colbysaid,notinthemoodforhisfriend’sribbing.“Where’dhego?”
“Turnaround,”Robynoffered.
ColbyspuntowardthefrontandsawKeatsstridingacrossthestage,aguitarslungoverhisshoulder.Hisblackeyestoodoutinreliefunderthebrightlightsbutsodidhistattoos,givinghimtheultimatebad-boyeffect.
“God,whydothegoodonesalwaysturnouttobegay?”Robynhuffed.
“Orbi,”Jacecorrected.“Don’tforgetus.”
“He’sfuckingbeautiful,”shedeclared.
Colbyhadn’ttakenhiseyesfromthestageandhewholeheartedlyagreed.OftenwhenKeatslookedathim,hesawthevulnerabilitythere,theinsecurity.Butuponthestage,thatguywasgone.Keatshadswaggerunderthoselights,andwhenoneofthewomenintheaudiencegavealittlecatcall,hepeeredoveratherandgracedherwithasmilethatcouldbeanadcampaignforsin.
“Haveaseat,Wilkes,”Jacesaid,pushingachairoutwithhisfoot.“Ihaveafeelingtheshow’sgoingtobeworthwatching.”
ColbysatandJace,beingtheannoyingyetconsideratefriendthathewas,orderedColbyadoubleshotofwhiskey.
Keatsadjustedthemicrophoneandmovedthestoolasidesohecouldstaystanding.Hepluckedafewstringsandtwistedthetuningpegs.“You’llhavetoforgiveme.RobynwaskindenoughtolendmeherguitarsinceIdon’thavemine,soI’llhavetofeelmywaythroughthisalittle.”
“Iknowwhathecouldfeelhiswaythrough,”mutteredoneofthechicksatthetablenexttoColby.Herfriendgiggled.
Colbygrittedhisteeth,arareboltofpossessivenesstakinghold.
Keatslookedoutattheaudience.“Ionlyhaveonesongforyoutonight.Andtobehonest,it’sonesongforoneperson.Solet’shopehelikesit.”
Colby’sbreathingstopped.He.
Holyshit.Theguywhocouldbarelysaythewordbihadjustcomeoutonstage
JacesmiledoveratColbyandheldupafinger,hisheadtilted.“Andthat’sthesoundoffemaleheartsbreakingallthroughtheaudience.”
ButColbycouldn’trespond.Keatsstartedstrumming,andthatsmooth,melodicvoiceofhismovedthroughColby.Hedidn’trecognizethenotes,butonceKeatsopeneduphismouthtosing,Colbyforgotanyoneelsewasthereinthebarwithhim.
ThecountryflavorinKeats’svoicewasdifferentfromColby’s,butwarm,full,andrich.Likeslowhoneyslidingoffaspoon.MuchdeeperthanithadbeeninKeats’shighschooldays.Andsexyasfuck.
Keatslookeddownathisguitarashisfingersmovedwithconfidenceoverthestrings,hiswordsseepingintoColby’sverybeing.
Lightthematch,Isaid.
Feedtheflames,Ibeg.
Ineedyourfiretosnapthebeams.
ConsumethedoubtsIhear.
IgnitethetruthsIfear.
Burnmedown,baby.
Burnmedown.
Colbyclosedhiseyesandknockedbackhiswhiskey,theburninginhisthroatmatchingtheheatKeats’ssongwasfuelinginhisgut.Keatshadn’tlookedhiswayonce,buthe’dmadeitclearwhohewassingingto.Colbydidn’tknowhowhewasgoingtowalkawaythistime.
“Goddamn,”Jacemuttered.“Thisisgettingmehotunderthecollar,andI’mnotevenintothekid.”
“He’snotakid,”Colbysnapped.
Jaceliftedahand.“Sorry.Didn’tmeananythingbyit.Honestly.”
Colbyfeltlikeanasshole.Hewasn’tonetolethistemperleakintothings,especiallywhenitwasunfounded.JacewasjustbeingJace.Buteverythingfeltonedgeatthemoment,likeevenabreathonhisskinwouldbetoomuch.
“Theguycansing,though,Wilkes.He’sreallyfuckinggood.”
“Alwayshasbeen,”Colbysaidgruffly.“Justneverhadachancetocatchabreak.”
“Thatsucks.WantmetotalktoFoster’sfriend,Pike?”
“Forwhat?”
“Pike’sdoingsomeproducingnow.Hecouldhelphimputtogetherademo.Robyn’sgoingtodoone.”
Colbyadjustedhiscap,onlyhalfabletostayengagedintheconversation.“Yeah,dothat.I’msureKeatshassomestuffreadytogo.”
Jacesaidhewoulddojustthat.ButColby’sattentionstayedonKeats,andhewasrewardedwhenonthefinallineof“BurnMeDown,”Keats’seyeslockedonhis,andhesangthewordsrighttohim.
ThatwasallittookforColby’sgoodintentionstogoupinflames.Burnmedown,indeed.Heshovedhischairback.“I’llseeyouguyslater.”
Jacegrinned.“Happytrails,Wilkes.”TWENTY-THREE
KeatsmanagedtoreturnRobyn’sguitarandsayhisgood-byes,buthishandsshookwhenhetuckedtheminthepocketsofhisjacket.Hedidn’tregretwhathe’ddoneonstage.LikeGeorgiahadsaidearliertoday,theback-and-forthwasn’tfairtoanyone.Heknewhewasn’tgoingtobeabletosettleinsideuntilhefaceduptowhateverthiswaswithColby.Butnowthatthemomentwasover,histhoughtswereunravelingineverydirectionandknottingintonewworries.Colbyhadwalkedout,andKeatshadnoideawhatthatmeant.
Maybehe’dfuckeditallupagain.
Butwhenheheadedoutofthebartogetonhisbike,hefoundhimselfstandinginfrontofanemptyparkingspot.Nobike.“Whatthehell?”
HespunaroundtoscanthelotandsawColby’struckacrosstheway.Keats’smotorcyclewasintheback.Colbyslammedthetailgateshutandleanedagainstit,crossinghisarmsoverhischestandnotsayingaword.
Ifanoutsiderhadbeenwatchingthem,itmighthavelookedlikeColbywasabouttochallengeKeatstoafight.OrmaybethatColbywasabouttostarinacountrymusicvideo.Hepulledoffthebroad-shouldered,boot-wearing,wornjeanslooktoridiculousperfection.Allheneededwasadamndogsittingathisfeet.
Keats’sthroattightened.No,thatwasn’twhatColbywasexpectingtobeathisfeet.
Colbycockedhisheadtowardthetruck.“Yougonnagetin,Keats?OrdoIneedtorollyourbikebackout?”
Keatsbarelyheardhimoverthebloodroaringthroughhisears.Heclearedhisthroat,searchingforhisvoice.“Thebikecanstaythere.”
“Thesongwasgood,”hesaid,pushinghisbackoffthetruckandtakingonestepforward.Keatsinternallyflinched.ThegravelcrunchingbeneathColby’sbootsoundedloudevenwiththecrowdnoiseandmusicfilteringoutfromthebar.Everythingwasamplifiedinhismindrightnow,hissensesdialeduptoeleven.“You’reanaturalupthere.”
Keatsbreathedinthecoldnightair,tryingtocalmhimself.Hedidn’tneedtoactlikesomescaredvirgin.Hehadn’tplayedthisgamewithanotherman,buthecouldholdhisownwithflirting.Thegendershouldn’tmatter.“Ihadagoodteacher.”
Colbyhookedhisthumbsinhisbeltloops.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”Keatswastheonetotakestepsthistime.Hecrossedtheparkinglotandstoppedjustshortofarm’slength.“Iwashopinghecouldshowmeafewmorethings,though.”
Thetemperaturehaddroppedinthelasttwohours,andKeatswatchedastheirfrostedbreathmingledintheairbetweenthem.Colby’seyesweredarkerthannormalintheshineoftheorangestreetlight,andwhatKeatssawtherehadhisheartthumpingfaster.
Colbygavehimalong,evaluatinglook,thenabarely-therenod.“Getinthetruck,Keats.”
Keats’sfistsclenchedathisside,feartryingtotakeholdagain,butheforcedhisfingersopen.“Okay.”
“Yes,sirwouldbetheproperresponse,”Colbycorrected.“Iexpectyourfullrespectfromthispointonwardtonight.”
Keatswethislips.“Yes,sir.”
Itshould’vefeltstrangeonhislips.But,thenagain,itwasn’tthefirsttimehe’dcalledColbysir
WhenKeatsattemptedtomovepasthim,ColbyturnedandsteppedfullyintoKeats’spersonalspace.Keatsleanedbackagainstthesideofthetruck,bothofthemnowcoveredintheshadowsoftheparkinglot,shieldedfromthebar’sentrance.Colbybracedahandonthetruck,half-cagingKeatsin.“Youknow,Ihaddecidedthiswasabadidea.”
Keatscouldn’tlookawayfromthehardgaze.“Iknow.”
“Ithoughtyouweren’tready.AndIthoughtI’dneverbeabletoseepastthekidIusedtoknow,thatit’dfeelwrongtome.”
“I’mnotthatkidanymore,”hesaid,hisvoicebarelyloudenoughforhisownearstohearit.
“No,you’renot,”Colbysaid,movingcloserandbringingtheirbeltbucklestogether.Denimagainstdenim.
Keats’sdick,alreadyhalfawakefortheparty,wenthardinaninstant.
“Mybodyhadalreadyfiguredthatmuchout,”Colbysaid,hislipsabreathawayfromKeats’s.“ButwhenIsawyouonstage,myheadfinallycaughtup.Isawtheman.Atalented,artistic,hot-as-fuckmanwhoI’dbedamnluckytohaveinmybed.”HeslidhishandtoboldlycupKeats’serection.“Andundermycommand.”
Keats’sheadfellbackagainstthewindowofthetruckasColbygavehimastrokethroughhisjeans.“Fuck.”
Colby’slipstouchedhisearandwhisperedwordsfullofpromise.“Soon.I’mlookingforwardtobreakingyouin,boy.”
Thewordssentelectricitythroughhissystem,andKeatsworriedhe’dshootoffinhispantslikeateenagerifColbystrokedhimagain.SohewasgratefulwhenColbybackedawayandswungopenthetruckdoor.Hegavealittlenod,indicatingthatKeatsneededtogetin.Theydidn’tspeaktheentiredrivehome.Andthoughfearoftheunknownwaseverpresent,Keatsstayedrockhardandachingtheentirewayhome.
WhenKeatstriedtoadjustthefrontofhissuddenlytoo-tightjeanswithoutsuccess,Colbynoticed.Andsmiled.Evilly.
Hereallywasasadisticbastard.
TheypulledintoColby’sdrivewayafewminuteslater,andKeatsglancedoveratGeorgia’splace.Hewonderedwhatshe’dthinkifsheknewwhatwashappeningrightnow.Knowingher,she’dprobablybecheeringthemon.
“What’reyousmilingabout?”Colbyasked,cuttingofftheignition.
Keatshadn’tevenrealizedhewasdoingit.“Nothing.”
Colbysniffed.“She’shardnottothinkabout,huh?”
“Shewastheonewhoencouragedmetogowatchyouplaytonight.Idon’tthinksheboughteitherofourbullshitexcuses.”
Colbyhuffedaquietlaugh.“I’mguessingyou’reright.Plus,thatgorgeouswomanhasaseriousboy-on-boyfetish.Maybeshe’shopingwe’llletherwatch.”
“Wouldyoudothat?”
HeshiftedonhisseatandmetKeats’sgaze.“Nottonight.Tonight,you’remineandminealone.”
Somehowthewordssettledthejumpyfeelinginhisstomach.TherewassafetyinknowingthatthisfirsttimewouldbeprivateandthatColbywouldtaketheleadcompletely.Keatshadcometotermswiththeknowledgethathewantedthis—God,howhewantedit.Butifithadbeenuptohimtomakethemovesordecisions,heprobablywouldnevermanagetogothroughwithit.He’dpsychhimselfoutlikehehadwhenColbyhadlefthimstandinginthehallway.
“Beforewegoin,weneedtogetafewnecessarythingsoutoftheway,”Colbysaid,allbusinessbuthisgazenolessheatedinthechillycabofthetruck.“I’mtestedmonthlyasanemployeeofTheRanch,andIalwaysusecondoms.”
Keatslickedhislipsquickly.“IhavetogetaphysicalandbloodworkeverysixmonthsforthetemporaryagencyIgettheconstructionworkthrough.I’vealwaysusedcondoms,too.AndIgottestedlastmonthafterIfoundoutmyex-girlfriendwasusing.Ihaven’tbeenwithanyonesince.”
Colbynodded.“Doyouhaveanythingsyou’reabsolutelynotokaywith?Hardlimits.”
Keatsdidn’tknowwhattodowithhishands.Hetuckedtheminhisjacketpockets.“I’mnotsureIknowenoughtoevenknowwherethoselimitswouldbeyet.ButI’mokaywith…tryingstufftoseehowitgoes.”
Colbyseemedtoapproveofthatanswer.“We’regoingtouseastoplightsystemRedisyoursafeword.Thatstopseverythingimmediately,noquestionsasked.Useyellowifyouneedmetocheckinwithyou,ifsomethingmightbetoomuch.AndifIaskyouhowyou’redoingandyou’recompletelyonboard,youcangivemeagreen.Wecanfindyourlimitstogether.”
Keatssmirkedbutcouldn’tlookup.“Isitbadthatyouslippingintoteachermodeisgettingmeevenharder?”
Colbymadesomesoundinthebackofhisthroat.“Areyoutryingtofuckwithmyhead?”
“Comeon,”Keatssaid,feelingbravernowthathe’dmadethedecisiontodothis.“Youneverhadafantasyaboutateacher?Iknowyou’renotpantingafteryourstudents,butwhataboutbackwhenyouwereinschool?”
“IdidhaveanEnglishprofessorincollegewhohadthathotlibrarianthinggoingon.Shewassodamnprimandpretentious,butIhadafeelingitwasallforshow.Iwantedtotiehertoherdeskandspankherwiththeawfulbookshewasmakingusreadjusttoseewhatshe’dbelikewhenshedroppedthefa?ade.”
Keatsshiftedintheseat,theimageofColbydoingthatmakinghisbloodheat.Hechewedhislipforamoment.“IrememberIusedtofocusonyourhandswhenyouwereteachingmeguitarbecauseanythingmorethanthatwastooscary.Iwouldwonderwhatyoudidtoguyswiththosebighands,howtheywouldfeel.”
Colbyletoutagruffsound,provingthatKeatswasn’ttheonlyonegettinghotandbothered.“Well,atleastnowIknowwhyittookyousolongtogetthehangofyourFchord.”
Keatssmiled,stillfocusingonhislap.
Colby’sfingersclosedaroundthebackofKeats’sneckwithfirmpressure.“Youreadytofeelthosehands,Keats?I’llgladlyshowyouexactlywhatIliketodowiththem.”
Keatsinhaledalong,shudderingbreath.“Yes,I’mready.”
“Good.Thengoinsideandtomyroom.Shutthecurtains,takeoffyourshirt,boots,andsocks.AllIwantyouwearingarethesejeans.Laceyourhandsbehindyourheadandputyourbacktothedoor.I’llcomeinwhenI’mready.”
Keatsmighthavebeenshaking,butherefusedtoacknowledgetheweakness.“Yes,sir.”
Colby’sfingerspressedharderintohisneck.“Youhavetenminutes.Don’tmakemewaitlongerthanthat.”
KeatsnoddedinColby’sgripandreachedforthehandleonthedoor.Hedidn’twanttohesitateoroverthinkthingsthistime.Sohefocusedonsimplymovingforwardandfollowingtheinstructions.Hewasinthehouse,stripped,andinpositioninprobablylessthanfourminutes.Thecurtainswereclosedandonlythelampshadbeenlefton,sohetriedtosteadyhisnervesbycountingthestripesonthecurtains.He’dgottentothirty-sevenwhenheheardfootstepsbehindhim.
Andforthefirsttime,Keatshadnodesiretorun.
—
Colbystoodinthedoorwayforalongminute,staringatthemaninthecenterofhisbedroom.KeatshadfollowedtheinstructionstoaT,soColbywasgracedwithanunparalleledviewofKeats’smuscularbackandarms,thosetattoosflexingbeneathKeats’ssubtle,nervousshifting.Eventhewickedbruisingfromthefightseemedtoaddtothebeautyoftheman—asignofhisbravery,atoughnessthathadallowedhimtosurviveonthestreets.AndthosewornbluejeansthathadmoldedsonicelyoverKeats’serectionhunglowonhiships,givingColbythetemptingsightofthedimpledindentationsatKeats’stailboneandthetopcurveofhisass.Themanwasfinelybuilt.Strongandmasculineandproud.
TheurgetoconquerandbringforththatsubmissionfilteredthroughColby’sbloodstreamlikeadrug.Buthewouldbegentletonight.Keatswasinjuredandhewasnewtoallthis.Colbywouldmakeitgoodforhim.
Hecrossedtheroomwithslowsteps,hisbootsclompingagainstthewoodfloor,thensilencingwhenhesteppedontothearearugthatfilledthespaceinfrontofhisbed.HeplacedhishandsonKeats’ships.Keatsstartledbutquicklyreeledhimselfin,stilling.
“Youstillhardforme,Adam?”heasked,usinghisgivennametohelpKeatsunderstandthingsweredifferentwhentheywereinthismode,thathewasvulnerable.
ThemusclesinKeats’sneckworked.“Yes,sir.”
ColbyfittedhiserectionagainstKeats’sass.“Makestwoofus.”
Keats’swhole-bodyshuddermadeColbysmilewithsatisfaction.
“You’regoingtolearntobestillandhowtobetouched.Youownnothingrightnow.Everypartofyouismine.Doyouunderstand?”
“Ido.”
“Closeyoureyesandfocusonmyhands.Youwantedtoknowwhattheyfeellike.Nowyougetyourwish.”
Keats’slidsfellshut,andColbysteppedinfrontofhim.Startingatthetop,hemappedthecontoursofKeats’sbrow,hischeekbones,hisjawline,thentracedtheedgeofhisshinerwithagentlefingertip,tryingtogetKeatsusedtobeingtouched.Keatswasalreadybreathingfast,butwhenColbyranathumboverKeats’slips,theguy’scheststoppedmoving.
Colbydidn’tkisstrainees,andherarelykissedapartnerduringaplaysession.Itfelttoosweetandintimateforhistastes.Buthe’dkissedGeorgia,andnowhefoundhimselfunabletopullhisattentionawayfromKeats’smouth.HeleanedforwardandbrushedhislipsoverKeats’sandgavehisbottomlipanippingbite.
Keatsrewardedhimwithasharpintakeofbreath,andColbywentbackforasecondtastebeforemovinghishandsdowntoKeats’sshoulders.“Loweryourarmstoyoursides.”
KeatsobeyedandColbyindulgedinrunninghishandsoverKeats’sbicepsandthenhischest.Heavoidedthebruisedareasonhissidebutpaidextraattentiontotheflat,brownnipples.Hegaveahardpinchtoone,andKeatsmutteredanoath.Butfromthewayheclenchedhisfistsathissides,Colbycouldtellithadbeenapositiveresponse.
“Thesewouldlookgoodpierced.Wouldmakethemeasiertotorture.”Colbyflickedtheotherone.
ColbylethisgazetraveldownKeats’sabdomenandthenlower.Keats’serectionhadn’tdiminishedevenifhewasstillharboringsomenerves.Ifanything,thejeanslookedtobestrainingevenmoreinthefront.
“Unbuttonthese,pullthezipperdown.”
Keatscomplied,hisfingersfumblingforonlyasecond.Whenhespreadopenthefly,visiblereliefcrossedhisface.Colbytookhisfill,tracingthefainttrailofhairthattrackedbelowKeats’snavelwithafingertip.Thenhedippedhishandinside,palmingKeatsthroughthethincottonofhisboxerbriefs.
KeatsgroanedwhenColbygrippedhim,butColbywastheonewhosedickflexed.Theguywaslongandheavyinhishand.“Fuck,Keats.NowIknowwhythoseguysusedtogiveyoushitinthelockerroom.Goddamnedjealousy.”
KeatstippedhisheadbackasColbygavehimastroke.“Yeah,wellI’mkindofterrifiedofyou.I’veseenyourshoesize.”
Colbylaughedlowandmenacingagainsthisearashemovedhishandaway.“Youshouldbe.”
HewalkedaroundKeatsinaslowcircleandthenstoppedbehindhimagain.HeslidhishandbetweenthetwolayersoffabricprotectingKeats’sass.Keatsstiffenedinstantly,butColbywasn’tgoingtolethimpretendthiswassomethingotherthanitwas.HebracedonehandonKeats’sshouldertosteadyhimandthenlethisotherhanddiplower.HerantwofingersaroundKeats’sopening,rubbingthesoftcottonfabricofhisunderwearalongthesure-to-be-sensitiveskin.
ThechokedsoundKeatsmadewasn’tabadone.
“Everhadawomanplaywithyouhere?”Colbyasked,continuingtomassagehimwithgentlebutfocusedpressure.
“No,”hewhispered.
ColbyleanedforwardandpeereddownoverKeats’sshoulder.ThefrontofKeats’sboxersalreadyhadawetspot.EvenifKeats’smindwasstilladjusting,hisbodywasallforit.Colbypulledhishandawayandwentovertothechestofdrawersonthesidewall.Heslidopenthetopdrawerandselectedapairofleathercuffsalongwithafewotheritems.Keatswouldlookamazinginrope,butColby’spatiencewasn’tatitsbesttonight.
HemovedbehindKeatsagainanddrewhishandsupbehindhisneck.Whentheywereintherightposition,helockedthecuffsaroundthem.“Walkovertotheclosetdoor.Putyourbacktoit.”
ColbysteppedtothesideandwatchedasKeatsopenedhiseyes.Keatsblinkedafewtimes,lookingabitdazed,beforelocatingthedoor.ThesightofKeatsalreadyzoningouthadColby’sstomachcoilingwithneed.Nothingwashotterthansomeoneslippingintothatsubmissivementalspace,andknowingitwasKeats’sfirsttimegaveColbymorepossessivesatisfactionthanitshould.
“Workyourjeansoffandkickthemtotheside.I’lltakecareoftheboxers.”
Keats’sgazemethisbriefly,butheautomaticallylowereditandmovedtogetthejeansdownandoff.Hereallywasasightstandingthereboundandarousedasfuck.Colbyunfastenedhisownjeans,roomgettingscarceinhisaswell.Keats’seyeszeroedinonColby’shands.
HetippedhisheadtowardKeats.“Tellmeyourthoughtsrightnow.Unedited.”
Keats’stonguesweptoverhisbottomlip.“Iwaswonderingifyoukeepyourclothesonforeverything.I’veheardthat’sathing.”
“Sometimes,”hesaid,butstartedreleasingthebuttonsonhisshirt.“ButI’llletyoulookalittlesinceyou’rebeingsuchagoodsubtonight.”
Colbylethisshirthangopenbutdidn’tshrugitoffhisshouldersandwalkedtowardKeats.Withoutgivinghimwarning,hesquatteddownandyankedKeats’sboxersdownandoff.Keatsletoutabreathandclosedhiseyesagain.Hiscockstoodoutproud,theheadleakingfluid.Colbyleanedforwardandswipedhistongueoverthetip,capturingthesaltydrops.ThebackofKeats’sheadhittheclosetdoorwithathumpandacurse.
“Spreadyourfeethipwidthapart,”Colbycommanded,stayinginasquatandgrabbingthespreaderbarhe’dgottenoutofthedrawer.
KeatscompliedandColbylockedKeats’sanklesintothedevice.HesetthelastitemheneededtotherightofKeats’sfoot,thenrolledontotheballsofhisfeetandstood.Keats’sbicepsweretrembling,butColbyknewthatthepositionwasputtingnorealstrainonhisarms.Itwasthequiverofamanontheedge,desperateforrelease.
Colbycrossedhisarmsoverhisbaredchest,hisstancewide.“Now,Adam,youcangetexactlywhatIknowyouwantrightnow.It’sonlygoingtotaketwosimplesteps.”
Histhroatworkedbeforehespoke.“Andwhat’sthat?”
“Openyoureyesandbegme.”TWENTY-FOUR
ThefeelofthesingularswipeColby’stonguehadgivenhiscockwasstillreverberatingthroughKeatsandeverythinginsidehimached.Colby’shandshadtouchedhimeverywherebutnotenough.Evenhisasswasclenchingforsomethingithadneverwantedbefore.Theslow,torturousmassageColbyhadusedtoteasehisopeninghadnearlydrivenKeatstohisknees.
ButheknewwhatColbywasofferingrightnow,andanyprideKeatsmighthavehadbeforethismomenthaddisintegratedinthefirsttouchofColby’stongue.HeopenedhiseyesandhisgazecollidedwithColby’s.Themanlookedlikeasavageinthatmoment.Shirtopenedonthatimpossiblybroadchest,curlydarkhairpepperingthewaydowntocutabsandatrailleadingintothebandofhisopenjeans.Therewasnounderwearbeneath,justtannedskinandhiscockforminganintimidatingoutlineagainstthedarkdenim.
Keatslovedwomen,adoredtheirsoftness,thesweetscentofthem,theirtaste.He’dspenthisadultlifehappilyworshippingthefairersex.Butinthismoment,hecouldn’tthinkofanythingmoreenticingthantherawmasculinityofColby.Keatscravedthoseedges,theroughnessheknewColbycouldprovide.Sowhenheopenedhismouth,hehadnoproblemobeyingColby’scommandandbegging.
“Please,Colby.Ineed…”hesaid,hisvoicegrittywiththedesirecoursingthroughhim.“Whateveryouwanttodotome,I’mready.”
“Youwantmetosuckyourcock,Adam?”heasked,hisvoiceholdingchallenge.
AhardshudderwentthroughKeats’smuscles,andhetightenedhislacedfingersbehindhishead.“God,yes.”
“Askme,then.Nicely.”
“Please,Colby.Pleasesuckme.”
Colbyturnedhisballcapbackward,theswitchtransforminghislookintosomefrat-boyversionofhimself,andsteppedcloser.HecapturedKeats’schininhishand.“Eyesonme,Adam.Idon’tsuckdickforjustanyone.ButwhenIdo,Idon’ttakeshortcuts.Sowatchandlearn.Theremaybeapopquizonedaysoon.”
Keats’smouthwastoodrytoformwords,sohenoddedinColby’sgrip.
Thenlikesomestrange,eroticdream,ColbyWilkes,theteacherhe’dfantasizedaboutaloneinhisroominhighschool,theonewho’dseemedlargerthanlife,animpossibility,wentdownonhisfuckingkneesandtookKeats’sdickintohismouth.
Keatsmoanedasthehot,wetsuctionclosedaroundhisflesh.Hiseyestriedtorollback,butherefusedtolookawayfromthatball-cap-coveredhead.KeatsknewColbyhadtoldhimtokeephiseyesopensothathedidn’tdriftoffandinsertsomewomaninhismind’seyetomakehimselffeelbetter.Buttherewasnoshotofthat.WhatwasmakingthefireburninsideKeatswastheveryfactthatthiswasColby.ThescandalofitallwasalmostenoughtoputhimovertheedgebeforeColbyreallyevengotstarted.
Colbyworkedhimoverslowlywithhismouthandtongue,knowingexactlyhowmuchpressuretogiveandwhen.Whenhepulledbackallthewaytothetip,histonguetracedtheslit,sendingknee-weakeningsensationupKeats’snerveendings.
“Jesus,”Keatsmurmured.
Colbyhummedhisresponse,andthedecadentvibrationmadeKeats’sheelsliftoffthefloor,thebarlockedbetweenhisanklespreventingmuchmorethanthat.Colbywastakinghistime,andKeatsgottheimpressionthatColbywasn’tdoingthissomuchtogiveKeatspleasureastogainhisownenjoymentfromtheact.Forsomereason,thatmadeKeatssinkevenmoreintothemoment.Hedidn’twanttobeColby’scharitycase.Hedidn’twanttobesomeoneColbywashelpingtofindhimself.KeatswantedColbydoingthisbecauseColbywantedhimforpurelyselfishreasons.
AclickingsoundsnappedKeats’sattentiondownward,andhesawColbytakeasmallblackbottlefromthefloorandtipitoverhisotherhand.ClearfluiddribbledontoColby’spalmandfingers.Keats’sstomachclenched,butColby’smouthwasstillbusyanditwashardtoholdontoanyworriesforanyamountoftime.
Colby’slipsslippedoffwithasoftpoppingsoundandhelookedup,thosehazeleyesfiercerthanKeatshadeverseenthem.“Youdon’thavepermissiontocomeuntilItapyourthightwice.Understand?”
Keatshadtroublefindinghisvoice.“Yes,sir.”
“Closeyoureyesnow.Feeleverything.Getlostinit.”
Keatsleanedhisheadbackagainsthisboundhandsandlethiseyesfallshut.Colby’smouthclosedoverhimagain,theburningheatenvelopinghim,andthenhiswarm,lubricatedhandcuppedKeats’sballsandmassaged.ThemusclesinKeats’sthighstriedtogoliquid,andhehadtoleansomeofhisweightagainsttheclosetdoor.Itwasgoingtotakeeveryounceofefforthepossessedtoholdoffcoming.
EspeciallywhenitbecameclearthatColbyhadmoreplans.ThehandonKeats’sscrotummovedfartherback,slickfingertipsstrokingthesensitiveareabehindit.Hisbreathturnedintosharpcatchesinhischest,buthedidn’tdaremove.ColbytookKeats’scocktothebackofhisthroat,hislipspressingagainsthissac.Keatsmoaned,andthesensationwasdistractionenoughthatKeatsdidn’thavetimetopanicwhenColby’sthick,callusedfingerstrackedoverhisbackopening,coatingitwiththelube.
Colbypulledhismouthawayforasecond,buthisfingerscontinuedtocircleKeats’srimwithslow,coaxingpressure.“Trytorelaxandletmein.Remember,everypartofyouisminerightnow.Giveovertome.Iwon’thurtyou.”
Keatsbithislipattheforeignsensation,butalow,achingneedwasbuildingfast—bothinhiscockanddeepinsidetheforbiddenplaceColbywasteasing.Hemanagedanod,andColbymust’veseenitbecausehedidn’tdemandaverbalresponse.AfingertipprobedattheringofmuscleandKeatscouldn’thelpit,hetensed.Histhighsprobablywould’vesnappedtogetheriftherehadn’tbeenabarkeepinghislegsspread.
Colbygavehimasharppinchonthethighwithhisotherhand.“Easy,Adam.Don’tpretendyouaren’tcuriousaboutthis.Youknewwhatbeingwithmewouldmean.Ibetyou’veimaginedmehere—wonderingwhatit’dfeelliketobestretchedandpenetrated.”Heinsertedtheverytipofhisfinger.“Tohavemedeepinsideyou.”
Keatswhimperedlikeafuckingwoundeddogandthencringedatthepitifulsound
“Tellme,Adam,”Colbysaid,hisvoiceasoothing,cajolingsoundtracktothecacophonygoingoffinKeats’shead.“Tellmeyou’vethoughtaboutmefuckingyou.”
Keats’seyesstayedsqueezedshut,andsweattrickleddownthesideofhisface.“Yes,I’vethoughtaboutit.IalwaysknewifIdidthis,you’dbetheoneontop.”
“I’vethoughtaboutit,too,”hesaid,easinghisfingeralittledeeper.“Whenyouwerehalfnaked,wearingthatrobeinmykitchen,Icouldbarelyconcentrate.Iimaginedtyingyoudownacrossthecounterandspreadingyouout,takingyouhard.”
“Fuck,”hewhispered,theimagesandthefeelofColby’sfingertoomuchtoprocess.
Colby’sfingersankallthewayinandhishotmouthclosedoverKeats’sdickagain.
Keatscriedoutfromtheshockingpleasure—thetwosensationsintertwiningandracinguphisspine.Oh.God.Releasebuiltlikeadamntsunamiinhisgroin.Histeethgroundtogetherashefoughttoholditoff.
ButColbyhadpickedupthepaceandnowhewasmovingasecondfingerintoKeats’sopening,stretchinghimandcausingaburningthatsomehowonlymadeeverythingfeelbetter.ColbypumpedhisfingersslowlyinandoutashegaveKeatstheblowjobofhislife.ColorsswirledbehindKeats’seyes,andhewonderedifhewasgoingtopassout.Hadherememberedtobreatheinthelastfewminutes?
Butjustwhenhethoughthewoulddiefromitall,ColbygavehisthighaswiftdoubletapandthenthefingersinsidehimshiftedandrubbedacrossaplacethatsentstarsburstinginKeats’sbrain.Holyfuck.
OrgasmrumbledthroughKeats,theavalancheofsensationssendinghimintotheabyssandburyinghimwhole.Hecouldn’thavestoppeditifhe’dtried.Hecriedoutwithagaspingshout.Allsystemsgo.Colbypulledoffatthelastsecond,thoughhekepthisadeptfingersmoving,andKeats’sreleasejettedoutinwhatseemedlikethelongestorgasmofhislife.
Hemoanedthroughit,hismindspinning,hisbodylitup.Allthewhile,Colby’slow,dirtywordsofencouragementplayedsoundtrackandchasedawayanyembarrassmentKeatsmighthavefeltotherwise.Thiswasgood.Thiswassogood.Hewouldnotbeashamedofthis.
WhenKeatsfinallyhadnomoretogiveandhisstomachwasheavingwithraggedbreaths,Colbyslippedhisfingersout.Withalltheefforthecouldmuster,KeatsrolledhisheadforwardtolookdownatColby.Andfuckwasheasight.
SemenstripedColby’schest,andhiscockwashardagainsttheflyofhisjeans.Butthelookonhisfacewasdamnsatisfied—smug,even.Keatswantedtofalltohiskneesingratitude.
Colbytuggedoffhisshirtandwipedhislubedfingersonit.“Youokay?”
Keatslickedhisdrylips.“I’m—yeah,I’mokay.Very,veryokay.”
“Good.”ColbystoodandunhookedthecuffsbindingKeats’swrists.HehandedKeatshisshirt.“Thencleanmeup,sub.Youmadeamess.”
Keatsgrippedtheshirtinhishand,buthewasstillridinghighfromtheorgasmandfeelingbraverforit.Hetossedtheshirttothefloor,grippedColby’swaist,andthenbentovertolickatrailofcomeoffColby’schest.
Colbymadeasoft,gruntingsound,butitwasn’toneofdisapproval,soKeatskeptgoing.Maybewhenhelookedbacktomorrow,he’dfindsomeshameinthis,somethingtofeelhumiliatedover.Hewaslickinguphisspunkoffanotherdude.Butinthismoment,itfeltright.Inthismoment,thefearwasgone.
KeatsstoppedataspotrightaboveColby’sopenfly,hisheartthumpinglikearabbit’sfoot,andliftedhishand.
Colbycaughthiswristinafirmgrip.“Itoldyoutocleanme.Ididn’tgiveyoupermissiontotouchme.”
Keatslickedhislips,tastingtheremnantsofsexandsaltyskin.“CanItouchyou?Iwanttomakeyoufeelgood,too.”
ColbykeptholdofKeats’swristandhismouthflattenedintoatenseline.“You’retemptingmemorethanyouknowwiththathungrylookyou’regivingme.Buttonight,I’llhandlethingsmyself.”
Keats’sstomachdroppedandhestraightened.“Youdon’twantanythingfromme?”
ColbysmirkedandlaidKeats’shandoverhisrock-harderection.“Iwantitallfromyou.Givemealistofsordidacts,andI’vethoughtofeveryoneinthelasttenminutes.Butthingsoftenlookdifferentinthelightofday.Thisisyourout.Ifyouwakeuptomorrowandregretanyofthis,youcanwriteitoff.Lotsofstraightguyswouldtakeablowjobfromawillingmouth,regardlessofwhowasgivingit.Itwouldn’tmakethemanylessstraight.”
AngerrosequickinKeats,andheyankedhishandoutofColby’sgrasp.“Whatthefuck,Colby?Youjusthadyourgoddamnedfingersinmyass,andIlickedmycomeoffyou.Evenmyabilityfordenialisn’tthatspectacular.Igetthatwhatwe’redoingmeansI’mnotexactlywhoIthoughtIwas.Daylightisn’tgoingtochangethat.”
“Ihopeitdoesn’t.ButI’mleavingthatoptionavailable.”HebentdownandunhookedKeats’sankles.
Keatssteppedoutofthecuffsandstalkedacrosstheroomtograbhisjeansandyankthemon,annoyancerollingthroughhim.HekepthisbacktoColby.“Whatever.Ifyou’dratheruseyourfuckinghand,thenI’mgoingtotakeashower.”
Hedidn’tknowwhythiswaspissinghimoffsomuch.Itwasn’tlikeheevenknewhowtogiveablowjob.Buthewould’vedamnwelltried.
“I’mgoingtogiveyouonepassfortalkingtomethatway,”Colbysaid,warninginhisvoice.“Ihaven’treleasedyouyet.”
“Sosorry,sir,”hesaid,bitternessedginghistone.
Asswiftasabreath,Colby’shandwaslockingaroundthebackofKeats’sneckagain.Hesqueezedhard.“Getonthefuckingfloor.Nosetomyboot,kneesunderneathyou.”
“Whatthef—”ButKeatsdidn’tgetachancetofinishitbecauseColbydughisfingersintoKeats’sneckevenharderandguidedhimdownbyforce.Keatswenttohisknees,andColbypushedhisheaddowntowardhisshoes.ThecurvedtipofColby’scowboybootsfilledhisview.
“Wrapyourhandsaroundmyrightfootandpressyourforeheadtotheleather.”
Keatscouldbarelyprocesswhatwashappening,itwasallgoingdownsofast.Butthattake-no-prisonerstoneofColby’shadhisstomachflipping.Notknowingwhatelsetodo,heshutdowntheargumentandfollowedtheinstruction.
“NowstaythereuntilItellyoutokneelup.”
Keatscouldhearthesoundofdenimmoving,thesquirtofthelubeagain,andthenthedistinctsoundofslipperyskin.Fuck.Colbywasjerkingoffabovehim,andKeatswasn’tevenallowedtolookup.
“Youwilllearnhowtoshowmerespect.AndyouwillacceptmyordersandtrustthatI’mdoingshitforyourowngood.Pushmeandyou’renotgoingtoliketheconsequences.”
Thehot-as-hellsoundoffistoverdickhadKeats’sowncockperkingupagain,buthedidn’tdaremove.Notevenwhenhecouldfeelhisstill-unfastenedjeanssaggingdownandexposinghisassagain.
“Niceview,sub,”Colbysaid,hisvoicechangingwithwhatKeatsrecognizedasColby’sbedroomvoice.“Kneelupnowandgivemesomethingtoaimat.”
KeatsquicklyreleasedColby’sbootandpushedhimselfuptoakneel,findinghimselfstaringatthebig,slickcockhe’dseenonlyfromadistancewhenhe’dspiedonColby.Fuck,thedudewashung.Ofcourse,luckyKeats,he’dhavetogetinterestedinanoverachieverinthatdepartment.Hetriednottothinkabouthowtightthosetwofingershadfeltinsidehim.
ButtheworriesoverthatweresooneclipsedbytheeroticsightofColby’sbigfistmovingoverhiscock.Theguywasn’tgentlewithhimself,andKeatsfoundhimselftransfixed.
“Soyouthinkyou’llstillwantthisinthemorning,huh?”Colbytaunted,fuckinghishandwithmorespeednow.“Guesswe’llfindout.”
WiththatColby’sreleasejettedoutandsplashedagainstKeatsinhotstreams,landingonhisshoulder,hischest,hisjeans.Hedidn’tlookdown,though,becausehecouldn’tpullhisattentionawayfromColby’slost-to-the-momentexpressionandthedeepgroanthatescapedhim.Theguylookedfuckingsinfulwhenhecame.
Colbystrokedafewmoretimes,milkingthelastofhisorgasm,thenletoutalongbreath.Witheconomyofmovement,hetuckedhimselfbackinhisjeansandzippedup.HisgazetrackedoverKeatsandthedrippingmesshe’dbecome.Henoddedinhisdirection.“Rubitintoyourskin,Adam.Everydropofit.”
Keatsblinkedattheunexpectedcommand.“What?”
“Itwasn’tarequest.”
Actingasifonautopilot,Keatsmovedhishandoverhischestandstomach,rubbingthefluidintohisskin.
“Youcanwashyourhandsbutyou’renotallowedtoshoweruntilthemorning.Youdon’tthinkyou’llregrettonight,andIhopethat’strue.ButIguesswe’llseewhenyouwakeuptomorrowstickyfrommycomeandcoveredinmyscent.”
ThethoughtsentatrailofgoosebumpsupKeats’sback.
ColbyputoutahandandtuggedKeatstohisfeet.HegrabbedthewaistbandofKeats’sjeans,pullinghimclose,andgavehimaquick,openmouthedkiss.“Thanksforthesong,kid.”
Keats’sgazedroppedtothefloor,astrangelightnessfillinghim.Hesmiledtohimself.“Anytime,Teach.”TWENTY-FIVE
Georgiahadsleptlikethedeadforwhatseemedlikethefirsttimeinayear.Usuallyshewokeupmultipletimesanight,plaguedwithnightmaresorhearingphantomsoundsinthehouse.Butlastnight,she’dfallenasleepwithcomfortingthoughtsofthenewturninherlife.Finally,shefeltlikeshewasfindingherwaythroughthedarkcaveandseeingthinshaftsoflight.She’dhadtwofantasticnightswithColbyandhadmanagednottopanic,evenwhenshe’dbeentiedupandfullyunderhiscontrol.AndnowherlongdaysinheremptyhousewouldbefilledwithKeats’steasingandlaughter.Signsoflifewereleakingbackintoherexistence.
She’dmadethathappen.She’dletthesetwomeninherlifeanddoorswereopeninginsideheragain,doorsshe’dlongleftlockedandforgotten.Thingsweregoingtogetbetter.Shewasn’tbrokenforever.Leeshahadbeentellingherthatfromthebeginning,butnowGeorgiawasfinallyallowingherselftobelieveit
Sheshuffledintothekitcheninpursuitofindustrial-strengthcaffeine,feelingabitdrunkandbleary-eyedfromanightofsuchdeepsleep.She’dsetthecoffeepotonatimer,andthesmellalonewasenoughtoperkherup.SheneededallthehelpshecouldgetbecauseKeatshadtoldherhe’dbeonamissiontodaytogetheroutandaboutwithhim.Theguywasn’tgoingtoletherbeachickenformuchlonger.EspeciallyafterKeatshadtakenonhisownfearlastnightandtoldherhewasheadedouttoseeColbyplayatthebarsohecouldtalktohim.Shecouldn’twaittohearhowthathadturnedout.
Shesmiledtoherselfandreachedforanuppercabinettopulloutherfavoritemug,whilesimultaneouslyopeningthefridgetogetthemilk.Butmultitaskinghadbeenabadidea.Theheavyfridgedoorshutonherhandandwhensheyankedbackward,shelosthergriponhermugwithherother.Theceramiccrashedtothefloor.Andinthatshredofasecond,allthebubblyhappinessthathadbeencoursingthroughherdrainedaway,andeverythinginsideherseemedtoplummetatthatchillinglyfamiliarsound.No,no,no…
Shegrippedtheedgeofthecounter,tryingtoholdon,buthereyessqueezedshutandshesanktoherknees,therushofmemoriesandpanicoverwhelmingher.Thefamiliarmoviereelfromhellrolledbehindhereyelids.
Georgiamovedthroughherbestfriend’skitchen,straighteningthisandthat,unabletostaystillasshewaitedfortheelectrickettletocometoaboil.Oncesheheardthesteamstartingtoekeout,shegrabbedacanisterofthenewchaiteablendshe’dpickedupafewweeksagoatacuteshopindowntownChicagoandspoonedthelooseleavesintoherinfuser.Thisblendwasdecaf,soshehopeditwouldn’tkeyuphernerveslikecoffeehadlately.
Butasshepouredthehotwaterovertheleaves,sheknewitwashopefulthinkingtoblameitonthecoffee.Shehadn’thadadropofcaffeineyetthismorningandalreadythatunsettled,on-edgefeelingwashummingthroughher.Thesedaysitwaslikeshewasalwayspluggedintoafaultyoutlet—electricitygettingpumpedintohersysteminlarge,unevendoses,heradrenalinealwaysprimedforthenexttimePhillippoppedupunexpectedly.
Upuntilafewdaysago,she’dconvincedherselfitwasmostlyharmless.Philliphadfixatedonheraftertheirbreakup,andthiswashiswayofgettingoverit—evenifitwasalittlenuts.Whenshe’dnotifiedthecopsofhisstalker-likebehavior,they’dassuredherthataslongasshedidn’tengagehimorencouragethebehavior,Phillipwouldeventuallymoveon.Andwithhimdoingnothingparticularlythreateningbeyondcallinghertoomuchtoprofesshislove,sendingherbouquetsofflowers,andshowingupinplacesshehappenedtobe,thecopscouldn’treallyhelpheranywayexcepttellhertochangeherphonenumberandtakeoutarestrainingorderifshefeltthreatened.
ButthenAntonio,thenewguyshe’dstartedcasuallyseeing,hadcalledhertwodaysagototellherhishousehadbeenbrokenintowhilehewasoutoftown.Hisbedhadbeenslashedupalongwithallhisclothes.Andwhenhe’dgoneintohisgarage,he’dnoticedafaintsmellandfluidstainsbeneathhiscar.Ifhehadn’tleftthecarsittingclosedupinthegarageforaweek,heprobablywould’venevernoticed.ButthankGodhehadbecausehisbrakelineshadbeenpunctured.
Whenhe’dtoldherthestory,Georgiahadgonecoldallover.FailedbrakeshadbeenwhatthepolicesuspectedhadgonewrongonhergoodfriendTyson’scarwhenhe’dcrashedonelatenightdrivinghomefromwork.He’dbeenkilledonimpact,andwithnotmuchlefttoexamineafterthecarfirebeyondthelackofskidmarks,thecopshadruleditanaccidentmostlikelyduetomechanicalfailureordriverintoxication.Butit’dneverfeltrighttoGeorgia.Tyson’sBMWhadbeenonlyayearold,andGeorgiahadneverknownTysontodrinkonworknights.
ButPhillip,Tyson’sfriendandco-workeratthetime,hadsteppedintocomfortheraftertheloss,andhe’dconfidedthatTysonhadstartedtodrinkwhenheworkedlate,thathiscaseloadhadbeencrushinghim.Georgiahadfeltevenmorebereftafterthat.Notonlyhadshelostamanshecaredabout,she’dfailedhimasafriendbynotseeingthathewasundertoomuchstressandneededhelp.
ButaftertheincidentatAntonio’s,thepieceshadstartedshiftingintoanewpattern,andshe’dhadthebone-chillingrealizationthatPhillipmight’vebeenlyingthewholetime.Thatmaybehewasn’tlovesick,buttrulysick.She’drewoundbacktowhenshewashappyandcasuallydatingTyson.Philliphadbeenaroundalot—agoodfriendtoTyson.Butlookingback,GeorgiacouldnowseethatmaybePhilliphadmadehimselftooavailable,toopresent.He’dsubtlycrepthiswayintoherlifebyalwaysvolunteeringtorunerrandsordofavors.He’dbecomeago-toguyforbothofthem.Fromtheoutside,he’dseemedtojustbeanall-aroundniceguy.Butnowshehadafeelingithadallbeencarefullycalculated.
Phillipwasabrilliantmanandoncethey’dstarteddating,she’dneverknownhimtogooutofhiswaytodofavorsforothers.Onlyforher.Hadhedevelopedanunhealthyobsessionwithherfromtheverybeginning?Allofherinstinctswerenowpointinginthatdirection.Andifthatwasthecase,hadhetakenituponhimselftoremovetheonlyobstaclefromhavingher?Tyson.
Hergutclenchedatthethought.IfTysonhadbeenkilledbecauseofher…God,shecouldn’teventhinkaboutit.Sweet,sexyTyson.They’donlydatedcasually,morefriendswithbenefitsthananythingelse,buthe’dbeenagoodmanandastand-upguy.
Yesterday,she’dtakenhersuspicionstothepolice.Thedetectiveshe’dtalkedtohadbeenskeptical,butthatwashisjob.He’daskedalotofquestionsandhadassuredherhe’dlookintoit.She’dalsogoneaheadandfiledthatrestrainingorder.Sonowallshecoulddowaswaitandworry.Shewasprobablyoverreactingandcomingupwithfar-fetchedtheories,butshewasn’tgoingtotakeanychances.She’dcalledherfriendLeeshalastnightandhadmadearrangementstostaywithherforawhilesoshewouldn’tbealoneatherhouseifPhillipdecidedtoshowup.
ButnowthatLeeshahadleftforwork,Georgiacouldn’thelpbutbeunnervedbythecreepingsilenceintheunfamiliarhouse.Shewrappedherhandsaroundhermugofteaandblewacrossthetop,tryingtobringhermindtoasettledstate.Butbeforeshecouldturntoheadtowardthelivingroom,ahandgrabbedthebackofherhair,jerkingherbackward.Themugslippedfromhergripandshatteredonthefloor,thesprayofhotteaburningthetopsofherbarefeet.
Ascreamtriedtoescape,butahandclampedoverhermouthbeforeshecouldmakemuchofasound.
“Don’tyoudare,”themenacingvoiceutteredinherear.“Don’tyouthinkyou’vealreadycausedenoughtrouble?”
Georgiacouldn’tseewhowasbehindher,butshe’dknowthatvoiceanywhere.Shescreamedbehindhishandagainandtriedtowritheoutofhisgrip.Buthewasfarbiggerandstrongerthanshewas.
“I’vetriedandtriedtomakeyouunderstand,sweetheart,”Phillipsaid,switchingtoasoothingtone.“I’vesentyouflowersandletters.I’vegivenyoueverythingyoucouldwant.Iloveyouandamnotgoingtogiveuponus.Can’tyouseethat?We’remeanttobetogether.DoyouknowhowhurtIwaswhenIheardabouttherestrainingorder?Whywouldyoudothattome?”
Shewhimperedbehindhishand.
“Youknow,Ithinkyou’rejustworkingtoohard.Thestressismessingwithyourhead.You’renotthinkingstraight.Maybeyoushouldseesomeoneortakeabreak.Wecouldgoawaytogether.”
Shestretchedforward,tryingtoreachthekettle,butitwasjustoutofherreach.
“Now,now,noneofthat,”hesaid,hisvoicesoftbuthisgriptight.“Iwanttoworkthisout.Idon’twanttofight.Butyou’regoingtohavetocalmdownandgetyourheadtogether.Thenyou’regoingtogotothecopsandtellthemyouweremistaken.YouwerejusthurtthatIbrokeupwithyou.”
Shemadeasoundofstrangleddisbelief.
“Iwon’tletyouembarrassme,Georgia.Whatifmyclientsfoundoutabouttheorder?”Hepulledhertighteragainsthisbody,thesmellofhisdesignercologneburninghernostrils.“Youdon’twanttomakemeangry,sweetheart.I’vetoleratedyourbehaviortheselastfewweeksbecauseIknowallcouplesgothroughroughpatches.ButI’mlosingmypatience.Don’tmakemeprovehowfarI’mwillingtogoforyou.”
Tearsleakedoutofhereyes.
“Areyougoingtomakethisrightandtakebackwhatyousaidtothepolice?”
Shenodded,willingtodojustaboutanythingtogethimaway.Right.Now.
Hepressedhisnosetothecurveofherneckandinhaleddeeply.“Mmm,that’smysmartgirl.Iknewwecouldtalkthisout.”
Sheclosedhereyes,fightingtheurgetorecoil.Heneededtothinkshewascalmandinagreementifshehadanyshotofhimlettinghergo.
“WhattimeisthatbitchLeeshagettingback?”heasked,stillnuzzlingherneck.“Becausenowthatwe’rebackonthesamepage,IwanttoshowyouhowmuchI’vemissedyou.”
Hiserectionpushedagainstherbacksideandawaveofnauseaslammedintoher.Sheshookherhead.
“Comeon,Iknowyou’vemissedme,too.Thatlimp-dickMexicancan’tbedoingmuchforyou.”
Hetiltedherheadtothesideandpressedhismouthtoherneck,histonguetouchingherskin.Georgiabegantoshake,hergazedartingaroundthekitchentoseewhatshecoulduseagainsthim.Theknifeblockwasagoodpossibility,butshe’dhavetobreakfreeforafewsecondstomakethetwostepstoreachit.
Sheraisedherelbow,readytojab,butasoundfromthefrontofthehousemadeherpause.Adoorclickedshut.“Georgia,youstillhome?”
Georgiahadneverbeenhappiertohearanotherhumanbeing.
Phillipsworeandpressedhismouthagainstherear.“Sayawordaboutthistoanyoneandyou’llregretit.Don’ttestme,Georgia.”
Withthat,hereleasedhisholdonherandhustledoutthebackdoor,leavingherinasobbingheaponthefloor.
Leeshahadfoundherthere,andthey’dgonestraighttothepolice.Georgiahadtoldthecopseverythingbuthadnohardevidencetobackitup.Shecouldn’tprovehe’dbeentheonewho’dattackedheratLeesha’s.Hehadanalibiandshe’dadmittedshehadn’tseentheintruder’sface.TheyhadputPhillipinjailforafewnights,buttheywerenomatchforhislegalmaneuvering.Theydidn’thaveenoughtoholdhim.
Andsoonafterhe’dgottenout,he’dmadegoodonhisthreats.
Twoweekslater,she’dbeenstandingathersister’sgravesite.Suicide.
Sure,itwas.
Georgia’seyessnappedopen,clothesclingingtoherandherheartpoundinginherthroat.Sunlightstreamedthroughherkitchenwindow,buttheshadowedcornersfromherflashbackwerestillassaultingher.Shepressedherhandstothefloorandtookafewbiggulpsofair,tryingtopushawaythememoryofthatdayinLeesha’skitchen.ShecouldstillfeelPhillip’shandsonher,thethreatandintentioninhisvoice.Thathadbeenthedayshe’dgonefromworriedtoterrified.Thebreakingpoint.Nothinghadbeensafeorgoodsince.
Afterafewmoments,sheliftedherhandsandrealizedherlefthandhadbeenbracedonabrokenpieceofthemug.Shewatchedherbloodiedhandtrembleinfrontofher.Goddammit.Sherosetoherfeetandgrabbedadishtoweltopresstoherpalmandpaced,tryingtopurgealltheadrenalinecoursingthroughher,butitwasnouse.Herentiresystemfeltzapped.
Shereachedforhercellphone,whichshe’dleftchargingonthecounter.Keatswasduetocomeoverforworkinhalfanhour,andsheneededtocallhimoff.Shewasn’tintherightheadspacetohandlemuchofanythingrightnow,muchlessotherpeople.Shefeltstrungoutand…off.Flashbackswererare,butsheknewwhatthatmeantfortheday.Thatoverwhelmingwallopofadrenalineandanxietyshort-circuitedherforhours.Herpanicattackswouldcomemoreeasily,andanylittlethingwouldsetheroff.She’dhavetotakeanextrapilljusttogetthrough.
Maybeshe’dgottentoocockyaboutherprogress.Maybeshe’dbeenkiddingherself.
Thesewerethedaysshedidn’tjustfeelfrustrated;shefeltcrazy.
ShetypedatexttoKeats.
Changeofplans.Takethedayoff.Notuptoworkingtoday.
ThenshesentanothertoColbybecausehe’dcalledandleftamessagefirstthingthismorningaboutgettingtogetherforlunch.
Today’snotgood.Let’stalklater.
Withthattakencareof,sheforcedherselfupstairsandintotheshower.Maybeshecouldwashoffthebadmemories,watchthemswirldownthedrainanddisappear.Ha.Ifonly.
Afterhershower,shebandagedthesmallcutonherhandandwentdownstairstomakesometoastsothatshecouldtakehermeds.Shealsoneededtocleanupthemessshe’dleftbehind.Butbeforethetoastpoppedup,therewasaknockatherdoor.Shegroaned,knowingalltoowellwhoitprobablywas.
Shecouldignoreit,butregardlessofwhichneighboritwas,sheknewneitherColbynorKeatswouldwalkawaythateasily.Withasigh,sheheadedtothefrontofthehouseandcheckedthepeephole.Fantastic.Double-teamed.Sheswungthedooropen.“Yes?”
“Wegotyourtexts,”Colbysaid,hisgazesweepingoverher.
“Andthoughtweshouldstopby,”Keatsdeclared.
“WasInotclearthatIwantedtobealonetoday?”sheasked,knowingitsoundedbitchybutunabletowrangleinheremotions.Shedidn’twantthemtoseeherlikethis.Fractured.Weak.Andtheonlywaysheknewtohidethatwasbyliftingupthedon’t-fuck-with-medrawbridgeuntilshegotherselfbacktogether.
“What’sgoingon,Georgia?”Colbyasked,concernlacinghistone.
Thehousephonerangbehindherandshestartled,completewithalittleyelp.
“Shit.”Sheputhershakinghandtothedoorframe.“Sorry.”
Keatsfrownedandreachedouttotouchherelbow.“Hey,youokay?Wantmetogetthat?”
Sheshookherhead,embarrassed.“No,it’sfine,justletitgotovoicemail.”
Colbysteppedforwardbuthonoredtheinvisiblebarrierofherdoorway.“Telluswhat’sgoingon,Georgia.Maybewecanhelp.Areyousick?Didsomethinghappen?Youlookspooked.”
“It’snothing.Ijust…Ihadanightmare,oldmemories,andsometimesthatthrowsmeofffortheday.I’llbefine.Maybewecantalktomorrow.”
“Ormaybeyoucannotbealonetoday,”Keatssaid,amuledigginginitsheels.“Thelastthingyouneedafteranightmareissittingbyyourselftostewinitallday.”
“Keats—”shewarned.
“No,he’sright.Sometimesdistractionisthebestmedicine,”Colbysaid.“Wecouldhelpwiththat,youknow.We’llevenwrestleintheyardforyou.”Hepeekedoverhisshoulder.“Wheredoyoukeepyoursprinklersagain?”
Shestaredathimforamoment,thejokenotregisteringinhertweaked-outbrain,butthensheletoutabreathandsmiled.“Right.Wrestling.SoIguessyoutwoguysworkedthingsout,then?”
Keats’sgazeslidtowardColby,thelooktellinghereverything.“Youcouldsaythat.”
“Good.I’mreallyhappyforyouboth.”Theknowledgebuoyedherspiritsalittle,butitalsomadeherfeelintenselyotherallofasudden.Herethesetwoguyswereinthemidstofthatexcitementatthestartofanewrelationshipandshecouldbarelygetonefootinfrontoftheothertoday.She’dbeendelusionaltothinkshewasreadyforanythingwitheitherofthesetwo.Shewasn’tinastableenoughstatetoinhabitthatsunshinyspacebloomingbetweenKeatsandColby.Theydidn’tneedherbaggageanddarkcloudspressingdownonthem.They’dbefineontheirown.
“Can’twekeepyoucompanytoday?”Keatsasked.
Sheblewoutabreathandreachedfortheirhands.Theyeachtookoneofhers,Colbyfrowningdeeperwhenhesawherbandagedone.“Iappreciatetheoffer,really.Youtwoareamazing.ButIthinkyoushouldspendthedaywitheachother.I’m…I’madisaster.”
WhenKeatsopenedhismouthtorefuteher,sheshookherheadandsqueezedhishand.
“IcanfakethatI’mnotsometimes,butthenIgethitwithadaylikethis,andgetabigfatreminder.I’mnot—Ican’t…dothis.Witheitherofyou.”ShelookedtoColby,herheartbreakingalittle.“IthinkIshould’vestucktowatching.AndKeats,anyworkIneeddoneyoucandoremotelyfromColby’s.Idon’tneedtobringthecrazyintoyourlives,too.”
“No,Iknowwhatcrazylookslike,”Colbyreplied,hisgazeholdinghers.“You’renotcrazy.You’rescaredandgoingthroughsomething.Butwhateveritis,Iguaranteethattheonlywayoutofitisforward.Don’tclosethedoorandgetstuckagain.Please.Don’tshutusout.”
Shelettheirhandsdropfromhers,tearsburninghereyes.“I’msorry.”
“Giveusonechance,”Colbysaid,bracinghishandonthedoorframe.“Giveustoday.Rememberwhathappenedwhenyouletmetakeover,whenyoutrustedmetotakecareofyou?Let’strythatagain.Turnyourdayovertomeandifbytheendofit,youstillwanttobealone,wewon’tknockonyourdooragain.”
Shelookeddown,heremotionsriotingthroughher—theurgetorun,theurgetosayyes,thefearofwhatcouldhappenifshedid,andifshedidn’t.“Colby—”
“It’sjustoneday,George,”Keatssaidsoftly.“What’stheworstthatcouldhappen?”
Sheshookherhead.“Icouldcompletelyloseitinfrontofyou,embarrassmyself,possiblyinspireyoutocheckmeintoamentalinstitution.”
Colbyreachedoutforherhandagain,takingherhurtonebetweenbothofhis.“Iswearnomeninwhitecoatswillbecallednomatterwhathappenstoday.Asfortheothertwothings,sothefuckwhat?Loseitandwe’llhelpyougetitbacktogetherlikewedidthedaywiththeants.You’redealingwithadisorder.There’snoembarrassmentinthat.AllIseeisabravewomanfightingtoothandnailtogetfreeofit.”
“Ican’tgetfree,”shesaid,tearsescapingnow.“Notuntilhe’slockedup.EverytimeIthinkI’mmakingprogress,I’mknockedbackwardagain.Thepastnevergoesaway.Itdoesn’tmatterthathe’shundredsofmilesaway.He’sinmygoddamnedhead.”
“Who?”Keatsasked,notbotheringwithboundariesandsteppingforwardtoputhisarmaroundher.“Who’sinyourhead,George?”
Theembraceundidher,shatteringthebarriershewasfranticallytryingtoholdinplace,andshecouldn’tdoanythingbutsagintohim.Thebraveface.Thegriponhersecrets.Allofitfalteredinthewarmthofthesimplehug.Alltheenergywasusedup.Tearsturnedintosobbing.
“Dammit,Georgia.”Colbycrossedthethresholdandwrappedanarmaroundherwaist,closingranksontheothersideofher.“Youdon’thavetodothisallonyourown.Letusin.”
Sheloathedthetears,hatedthatherbodywasrebellingagainstheryetagain.Lookatthepoor,weepygirlleaningonthebig,strongmen.Pathetic.Butshecouldn’tdoanythingaboutit.Herbodywasinastateofemotionalexpectoration,spillingallthewhite-knuckledemotionsandfearoutinaflood.
ColbyandKeatsdidn’tsayanythingmore,justheldhertight,oneoftheirhandsrubbingherback.Thecocoonedstatebetweenthetwoofthemwasmoresoothingthanshewantedtoadmittoherself.Shedidn’twanttohavetodependonanyoneforanything,especiallythesetwo.Theyweresupposedtobeherlightheartedfun,notmorepeoplehopingtofixher.Shehadenoughofthose.Herissueswereherstodealwithandnooneelse’s.
Butshewassodamntiredofbeingalone.Andnottrustinganyone.Andbeingscared.So.Damn.Tired.
Sowhensheshutthedoorbehindthethreeofthem,itwasn’taboutflingsorsexorevenromanticnotions—noneofthethingsshe’dentertainedabouteitherofthesemenbefore.Rightnow,sheneededtheirfriendship.
Sheneededtosurrendertothat.Toletthembethere.
Evenifitwasforjustoneday.TWENTY-SIX
ColbysatonachairinGeorgia’slivingroom,listeningtoherstoryandfightingtheurgetoscoopherupandholdherinhislapwhileshetoldit—bufferhersomehowfromthememories.Shewasn’tcryinganymore.AfterlettinghimandKeatsinsideandgettingthroughawashoftears,Georgiahadleftthembrieflytowashherfaceandgetsomewater.Whenshe’dreturned,she’dbeencomposedagainexceptforthetelltalepuffinessaroundhereyes.Emotionstuckedbackunderthebed.
ColbyunderstoodwhyGeorgiafelttheneedtowearthatkindofarmor,buthewishedshefeltsafeenoughtobevulnerableinfrontofhim.Noonewasheretojudgeheronhowtoughshewas.Butdespitehercurrentstoicism,heknewitwasahugeleapoftrustthatshewastellingthemherstory.
Shetuckedherhandsinherlap,herthumbrubbingthecenterofherpalm.“IdatedPhillipforayear.Heseemedlikeagreatguy.ThereformeaftermyfriendTyson’sdeath,understanding,supportive.Ourconnectionfeltcomfortableandfamiliar.Hewassmartandsuccessful,good-looking.HeseemedtoalmostworshipmelikeIwasonsomepedestal.Dotedonme.Spoiledme.Alwaysbringingmelittlegiftsandgoingoutofhiswaytodonicethingsforme.Ilovedthat.Iknowthatprobablysoundsself-centeredandstupid.”
“Notatall,”Colbysaid,keepinghisvoicequietsoasnottostartleheroutofsharingthiswiththem.“Nooneisgoingtofaultanyoneforwantingtofeelcherished.”
“Lookingback,Irealizenowthatheknewexactlywhatbuttonsneededpushingforme.Iwasgettingolder.Myfriendsweregettingmarriedandstartingfamilies.Ihadn’tdatedanyoneseriouslyforawhile,andIwasgettingthatitchforsomethingmorelong-term,gettingthosewhite-picket-fencefantasies.Tysonhadn’tbeenupforthat,andreally,wewerebettersuitedasfriends,anyway.Butoncehewasgone,PhillipcouldstepinandfillthatneedIhadbylavishingmewithalltheromance,courtingmewithgifts,trips,givingmeallofhisfreetime,talkingaboutourfuturelikeitwasaninevitableconclusion.Itwashardnottofallinto.Butitwasanacquisitionsgameforhim,andIwassimplythetarget.Hewasn’tgoingtosettleforanythinglessthancompletepossession.”
Colby’sneckprickled.Hehadafeelingthisguy’sideasofpossessionhadnorelationtothesexykindinhisworld.
“Atfirst,itwasheadytobeatthecenterofallthatattention.That’swhatwomenaresupposedtowant,right?Theguywhoonlyhaseyesforyou.Butthenhestartedtodothingsthatweren’tsoromantic,likemakenegativecommentsaboutmyclosefriendsorplanthingssothatitmadeithardformetospendtimewiththem.Hisjealousywentfromsweetandamusingtoirrationaloverthecourseoftheyearwedated.Bytheend,prettymuchanyguyIcameincontactwithbecameasuspectinhismind.He’dswearhetrustedmebutnotthem.I’dhadfriendsinabusiverelationshipsandsawthesignsheadingthatway,soIbrokeitoff.”
“I’mguessinghedidn’ttakethatwell,”Keatssaid,histonegentlebuthiseyesflickeringwithbarelybankedanger.
Colbyknewthefeeling.ThethoughtofanyonehurtingGeorgia,ofmakingherthisfearful,sentmurderousthoughtsrunningthroughhishead.
Georgiarubbedherlipstogetherandshookherhead.“No,hebecameobsessed,relentless.Acreepystalkerrightoutofoneofmynovels.Ihopeditwouldpass.Italkedtothepolice,ignoredthebehavior,didn’tencouragehim.Allthethingseveryonehadadvisedmetodo.Istarteddatingagain,hopingthatwouldsendaclearmessagethatIwasn’tcomingback.Butthen…”Shepausedtotakeashakybreath.“Thatjustsenthimoverthecliff.”
Colbycouldn’tstophimselfthistime.HemovedfromthechairtositnexttoGeorgiaonthecouch.Hedidn’ttrytotouchherbutstretchedhisarmoverthebackofthecouch.Tohissurprise,shescootedclosertohimandleanedin.Hisarmwentaroundher.“Ifthisistoohard…”
“No,”shesaidwithalittleheadshake.“Maybeit’sgoodIgetitallout.”
Keatsleanedforwardandputahandonherknee.“Goahead,George.We’relistening.”
Shedidn’tspeakforafewsecondsbutthenseemedtogatherherstrengthagain.Andwhenshetoldthemtherestofthestory—Tyson’scaraccident,heralmost-rape,hersister’smurder—Colbywentcoldallover,ragelikeanicyriverrunningthroughhim.
“Hedidn’twanttokillmebecauseinhistwistedmind,wewerestillmeanttobetogether.Buthewasn’tabovehurtingeveryonearoundmetogettome.Hetookeverythingfromme.Anddidn’tleaveabitofevidencebehind.”
“Jesus,”Keatsbreathed.“George,Ican’teven—pleasetellushe’slockedup.”
Sheliftedhergazetohim.“He’soutonbailinChicagobutcan’tleavethestate.NooneexceptthelegalteamandmytherapistknowswhereIam.I’msupposedtotestifyinJanuary.I’mthekeywitnesssinceI’mtheonewhosawhiserraticbehaviorupclose.AndI’mtheonewhotalkedtomysistereverydayandcanvouchthatshewasinnowaydepressedorsuicidal.I’mtheonewhocantellthemaboutthatdayinthekitchenandthethreatshemade.Withoutmytestimony,theydon’tthinktheyhaveenoughtogetamurderconviction.AndhereIam,thegirlwhocan’tevencrossthestreetwithoutpanicking.”
Colbyrubbedherchilledarm.“Baby…”
Shesatup,hershouldersstiffening,beforehecouldsayanymore.“God,itsoundssopatheticwhenIsayitoutloud.”
Keatsfrowned.“Ofcourseitdoesn’t.Youhadamurdererafteryou.Youlostpeopleyouloved.Noonewouldblameyouforbeingscared.”
ButtherewasafiercenessmorphingGeorgia’sexpressionasKeatsspoke.Shestood.“Don’tgivemeanout,Keats.”
Keats’seyebrowsraised.“Iwasjust—”
“Raleighfuckingdied.Tysondied.Becauseofme.AndhereIamlikesomedamnmousehidinginthebasement.”Shepacedacrossthefloor,thenturnedtofacebothofthem.“Thisisn’twhatmysisterwould’vedone.Shewouldbeonthestepsofthecourthouse,shoutingintothemicrophonesanddemandingjustice.Shewouldbefighting.”
“Youarefighting,”Colbysaid.“Everydamnday.Sometimesourbodiesandbrainsdon’tcooperatelikewewant,butIdon’tseeawomangivingup.”
Sheshookherhead,hereyeswetagain,butnotindefeat—infrustrationandanger.“No.I’mnotfighting.I’monlysurviving.That’snotgoodenough.Ibrokeamuginmykitchentodayandfreakedout.That—somethingasstupidandsimpleasthat—shouldnotcontrolme.”
Shestalkedovertothecoffeetableandliftedtheglassofwatershe’dbeendrinking.
“George—”
Butherarmwasalreadyinmotion.Shetossedtheglassagainstthewall,whereitshatteredintoglitteringwetshards.Shebentover,handstoherknees,breathinghard.
Colbywenttoherside,andKeatsjumpedupfromthecouch.Keatsdisappearedintothekitchen,probablytogetsomethingtocleanupthemess,andColbywrappedhisarmsaroundher.
“Readytocallthemeninwhitecoatsyet?”shequipped.
Thecommentbroughtalittlesmilewithit,andreliefcoursedthroughhim.Shewasupsetbutnotpanicking.
Keatswasbackinaflash,butinsteadofarag,hehadatrayfullofcoffeecups.“Comeon,George.Let’snotdothishalfway.”
Sheliftedherhead.“What?”
Hesetdownthetrayandhandedhertwomugs.“Fuckthesemugs.They’renothingbutcoloredsand.Theydon’tmeananything.Theycan’thurtyou.”
ColbystaredatKeatsasKeatsliftedoneofthemugsandlauncheditagainstthesamewallGeorgiahadusedfortargetpractice.Ithitwithathud,thenbrokewhenithitthewoodfloor.
Georgiablinked,glancedbetweenthetwoofthem.
“See?”Keatssaid.“Nothing.Takethatsoundback.Breakingglassisn’taboutthepast.It’saboutrightnowwhenyouandyourinsane,butdevastatinglyhandsome,neighborscompletelydemolishedyourcoffeecupcollectionforshitsandgiggles.”
“You’renuts,”shesaid,buttherewaslightinhereyes.
“Yeah,heis,”Colbyagreed,takingacupfromKeats.“Andagenius.”Colbysentacupflying.Itshatteredonimpact,thesimpleactofdestructionsendinganoddzingofsatisfactionthroughhim.“Ahh,that’sdefinitelywhatIwantedtodowhentheprincipalputmeonleave.”
Keatsthrewanother.“Andthat’swhatIwantedtodotoHankwhenhebrokeintomyplace.”
GeorgiatossedoneofhercupswithmorestrengththanColbywould’vesuspectedshehadinher.“Andthat’sforeverytimethisdamnfearhaskeptmeinthehouse.”
Keatscheeredandhandedheranother.Beforelong,they’dgonethroughmostofGeorgia’sset,Georgiadoingmostofthetosses.Andshewasn’tcryinganymore;shewaslaughing.Theyallwere.
AsGeorgialaunchedthelastmug,ColbyreachedoutandgrabbedthebackofKeats’sneck,givingitasqueeze.HelookedoveratColby,hisgazequestioning.Colbyleanedclosetohisear.“Goodjob,Adam.”
Keats’seyeswarmedinawaythatColbyknewhe’dnevergettiredof.Hell,he’dstillbeenshockedtowakeupthismorningandfindthattheformerstraightguyhe’dsenttobedstickyandusedhadwokenupwithoutregrets.Keatshadshuffledintothekitchen,lookingfuckingediblewithhismussedhairandloosepajamabottoms,andhadwalkedstraightuptoColbyandsaid,“Iwokeupsmellinglikeyou.”
“And?”Colbyhadasked,expectingtheaxtocomedown.
“AndittookeverythingIhadnottojerkoff.”ThenKeatshadkissedhim.
Colby’schesthadfilledwithsomefeelinghecouldn’tpindown,andhehadn’tbeenabletostanchhisneedtotouchKeatsagain.He’dpushedKeats’spantsdownandoff,thenusedthemtobindhiswriststothehandleofthefridge.He’dthensatdownandeatenhisbreakfastwhilehewatchedKeatsstandtherenakedandhard.AfterColbyhadeatenhislastbite,he’dstripped,grabbedabottleofoliveoil,andjerkedthembothoff,cockagainstcock.They’dbothbeenweak-kneedandrecoveringwhenthetextshadcomethroughfromGeorgia.
Colbyhadreadthemaloud,andKeatshadswitchedfromobedient,willingsubmissivetomanonamissionintwosecondsflat.He’dpulledoffthebindingsandyankeduphispants.“Getintheshowerandbequick.We’regoingoverthere.”
Colbyhadn’tcorrectedhimonthesuddenorder.He’dwantedtogettoGeorgiaassoonaspossible,too.Sothey’djumpedintheirrespectiveshowersandgottenreadyinrecordtime.Colbyhadatfirstinsistedhegooveralonesothattheydidn’toverwhelmher.ButKeatshadrefusedoutright.NowColbywasgladhehadn’twastedanytimefightingthatbattle.BecauseGeorgiahadneededthem.Bothofthem.
Colbyknewhewasgoodatbeingacalmingforce.Withhystericalteenagers.Withsubsbottomingout.Withhisnot-always-stablefamily.He’dlearnedhowtobeasteadyandsoothingpresenceamongstchaos.AndGeorgiahadneededsomeofthatthismorning.Butthathadn’tbeenallsheneeded.She’dalsoneededalittlewildness,awaytofightthebadcrazywithgoodcrazy.Tofindherownfireagain.AndKeatsknewhowtojumpoutsidethelinesandactonpureemotion.Heknewhowtolightmatches.
SoseeingGeorgialaughingandvisiblyrelievedasshewalkedovertothepileofbrokenglassfeltlikeavictoryforallofthem.
“Lookslikeyou’regoingtoneedtosendyourslackerassistanttoBedBathandBeyond,”Colbysaid.“Orgiveupcoffee.”
Georgiaturnedaround,herbrowneyesfullofemotionasshestaredbackatthem.“WhatamIgoingtodowiththetwoofyou?”
“Wouldyoulikealist?”Keatsasked.“BecauseIhavesomesuggestions.”
Georgialaughed.“Mostinappropriateemployeeever.”
Keatsshrugged,unrepentant.“Wanttofireme?”
GeorgiaglancedatColby,smiled,thenwalkedovertoKeats,putherhandsonhischeeks,andplantedafullsmackingkissrightonhismouth.“Yep.You’recanned.”
Keatsblinked,clearlyastonished.ButwhenGeorgiamovedtostepaway,Keatshookedthecollarofhershirtandbroughtherbackinformorethanapeck.ColbycouldhearGeorgia’sgaspatthecontactandhewatched,riveted,asKeatspartedGeorgia’slipsandgaveherthefulldevastatingpowerofhismouth.Colbyknewfirsthandwhatthatfeltlikeandhowimpossibleitwastoresist.Andsureenough,thoughGeorgiahadstiffenedwhenKeatshadpulledherbacktohim,nowshemeltedinhisgraspandkissedhimback,slidingherfingersintoKeats’shair.
Colbyhadtoswallowbackthegroan.So.Fucking.Hot.Bothofthem.Hislovers.
No,notquite.Nothis.Notreally.
Notyet.
Thelastthoughtpunchedhimrightinthechest.Thedrivingintentionseemingtocomefromoutsidehimself.
No,thatwasn’twhatthiswas.Thiswassupposedtobecasual,messingaround.AlittleflingwithGeorgia.AlittletrainingwithKeats.Maybeathreesomethrownintothemixifthetwoofthemwereopentoit.Thatwaswhattheyweredoing.Thatwaswhathe’dagreedto.
ButwatchingGeorgiaandKeatstogether,heknewhewaslyingtohimself.Iftheyallthreeendedupinbedtogether,hecouldn’timaginehe’dbeabletosimplymoveonlikehedideveryothertime.Havesomefun,dosomekink,ontothenextadventure.Noway.Hewasintoodeepalreadywithbothofthemseparately.Putthemalltogether,andhedidn’thaveafuckingshotatstayingcoolanddevil-may-careaboutit.
Becauseashestoodtherehefoundhimselfwonderingwhatitwouldbeliketohavemore.Tohaveitall.Tohavethemboth.Whatiftheyweretrulyhis?
Buthehadtoshakehimselfoutofthosefantasies.Whathewasimaginingwasapipedream.Therewerethreeofthem.Andtwoofthethreeweren’tlookingforarelationship.Plus,eveniftheywereoutformore,thiswasn’tasimpleboy-meets-girlorboy-meets-boyarrangement.Thisshitwouldbemorethanalittlecomplicated.Andyes,hisfriendJacehadsomehowmanagedtomaintainatriadrelationship,soColbyknewitcouldbedone.Buthe’dalsowatchedmanyothersatTheRanchtrynontraditionalarrangementslikethatandfailmiserably.Hell,hisownrecordwithalltypesofromanticrelationshipswasdamndismal.Justbecausehe’dstartedtowantacommittedrelationshipdidn’tmeanhe’dnecessarilybegoodatit.
Hejustneededtogethisheadtogetherandenjoythisforwhatitwas—friendshipandahottimewithtwokinkypeople.
Colbybroughthisfocusbacktothetwopeopleinfrontofhim.Keatswasincontrolofthekissandpulledbackafterafewhotseconds.HesmiledbroadlyatastunnedGeorgiaandtouchedthetipofhisfingertoherwetlips.“Nowthatonewasworthgettingfiredfor.”
Georgia’swide-eyedgazeslidtoColby,hereyelashesflutteringassheapparentlytriedtogetherbearings.“Uh…”
Colbysmiled.“Keats,Idon’tremembergivingyoupermissiontokissmygirl.”
Keatsglancedoverhisshoulderathim.“Punishmelater,Teach.Whatevertheconsequencesare,theywillhavebeenwellworthit.”
“Mmm,”Colbysaidnoncommittally.“OrmaybeI’lljustletherdoit.”
Keatscoughed,ormaybeitwasachoke,buthelookedmoreturnedonatthethoughtthanworried.Colbywould’vecalledhimaslutifhedidn’tthinkKeatswouldperceiveitasaninsult.
Georgiaputahandtoherforeheadandshookherhead.“Well,youtwosaidyoucameoverheretodistractme.Missionaccomplished.”
Colbywalkedovertoherandtuggedherintohisarms.Shecamewillingly,bringingherbodyupagainsthisandpeeringupathim.Hepushedahairawayfromhercheek.“Sowhatdoyouwanttodonext,Ms.Delaune?Sprinklers?OrderingKeatstotakeoffhisshirtandcleanupthemesshemadewiththedishes?”
Shesmirkedbuttherewasaresolutelooktohergaze.“It’sLawrence,notDelaune.Andno,Idon’twanttodoanyofthat.Iwantthetwoofyoutotakemeoutofheretogetsomenewcupsandmaybetolunch.Andthenwhereverelseyouwanttogo.Idon’twantyoutoletmebackinmyhouseuntilit’stimetogotosleep.”
Colbytightenedhisholdonher,hopebuildinginhim.“Yousure?”
“Yes.”ShelookedtoKeats,thenbacktoColby.“AndifIpanicandembarrassyouwhilewe’reout,I’mgivingyoupermissiontoleavemebeandpretendyoudon’tknowme.”
Colbygrabbedherchin.“Shutyourmouth,GeorgiaLawrence.YouthinkIgiveashitwhatanyoneelsethinks?Youpanic,we’vegotyoucovered.”
“Damnstraight,”Keatssaid,steppingclosertothem.“You’resafewithus,George.”
Shesmiledatthetwoofthem,hergazesoftening.“Iknow.Ifeelthat.Thankyou.”
Colby’sheartfeltasifithadinflatedinhischest.Trust.ComingfromsomeonelikeGeorgia,itwaslikepuregoldbeingdroppedinhishands.Hewantedtoliftherup,kissher,tellherhewashonoredtohaveitbecauseheknewhowvaluableacommodityitwasforher.Butheheldhimselfincheck.Heneededtoplayitcool.
Evenifhefeltanythingbutontheinside.
Damn,hewasfucked.TWENTY-SEVEN
Georgia’sheartwasbeatingsofast,shewassurprisedthependantaroundherneckwasn’tvibratingfromit,butsofar,shehadn’tgoneintofullpanic.ColbyhadarrangedforthemtoeatintheprivatediningroomatSawgrass,oneofhisbestfriendKade’srestaurants.They’dhadtowalkthroughthebusyrestauranttogettotheprivatespace,andthathadsentherbrainfiringwithworriesasshescannedthefacesinthecrowd.ButhavingColby’sarmaroundherhadhelped.Beyondbeingareassuringemotionalpresence,hissheersizeprovidedafeelingofsafetyonsomeelemental,cavewomanlevel.Ifsomeonewantedtohurther,notmanypeoplewouldmesswithaguyasbigandintimidating-lookingasColby.AndthoughKeatswasn’tasmassiveasColby,shehadafeelinghecouldbeasviciousandtoughasajunkyarddogwhenprovoked.
Sosittingbetweenthetwoofthemhadhermoresettledthanshe’dbeeninoverayearinanypublicplace.Shecouldbreathealittle.Andtheairsmelleddamnsweet.
Shestillcouldn’tgetoveralltheeventsoftoday.Themorninghadstartedoffsoawfulandbleak.AndwhenColbyandKeatshadshownup,she’dbeenmorethanannoyedthatthey’dignoredherorderstostayaway.She’dwantedtolockherselfinthedarkness.
Butthensomuchhadchangedsoquicklywhenshehadn’tbeenabletoscarethemoff.Justsayingherstoryoutloudtosomeonewhowasn’tLeeshaoralawyerhadfeltliberating.Hersecretswerelikebarsonacage,keepingeveryoneatadistancewhilesimultaneouslyholdingherhostage.Withsecrets,shewasonlyacharacterplayingarole,afake.Sothrowingbackthecurtainandputtingitallouttherehadtakensomeofthepoweroutofthememoriesandhadbroughtherclosertothetwomenshe’dconfidedin.
Thenthere’dbeendishesbreaking.Andstrangerelief.AndKeatshadkissedherReallykissedher.Thedynamicshadshiftedtosandyterrainagain,leavingherunsurewhereexactlythiswasgoing.Colbyhadn’tseemedtomindthekiss.Infact,he’dlookedlikehe’denjoyedtheshow.Kinkybastard.AndGodknowshermindhadbeenwhirlingonthedriveoverhere,wonderingwhatexactlyhadtranspiredbetweenthetwomen.Thatspeculatinghadpaintedsomeveryvividpicturesinherhead.Butsheknewthiscouldbedangerousterritory.
KeatsandColbyhadsomethingnewbetweenthem,andshegotthesensetherewasmorethanjustahothookupbrewingthere.Therewerefeelings.Andthoughshewasattractedtothembothandmorethantemptedbythethoughtoffallingintobedwiththem,shedidn’twanttoscrewupwhattheyhadgoingon.ShewasinnopositiontogetinvolvedinanythingseriouswhenshehopedtomovebacktoChicagoinJanuary.Plus,shedidn’twanttomuddlethingsforthem.
Georgiatriedtoshakeofftheworriesandfocusontheconversationthetwomenwerehaving.
“Sotheystillhaven’tgivenyouanyideahowlongyou’regoingtobeonleave?”sheasked.
Colby’sexpressionhaddarkenedconsiderablyinthelastfewminutesattheshiftintopic.“No.Mybosssaysit’smostlyposturingbytheboard.Theywanttolooklikethey’redoingeverythingtheycansothattheparentsdon’tsue.ButwhenItalkedtothepowersthatbeyesterday,itwaslikeIwasontrial.I’mworriedthey’regoingtocovertheirassbythrowingmineunderthebus.”
“That’sbullshit,”Keatssaid,hisjawtwitching.“Whydoesn’tthekidstepupandtelleverybodyithadnothingtodowithyou?”
Colbysighed.“Thekid’sparentsdidn’tlistentohimbefore.They’renotgoingtonow.He’striedtotellthemwhathappened.”
“Youshouldn’thavetotakethefallforamessed-upkidwithmessed-upparentsmakingadumbdecision,”Keatssaid.“Notagain.”
ColbysentKeatsatiredlook.“LasttimeIearnedsomeofthatfall.”
“No.Youdidn’t.”Hesmirkedafterafewseconds.“Butdamn,you’dbehangedinthetownsquareiftheysawusnow.Nobodywouldbelievenothinghappenedbackthen.”
Colbyshookhisheadandscrubbedahandoverhisface.“God,Idon’twanttoeventhinkaboutthat.”
Georgiasmiled.“Youtwowouldbequitethescandal,huh?”
“Youhavenoidea,”Keatssaidinbetweenbitesoffood.“They’dprobablythinkthatweranawaytogetherbackthenandhavebeenhidingoutinsecretsince—myinnocentstraightmindbrainwashedbythebig,badbisexualteacher.”
Colbysenthimawrysmile—onelacedwithaffection.Andinthatmoment,Georgiafeltthetwo’ssharedhistorylikeafourthmemberatthetable.Shebelievedthemwhentheysaidthatnothinginappropriatehadhappenedbetweenthembackthen,butshealsocouldtelltheirbondhadstartedwaybeforethisrecentreunion.
Maybesheshouldstepbackandgetoutoftheirway.
“She’sthinkingtoohardagain,”Keatsobservedashetwirledsomepastaonhisfork.
“What’sgotthatwrinkleinyourbrow,gorgeous?”
“Nothing,really.”Shesmoothedtheedgeofthetablecloth.“IguessI’mjustprocessingeverything.It’sbeenacrazyfewdays.”
Colbyheldoutabiteofhissteak.“Stopanalyzingeverythingandgiveyourselfabreak.Wehavegoodfood,goodwine,andgoodcompany.Sitbackandenjoy.”
Shetookthebite,chewed,thentookasipofherwine.“You’reright.IfIoverthinkthisone,mybrainwillexplode.”
Colbyleanedbackinhischair,fingeringhiswineglassandconsideringher.“Youmeanthinkingaboutbeingoutofthehouse?”
“Sure,butalsobeingherewithyoutwo.”Sheadjustedthenapkininherlap.“Ihavetobehonest.IkeepbouncingfromfeelinglikeI’mwithfriendstofeelinglikewe’reallonadatetofeelinglikeaninterloperbetweenyoutwo.It’sscramblingmybrainalittle.”
“Ifyou’reaninterloper,thenIam,too,”Keatssaidwithashrug.“Youtwoweretogetherfirst.”
Colbysippedhiswine,thensetitdown.“Ithinktherearealotofblurredlinesatthistable,andtryingtolabelthemrightnowisapointlessexercise.GodknowseverytimeItrytodrawalinewiththisone”—hetippedhisheadtowardKeats—“theguyboundsrightoverit.”
Keatssmirked.“Boing,boing.”
“Butknow”—hereachedoutandgaveGeorgia’shandasqueeze—“therearenoexpectations.We’reherebecausewewantedtospendthedaytogether.There’snopressureforanythingbeyondthat.”
Sheletherhandcurlintohis.
“He’sright,”Keatssaid,hisamusedexpressionsobering.“IknowIwasoutoflinekissingyoulikethatthismorning.Iactedfirst,thoughtsecond.Kindofabadhabitofmine.ButIdon’twantyoutofeellikeI’mtryingtohornmywayinonwhatyoutwohavegoingon.JustbecauseColby’satotalmanwhorewho’sfoolingaroundwithbothofus—”
“Heynow,watchit,smartass,”Colbysaid,narrowinghisgaze.
Georgiabitherlip,tryingnottosmile.
“AllI’msaying,”Keatscontinued,“isthatI’mnotgoingtointerfereifyouandColbywanttodoyourownthing.”
“Iappreciatethat,”shesaid,notexactlyinaplacetofigureouthowshefeltaboutthewholething,muchlessKeatsindividually.Butshecouldn’tdenythatthekisshadmadeithardtofocusonthereasonswhysheshouldn’twantKeats.“Samegoesforme.LastthingIwanttodoisgetinthewaywithyoutwo.”
Colbylookedbetweenthetwoofthem,aslysmiletouchinghislips.“Eat,bothofyou.We’vegotthewholeafternoonaheadofus.”
Keatsliftedhisglass.“Here’stoGeorge’sfirstdayoutofprison!Mayshemakethisdayherbitch.”
Georgialaughedandliftedherwine.“Hear,hear.”
Theyallclinkedtheirglassestogether,andGeorgiaclosedhereyes,tastingthefreedominthemoment.
Maybeshecouldwinthisbattleafterall.TWENTY-EIGHT
ColbyandGeorgiahadbeeninhisbedroomwaytoolong.Colbyhadsaidtheyweregoingintheretofindamovieforallofthemtowatch,butthat’dbeenhalfanhourago.Keatstriednottofeelleftoutashesatsprawledonthecouch,strumminghisguitar.Theirdayouthadbeenmoresuccessfulthanhe’dexpectedaftereverythingthathadhappenedthismorning.He’dbeenworriedthatitwouldbetoomuchforGeorgia,thattheoutingwouldoverwhelmher.Butshe’dbeendeterminedtofighttodayandshe’dkickedass.
They’dkeptitlow-key.AfterSawgrass,they’dgonetoaquietsuburbanshoppingareaandpickedoutnewcoffeecupstoreplacetheonesthey’ddemolished.Georgiahadhadonerockymomentinoneoftheshopswhenadark-hairedmaninasuithadbrushedbyher.She’dseizedupandherfingernailshaddugintoKeats’sarm.Apparently,theguyhadresembledPhillip.ButColbyhadswoopedinandsteeredheroutintothefreshair,leadingherthroughsomebreathingexerciseallthewhile,andcalmedherbeforeheranxietytookherofftherails.
KeatshadbeenfascinatedwatchingColbyslipintotherapistmode,seeingthatuncannyabilitytomorphhishard-edgeddominanceintothisgentlebutfirmlyreassuringpresence.Georgiahadrespondedtoitinstantly,andKeatshadbeengladithadbeensoeffective.Butwhilewatchingthetwoofthemhuddledtogether,he’dalsofelthisageandinexperienceacutelyforthefirsttime.Hecouldmakewomenlaugh,hecouldturnthemon,buthewasn’tsurehe’deverbeabletobesuchasteadyrockforsomeone,likeColbywas.Colbywassolid—thekindofguybuiltformarriageandfatherhoodandallthehardstuff.ThestuffsomeonelikeGeorgiawouldeventuallywant.ThestuffKeatswasn’tsurehewascapableof.
Sorightthenandthere,Keatsknewthatevenifsomethinghappenedbetweenallthreeofthem,Keatswouldeventuallybecomethebonusprizeatthebottomofthecerealbox—afunthingtohavearoundbutnotthestuffthatnourishedyou.Hewastheexpendableoneinthisequation.Andheneededtokeepthatinthefrontofhismindgoingforward.Hecouldn’tlosehimselftoit.He’dalreadylefthimselftooopenbysingingtoColbylastnightandlettingsomefeelingsshow.Thatshitneededtostop.Thiswastemporaryfun,andheneededtoenjoyitforthat.Otherwise,hewasgoingtogethimselfcrushed.
Afterthedayout,they’dcomebacktoColby’s.They’dorderedpizzaandGeorgiahadmanagedtomakeitthroughtherestoftheeveningwithoutanypanicattacks.Duringdinner,they’dallsharedafewbeers,andKeatshadfinallybeenabletorelaxalittleandfindsomepeaceinhisrole.They’dlaughedandtoldstoriesaboutthisandthat.It’dfeltwarmandlaid-backandliketheyallhadbeenhangingoutforever.Andforalittlewhile,Keatshadfeltapartofsomethinginsteadofsittingoutsidetheborders.ButthenGeorgiaandColbyhadgoneofftoColby’sroom,remindingKeatsofhisplaceinthisgroup,andthechillhadsettledinagain.
Keatsreleasedalongbreathandfocusedonstrummingthenotesforthesonghewastinkeringwith.Ifnothingelse,thelastfewdayshadprovidedacrap-tonoffodderfornewsongs.Nothinglikeyourentireworldandwhatyouthoughtofyourselfrearrangingbeneathyoutoinspirenewmaterial.Thoughthesonghewasfoolingaroundwithrightnowwouldgethisassbeatdowninmostofthehonky-tonksaroundtownsinceitwasclearlyaboutadude.Maybehecouldgotoopenmicnightsingaybars.
Gaybars.
Heshookhisheadatthethought.He’dhavenofuckingcluehowtonavigatethosewaters.WhenthisallendedwithColby,wouldthosebethekindsofplaceshewouldgo?Nowthathe’dventureddownthatroad,wouldhecravemeninthesamewayhecravedwomen?AllhecouldpicturewasoneofthegayclubsdowntownthatlookedlikeitwastryingtoreviveStudio54.Sonothisscene.Orwhatifhefoundthathecouldn’tdowithoutthekink?Wherethehellwouldheseekthatout?Hesureasshitcouldn’taffordtheplaceColbybelongedto.
Suddenly,hehadnewunderstandingforhowtoughitmust’vebeenforColbygrowingupinthemiddleofbackwoodsTexasandnotjustbibutdeeplydominantandcravingkink.Whatafuckingnightmare.
Hisfingersplayedoverthestringswithnorealdirectionnow,andheshiftedonthecouch,consideringgettingupandgoingtohisroom.He’dspentlastnightandthismorningwithColby;heshouldletGeorgiaandColbyhavesomerealtimealone.Butrightwhenhesethisguitaraside,thetwoofthemwalkedbackintothelivingroom.ColbyhadhisarmaroundGeorgia’swaistandhisbutton-downflannelshirtlookedwrinkled.Georgia’shaloofhairwasevenmorewildthanusual.Almostfucked.Thatwasthelook.Sheworeitwell.
Heatpooledlow,Keats’sbodywakingatthesightofthetwoofthem.Hell.
“Foundwhatyouwerelookingfor?”Keatsasked,tryingtosoundnonchalant.
ColbyheldupaDVDofsomezombieflick.“Yep.TurnsoutGeorgiaisahorrorfan.”
“Onlythesupernaturalstuff,”sheclarified.“Nothingthatcouldreallyhappen.Isavethatformybooks.”
Keatsschooledhisexpressionintoaseriousone.“Zombiescouldtotallyhappen.”
Colbyputhishandsouttohissides.“Right?That’swhatI’msaying.Butshewantedthisoneanyway.”
ColbyheadedovertotheDVDplayerandsquatteddowninfrontofthebigscreenonthewall.GeorgiaglancedatKeats’sguitar.“Yousureyoustillwanttowatchwithus?Idon’twanttointerruptifyouwanttoplay.”
Keatsdidn’tknowifshewasbeingniceorifshereallywantedhimtobehere.“Icanleaveyoutwoalone.Idon’twanttobother—”
“Scootoverandmakeroom,Keats,”Colbysaid,hisbackstilltothem.“You’renotditchingmovienight.”
Acommand,notarequest.Dominantfucker.HeshiftedoverandGeorgiasatdownnexttohim.God,shesmelledgood.Likesomesortofspice—cinnamon,cloves,andsomethingelsehecouldn’tquiteplace—probablyeaudeColby.Hetriednottonoticehowwell-kissedherlipslooked—glossyandalittlepuffy.Ormaybeshe’dbeensuckingColbyoff.Keats’sstomachtightened,andhewasunsurewhatturnedhimonmore,thethoughtofGeorgiawrappingherprettymoutharoundhimorthethoughtofbeingonhiskneesforColby.Helethisheadfallbackagainstthecouch.Hewasadisaster.Ahornydisaster.
Georgiareachedoutandgavehishandasqueeze.“Hey,everythingokay?Inoticedyouweremovingalittleslowerthisafternoon.Areyoustillsore?”
Yes,rightbetweenmygoddamnedlegs.Canyoumakeitbetter,please?HeliftedhisheadandcaughtGeorgia’sconcernedgaze.Hemusteredupasmallsmileforher.“I’mallright.Theinjuriesaren’tasbadastheylook.It’sjustbeenalongcoupleofdays.”
ShesentasidelongglancetowardColbybeforelookingbacktohimandloweringhervoicetoanear-whisper.“Doyouwantmetoleave?Imean,ifyouneedsometimewithColby.”
Hereachedoutandtuggedoneofhertightcorkscrewcurls,likingthewayitsprangbackwhenhereleasedit.“No,George.Iwantyourighthere.”HeloopedhisarmsaroundhershoulderandthenturnedhisheadtowardColby.“Teach,I’mhijackingyourwomanforthemovie.She’swarmandsmellsgood.”
Colbypeeredbackoverhisshoulderatthetwoofthem.“That’suptoGeorgia.”
Georgia’sgazemovedbetweenthetwoofthem.“Finebyme.”Shesettledherbackagainsthisside.“AndKeats,let’snotpretendthatyouaren’ttryingtohuguponmebecauseyou’retheonefreaked-outbyzombies.”
“Yes,you’reright.Theundeadaren’ttobemessedwith.IapologizeearlyifIendupburyingmyfaceinyourhairorsomething.”
“Orsomething,”sherepeatedunderherbreath.
Whoa.Okay.He’donlybeenmessingaround.Over-the-topflirtingwashisdefensemechanismwhenhewasnervousaroundawoman.ButhedefinitelywasdownforstayinglikethisifGeorgiawasintoplayingthegamerightback.Thenighthadjustgotteninfinitelymoreinteresting.
Colbysnortedattheexchange,buttherewasawickedglintinhiseyes.HehitPlayonthemovieandturnedthelightsoff,thensankontothecouchontheothersideofGeorgia.Withoutasking,heliftedGeorgia’slegsandlaidthemacrosshislap,whichmeantGeorgiahadbeenturnedfarthersidewaysandwasnowhalf-lyingagainstKeats’schest.
Headjustedhisarmfullyaroundherandglanceddown,inadvertentlygettingaviewstraightdownherV-necksweater.Alacybluebracuppedround,fullbreasts.Hisfreehandcurledintohisthigh,thetemptationtotouchheralmosttoomuchtobear.Nowhewasdefinitelythinkingofmuchmorefunplacestoburyhisfacethaninherhair.
HeforcedhiseyesupwardandcollidedwithColby’sgaze.He’dcaughtKeatslooking.Keatsopenedhismouth,notsurewhathewasgoingtosay—Sorry?
Colbyliftedaneyebrowinwarningandmouthed,No.Touching.Butthenasmirkcurledhismouthandheadded,Yet
Colbyturnedbacktowatchthemovielikethere’dbeennoexchangeatall.
AllKeats’sbloodrusheddownward.
Well,fuck.Thiswasgoingtobethelongestmovieever.
—
Georgiaabsolutelycouldnotconcentrateonthestupidmovie.Herheartbeatwasgoingtomakeadentinherribsitwaspoundingsohard.Colbyhadn’tsentherintothisblind.They’dtalkedinhisroombeforethemovie.Well,talkedandtouchedandmadeout.She’dbeenonahighfromsurvivingthedaymostlyunscathed.Butwhenthey’dmanagedtocomeupforair,he’dtoldherthattonightcouldbewhatevershewantedittobe.Asimplemovienightwithfriends.Aone-on-onenightinhisbed.OrshecouldhaveKeats,too,ifKeatswasgameforthat.
Ithadbeentheobviousquestionhoveringoverthemallday.Wouldtheycrossthosefuzzylines?Colbyhadleftthedecisionfirmlyinherhands.Andthat’dmadeitharder.Intheend,shewantedtowatchthemovieanddecidelater.Shedidn’twantthepressureofaplan.
ButwhenKeatshadaskedtocuddlewithheronthecouch,it’dfeltnaturaltosayyes.Soshewasgoingwiththat.She’dbeenalltooawareofthebothofthematdinner.Thesexualtensionzippingthroughtheroomhadbeenpalpable—allthreewerehavingnormalconversationwitheachotherbutintheundercurrent,theyalsowereacutelyawareofthesecretstheyknewabouteachother—howColbylookedwhenhejerkedoff,howGeorgiasoundedwhenshecame,howKeatshadbeeninColby’sbedlastnight.Evenwatchingthetwoguysthrowverbaljabsateachotherhadgottenherwarmbecauseshecouldsoeasilysensetheelectricitybetweenthem.
Butnowshewasfreakingnervous.Yes,shewasdoingsomekinkythingswithColby.ButathreesomewasawholeotherlevelontheRichterscaleforher.Thesetworeally,reallybeautifulguyscouldeasilyoverwhelmher.Colbyalonewasalmosttoomuchtohandle.Ifshedidthis,she’dbejumpingfromastateofdeepfreezeintoboilinglava,nopitstopsinbetween.
Sheneededtobreatheandcalmdown.Maybeshewasn’treadyforthisquiteyet.Shejustneededtowatchthemovieandenjoythecompany.Thoughitwasn’thelpingherstateofmindthatColbyhadmovedherlong,flowyskirttoherkneesandwasidlystrokinghercalvesastheywatchedthemovie.AndKeatshadshiftedbehindhertowhereshewasnowbasicallylyingagainsthischest.Hiskneeswerespreadwideinthatrelaxedguypose,andhiscargopantsweresituatedinawaythathadherimaginationdrawingpictures,especiallywhenhe’ddiscreetlyadjustedhimselfafewminutesago.
Dammit.
Sheforcedherattentionbacktothemovie,findingthatthefilmwasatthemandatorysexbreakinbetweenthezombieattacks.Theheroineandherboyfriendwerelockedinsideahouseandallwasquietfornow.So,asperB-horror-movieprotocol,clotheshadcomeoff.Thewomanwaspresentlynakedandastridetheguy,rollingherhipsandtippingherheadback,makingtheoh-right-thereface.Ofcourse,theywereshowingnoneoftherathergood-lookingguyexcepthishandsandface.Alittlegrumbleescapedher.
“Everythingallright?”Colbyasked,sendingheralookofamusement.
“It’sannoyingthatalltheyevershowinmoviesisthegirl.Imean,sure,she’sprettyandhasanicebody.Butwoulditkillthemtothrowthefemaleviewingaudiencealittlemanassorsomething?Thatguyhasagoodone.Boypartsshouldn’tbeoff-limits.”
Keats’schestbouncedgentlybeneathherashelaughed,andColby’sdimplesappeared.
“It’sunfair,”sheconcluded.
“Agreed.Horriblysexist,”Colbysaid,tryingtolookserious.“IdohaveInternetaccessonthisTV.Icouldpullupsomegayzombiepornforyou.Therewillbemanassandboypartsgalore.”
Shesenthimasidelongglance.“Please,God,tellmethatdoesn’texist.”
“Whenitcomestoporn,everythingexists,”Keatsassuredher.
Sheturnedherheadtolookupathimandgavehimapokeinthearm.“Speakingfromexperience?”
Hegaveheranoh-pleaselook.“YoudorealizeI’mmaleandgrewupintheageoftheInternet,right?”
“Wait,areyouevenoldenoughtowatchporn?”sheasked,blinkinginnocently.
Colbybarkedalaugh.
Keatspinchedherside,andsheyelpedbeforefallingintoherownlaughter.
“Lowblow,George,”hesaid,buthissmilewaswarm.
“Ha!”Colbysaidfromtheothersideofthecouch.
Georgiaturnedtofacehim.
HepointedtheremoteattheTVandannouncedtriumphantly,“WouldyoupreferTheSuckingDeador28DicksLater?”
Georgiawasalreadyalittlegigglyfromanightofnervoustensionandthebeer,soatthesightofthetwomoviepostersdisplayedonthescreen,especiallytheonewiththeveryshapelygreenmalebehind,shelostit.SheslippedoutofKeats’sholdasshebentforward,hershouldersshakingwithlaughter.
“Onlynineninety-nine.Yeah,we’retotallygettingthis,”Colbysaid,liftingtheremote.“AndI’mopeninguptheaccountinyourname.GeorgiaLawrence,loverofgayzombieass.”
“Don’tyoudare!”Shewentfortheremote,launchingherselfatColby.Heliftedtheremoteoutofherreach,andshelandedhalfacrosshislap.Helockedanarmaroundherwaist,draggingheragainsthimandgivingheraflashofteeth.“Hey,I’mgivingyouwhatyouaskedfor.”
“AllIwantedwasmalenudity,notzombieass,”shesaid,stillstretchingfortheremote,buthetosseditoverherheadtoKeats.
“HitBuy,Keats,”Colbycalledonalaugh.
“OhmyGod,thezombiefuckspeoplebacktolifeandthatturnsthemintozombies,”Keatssaid,apparentlyreadingthedescription.“Doyouthinkhewalksaroundsaying‘Asssss’insteadof‘Braaaains’?Becauseifthat’sthecase,weneedtowatchthis.Imean,howcouldwenot?It’slikeanobligation.”
ShesentKeatsalookofmockbetrayal.“Youarenotsidingwithhim.AllIaskedforwasalittleequal-opportunitynudity.Isthattoomuchtoask?”
“Hey,I’mfondofnudityofalltypes,”hesaidwithagrin,andreachedbehindhim.Hetuggedhisshirtoverhisheadwithonequickmotionandtosseditaside.“There,it’sevenedoutnow.Toplessgirlinthemovie,toplessguyforyourviewingpleasure.”
ButshewasslippingoutofColby’sholdassoonastheshirthitthefloorandmovingtoKeats’sside,thepurplebruisesdrainingallthehumorfromher.“OhmyGod,Keats.Youdidn’tsayitwasthisbad.”
Shelaidherpalmagainstthepurpleblotches,concernfloodingher,butangerbuildingaswell.Howcouldsomeonedothistohim?
Keatssuckedinabreathathertouch,butheputhishandoverhers.“Aw,nowdon’tgetyourselfworkedupoverit,George,”hesaidgently.“Itlooksalotworsethanitfeels.You’vebeenlyingonmeallnightandIwasfine.”
Sheglancedup.“I’vebeen—whydidn’tyoutellme?Iwould’venever—”
“Youwerepressedupagainstme.Itwasworthanydiscomfort.”
Thewordsweresohonestlydeliveredthatittuggedatthatthinginsidehershecouldn’tresist.“Nowyou’rejustnotplayingfair.Icanhandlecocky.ButIcan’thandlesweet.”
Thecornersofhiseyescrinkled,thoughhisgazestayedserious.“YoucantellmetostopandIwill.Seriously.Justsaytheword.I’llleaveyoutwoalone.”
“Youwantthis?”sheasked,knowingKeatswaswellawareofwhatwasonthelinehere.“Imean,truly,bothofus?”
Hebroughtherhandtohismouthandkissedherknuckles.“OfcourseIdo,George.Youtwoaredrivingmealittlecrazy,actually.Ihavenogoddamnedideawhathappenedinthemovie.Butseriously,there’snopressure.”
Shetracedgentlefingersoverhisinjuries,herdesirehavingaknock-down,drag-outfightwithhergoodsense.“Youscareme.”
Heletoutalittlelaughatthat.“Me?Iwouldneverhurtahaironyourhead.”
“It’snotthat.It’sjust—you’regoingthroughsomebig-dealdiscoveriesaboutyourself,andIdon’twanttobethegirlyou’reusingtoreassureyourselfthatyou’restillintowomen.Idon’twanttoplaybufferorgetintheway.”
Heshiftedatthat,sittingupstraighterandtakingherhandsinhis.“Look,George,Igettheconcern,andImaybeaconfusedsonofabitchsometimes,butletmetellyouwhatIknowforsure.One—I’mintowomen.Reallyintowomen.Ihaven’tbeenfakingitmywholelife.So,sure,discoveringI’mattractedtoaguyisnewandalottodealwith,butit’sinadditionto,notinreplacementof,women.Andtwo,I’mintoyou.Thisisn’taboutfindingthenearestgirlandhookingup.Ifthiswereaboutprovingmymanhoodorwhatever,Icould’vegonetoabartonightandgonehomewitharandomgirl.
“ButinsteadIstayedhere.NotjusttohangoutwithColbybuttobenearyou,thewomanwhoIhaven’tbeenabletogetoutofmymindsinceIheardthetwoofyouonthecouch.I’musedtoforwardwomen.Orgirlswhoknowhowtousetheirassetstogetmyattention.Butit’sallflashyadvertising.Onceyougetinbedwiththem,theconfidentactdisappearsasquickasthepush-upbraandwhatseemslikeadaringnightisreallyjust…”
“Vanilla,”Colbyofferedfrombehindthem.
“Yeah,”Keatsagreed.
Georgiacouldn’thelpbutsmile.“Well,totheirdefense,you’redatingyoungwomen.Attwenty,mostofusdon’tknowwhatwewantorhowtoaskforit.Andtheguysareusuallythrilledenoughifyouknowhowtogiveagoodblowjob,sothereisn’talotofmotivationtoexplorefurther.”
“Exactly.AndIenjoyedthatkindofthingasmuchasthenextguy,butwhenIheardyouandColbytogether,IrealizedIwasmissingout.ThewayyoutwoownyourdirtysideissomethingIhaven’tbeenabletostopthinkingabout.You’reboththeseprofessional,put-togetherpeopleontheoutside,butyouhavekinkystreaksamilewidethatyouaren’tafraidtoembrace.”Keats’sgreeneyesweredarkinthelowlightastheymetGeorgia’s,andshelostherbreathforasecond.Nakeddesiresatthere,anyshieldhe’dbeenkeepingupfallingaway.“Andit’sso.Fucking.Hot.”
Georgiaclosedhereyes,herheartbeatspeedingtothatrampagingpaceagain.Colby’shandsslidontohershouldersandgavethemasqueeze,ashowofsupportforwhateverhappenednext.
“Ifyoudon’twantmeherewithyoutwo,I’llleaveyoualone,”Keatssaid,hisvoicequiet.“Butifyouwantmetostay,I’mallyours.Forwhatevereitherofyouwantfromme,I’min.”
Nervesweretryingtoseizeher.HavingColbybehindherandKeatsonlyinchesaway,offeringhimselfwhole,wasalmosttoooverwhelmingtoprocess.Buttherewasnodenyingthedeep,hotachebuildingwithinhernonetheless.ShewantedKeats.ShewantedColby.Plainandsimple.
She’dspentsolonginalocked-down,smotheringrelationshipandthentrappedaloneinfear.Thiswaseverythingthepasttwoyearswasn’t.Afantasy,sure.Butmorethanthat,thiswaspartofheroldselfclawingtothesurfaceandgaspingforair,lookingforthelight.
“Whatdoyousay,gorgeous?”Colbyasked,hiswhisperticklingoverherear.
SheslidherhanddowntoKeats’shipandloweredherhead.Keepinghereyesclosed,shepressedakisstohisbruisedribs,thenslowlymovedherhandtothehardeningridgebetweenhisthighsandcurvedherfingersaroundit.
KeatsbreathedoutacurseandColby’sgriplefthershoulders.
SheliftedherheadandbroughtherfaceclosetoKeats.“Ithinkwe’redonewithmovienight.”
“Yeah?”Keatsasked,hisvoicestrained.
“Yeah.”Shestrokedhimgentlythroughhispantsandputhermouthtohis,lettingthepent-updesireshe’dbeenfeelingforhimfromtheverystartpourintoaslow,rollingkiss.
Colby’smouthtouchedthebackofherneck,hishandsslidingoverherwaist,anditwasdone.Thethreeofthem.
Nomorelinesinthesand.Nomorepretending.
Theywerealltumblingintothechurningoceantogether.
Notaliferaftinsight.TWENTY-NINE
Georgiafeltahandinherhairandonecuppingherbreast,butshewasn’tsureifitwasColbyorKeatstouchingher.Orboth.Both.God,shewasactuallydoingthis.
ShewasstillkissingKeats,butthingswerehappeningaroundher.Buttonswereunfastenedandherskirtendeduponthefloorsomehow.Allthewhilemouthsandhandsweremoving,exploring—herown,theirs.ShekissedherwayalongalineofsonglyricscurlingoverKeats’sbicep,andColbyunhookedherbra,slidingitoffhershoulders.HernipplesgrazedKeats’schestandhegroanedagainstherearashispalmfoundherbreasts.“Sogoddamnedbeautiful.”
Hishandswerewarmandrough-skinnedagainsther,thegentlefrictionsendingsensationstraighttotheburningspotbetweenherthighs.
“Straddlehim,baby,”Colbycommanded.“Spreadyourlegsandlethimfeelhowwetyouare.Howwetyou’vebeenforusduringthewholemovie.”
Keats’sgreeneyesmethersasshehookedherlegoverhislapandgotinposition.Hisgazeateherupwithpurelustfulhungerbeforehisfingersdippedbeneaththewaistbandofherpantiesandslidalongherslickfolds.“Fuck,George,you’resoreadyforus.”
Hestrokedalongherclitwithdeft,callusedfingertips,andhernailsdugintohisshoulders.“God,thatfeelsgood.”
“Don’tlethercomeyet,”Colbysaid.“Keepherridingheredge.Samegoesforyou.”
Keatscontinuedtoteaseherbuteasedsomeofthedeliciouspressure.“IhaveafeelingColby’sgoingtobebeatingtheshitoutofmelaterfordisobeyingbecauseI’mfeelinganythingbutsubmissiveatthemoment.Iwanttoseeyoucomeforme,George.Iwanttohearmynameonyourlips.”
Shegroanedattheshiftinattitudeinthemanbeneathher.KeatsmightbesubmissiveundertheintensedominanceofColby,butshewasseeinganythingbutthatinhimrightnow.Helookedlikeamanonamissiontofuckherintooblivion.Andshefeltlikeawomanreadyforexactlythat.
“Please,Colby,”shesaid,sendinghimanappealassherodeKeats’sfingers.“I’llneverlastunlessIgetthefirstoneoutoftheway.I’vebeenwoundupforhours.”
Colby’sominouseyebrowlifted.“Howbaddoyouwantit?”
Keats’sfingerscurledinsideher,surprisingherbyrubbingslowlyalongtheperfectspot.Goddamn,shehadtogivetheguycredit.Whenshewastwenty-threeshehadn’tevenknownhowtofindherownG-spot.Andherehewaspressingalltherightbuttons.“Prettydamnbad.”
“Iplayfair.You’retwogrownadults.Youwanttofuckbeforewegetstarted.Doit.Butthere’llbeapricetopayafterward.”
“Whatprice?”Keatsasked.
“Thatyoudon’tgettoknowuntilafterward.AndKeats,shehaspermissiontocome.Youdonot.”
Hisjawclenched,butGeorgiacouldseetheflareoflustinhiseyesatthecommand.Therewasthatsubmissiveside.Nice.“Icanwait.”
“Idon’tcareifyoucan,youwill.”ColbyranahandoverthebackofGeorgia’shead.“Youtwohavetwentyminutesinhisbedroomalone.Thenyoumeetmeinmine.”
“You’renotcomingwithus?”Georgiaasked.
“Yourfirsttimewithsomeoneshouldn’tbewithanaudience,”hesaid.“Plus,Ihaveafewthingstogetready.Bettermakethattwentyminutesgood,though,becauseafterthatyoutwoareallmine.”
Colbyleanedoverandgaveheradeepkissfullofpromise,allwhileKeats’sfingerscontinuedtostrokeher.Colbypulledaway,leavingheralittlebreathless,andthenheturnedhisheadandkissedKeatsaswell.SeeingtheirlipsandtonguesclashupclosehadGeorgiaalmostcomingonthespot.
Oh.My.God.Theyweresexytogether.
Keatsyankedhisheadbackwithagrunt.“Damn,shejustclampeddownonmyfingershard.”HelookedtoGeorgia,alittleamazed.“Itreallydoesturnyouon,doesn’tit?Seeinguskiss?”
Colbygrinned.“Toldyoushehadafetish.Betshealreadyowns28DicksLater.”
ShelaughedandpushedoffKeats,lettinghisfingersslipoutofherpantieswithadelicious,clenchingglide.“Shutup.I’mawomanonthevergehereandyou’reteasingme.”
Keatsclimbedoffthecouch,hiserectionprovidingaprominentoutlineagainsthisshorts,andwrappedhisarmsaroundher.“Comeon,George.You’reallminefortwentyminutes,andI’mdefinitelynotgoingtowasteasecondofit.”
Thenhewasliftingherupanddrapingheroverhisshoulder.
Sheyelpedinsurprise.“Keats!No,yourribs.”
Hedeliveredaswiftsmacktoherass,surprisingthehelloutofher.“Hush.IndulgemycavemanimpulsesrightnowbecauseIhaveafeelingonceColbygetsholdofus,he’sgoingtomakemegetonallfoursandbarklikeadogorsomething.”
“Thedogthingisn’tmykink.Butallfourshasdefinitepossibilities,”ColbysaidasKeatscarriedherdownthehall.
Shedidn’tmisstheripplethatwentthroughKeats’smusclesatthecomment.Wasthatfear?ShewonderedexactlyhowfarColbyandKeatshadgottenlastnight
Butshewasn’tabletolethermindwanderforlongbecauseinthenextfewseconds,Keatswasshuttingthedoortohisroombehindthem.Heloweredhertoherfeetandclickedofftheoverheadlight,leavingonlyabedsidelampon,thenshuckedhispantsandboxerbriefs.Keats’sgazemethers,hungryanticipationthere,asheclosedthescantdistancebetweenthem.Ifhewasnervousatallaboutbeingwithherforthefirsttime,hedidn’tshowit.Hemightbesubmissiveincertaincircumstances,butconfidenceinthebedroomwasn’tsomethinghelacked.Shecouldfeeltheheatrollingoffhimandseepingintoherskin.
Ittookeverythingshehadnottoreachoutandexplore,tracingthosemusclesandtattooswithfingertipsandlips.Hewasartandsexandsharp,beautifuledges.Butshegotthesensehewasleadingtheshowrightnow.
“CanItouchyou?”sheasked.
Hismouthcantedupatthecorner.“I’mnothim,George.Youneverneedpermissionfromme.”
“Doyouwantmetotakecharge?”sheasked,wantingtogivehimwhatheneededifthatwaswhathecraved.“Imean,I’veneverdoneitformally,butI’mnotafraidtotry.”
Hecuppedherfaceandbrushedhislipsoverhers,silencingher.“ActuallyI’mfightinghardnottojumponyouanddevouryouwhole.Seemsyoubringoutmyaggressiveside.Soifit’sallthesametoyou,Idon’tneedanylabelsorrolesrightnow.Ijustwantyounaked,inmybed,andcomingashardasyoucan.”
Shewetherlips,herbodytighteninginthebestpossiblewayathiswords.Shecouldseeallthebarelypenned-indesireskatingacrosshisfeatures.Hewasholdingbackwithher,tryingnottooverwhelmher.“Youdon’tneedtobeeasyandromanticwithme,youknow?I’mnotthosegirlsyou’vebeenwith.Ifyouwanttoberough,berough.Iwon’tbreak.”
Hisjawtwitchedandhetookadeepbreath.“Iwouldneverhurtyou.”
Sheslidherhandsalonghishipsandalignedherbodywithhis,herownconfidencebuilding.“Iknowthat.Sostopholdingbackandtakewhatyouwantfromme.Letgowithme.”
Hegrowled,hishandsslidingintoherhairgrippingtight,andkissedherhard.“You’reafuckingfantasy,George.I’mgoingtowakeupandbebackinthatshittyhotel.”
Hedidn’tgiveherachancetorespondbutinsteadkissedhermoredeeplyandtuggedatherpanties.Shehelpedthemalongdownherlegsandsteppedoutofthem.Hishandsmoveddownherbackandhegrippedherassinhispalms,seatingheragainsthiserectionanddigginghisshortfingernailsintoherskin.Thestingofpainonlymadeherfeelwilder,moredesperateforrelease.Shetangledhishairinherfingersandmoanedhisname.
Hepushedherdownonthebed.“Ilovethatsound—mynameinyourmouth.Sayitagain.”
“Keats,”shewhisperedagainsthislips.
“Tellmewhatyouwantmetodotoyou.”
“Iwanttofeelyouinsideme.Iwantyoutofuckme,Keats.”
Hisgreeneyeswentalmostblackinthelamplight.“Patience,beautiful.First,Ineedataste.”
Hecrawleddownthebedandbracedhishandsonthebackofherthighs,pushingthemopen.Thenhebentdownanddidwhatshecouldonlydescribeasoutrightworship.Lipsandtongueandeventhegrazeofteethmovedoverherwithunbridledenthusiasmandsurprisingskill.
Herfingersdugintothesheets.Jesus,shewasnevergoingtolastlikethis.Thesoundsofhismouthonheralonewerecareeninghertowardorgasm.Themenshe’dbeenwithinthepasthadbeen…neatwhenitcametooralsex.Precise.Whichshewould’vefiguredwasthebestwaytogo.ButKeats’smouth,nose,andtonguewereeverywhere.Herinnerthighs,thecreasewherepelvismetleg,strokingherclit.Sloppyandwetinthebestwaypossible.Andallthewhile,hehadtwofingersmovinginsideher,leavinghernodoubtthatthismanlovedeverymomentofthis.Hewasn’tsimplytryingtogetheroff.Hewasgettingoffonit.
Andnothingwashotterthanthat.
“Keats,”shebegged,tryingtowarnhimthatshewasgoingtogoover.
Butheobviouslyhadnointentionofstopping.Hecurvedhisfingersinsideherandsuckedherclitbetweenhislipsandhummed.
Thatdidherin.Herfingersgrippedhisheadhardasorgasmslammedintoherwithaforcethathadherarchingoffthebed.Shecriedout,heelsdiggingintothemattress,andKeatsrodethewavewithheruntilshecollapsedbackontothebedwithpantedbreaths.
“Scootupthebed,George,”hesaid,kissingtheinsideofherknee.“I’mnotnearlydonewithyou.”
“I’mnotsureIcan,”shesaid,stilltryingtocatchherbreathbutknowingshedidn’twanttoleavethisroomwithoutfeelingKeatsdeepinsideher.
Keatswasallmalesatisfactionwhenhesmileddownather.“Youlookgoodallwild-hairedandsweaty.I’mthinkingofmakingthisadailygoaltogetyoulookingthisway.”
Hebentdownandkissedher,hislipstastingofherarousal,anddespitetherockingorgasm,asteady,unfulfilledthrobbingbetweenherlegsremained.
“Yourmouthisalethalweapon,”shesaid.
Hegaveherasmugsmileashepulledacondomoutofabagonthefloor.“I’minexperiencedinkink.Thatdoesn’tmeanIdon’tknowhowtotreatawomaninbed.”
“Amentothat.”
Afterrollingonthecondom,hegaveherthighaquicksmack.“Moveupthebedandputyourlegsovermyshoulders,George.Iwanttohearyoucomeagain.”
Shedidasshewastoldanddrapedherkneesoverhisshoulders.ThankGodforyoga.Butshewasn’tsureshecouldcomeagainsosoon.“Idon’tthinkI—”
Butbeforeshecouldfinishthesentence,hewaspushingintoherandmakinghereatherwords.Hewasn’tasthickasColbybuthewaslongandcurvedinawaythatletherfeeleveryinchasheenteredher.Hersensitivetissuesgrippedhimandtightenedwithdesperateneed.
Hereleasedalongbreathwhenheseateddeep,hisholdonherthighstightening.“WhythefuckdidIpromisenottocome?Youfeelamazing.”
“Treadcarefully.He’llpunishyou.Idon’tthinkI’msupposedtocomeagaineither.”
Hepulledbackandthrustdeepagain,tensiontighteninghisfeatures.“Whateveritiswouldprobablybeworthit.”
Hismotionsgainedmomentum,andshecouldtellhewasgettinglosttothemoment.Unfortunately,shewas,too.Justseeinghimaboveher,allblondhairandbadboy,wasalmostenoughtosendherover.“Icantakeitifyoucan.”
“ThankGod,”hesaid,drapinghimselfoverherandreachingbetweenthemtorubherclitashepumpedintoherwithmoreforce.“Thisisworthsufferingsometorture.”
Hereyelidsflutteredshut,herresistancefaltering,andshegaveherselfovertothemoment.Colbyhadknowntheywouldn’tkeeptheirword.She’dstudiedColbylongenoughtoknowthathewasanattentiveloverbutalsoanunrepentantsadist.Punishingthemwouldgethimoff.Andrightnow,shewashappytoprovidehimtheopportunity.Becausetheguyshe’dworriedwastooyoungandinexperiencedforherwascurrentlyrockinghergoddamnworld.
Keats’sthruststurnedearnestandrough,knockingtheheadboardagainstthewallwithasteadyrhythm.Hishairtickledherfacewitheachmovement,thesensationasimplebutintenselyeroticone.Andwhenhecame,hedidn’teventrytobequiet.Thesounds,thefeelofhishaironher,andhisfingersagainstherclitsentherovertheedgewithhim.Shereachedup,wrappedherarmsaroundhisneck,andheldon,takingeverythinghegaveher.
Whenhe’dfinished,heeasedherdowntothebedandlayatopher,sweatynakedskinfusingtogether.Hepressedhisfaceintothecurveofherneck.“Soworthit.”
“Youmightwanttowithholdjudgmentonthatoneforawhile,Adam,”adeepvoicesaidfrombehindthem.
Theybothstartled,andGeorgiaturnedherheadtofindColbyleaningagainstthedoorjambwithcrossedarms.“You’refourminuteslate.Andyoubroketherules.”
Georgia’sthroatwenttightbutshemanagedafeeble,“Sorry’boutthat.”
Colby’ssmilewasslow,sexy,andmalevolent.“No,you’renot.Butyouwillbe.”THIRTY
ColbyschooledhisfaceintoimpassivityasheledKeatsandGeorgiatohisbedroom,butunderneaththesurface,hewasrunninghot,everybuttonfirmlypressed.Whenhe’dopenedthedooronthetwoofthematthetwenty-minutemark,he’dbeencaptivatedbyhowfuckingperfecttheyhadlookedtogether.Keats’smusclesstrainingwitheverythrust,GeorgiaclawingatKeats’sbackandmakingthosesoftsoundsofhers.Everythingaboutthescene,includinghimstandingtherewatching,hadfeltrightinawayhewasn’tsurehe’deverexperienced.
Mostmenwould’veprobablyhadameltdownstandingthere—pissedandjealousthattheirgirlwasbeinghandilyfuckedintooblivionbysomeotherguy.Heknewthatbysociety’sstandards,thatwashowhewassupposedtoreact.Buthiswiringhadneverbeenwhatanyonewouldcalltypical.Andhewasokaywiththat.Throughhiseyes,allhe’dseenweretwobeautifulpeoplefindingpleasure—andbreakingColby’srules,whichonlymeantmorefunforhim.Rewardformakingitthroughthenightsofarwithmonk-levelpatience.
Duringthemovie,he’dbeensokeyedup,he’dbarelybeenabletositstill.Evenifthetwoofthemhadbeenunawareofthecuestheyweregivingeachother,Colbyhadn’tmissedit.Keatshadadjustedhispantseveryfewminutes,obviouslyfightingahard-oneachtimeGeorgiashiftedagainsthim.AndGeorgiahadgottengoosebumpswhenshe’dglancedbackandforthbetweenKeatsandColby.Colbyhadknownexactlywhatwasonhermind.Hissexygirlandherdirtythoughts.
AndKeats,damn.He’dhadhimunderhiscommandtwiceinthelasttwenty-fourhours,butithadn’tbeenenough.SeeinghimwithGeorgiahadonlyheightenedtheneed.HewantedtoseeKeatspleasingGeorgia,thateagerdesiretomakeherloseit.AndhewantedtoseeGeorgia’sadventuroussidecomeoutandplay.Hissoloencounterswitheachofthemhadbeenoffthecharts.ButknowingtheyweregoingtoallthreebesharingeverythingtonightwasaddinganelementofheatandaninnerrestlessnessthatColbycouldhardlycontain.Theywerebothhistonight.Thatnotiondidsomethingtohimonaprimallevel.
Theyallwalkedintothebedroomtogether.Thelightswerelowandthecurtainswereclosed.Hedidn’tneedanyaudiencetonight.Thiswashisprivateshowandonlytwootherswereinvited.Keatsstoppedinfrontofhim,andColbysethishandsonKeats’sshoulders.Keatsstilledbeneaththetouchbutdidn’tmoveaway.
ColbypressedhisfronttoKeats’sback,lettinghimfeelhowarousedhewasandallowingKeatstorelishthevulnerabilityofbeingoneoftheluckyonesunderhiscontroltonight.“Youlikefuckingmywoman,Adam?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,sir,”heremindedhim.
“Yes,sir,”hewhisperedsogoddamnedsincerelythatColby’scockflexedagainsthiszipperatthesoundofit.
“Youhavenoself-control,doyou?”
“Notwhenitcomestoher.”
“Idon’tblameyou.”HesqueezedKeats’sneck.“Butthatdoesn’tmeanIwon’tpunishyou.Bothofyou.”
Keats’scockwasalreadyhalf-hardagain.Colbysmirkedtohimself.Thereweresomebenefitstohavingatwenty-something-year-oldguyaround.WhatColbycouldofferinexperienceandstayingpower,Keatscouldmatchinrecoverytimeandeagerness.
“Spreadyourfeetwide,handsclaspedbehindyourneck,”hesaidtoKeatsashepulledsomethingfromhispocket.Keatsmovedintoposition,andColbycaughtGeorgiawatchingthetwoofthemwithunblinkingfocus.“Georgia,bringmethatblackbottlefromthesidetable.”
Ittookherasecond,butshesnappedoutofherhazeandgrabbedwhatheneeded
“Nexttime,youwon’tbeabletocomesofast,”Colbysaid,crouchingdowninfrontofKeatsandsquirtingalittlelubeontheblacksiliconedeviceinhispalm.
Keats’sgazeturnedwary.“Whatisthat?”
“Acockring.”
“Forwhat?”Keatsstaredattheringlikeit’dbitehim.
“It’llkeepyouhardlonger,”Georgiasaid,hereyesfixedonwhatColbywasdoing.
“Givetheprettyladyateddybear.She’sbeenbusyonGoogle.”ColbystretchedthetopringandleanedforwardtoswipehistongueovertheheadofKeats’scock,thenslidtheringtotherootoftheshaft,lubeeasingthewaybutthefitasnugone.Keatswastenseasabowbutdidn’tmoveuntilColbystretchedthebottomringandfitteditaroundthebaseofKeats’stesticles,makingthembulgeinapleasantlyobsceneway.
Keatsgroanedandhishandsfisted.“Oh,fuck.”
“Thatwillonlygetmoreintensethemoreturnedonyouget.Buttellmeifitbecomespaininsteadofpressure.Thispartisnotsupposedtohurt.Understand?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Good,onyourknees.”KeatsloweredtothefloorwithadartingglancetowardGeorgiatogaugeherreaction.“Now…”Colbystrolledovertograbhisfavoritefloggerfromhisclosetandranhisfingersthroughthetailsofbuttery-softelkhide.“Youbothbroketherules,butIcan’tverywellbeatamanwithbruisedribs.NotevenI’mthatcruel.SoGeorgiawillhavetotakethefloggingforyouboth.”
“What?”Keatssaid,distressfillinghisvoice.“Noway.Icantakeit.Don’tmakeher—”
“Icanhandleit,”Georgiasaid,hergazemeetingColby’swithoutfear.
Colbysmiled.Histough,sexygirl.Shewasn’tbeingself-sacrificing—thoughKeatswouldprobablyseeitthatway.No,Georgiawantedthis.She’ddonebeautifullywiththespankingtheothernight,reactingjusthowhe’dhoped.Andhesuspectedshe’dsecretlycravedthispartforalongtimeevenifit’dscaredher.Allthosenightsshe’dwatchedhimfromherwindow,touchingherself.Howmanytimeshadshewisheditwerehertakingthosestingingblows?Godknowshe’dimaginedhertherestretchedoutandvulnerable,waitingforthekissofpainhecouldgiveher.
“StandinfrontofKeats,rightunderthatsilverringintheceiling.Iwantyoucloseenoughthathecanseeyourfacewhenyoutakeyourpunishment.”
KeatsstilllookedmorethanalittleconcernedforGeorgia,butGeorgiawasfollowingdirectionslikeapro.ShepositionedherselfundertheO-ringColbyhadinstalledinaroofbeam.Hebroughtalonglengthofsofthempropeandstrungitthroughthering.
“Armsoveryourhead.”
Georgiacomplied,lookinglikeagoddessasshestretchedoutwiththatmassofhairandglowingbrownskin.Colbytookhissweettimewrappingropearoundherwrists,enjoyingtheritualofbindingherinawaythatwouldkeephersecurebutwouldn’tinjureorchafe.Forhisownpleasure,heboundherforearms,wrappinghertotheelbowsagain.Adornment,notfunction.Thetwoofthempaintedastunningpicture,oneheknewwouldstayburnedinhismemory:GeorgiaboundinropeandKeatsatherfeet,cockandballsinthegripoftherings.
Hewastheluckiestbastardontheplanettonight.
HecheckedGeorgia’sbindingsonelasttime,makingsurethey’dsupportherifherkneesgotweakduringtheflogging.“Anythinghurtortootight?”
“No,Colby,”shesaid,hervoicebreathierthannormal,hereyesalreadygettingthatfar-offlook.
Oh,verynice.Someonerespondedwelltobondage.“Youlookperfectstrungupforme,baby.Beautiful.”
“Thankyou.”
“Tellmeyoursafeword.”
“Red,”shesaidafteramoment.
“Goodgirl.You’veearnedeightminutesundermyfloggerbecauseyoubothwentfourminutespastmydeadline.Eachstrokewillgetmoreintense.Lastforallofit,andImaybegenerousenoughtogiveyoutworule-breakersanotherchancetocometonight.”
Shenoddedandspreadherfeetalittlewiderwhileloweringherhead—preparingforhim.Hesteppedagoodswingingdistancebehindherandreadied.
“Georgia,youdon’thaveto—”Keatsbegan,butColbyletthefirststrokeflydiagonallyacrossherback,theresoundingthudagainstherskincuttingKeatsoff.
ThesoftexhalationofairfromGeorgiawaslikeadrugtoColby’ssystem.Nothingsweeterthanthesoundofasubmissivetakingwhathegavewithgrace.
“Youbettertellyourboytostopprotestingforyou,”Colbywarned.“Everytimeheopenshismouthwithoutpermission,youearnanotherminute.”
Hecrisscrossedanotherfewstrokesoverherbackinquicksuccession,increasingthelevelofsting.
“Keats,shutup,”Georgiamanagedinachokedvoice.“I’vegotit.”
Colbyfelthisdominancerisingfullytothesurface.She’sgotthis?Well,thatsoundedlikeachallengeifhe’deverheardone.
—
Georgiarealizedshe’dbeentooconfident.Onthenexthit,Colbymust’veputaflickinhiswristbecausetherecoilofthosetipsofleathersnappingagainstherfeltlikeahundredtinylicksoffireacrossherass.Georgiagaspedandarchedinherbindings,hernaturalhumaninstincttogetawayfromthesourceofpainkickinginwithoutherconsciouseffort.Herheelsliftedoffthefloor.
“Reachdownandcuffherankleswithyourhands,Keats,”Colbysaid,thepleasant,nonchalanttoneindirectcontrasttotheswatshewasmetingout.“Idon’twanthertohurtherselfmovingthoseprettyfeet.”
“Yes,sir.”Keatsscootedforwardonhiskneesandpeeredupather,hiseyesholdingahintofapology,thoughhisbodylookedtoberespondingjustfinetotheshow.Hewasalreadyfullyhardagain,thecockringstandingoutinreliefagainstthetautskin.Helockedlongfingersaroundheranklesandprovideddownwardpressure,fasteninghertothefloorandgivingheraniceviewofthosetattooedarmsandmuscularshoulders.
“Noescapeforyouyet,gorgeous,”Colbysaidfrombehindher.“You’vestillgotsixmoreminutes.”
“Six?”Hehadtobekidding.Surelyshe’dbeenstandingthereanhour.Alreadyeverypartofherbackandasswasthrobbingandtight.Notnecessarilyinagoodway.Maybeshewasn’tamasochistafterall.Maybeaspankingwasasmuchasshecouldhandle.Butshealsowasn’tgoingtobackdown.She’dendure.
Theleatherstripscamedownagain,andshecriedoutwiththebitingsting.Keats’sgriptightenedonherankleswhenshetriedtoshiftforward.Goddamn,Colbywasn’tgoingtobeshyaboutit.Shesqueezedhereyesshut,tryingtocatchherbreath.
ButColbydidn’tlether.Nomoreonehitandpause.Thefloggerwascomingdownagainalready,afigureeightoffierypainlightingherup.Wham.Wham.Wham.
Bloodwasrushingthroughherhead,andabuzzingstartedinherears.ButColbydidn’tletup.Hewasinasteady,focusedrhythm.Hervisionbegantoblurabit,andvaguelysheregisteredthatshemightbecrying.Buthermindwasfuzzingaroundtheedges.
“Putyourtonguetouse,Keats,”Colbysaid,hisvoiceterse.“Iknowshecantakemore,butshemayneedalittleaddedmotivation.”
BeforeGeorgiacouldlinethewordsupinherheadtoprocessthem,ahotmouthwassuckingandlavingatherpussy.Oh,yes.Herkneessoftenedandashudderofreliefchasedupherbody.Shewhimperedasthenexthitlandedbutitwasn’tfromthesting.No,herskinwasgoingtinglyandfeverhot,herbodyconvertingthepainintosomethingother,etherealanderotic,asKeatslappedather.
Thetwomenseemedtobeinsyncsomehow.TherougherColbygot,themorelovinglysensualKeatsgot.Soon,shefoundherselfanticipatingthenextswingandteeteringonthebrinkofanotherrelease.Instinctivelysheknewcomingwasnotallowedrightnow.Thiswassupposedtobepunishment.Butwiththenextblow,shecameanyway—therollingpowerofitimpossibletofight.
Colbydidn’tevenpause,andKeatsjustrodeherorgasmwithhismouth,softeninghisassaultbutstillpushingherhigher.Anotherhitcameandsensationcrackedwideopen,spillingoverher,makinghernear-delirious.
God,itwasso…shecouldn’tevenfindwords.Sheletoutachokedlaugh,whichsoundedhystericaltoherears,assheimaginedherwriterbrainbeingemptiedofwords,letterssoakingintothefloor.Yep.They’dofficiallyhijackedhermindandshippedittoanotherplace.
Anotherhitcame.
Shelethereyesfallshutandfellintothatlovely,floatyspace.Timepassingwithoutadesiretomarkit.
—
Keatscouldn’thelpbutgazeupandbeawedatthetransformationinGeorgia.Shewasn’tflinchingawayfromanythinganymore.Infact,she’dpitchedherbodymoretowardColbyinfullsurrender.Keatsknewwhatitmeanttobemasochistic—suspectedhehadastrainofthat,too,sincehe’dbeenknowntogethardwhilegettinginked—buthe’dneverexpectedtoseesomeonelookdownrighthighfromit.
Colbysetdownthefloggerandpeeledoffhisshirt,afaintsheenofsweatmarkinghisbrow.Helookedlikesomewickedgod,standingbehindGeorgiaandadmiringhishandiwork.HesteppedupandpressedhimselftoGeorgia’ssure-to-be-burningback,layingakissonhershoulder.“Beautiful.”
“Please,”shemurmured.
“Whatdoyouneed,baby?”Colbyasked.“Readyformetogetyoudown?”
Aquickshudderwentthroughher.“Ijust…Idon’tknow.Ineed…”
Colbyclosedhiseyesandinhaledagainstherbareshoulderlikehewassavoringthewords.“Youneedabreak.”
Sheshookherhead,butitwaserratic,likeahorseshakingoffafly.
KeatssatbackonhiscalveswhenGeorgiaseemedtosagfullyintothebindings.“Issheokay?”
Colbysmileddownathim.“Ilikethatyou’vegotherback,thatyouwanttowatchoutforher.”
“I’ddothesameforyou.”
“Iknowyouwould.You’reagoodman,AdamKeats.”
ThestatementwassimplebutforsomereasonitfilledKeatsupinawaythatmadehischestache.“Thankyou.”
“Andyes,she’sfine,butweneedtogetheroutoftheseropesandontothebed.StandupandputyourarmsaroundherwaisttoholdherupwhileIuntieher.”
“Yes,sir.”KeatsrockedtohisfeetandwrappedhisarmsaroundGeorgia,carefultonotcauseanyunduepressureonhertenderback.
Herforeheadsanktohisshoulder.“Lethal,”shemurmured.
Keatssmiledandkissedthetopofherhead.“Shh,letusgetyoudownbeforeyouflattermeprofuselyaboutmyskillsinthesack.”
Shesnortedagainsthisshoulder.
ColbymadequickworkoftheropesandliftedGeorgiaintohisarmstocarryhertothebed.Hesettledheronhersideandpulledablanketoverher.“Ipromisewewillgiveyouwhatyouneed,butyouneedtocomedownalittlefirstandhydrate.KeatsisgoingtolieherewithyouwhileIgetyousomewater.Justrestforaminute.Youdidgreat.”
Shesmiledsoftlybutdidn’topenhereyes.ColbynoddedatKeats,andKeatsdidn’tneedhimtosaymore.HestretchedoutbehindGeorgia,proppeduponhiselbow,andspoonedher.Shemadeaquietsighofsatisfactionashestrokedhisfingersthroughhercurls,thendownalongherarm.
“Ican’teventellyouhowamazingyoulookedtiedupforhim,George,”hesaid,keepinghisvoicelowandsoothing.“IknowI’mstillfiguringoutalotofstuff,butnoonewilleverbeabletotellmethere’sanyshameinsubmission.Youlookedlikeawarriorprincessupthere,sotoughandsexy.Thankyouforlettingmeseethatsideofyou.”
Sherolledoverandsnuggledintohim,brushingaquickkissoverhiscollarbone.Hervoicewaslowandlazywhenshefinallyspoke.“Ican’twaittoseeyourwarriorside.You’regoingtoundohim,Keats,unravelhimcompletely.”
Keatssniffed.“Ithinkyou’restillflyinghigh,George,andgotthatonebackward.”
“Nope,”shesaidwithouthesitation.“I’mthefling.You’retheguyhe’sfallinginlovewith.”
Keatsstaredather,unsurehe’dheardherright,atight,anxiousfeelingcurlinginhisstomach.“Youreallyareoutofyourmindrightnow,aren’tyou?”
Shedidn’thavetimetoanswerbecausethemaninquestionstrodebackintotheroom.“Shesaysomething?”
“Nothing,”Keatssaid.“She’snotmakingmuchsense.”
Colbysatdownonherotherside,gaveherafewsipsofwater,thenorderedherbackdown.Hetracedthebackofhishandalongherhipandthighinaslow,soothingmotion.Soon,Georgia’sbreathevenedoutandshewasfastasleep.
Colbylookedupandsmiled.“Havingheavythoughtsoverthere,Keats,oristhecockringjustcuttingoffyourcirculation?”
Hesmirked.“Nah,Iwasjustthinkingshe’sprettyspectacularwhensheletsgo.Itwaslikeallthatcrapthatsmothershereverydayjustblewawayforafewminutes.ItwaslikeseeingtherealGeorgiaforthefirsttime.”
“Yeah,”hesaid,glancingdownagainandlookingatherwithatendernessthatprovedGeorgiawasdeadwrong.Colbydidn’tseeherasaflingatall.“That’sthebeautifulanddangerouspartaboutkink.Itcutsawaythehuskandexposesthetendercenter.Itcanshowyouthetruth.Andsometimesit’sscarytosee.Orfeel.”
“Forthedom,too?”
Colbynodded,lookingpensive.“Maybeevenmoreso.Wedon’thavesubspaceasanexcuse.”
Thetruth.Keatsswallowedhard,Georgia’swordsrunningthroughhishead.You’llundohim,Keats.Wasthatwhatshewastalkingabout?
ThethoughtofseeingColby’struth,Keats’sowntruth,wasdamnterrifying.Heshouldprobablygetupandwalkbacktohisroom,leavethesetwoalone.Theywereallgettingtoodeeptooquick.Butnoonehadeveraccusedhimofbeingwise.
KeatsliftedhisgazetoColby’s,thenletitslidedownward,knowinghisintentcouldn’tbemistaken.“Sowhatnow,Teach?”
Colby’seasyexpressiondarkened.
“Becauseitlookslikeeveryoneintheroomhascomeexcepttheguywe’resupposedtobeserving.”
Colby’ssmilewasslowandsinister.“Ilikeyourinitiative,kid.”
Keatsgotup,carefulnottojostleGeorgia,andwalkedaroundtotheothersideofthebed.HeclimbedbetweenColby’skneesandreachedforthebuttononColby’sjeans.“I’mnotakidanymore,Colby.ButI’vealwaysbeenanexcellentstudent.”
ThedeepgroanheheardasheclosedhismouthoverColbywasworthanypriceKeatswouldpayforforgettingtoaskforpermission.THIRTY-ONE
Colbystaredattheceiling,watchingthemorninglighttrackacrossit.Hehadn’tplannedtowakeupthisearly,butoncehiseyeshadopenedandhe’dfeltGeorgiacurledupnexttohim,allthememoriesfromlastnighthadrushedupandhehadn’tbeenabletofallbackasleep.Lastnighthadbeenbeyondallhisexpectations.WhenKeatshadgonedownonhim,they’dmadeenoughnoisethatGeorgiahadwokenupafewminutesintoit.Herwide-eyedsurprisehadswitchedquicklytointerestashergazehadzeroedinonthespectacle.
“Ithinkwehaveanaudience,”he’dtoldKeats.
Keatshadpaused,fleetingpanicappearing.Suckingaguyoffanddoingitinfrontofsomeoneelseweretwodifferentthings.KeatshadturnedtowardGeorgiaasiftomeasureherreaction,buttherewasnomistakingthedesireonherface.ThathadsettledKeats.See,we’reallokayhere.Colbyhadgrippedhishairandguidedhimbackdown.Keatshadfoundthatsubmissiveheadspaceagainandhadgivenhimselfovertoit.
“Youdon’thavetojustwatch,”ColbyhadtoldGeorgia,reachingoutforherandcuppinghercheek.
She’dnuzzledhishand.“Butit’ssuchaprettyview.”
“Alwaysthevoyeur,huh?Come’ere.”
He’ddrawnherovertohimandkissedher.She’dsunkintothekissimmediatelyandhadreachedouttostrokeKeatswhileheworkedColbyover.Thenthey’dallgottenintoatangle,switchingpositionsandrotatingwhowaspleasuringwhom.Somehowthey’dfoundarhythmwherenoonewasleftout.Everythinghadfeltorganic,natural.Inthemomentsthatfollowed,Colbyhadlosttrackoftimepassing.They’deachriddentheiredgesaslongastheycould,drawingoutthepleasure.
Georgiahaddeclaredthatshecouldlastinthisgamewaylongerthantheycould,sobothofthemhadtakenthatasachallengeandgoneafterhersimultaneously.She’dshriekedandhadtriedtorunaway.ButKeatshadcaughtherbythewaist,draggingherdowntothecarpet.ColbyandKeatshadattackedGeorgiawithmouthsandtonguesandrovinghands.She’dgiventhemafight,playfullyswattingatthemandcrawlingaway,swearingshedidn’thaveanothergoinher.Butshe’dbeenfuntocapture.
She’dtippedoverintoalaughing,shriekingorgasminrecordtime.Andshe’dkindlyreturnedthefavor,takingbothhisandKeats’scocksinherhandsandstrokingthemagainsteachother.They’dallcollapsedintoasticky,sweatyheapattheend,andwhenKeatshaddeclaredthethrowrugacompleteloss,theyhadallstartedlaughingagain—overtired,overstimulated,andoverwhelmed.
It’dbeennothinglikeColbyhadeverexperiencedbefore.
He’dhadmorethanhisfairshareofthreesomesbutneverlikethat.Neverhadheendedupbellylaughingwithapartner.Orexperiencedthatcontented,all-is-right-with-the-worldwarmthgoingthroughhimwhenhelookedathislovers,thatunshakableneedtoseethesetwopeoplewakeupnexttohimthenextday.AndwhenGeorgiahadagreedtotrytostay—tospendherfirstnightoutsideherhouseinoverayear—thefeelinghadturnedintoatwistingacheinhisgut.
Hewassodeepintheshititwasn’tevenfunny.
Ifhisfriendscouldseehimnow,they’dbelaughingtheirassesoff.ColbyWilkes,thedomnosubcouldpindownformorethanoneortwosessions,washavingthefeelings.Godhelpthemall.
Hiscellphonebuzzedonthebedsidetable.Herolledoverandgrabbedforitbeforethenoisewokehisbedmates.Hisboss’sphonenumberflashedonthescreen.OnaSaturday?Thiscouldn’tbegood.HequicklyrolledoutofbedandhitTalk.“Hi,Rowan.Canyouholdononesec?”
“Sure,I’matyourfrontdoor.Icanwait,”PrincipalAnderssaid.
“What?”Shit.“Okay,bethereintwominutes.”ColbyhitEndonhisphoneandgrabbedapairofsweatsandaT-shirtfromadrawer.Hetuggedthemonasquicklyaspossibleandquietlymadehiswayoutofthebedroom,shuttingthedoorbehindhim.Therewasnotimetodoanythingelsebutscrubahandthroughhishairtomakesureitwasn’tstandinguponend.WhatinGod’snamewashisbossdoingathishouseatseveninthedamnmorningonaweekend?
Hepulledopenthedoortofindherwearingherseriousface.“Hey.”
Rowangavehimaquickhead-to-toeperusal.“I’mreallysorrytopopinonyoulikethisonaweekend,butIwantedtotalktoyou…notatwork.Andyou’vesaidyou’reanearlyriser.”Sheglancedathisdriveway,whereKeats’sbikewasparked.“Iwasgoingtoknock,butIwasafraidyoumighthavecompany.”
“Ido,butthat’sokay.Wecantalkinthekitchen.”
Heledherinside,anunsettledfeelingmovingthroughhim.Whateverthiswas,itwasn’tgoodnews.Noneedtomakeahousecallforthat.
“Coffee?”
“I’llneverturnthatdown,”shesaidwithalittlesmile.
“Sowhat’sgoingon?”heasked,gettingthecoffeestarted.“IsTravisokay?”
Shesighedandslidontothestoolattheisland.“Yes,he’sokay.He’sinaninpatientfacilityforafewmoredayswhiletheygethismedicationsright.Buthisparentsaregettingmoreandmoredeterminedtofindsomeonetopointthefingerat.That’swhatI’mheretotalktoyouabout.”
Colbysettwomugsonthecounterandturnedaround.“Layitonme.”
Shefrownedandmethiseyes.“TheirlawyerdugupinformationonyoufromHickoryPoint.IguessheGoogledtheoldnewsstoriesorwhateveraboutAdamKeats’sdisappearance.”
Colby’sstomachflippedover.
“Sothey’rechasingthattrail.Andeventhoughyouwereneveraccusedofanything,it’senoughofaflagthattheirlawyercanmakehimselffeeluseful.”
“Jesus,”hesaid,rubbingthebackofhishead.“Whatthehellgoodisitgoingtodotoruinmycareer?Theirkidneedsthemdialedintohim,notdistractedbysomewild-goosechase.”
Empathycrossedherface.“Iknow.Buttheydon’tknowhowtodealwithTravis,sothey’redoingthisinstead.ButIwantedtocomeandtellyouwhatwasgoingon.Iknowhowhardthatwholethingwasonyou.IrememberyoutellingmeaboutitwhenyoufirstcametoGraham.Theyplantointerviewteachersyouworkedwithandtalktothefamilyofthekidwhoranaway.ThefatherlivesinBurlesonnow,sothey’llprobablygoouttheretoseehimonMondayorTuesday.”
Colbyhadbeenreachingforthecoffeepot,buthiswholebodywentcoldatthat.Heloweredhishandtohisside.“They’regoingtotalktohisfamily?”
“Doyouthinkanyoneisgoingtosayanythingthatwouldreflectbadlyonyou?”
Colbyjuststaredather.“AdamKeats’sfatherhatedme.Hethoughtsomethingwasgoingon.Soyeah,he’llgivethemallthenastyaccusationstheycouldwant.”
“Andnothingwasgoingon,”shesaid,makingitsoundlikeastatement,butheknewitwasaquestion.
“Ofcoursenot.”
Shenoddedandrubbedthespotbetweenhereyes.“I’msorry.Ihadtoask,eventhoughI’veneverseenyoubeanythingbutprofessional,andIknowyou’regreatwiththekids.I’mbeyondfrustratedthatthisisgoingsofar.Ineedyoubackatschool.Dr.Guthriehashisstrengths,buttherearetoomanykidstobeseen,andmanyofthemconnectbetterwithyou.Idon’tlikewitchhunts.It’shardenoughtofindcounselorswhowanttoworkwiththispopulationofkids.Buttheschoolboarddoesn’tlikescandal,soI’mafraidthatifthiskeepsgettingbigger,it’sgoingtocauseproblemsforyou.”
Colbysethercoffeeinfrontofherandtookalongdrawoffhis,tryingtostaycalm.“WhatcanIdotohelp?”
“Becooperative.Theschoolboardwantsyoutogiveawrittenstatementandtodoanotherinterview.BepreparedtoanswerquestionsaboutthatdaywithTravisbutalsoaboutAdamKeats.”
“Dude,whatthehellareyoudoingupsodamn—”Keatsfrozeinthedoorwaytothekitchen,handonthewaistbandoftheboxershe’dprobablyjustpulledon.“Uh…”
Rowan’seyeswentround.“Oh.”
AlarmbellsblaredinColby’shead,butheforcedhimselftonotoutwardlyreact.Hedidn’tgiveashitifRowanknewhesleptwithmen,butifKeatsintroducedhimself…
HestrodeovertoKeatsandputahandonhisshoulder,hopinghewasconveyingthedon’t-say-a-damn-wordwarningwithhiseyes.“Hey,canyougiveusaminute?Thisismyboss,PrincipalAnders.Shestoppedbytotalkaboutsomestuffgoingonatschool.”
AwarenessflashedoverKeats’sexpression.“Yeah,sure,sorry.Didn’tmeantointerrupt.”
KeatssentRowananapologeticsmileandslippedbackdownthehallway.Colbythoughthisheartwasgoingtopoundrightoutofhischest.Hecouldseetryingtoexplainhowthekidwhowentmissingallthoseyearsagowasnowstandinginhiskitchenhalfnaked.
WhenColbyturnedbacktoRowan,therewerepatchesofpinkhighonhercheeks.“I’msosorry.Ishouldn’thavestoppedbylikethis.Ishould’vecalledandaskedifitwasokayand—”
Heheldupahand.“It’sfine.Really.Nobigdeal.”
Herhandsflutteredaroundhercoffeecupbeforegrabbingandtakingasip.Awkwardsilenceensued.
Hesippedhiscoffee,watchingher.“Youcansaywhateveryou’rethinking,Rowan.We’reofftheclock,andI’mnotgoingtobeoffended.”
Alittlepuffofbreathescapedher.“Ijustneverwould’ve,Imean,it’sfine,but—goodLord,ifyouheardwhatsomeoftheteacherssayaboutyou.They’dbecrushedtoknowtheywerebarkingupthewrongtree.”
Hechuckled,backoncomfortableground.“Idatebothmenandwomen,soequalopportunity.ButIkeepmyprivatelifeprivate.”
“Ofcourse,”shesaid,wavingadismissivehand.“WhichiswhyIfeellikeajerkforbarginginonyoulikethis.Ijustdidn’twanttohavethisconversationatschool.Thatlawyerwould’velikedtokeepyouinthedark,butthere’snowayI’mlettingyouwalkintothatinterviewtogetblindsided.”
“Ireallyappreciatethat,”hesaid,settinghiscupdown.“I’llanswerwhateverquestionstheyhave.IwanttodowhateverittakestogetpastthissoIcangetbacktomystudents.”
“Youandmeboth,”shesaid,gettingupfromthestool.“AndnowI’vetakenenoughofyourtime.I’llletyougetbackto,well,whatever.”
Hesmiled,enjoyingseeinghisusuallyunflappablebossblushingherfaceoff.HehadafeelingshewasstillpicturingKeatsinhisverywell-fittingunderwear.“Anyideawhenthey’regoingtowanttotalktome?”
“ThisFriday.TheyneedtodotheHickoryPointinterviewsfirst.I’llcallyouwithatime,”shesaid,grabbingherpursefromthecounter.
“I’llbetherewhenevertheyneedme.”
HewalkedRowantothedoorandexchangedgood-byes,keepinghisnothing-bothers-mefaceinplace.Butwhenheshutthedoor,heleanedbackandtappedhisheadagainstit.“Fuckme.”
“Everythingallright?”Keatsasked,comingintothelivingroom.He’dthrownonaT-shirtandapairofgymshorts.
“Notsomuch.”
Heleanedagainstthebackofthecouch.“What’swrong?”
“YouknowhowItoldyouthatkid’sparentshiredalawyer?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,turnsouthe’sanosyone.He’sdiggingintomybackgroundandtalkingtopeoplefromHickoryPoint.”
“What?”
Colbylacedhishandsbehindhisneckandsighed.“They’regoingtolookintoyourdisappearance,Keats.Andthey’regoingtotalktoyourfather.HelivesinBurlesonnow,sothelawyerisdrivingdownthereearlythisweektoseehim.”
Keatspaled.
“Doesheknow?”Colbyasked.“Didyouevergobacktotellhimyouwereokay?”
“No.Hewould’vekilledme.”Hestareddownathishands.“Icouldn’tgoback.”
“Howdidyoumanagetogetalicense?Oridentificationtowork?”
Keatslookedlikehemightgetsick.“WhenIturnedeighteen,IwenttothelocalpolicestationtotellthemwhoIwas.Iwastiredofonlybeingabletotakejobsthatpaidunderthetable.ItoldthemIdidn’twantmyfamilytobenotifiedbecausemydadwasabusive.Theysaidtheycouldn’tmakeanypromises,butnothingevercameofit,soIguesstheyjustquietlyclosedthecase.”
Christ.Colbyrubbedahandoverhisface.“Okay.”
“Isthisgoingtomessthingsupforyou?Like,aretheygoingtoholdwhathappenedwithmeagainstyou?”
Colbypushedawayfromthedoor.“Ididn’tdoanythingwrongbackthen,sono,itshouldn’tbeheldagainstme.”
“Butiftheytalktomydad,whoknowswhatkindoflieshe’llsayaboutyou?Hecouldmakeyoulookreallybad.”
“I’llfigureitout.I’mabigbelieverthatthetruthusuallyprevails.It’llworkout.”Heheadedbacktowardthekitchen,needingmorecoffeeforthiskindofmorning.
Keatsfollowed.“IcouldtellthemwhoIam.Mysideofthestory.”
Colbypressedhispalmsagainstthecounter,keepinghisbacktoKeats.“ThenIhavetoexplaintomybosswhythestudentIhadnoinappropriaterelationshipwithwasinmykitcheninhisunderwear.”
Keatsgroaned.“Whatwe’redoingnowhasnothingtodowithbackthen.”
“Youknowpeoplewouldn’tseeitthatway.Besttolaylow.I’llhandleit.”
ButColbyhadabadfeelingthatthiswasn’tgoingtogowell.Keats’sfatherhadbeenaself-serving,cruelbastardfromtheget-go,andColbyhadnodoubttheguyhadonlygottenworsewithage.Giventhechancetoscrewwithsome“fag”teacher’slife,thatguywouldtakeit.
ButtherewasnowayhewasgoingtoaskKeatstofacethatman.Hecouldseethatburiedlittle-boyfearflashoverKeats’sfaceatthethoughtthathisfatherwaslessthananhour’sdriveaway.Hewouldn’tputhimthroughthat.
ColbywalkedovertoKeats,whostilllookedtobefreakingoutalittleatthenews,andputahandonthebackofhisneck,givingitasqueeze.“Comeon,let’sstarttodayoverandleavethisbefornow.Wehaveanakedwomansprawledinourbedwhowouldprobablyappreciateacreativewake-upcall.Yougame?”
ThewrinklewasstillparkedbetweenKeats’sbrows,buthegaveanod.“I’malwaysgame.”THIRTY-TWO
“Well,lookwho’supandsmilingacat-that-ate-the-canarysmilesoearlyinthemorning,”Leeshasaidassheadjustedtheangleofhermonitorforthevideocall.
Georgiashrugged.“Alwayshappytotalktomyinfinitelywisetherapist.”
“Bullshit,”Leeshasaid,leaningbackinherchair.“Thatisamorning-aftersmileifI’veeverseenone.You’vehadthatsamesmileeverytimeI’vetalkedtoyoulately.Iguessthingsarestillgoingwellwiththeneighbor?”
Georgiatriedtoswipethegoofysmilefromherface.Shecouldseeitstaringbackatherinthelittlevideochatboxinthecorner,butshecouldn’tseemtokeepitdownlong.SincelastSaturday,whenshe’dstayedovernightatColby’sforthefirsttime,eachdayhadbeenanotherstepforward,anothervictory—nottomentionanotherhotnight.“Thingsaregoingreallywell.”
Complicated.Butwell.
“He’sagreatguy.I’mhavingagoodtimewithhim.”AndKeats.Butshewasn’tgoingtotellLeeshathatpart.Herbestfriendwasn’tonetojudge,butLeeshawouldfliptheshrinkswitchandanalyzeittodeath.She’dprobablytellGeorgiashewasactingoutorrebellingorsomething.
Hell,maybeshewas.Butrightnow,forthefirsttimeinoverayear,shefeltliketherewassunshiningonherface.Thingswerelookingup.
“Uh-oh,”Leeshasaid.“He’sagreatguy?You’renotgettingseriousabouthim,areyou?”
Georgiarubbedherlipstogether,smoothingthebalmshe’dswipedonbeforerunningoverfromColby’shousetoherowntomakeitintimeforthiscall.“Wouldthatbesoawful?”
Leeshagrimaced.“Babe,I’mgladyouhavethatcapacityinyoustill.Butnow’snotthetimetobestartingsomethingserious.It’sonlyafewweeksbeforeweneedyoutomovebackhere.Idon’twanttoseeyougetattachedtoaguyandbeheartbrokenwhenyouhavetobreakitoff.”
GeorgiaknewLeeshawasspeakingthetruth,butshedidn’twanttohearitthismorning.Notaftertheamazingtwoweeksshe’dhadwiththeguys.Thepastfewdayshadbeenthebestofall.Wakingupinthemorningsurroundedbytheirwarmthandaffectionhadfeltmorerightthanshewantedtoadmittoherself.Andeventhoughsheknewitwastemporary,shedidn’twanttothinkabouttheendwhenitfeltlikesomuchwasjustbeginning.“Icouldcomebackhereafterthetrial.”
SympathycrossedLeesha’sface—theoh-honeylook.“Thetrialcouldtakemonths.He’dhavetowaitonyou.Andwhatif…”
Georgiaraisedherpalm,herhappymoodplummeting.“Don’t.Iknowwhatyou’regoingtosay.”
WhatifPhillipisacquitted?ThatwaswhatLeeshawasgoingtosay.Georgiadidn’twanttoconsiderthatpossibility,butofcourse,shehad,overandoveragain.Itkeptherawakeatnight.
Leeshasighedandopenedadrawerinherdesk.Shepulledoutastackofenvelopesandsetthemontopofherdayplanner.“Iwasn’tgoingtomentionitbecauseIdidn’twanttoaddtoyourplate,butthelawyersaidthatyouhavetherighttomakethedecisiononitsincetechnicallyit’syourmail.”
Georgialeanedforward,wantingtoreachthroughthescreenandpickupthestack.“Whatarethey?”
“LettersfromPhillip,”Leeshasaid,herfrownlinesmarringherflawlessmochacomplexion.
Georgia’sskinchilled.“IthoughtthosehadstoppedwhenImovedaway.”
“No,heonlyadjustedwherehesentthem.He’ssentoneeverycoupleofdaystomyofficesincethelastrestrainingorderexpired,butthey’readdressedtoyou.I’msureIbrokesomelaw,openingthemwithoutyourpermission,butIneededtomakesuretheyweren’tthreatsoranythingwecoulduseagainsthimincourt.”
“He’stoosmartforthat.”
“Yes,heis.Butyoushouldknowthey’relonglovenotes.Hesayshewantstoforgiveyou.Heasksforyoutotakeyouraccusationsback.Hewantstobetogethernomatterwhat,blahblahblah.”
Georgiaclosedhereyesandrubbedthem.“He’ssogoddamnedsick.”
“Andobsessed,Georgia.Ifhewalksoutofthatcourtroom,he’snotgoingtogiveuponyou.Youneedtobepreparedforthat,haveaplan.”
AndthatwaswhenwhatLeeshawasreallytryingtotellhersettledin.Phillipwouldn’tstop.Ifhewentfree,hewouldfocuseverythinghehadonfindingGeorgia.Andwhenhedid,everyoneshecaredaboutwouldbeatriskagain.Maybehewouldn’t“hurt”herbecausehelovedher.Butifheshowedupandsawshewasinarelationship,hewouldgomadwithrageagain.BothColbyandKeatswouldbeinthelineoffire.
Philliphadtriedtokillamanshehadseenonlyahandfuloftimes.Hecertainlywouldn’thesitatetogoafterthetwomenGeorgiawassharingabedwitheverynight.
ShewouldneverbefreeifPhillipwalked.She’dneverbeabletocareaboutsomeonewithoutwonderingifPhillipwaswatchingandwaitingfortheperfectopportunitytoquietlytakethatpersonout.
Shesatherelbowsonherdesk,putherfaceinherhands,andscreamedinfrustration.
“Iknow,sweetie,”Leeshasaid.“Ican’timaginehowimpossiblethisfeelsrightnow.Butwestillhaveagoodshotatgettinghimlockedup.Andifthatdoesn’thappen,we’llfigureoutsomethingforyousothatyoucanfeelsafe.Renewtherestrainingorders,registerthingsinadifferentname.”
“Idon’twanttobesomegoddamnedsittingducktherestofmylife,Leesh,”shesaid,gettingmorepissedthanscarednow.“Ican’ttakeit.I’llkillthemotherfuckerfirst.I’dratherbeinjailthanrunningawaymywholelife.”
Leeshafrowned.“Let’snotgowiththatplan.ThoughIdon’tblameyouforconsideringit.EvenwhenIknowhe’stoosmarttodoanythingtomebecauseit’dbetooobviousrightnow,he’sgotmelookingovermyshouldereverywhereIgo.Icheckundermycarforbrakefluideverymorning.Icanonlyimaginewhatthingshavebeenlikeforyou.”
“There’sgottobesomethingwecando,somethingmorethanwe’redoingalready.”
“Thebestthingyoucandoisgetyourselfstrongenoughtocomebackhomeandfacehiminthetrial.Yourtestimonyisthebestshotwe’vegot.”
“Oh,I’mgoingtobethere,”Georgiasaid,notputtingupbravadobutreally,trulybelievingitforthefirsttime.“Thisbastardisnotgoingtowin.Idon’tcareifIneedtoaskoneoftheguystosedatemeandcarrymeintomyplaneseat.I’mgoingtogetthere.”
Leesha’sexpressionturnedpuzzled.“Oneoftheguys?”
Shit.“Nothing.Longstory.”
Leeshastilllookedconfused,butshedidn’tpush.“Iknowyoucandothis—andwithoutsedationinvolved.You’vebeenmakingleapslately,justdon’tletupnow.Trainlikeyou’regoingtobeclimbingMountEverest.Everydaypushyourselfalittlemore.Weneedyouhere,babe.”
“Iknow,”shesaid,noddingandmakingplansinherhead.“Ipromise.I’mnotgoingtoletanything…oranyonegetintheway.”
—
Keatsstaredatthescreenonthelaptop,thelettersstartingtomergetogetherafterawhile.Hetiltedhisheadbackandclosedhiseyes.
“How’stherésumécoming?”Georgiaaskedfromherspotonthecouch.She’dhadherheadburiedinastackofeditsallmorningandhadn’tsaidmuchtohimatall.Whenhe’daskedherifeverythingwasokay,she’dassuredhimshewasjustbusy.Buthedidn’tbelievethatworkwaswhatwasbotheringher.He’dsensedsomethingwaswrongwhenhe’dfirstwalkedintoday.She’dbeendistractedandjumpy.Butobviouslyshewasn’treadytotalkaboutit.
Keatsstretchedhisneckandclosedoutofthewindowhe’dbeenstaringat—whichhadnotbeenhisrésumé.He’dfinishedthatonWednesdayandhadalreadyemailedafewouttojoblistings.“Okay.Ithinkit’sprettymuchreadytogo.ButI’mhavingtroubleconcentratingtoday.”
Shemarkedherplaceinthestackofpages.“WorriedaboutColby?”
“He’sbeenupattheschoolforhours.Thatcan’tbeagoodsign,right?”
“I’msurehe’llbefine.Hehasnothingtohide.”
“Buttheytalkedtomyfather.That’sbad,George.HeprobablymadeColbysoundlikesomepedophile.”
“DidColbysaythat?”
Keatsshookhishead.“AllhewouldtellmewasthattheymetwithmyfatheronTuesday.ButIheardhimtalkingwithhisbosslastnightonthephonebeforeyoucameover.Icouldn’tdeciphermostoftheconversation,buthewasangryandcalledsomeoneabackwoodsbigot.I’llgiveyouoneguesswhohewastalkingabout.”
Georgiafrowned.“Heseemedokaythismorning.”
“Heputsontheall-is-wellfacebecausehedoesn’twantustoworryabouthim.He’sgoodathelpingpeoplewiththeirproblems,buthesucksatsharinghisown.”Keatsshiftedinhischair.ThethoughtthatColbywastakinganyflackforwhathappenedbackthenmadehimwanttojumpoutofhisskin.“Ijusthatethathehastodealwiththis.”
“It’sawful,”sheagreed,concernonherface.“ButI’mnotsurethere’sanythingwecandotohelpexceptbethereforhimifhewantstovent.”
Fuckthat.Heclickedthelaptopclosed,theaddressonthescreenimprintedonhismind,andsetitonthecoffeetable.Hehadtodosomething.Hecouldn’tjustsitonhishandsandhopeforthebest.GeorgeandColbymightbeoptimists,buthe’dlearnednottomakethatmistakeinlife.Youcouldn’ttrustthatthingswouldturnoutokay,becausesomanytimestheyabsolutelydidn’t.Evenifitwasn’tright.Evenifitwasn’tfair.
Herubbedhispalmsonhisjeans,nervousenergymakinghishandstremble.
Georgiamust’vepickeduponhisagitationbecauseshesetasideherpapers.“Hey,youokay?”
Hewethislips.“Youupforanoutingthisafternoon?”
Herforeheadscrunched.“WealreadydidalltheerrandsIneededthismorning.What’dyouhaveinmind?”
“Youwanttokeeppracticing,right?”Thatwaswhatshe’dtoldhimwhenhe’dwalkedinthismorning.She’dbeenraringtogo,readytorunthoseerrands,anewresolveinherwholedemeanor.
“Sure.Imean,everylittlebithelps.”
Henodded.Ifhetriedtodothisforhimself,he’dchickenout.ButifhecouldconvincehimselfthathewasgettinginthecartohelpGeorgiaandgoingwhereheneededtogotohelpColby,maybehewouldn’tfreakthefuckout.
“It’salittlebitofadrive.AndI’mnotgoingtopromisethatIwon’tturnaroundhalfwaythere.Butifyou’rewillingtocomewithme,Imightbeabletodoit.”
Herfacewasthepictureofconcernnow.Sheleanedforward.“Wherearewegoing,Keats?”
“Ineedtoseemyfather.”THIRTY-THREE
Keatscouldn’tgetoutofthecar.They’ddriventheforty-fiveminutes,foundtheaddressKeatshadmemorizedfromthecomputer,andparkedacrossthestreet.ButthewalkfromGeorgia’scartothetired-lookinghouseafewyardsawayseemedtostretchformilesinKeats’smind.
Therewasanolder-modelFordtrucksittinginthedrivewaywithaDallasCowboysbumpersticker.Keatshadnodoubtitbelongedtohisfather.ThetruckwasanupdatedversionoftheoneKeatshadgrownupwith.Hisdadhadsimplyswitchedcolorswhenhetradedintheother.
ButKeatscouldn’tquitegrabholdofthefactthatthemanwhohadtormentedhismemoriesforsolongwasinthere,livingsomequietlifeinsmall-townTexas.Somanyquestionsfilledhismind.Hadhisdadgrievedhim?AndwhathadhisfathertoldKeats’solderbrotherwhenhe’dcomebackfromoverseas?Keatshadalwaysfeltbadaboutleavinghisbrotherbehindwithoutaword.They’dbeenclosewhentheywerekids,eventhoughJustinwasfiveyearsolder.ButwhenJustinhadhithisteenyearsandbecomeastarfootballplayerandthengoneintotheMarines,fulfillingallthattheirfatherwantedhimtobe,Keatshadspentalotoftimeresentinghisgoldenboyofabrother.Thathadn’tbeenJustin’sfault.Theirfatherhadcreatedthosebadfeelingsbyalwayscomparingthetwoofthem—Keatsalwayscomingoutontheshortend.
ButthebiggestquestionofallthatplaguedKeatsashesattherewashowwouldhisfatherreacttoseeinghimnow?
Keatspressedhisforeheadtothesteeringwheel,awaveofnauseaovertakinghim.
Georgiatookhishand.“Youdon’thavetogoin,youknow?Nooneismakingyoudothis.”
Keatsclaspedherhandandtriedtotakeadeepbreath.She’dbeenintenselycalmthewholeridedownhere,asolidsupporttherenexttohim.Hewouldn’thavebeenabletomakeitthisfarwithoutherthere.Ifsheofallpeoplecouldputheranxietyasideandbecalmonhisbehalf,hecouldbebraveenoughtofacethis.“Ineedtoseehim.”
“Wantmetogoinwithyou?”
Heleanedbackinhisseatandturnedtolookather.“George,Ican’taskyoutodothat.Mydadcanbeuglyandangryandmean.I’vealreadyaskedyoutodotoomuchbydraggingyousofarfromhome.”
Shepeeredatthehouse,thenturnedbacktohim.“Iwanttogowithyou.YouandColbyhavebackedmeupwhenI’vehadtofacedifficultthings.Letmebackyouupforthis.I’llbemoreworriedsittingouthere.”
Heblewoutabreath.Partofhimwantedtotellherno,tohandleitonhisownbecauseGodknowshedidn’twantGeorgiatoseetheversionofhimselfthathisdadbroughtoutinhim.Buttheotherpartwasdamnrelievedtonotbefacingitalone.Becausehedidn’tgetscaredofmuch.He’dtakenonmuchbiggerguysinfightsandhadn’tflinched.Buttherewassomethingaboutfacinghisfatherthatmadehimfeelhelplessandsmallagain.
Hebroughtherhandtohismouthandkissedthetopofit.“Thankyou,George.”
“Anytime,”shesaid,thatwarmsmilegivinghimthelastburstofconfidenceheneeded.
“Okay,let’sdothis.”
Theyclimbedoutofthecarandmadetheirwaytothedoor.Thegrassneededtobecut.Hisdadwould’veneverlethimgetawaywithlettingitgothislong.Getyourassoutthereandcleanthatyardup.Can’tyoudoanythinguseful?Keatshadamomentofpanicrightatthelastsecond,hearingthatfamiliarangryvoicerattlethroughhishead,butmanagedtolifthishandandknock.Secondspassed,andKeatsbegantowonderifthey’dgottenthewronghouseorifmaybehisdadwasatwork.Butrightwhenhewasabouttoturnaway,heheardheavyfootstepsonwoodfloors.Keats’sspinewentstiff.
Thedoorswungopenandallthebreathrushedoutofhim.
Themanontheothersidewasstillbroadandintimidatinginsize,buthisblondhairhadgrayedatthetemplesandthereweremorelinesinhisfacethanKeatsremembered.HisdarkeyesmetKeats’s,andKeatscouldn’tmove.Hisfatherblinkedrapidlyafewtimes,hisattentionshiftingbetweenKeatsandGeorgia.Butwhenhisgazesettledbackonhisson,Keatsknewthathisdadrecognizedhim.
Keats’sthroatfeltlikeafistwasclosingaroundit.“Hi,Dad.”
Hisfathercoughed,thoughitsoundedmorelikeahorsechuffing,andglancedbackoverhisshoulderlikehewasconsideringshuttingthedoorandwalkingaway.Finally,helookedbacktoKeats.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Thequestiondidn’tstingasmuchasitprobablyshould’ve.Keatshadn’texactlyexpectedawarmreunion.“There’ssomethingIwantedtotalktoyouabout.”
Hemadeasourface,lookingfullyput-uponbytheirpresence.“Doyouneedmoney?Becauseit’snotlikeIhave—”
“Excuseme,”Georgiasaidprimly,steppingforwardfromwhereshe’dbeenhoveringbehindKeats.“Didyouaskhimifhe’shereformoney?Youjustfoundoutyoursonisokayandaliveandthat’syourfirstquestion?”
“George,”Keatssaid,reachingouttotouchherelbow.“It’sfine.”
“No,excuseme,”hisfathersaid,narrowinghiseyesatGeorgia.“ButIdon’tknowyouandyou’reonmyporch.IcanaskdamnwellwhatIwant.Andifmysondidn’tbothertofindmeforthelasthowevermanyyearsit’sbeen,thenwhyshouldIthinkhe’slookingmeupforanygoodreasonnow?”
Nice.Hisfatherdidn’tevenknowhowmanyyearsit’dbeensinceKeatshadleft.Gladhewassoconcerned.
“Well,mostpeoplewouldbehappytoknowtheirkidisalive,”KeatsofferedinGeorgia’sdefense.
Hisfather’slipcurled.“Iknewyouwerealive.Theytoldmewhenyouwenttothecops.”
“What?”ThatpunchedthestarchoutofKeats.“Theytoldyou?”
“Yeah,Itoldthemyouowedmemybestgunandthemoneyyoustolefromme,buttheydidn’tdoadamnthingaboutit.”
Thenewsthathisfatherhadn’tbotheredtocomelookforhimshouldn’thavesurprisedKeats.AlanKeatswasn’tthekindofmanwhochased.Hewould’vebeenwaitingforKeatstocrawlbackandadmithecouldn’tmakeitonhisown.
Thatwasprobablywhathethoughtthiswas.Keatscomingbacktoadmitdefeatandaskforhelp.
“Canwecomein?”Keatsasked,holdinghisground.
“Why?”hisfathergroused.
Georgiamadealittlenoiseofdisbelief,andKeatsalmostsmiled.Shewaskindofcutewhenshewaspissedonhisbehalf.
“Weneedtotalk.It’snotaboutmoney.It’llonlytakeafewminutes.”
Hisdaddidn’tlookpleasedatall.“Andwhoisthis,anyway?Idon’tletstrangersinmyhouse.”
“ThisisGeorgia,my—”
“Hisgirlfriend,”Georgiasaid,takingKeats’shandandsurprisingthehelloutofhim.
Hisfather’sheavyeyebrowsshotup.“Youintowomennow?”
KeatsknewthatGeorgiawasposingashisgirlfriendtohelphimout,tolethisdadseehewaswrongaboutKeats’spreferences.ButKeatsfoundthathenolongergaveashitwhathisfatherdidordidn’tthink.“Idateboth.”
Hisfather’sfacetwistedindisgust.Butheopenedthedoorandletthemin,mutteringtohimselfthewholeway.
Thehousewassimpleontheinside,utilitarian.Hisfatherhadneverhadmuchofaneyefornicethings.ItwasasifhewantedtolivehislifelikehewasstillintheMarines—neatcornersandneutralcolors.
Theyallsatinthelivingroom,hisdadinawornbrownreclinerandheandGeorgiaonthecouch.Theroomhadastalesmell,likemicrowavedsoupandfadedPine-Sol.Keatshadtheintensedesiretobeanywherebutthere.
Buttheurgetoleavewasn’taboutfearanymore.AsKeatswatchedthemansittingacrossfromthem,henolongersawthelarger-than-lifefootballcoachwhocouldmakehimcowerwithhisboomingvoiceandintimidatingpresence.Instead,hesawanagingmanwithatoxicpersonalityinalifelesshouse.Amanwhodidn’tknowhowtoloveanyone.
Maybehisfatherhadbeendifferentonceuponatime.Keats’smomhaddiedwhenhewasthree,sohedidn’treallyknowifhisdadhadlovedher.Butwhateverthecase,thismanwasabitterandmiserablepersonnowandwoulddiethatway.SoKeatscouldonlymusteruponeemotionforhisfathernow—pity.
“Sowhatisityouwant?”hisfathersaidfinally.“Idon’thaveallday.”
Keats’sangerflaredatthat,allthatresentmentbubblingtothesurface.“IwantyoutoshutyourmouthandstoplyingtolawyersaboutColbyWilkes.”
“Now,waitjustaminute,”hisfathersaid,leaningforward.“Ifyouthinkyoucanwalkinhereandtalktomelikethat—”
ButKeatswasn’tgoingtostop.He’dshutupathisfather’srequesttoomanytimes.“No,youneedtohearthis.YouhavenobusinessstirringupshitforColby.Thatlawyerisgraspingatstrawsandyouknowit.ColbyWilkesneverdidanythingwrongtome.”
“Right.’Causetwogayshangingoutafterschooleverydaywasallabouttheguitarlessons.Thatschoolneedstoownuptoitsnegligence.”
Keats’sfistsballedagainsthisthighs.“Areyouserious?Isthatwhatthisisabout?You’retryingtogetacourtcasegoingforyourself?”
“Theyputthatmaninchargeofchildrenandlookwhathappened.”
Un-fucking-believable.Thiswasaboutmoney?Keatshadreadinthenewsstoriesafterhewentmissingthathisfatherhadthreatenedtobringasuitagainsttheschool,buttherehadn’tbeenenoughthereforhimtogothroughwithit.Nowtheguywaslookingforanewangle.“ColbyWilkeswastheonlydecentadultIknewbackthen.Isureashellcouldn’tcountonyou.”
“Heputthosedisgustingideasinyourhead.”
Keatsscoffed.“Youthinkheturnedmebisexual?Comeon,Dad.Evenyoucan’tbethatdumb.”
“I’veheardenough.Iwon’tbeinsultedinmyownhome.”Hisdad’svoicewasgoingintothatmegaphonezoneagain.
KeatsquicklyglancedatGeorgiatomakesureshewasokayandnotgettingpanicky.Butheshouldn’thaveworried.Herjawwasset,hereyesblazingwithanger.Shelookedreadytotakedownhisfatheronherown.
“I’mnotleavinguntilyoupromisetodropthethingwiththelawyer.TellhimthatIcametotalktoyouandthatifhehasanyquestionsaboutwhathappened,hecancallme.I’lltellhimthetruth.IhadacrushonColby.Buthenevercrossedaline.AndwhenItried,heturnedmeaway.”
Hisfatherstood.“Youhavesomenervecominghereandorderingmetodoanything.Getoutofmyhouse,Adam.Anddon’tbothermewiththisshit—”
“Adam?”
ThevoicecamefromsomewherebehindKeats,andheswungaround.Georgiaturnedwithhim.TheshockedfacethatgreetedKeatsmadehimloseallhisgumption.“Justin.”
Keats’sbrotherstoodfrozeninthedoorway,leaningoncrutches.Keats’sgazetraveleddowntothespotwhereJustin’srightlegusedtobe.Hispantlegwasneatlyfoldedupatthekneejoint.Therewasnothingbelowitanymore.Jesus.
“Adam,”Justinrepeated,hiseyesgoingglossywithtears.“It’sreallyyou?”
Keatsstood,notsurewhattodowithhisbigbrother’stears.Hecouldn’tremembereverseeinghimcry.“Yeah,it’sme.”
“Hewasjustleaving,”Keats’sfatherbitout.
Justin’sattentionsnappedtohisfather.“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?It’sAdam,Dad.”
“Iknowdamnwellwhoheis.”
HisbrotherswunghimselfonhiscrutcheswithwhatlookedtobepracticedeasetowardKeatsandpulledhimintoacrushingone-armedhug.Keatsdidn’tknowwhattodobuthugback.“Hey,bigbrother.”
TheembraceonlygottighterandJustin’schestbouncedwithsilentsobs.“You’reokay.Ican’tbelieveyou’reokay.”
ThatwaswhenKeatsrealizedJustinhadn’tknown.Hisdadhadn’tbotheredtoinformhimthatKeatswasalive.ForJustin,hislittlebrotherhadjustcomebacktolife.
Andhecared.HisbadassMarinebigbrotherwassobbing.
EmotionwelledinKeatsashehuggedJustinbackinafierceembrace.Andbeforelong,hisfacewaswet,too.Becausehewashappytoseehisbrother.Butalsobecauseherealizedhowmuchpainhemust’veputhimthroughwhenhe’drunaway.He’dwantedtohurthisdad.Buthe’dneverintendedtohurtJustin,too.
Justinfinallyleanedback,eyesred,andsmiled.“I’mtryingtoconvincemyselfthatI’mnothavingsomeweirdmedicationreactionorsomething.”
Keatslaughedandswipedathiseyes.
“I’msofreakinghappytoseeyou,”Justinsaid,shakinghishead.“Ineverbelievedwhatthey’dsaidaboutyou.Youhadtoomuchfightinyou.Butafteralltheseyearspassed,Istartedtolosehope.”
“I’msosorry,”Keatssaid,theguiltweighingheavyonhimnow.“Ineverwantedtoputyouthroughthat.”
JustingrabbedKeats’sshoulder,hisgripstrong.“Iknowwhyyouleft.Idon’tblameyou.”
Theybothlookedtowardtheemptyrecliner.
Duringtheirhug,Keatshadheardthefrontdoorslamshutandtherumbleofanengine.KeatsglanceddownatGeorgia,whowaswatchinghimandJustinwithshinyeyes.“Soheleft.”
Shefoldedherhandsinherlap.“I’msorry.”
“I’mnot,”Keatssaid,puttinghisarmaroundJustin,carefulnottoknockhiscrutches.“Nowwecanrelaxandcatchup.Georgia,I’dliketointroduceyoutomybrother.”
Shesmiledandstood,puttingherhandout.“Sonicetomeetyou.”
Justintookherhandtoshakeit.
“Justin,thisismygirl.”
AndeventhoughKeatsknewthatwasn’texactlytrue,rightthenhewantednothingmorethantomakeitso.THIRTY-FOUR
Georgiahadn’tmadeittwostepsintoColby’shousebeforeKeats’shandsandmouthwereonher.He’dseemedwrungoutbythetimethey’dwrappedupvisitingwithhisbrother,andshe’dfiguredtheemotionaldayhadtakenitstoll.Butassoonasthefrontdoorhadclickedshut,hiswholedemeanorhadshifted.
Herbackhitthewallofthelivingroom,andKeatspressedhisbodyagainstherashekissedherhard.Shegrappledforaholdandlatchedontothebackofhisshirt,lovingthefeelofhimtakingwhatheneeded.Hewasusuallyherkinder,gentlerlover.Butshelikedseeingthissideofhim,too.
Shegaspedwhenheslippedhishandbeneathhershirtandcuppedherbreast.“God,George,Ineedyourightnow.Tellmethisisokay.”
“It’sdefinitelyokay,”shesaid,lettingherheadfallbackagainstthewall.Whateverheneeded,whateverdemonshewasexorcising,shewasonboard.Afterthedaythey’dbothhad,shecravedthatoblivion,too.“I’mallyours.”
“ThankGod.”Hetuggedhershirtupandoverherheadandunhookedherbra,leavingherbarefromthewaistup.Hetappedthewaistbandofherjeans.“Losethese.”
Shealmostsaid,Yes,sir,butthencaughtherself.Sheworkedatthebuttononherpants,andKeatsloweredhisheadtosuckandteasehernipples.Kiss.Suck.Kiss.Bite.GoodLord,hewasgoingtoundoherbeforetheyevenmadeittothebedroom.
Shekickedoffhershoesandshimmiedoutofherjeansandunderwear,piecesofclothinglandinginahaphazardpatternaroundthem.Late-afternoonsunlightslantedoverthemfromthefrontwindow,andKeats’sblondhairwaspaintedinpinksandorangesashegottohiskneesandspreadheropenwithhisthumbs.Hismouthwassweetfireagainsther,lickingandnibblingeverytender,achingpart.Shemoanedhisnameandslidherfingersintohishair.Hehadn’ttieditbacktoday,andshelovedhowcoolandsilkyitfeltaroundherfingers.
Keatslookedupather,eyesmakingpromisessheknewhe’dkeep,andbreachedherwithtwofingers—stroking,stroking,stroking.“Inevergettiredofthis,George,hearingthosesoundsyoumake,mynameonyourlips.”
“Ican’thelpit,”shesaid.“YouandColbymakemelosemymind.”
IfI’mnotcareful,you’regoingtomakemelosemyheart.
Histhumbfoundherclit,sendingadartofswiftpleasureupherspineandchasingtheworryfromhermind.“Bestjobever.Makingabeautifulwomanmindless.”
“Orman,”avoicebehindthemsaid.
Georgialiftedherhead,findingColbyleaningagainsttheentrywayfromthekitchenwithalazysmileandpredatorygaze.
“Welcomehome,”Georgiasaid,halfgasping,asKeatswentbacktopleasuringherwithslow,torturousglidesofhistongue.
“Ican’tsaythere’sanybettersighttocomehometoafteraharddaythanmyfavoritewomannakedandspreadoutformyfavoriteguy.IfIhadknownthiswaswaitingforme,Iwould’vedrivenfaster.”HeheadedtowheretheywereandleanedoverKeatstokissGeorgia.Hishandfoundherbreastandteasedashedeepenedthekiss.
Shemoanedintothekiss.ThecombinationofColby’sroughfingersagainsthernippleandKeats’stalentedtongueagainstherclithadherreadytogooveralready.
Colbypulledbackfromthekissandranathumboverhermouth.“Makehercome,Keats.Lookslikesheneedsonenow.”
“Gladly,”Keatssaid,hisgazemeetinghersasheangledhisfingersinsideher.“Wanttojoinme?”
ColbygrinnedatGeorgia,somehowplayfulandthreateningatthesametime.“Turnaroundandplantyourhandsagainstthewall.”
Georgiadidasshewastold,herfeetsqueakingagainstthewoodfloorandherheartpounding.
Colby’shandsspannedherwaist.“Nowslideyourhandsdownandbendover,legsspread.”
“Goddamn,”Keatssaidfrombehindherasshegotintoposition.“I’mstartingtoseetheappealinColbywantingtorestrainus.Iwishwecouldcuffyoutothewalljustlikethis.Youshouldseehowfuckinghotyoulook.”
Georgiafeltflushalloverandherkneeswobbled.Shewasn’tsureshe’deverfeltquitesoexposed.
Colbyranahandoverthebackofherthigh.“Don’tlockyourknees,baby.Relaxandletusmakeyoufeelgood.”
Sheloosenedherlimbsalittleandplantedherfeet,almostbracingforahitofsomekind.Butthatwasn’tthemoodColbywasin.Becausebeforelong,shefelthairbrushagainstherleg.ShepeereddowntofindKeatsslippingintothespaceshe’dcreatedbetweenherandthewall.Hegrippedherouterthighsandsituatedhismouthagainsther,thenresumedthelanguid,lusciouscircleshe’dbeenmakingwithhistonguebefore.Sheletoutasoftmoan,herheaddroppingforward.
Atthesametime,big,warmhandscoastedoverherbackside.Colby’stouchwaslightbutconfidentasheteasedher.Andshecouldhearhimshiftingintopositionbehindher.Hewasgoingtothefloor.Oh,God.Eventhoughshesuspectedwhatwascoming,whenafingerburiedinsideherchannelandhot,wetkisseslandedrightalongthecurvesofherass,thearchesofherfeetliftedoffthefloor.
Shegroanedagroanthatcamefromsomeplacedeepandforcedhereyesopen,needingtoseethetwomenworkingintandemonher.Butshecouldn’tkeephereyesopenforlong.BecauseColbywasspreadingherformorethankisses.Thehotwettipofhistongueteasedclosetoherbackentranceandhebitoneofhercheeks.Oh,God.Itwasallsomuch.Thefeeloftwomouthsburninghotalonghermostprivate,sensitivespotshadherfingerspressingsohardintothedrywall,sheworriedshewasgoingtopushrightthrough.
Colby’sfingersdugintoherasscheeks,addingasnapofpaintothealreadyoverwhelmingsensations,andspreadherwiderforhim.Shebracedherselfforit,buttherewasnopreparing.Histonguetracedapatharoundherrim,slowandsexy,thescruffofhisbeardticklinghertenderskin,andshenearlylostit.She’dneverhadanyoneputtheirmouthtothatforbiddenplacebefore,buthellifitdidn’tfeellikethemostsinfullyeroticthingever.Knowingthathewasn’tafraid,thatnothingwasoff-limitsforhimwhenitcametoherbody,didsomethingtoher.Likefull-outacceptance.Iamturnedonbyallofyou.Everybitisminetoexploreandpleasure.
Keatsaddedafingerinsideher,hisnowsharingspacewithColby’s,andherhandscurledagainstthewallasthetwomenstretchedandstimulatedher.Theirfingersmovedineasyrhythminsideher,oneslidingdownwardwhiletheothersankdeep,theirknucklesgrazingeachotherontheexchange.Theimagewasenoughtonearlydoherin.Theywerebothinsideher,bothmouthssuckingandlavingatherwithsexy,wetsounds.Herbodyclenchedaroundtheirinvasion,everythingsoslickandalivewithsensationthatshewasn’tsureshe’dbeabletostandmuchlonger.
“I’mnotgoingtolast,”shewhispered.
Colbyspokeagainstherskin.“Wedidn’tsayyouhadto.Takewhatyouneed,baby.Comeforus.”
Andwiththat,theybothincreasedthespeedandenthusiasmoftheiroralassault.Shecouldn’ttellwhowaswherewhen.Itfeltlikeahundredtonguesandhandstouchinganddevouringheratonce.Herteethclenched,thewiredtensioninsidehercoilingtight,tight,tighter.
Colby’sbluntnailsdugintoherflesh,andhistonguepressedagainstherrightasKeatsswirledhistonguearoundherclit.Shelostit.Sparkingenergyracedoverherskin,andshecriedout,herneckarchingandherheelslifting.Colbyshiftedhisholdquickly,grabbingherhipsandkeepingherinplaceastheycontinuedtokissandtastehereverywhere.
Shegaspedthroughtheorgasm,harshsoundscomingoutofher,andfinallyherkneesreallydidgiveway.Bothmenbackedoff,guidingherdownwarduntilshewasonherkneesinfrontofKeats,Colby’sarmswrappedaroundherwaisttokeepherfromtippingover.
SheletherforeheadrestonKeats’sshoulderasshebreathedherwaydownfromherintenserelease.
“Youokay,George?”Keatsaskedsoftlyasheranahandoverherhead.
“Definitelyokay,”shesaid,repeatingherwordsfromearlierandsmilingagainsthisshoulder.
“Good,”Colbysaid,“becausewe’renotdonewithyou.”Heslidhishandsuptoherbreasts,caressing.“BecauseIknowwhenyouwatchedfromyourwindowandimaginedwhathavingtwomenwouldbelike,yourmindwenttowherewe’reabouttotakeyou.”
Oh,God.Shebitherlip,knowingwhathewassuggesting.
“Ibetthat’swhenyouplayedwithyourothervibrator,testingouthowitwouldfeeltobeoh-so-fullandhelpless.”
Keatsgroanedalongwithher.AndColbywasabsolutelyright.She’dimagineditthen.Butshe’dimagineditalotmorelately.“Idon’tevenknowifIcan…”
Colbyturnedheraround,hiseyescatchinghergaze.Despitethedirtytalkandthecommandingtoneinhisvoice,hishazeleyesweretenderwhenhelookedather.“Wewantyou,Georgia.Allofyou.Butknowthatwewouldneverhurtyou.Youknowhowtostopthings.”
Sheinhaleddeeplyandreachedouttotrailherfingersalonghisbeard.“Idon’twanttostop.”
Hesmiledandleanedforwardasiftokissher,butthenstoppedhimselfshort,alwaysrespectingherboundariesiftheyhadn’tdiscussedsomeactyet.Hetouchedhisforeheadtohersinstead.“Goinmyroomandwaitforusonthebed.We’llbejustaminute.”
“Okay.”
Shelethimhelpherup,andhegaveherapatonherassbeforesheheadedtowardthebedroom.“There’sablindfoldinthetopdrawerofmydresser.Takeitoutandtieitoveryoureyesonceyou’rekneelingonthebed.”
Alittleshiverwentthroughherandshenodded.Afewminuteslater,shewasarrangedhowheasked—kneelingonthebedwitharedsashtiedoverhereyes.Everynerveinherbodyseemedtobestandingatattention,andshehadtotakeafewdeepbreathstocenterherself.Shewasn’tscared.ShehadnodoubtthatColbyandKeatswouldtakecareofherandwouldstopifanythingwastoomuch.They’dproventhateachtimetheyweretogether.Ifsheneededtoslowdown,theydid.Ifshehadquestions,theywereanswered.Andtheywerealwayssotenderwithherafteranintensenight—bathingher,soothinganyachesorpainswithsalve,tuckingherintobed.Colbyhadevengivenhertheoptionofnotdoinganythingthatwouldleavealingeringmark.Butshe’ddeclinedtheoffer.She’dneveradmititoutloudtoanyone,butthefaintbruisesandropeburnsshe’dgottenfromtheirnightstogethergavehersomestrangesenseofpride.Thosemarkssaidshewasbraveanddaring.Theywereproofshewastakingchancesagain.Signsofheroldself.Sorightnow,shewasreadytogivethemwhatevertheywanted.
Forsolong,she’dfeltsounbelievablyscaredandvulnerable,questioningeveryoneandeverythingaroundher,alwaysonguard.Everytimeshewentout,shestillhadtofighttheurge.ButherewithColbyandKeatsshecouldletallofthatgo.Shecouldtearawaythedefensesandliterallyleaveherselfnakedandattheirmercywithoutfear.Somehowshefeltmorefreeinthismomentthanshehadinayear,eventhoughshewasgivingovercompletecontrol.Thiswasherget-out-of-jail-freecard.
Footstepssoundedsomewhereofftoherright,andsheknewshewasnolongeralone.Shelickedherlips,tryingtostaystill.Ahandtouchedhershoulderandshejumped.
“Easy,there,”Colbysaid.“We’reherewithyounow.”
Shenodded.Thebeddippedandmorehandstouchedherwaist—Keatshadclimbedbehindher.“We’regoingtomakeyoufeelsogood,George.”
Handsandmouthscoastedoverherandshetiltedherheadback.Theguyswerebeinggentle,warmingherskinagain,samplingeveryinchofher,kissingawayanynervesthatmight’velingered.
Colby’sfingersglidedoverhersex,andshenearlysaggedintohimtoholdherselfup.“Lookhowwetyouareforus.Sogorgeous.Blindfolded,nippleshardanddampfromourmouths,pussylipsswollenandshiny.”
“Youhaveadirtymouth,ColbyWilkes,”shesaidsoftly.
“Mmm,”hesaid,asmileinhisvoice.“Goodthingyoulikethatkindoffilth.”
“You’reabadinfluence.”
“Ihopeso.”Heteasedherentrancewiththetipofhisfingerandshemadeaneedysound.
“What’swrong?”Keatsaskedashewrappedhishandsaroundherbreastsfrombehindandkneadedtheminhispalms.
Shepantedthroughthesurgeofdesire.Usually,shewasallforalongnightofforeplay,butherbodywasdemandingthefullshow.
“Ithinkwe’retorturingherwithourpatience,”Colbysaid,thoughhesoundednonetooapologeticaboutit.“Howaboutwegivehersomethingtofocuson?Keats,liebackonthebedsoIcantieyoudown.”
Georgiagroaned,wishingallofasuddenshedidn’thavetheblindfoldon.Themenmovedaroundher,andshecouldonlyimaginewhatitlookedlike.Keatssplayedoutonthebed,Colbytyinghimtotheheadboard.Anothersurgeofneedwentstraightdownward.
Thewaitseemedendless,anditwasagoodtenminutesbeforeColby’shandswereonhershouldersagain.Butthankfully,hewasinthemoodtogiveherareward.Heguidedhertoturnaroundonthebed,thentuggedtheblindfoldoff.Whenhereyesadjustedtothelamplight,shefoundsixfeetofblond,built,arousedmanspreadoutinfrontofher.
“GoodGod,”shesaid,genuinelyawedatthesight.
ColbyhadloopedropearoundKeatsfromelbowstowristsandthentiedeachhandtotheheadboard.Keatsalsohadalengthofropeloopedaroundhischest.Hiscockstoodlongandproud,andhisgazewassolelyonher.
“He’sonlyhereforyourpleasuretonight,Georgia,”Colbysaid,massaginghershoulders.“Youcanusehimhoweveryouwant.Right,Keats?”
“Yes,sir.I’mgladlyprovidingmyservices.”HesentGeorgiaashamelessgrin.
“Hedoesn’tgettocomeuntilyouandIdo.Understand?”
“Yes,”Georgiasaid,hervoicesoundingbreathyandlighttoherownears.“IcandowhatIwantwithhim.”
“Yes,youcan,”Colbysaid.“Butifhe’shereforyourpleasure,you’rehereformine.”
Goosebumpschasedacrossherskin.
“Thequestionis,whatwouldyouliketodotohimfirst?”
Shelethergazetrackoverallthatsmoothtattooedskinandthenletitlingerontheglisteningtipofhiscock.“I’dliketotastehim.”
Keatsgroaned.
“Keats,you’realuckyman.Goahead.”
GeorgiasituatedherselfbetweenKeats’skneesandloweredherheadtowrapherlipsoverthecrownofhiscock.Shedidn’tgoanyfartherbutrolledhertonguearoundtheheadandthenteasedtheslit.Hemadeasoftgrunt,andshesmiledtoherself.Torturinghimcouldbekindoffun.Sheletherhandsslideuphislegs,rubbingcirclesonhisinnerthighswithherthumbs,andthengotoh-so-closetohistesticlesbeforedraggingherhandsdownagain.
“Ah,fuck,”Keatssaid,archingabit.“She’stakingsadistlessons.”
“Ilikewatchingyoutwoplay,”Colbysaid,stretchingoutnexttothemandtakingintheview.Hewasstillinhisshirtandtiefromhismeeting,buthiserectionwasaprominentoutlineagainsthisslacks,andhestrokeditalmostidlywiththatbighandofhis.HimbeingfullyclothedwhilesheandKeatsdidn’thaveastitchonmadeGeorgiaevenhotter.“Icouldgetusedtothis.Spreadyourlegs,Georgia,andtouchyourselfwhileyousuckhim.”
Shehummedasanewwaveofarousalwentthroughher,andKeatsmadeapainedsoundagain.ShetookKeatsfartherintohermouthandloweredherhandbetweenherlegs.Eventhelighttouchhadherwantingtogoover.Butshewaslearningtheartofpatienceandkeptherstrokesslow.
“That’sit,”Colbysaid.“Teaseyourselfwhileyouteasehim.”
Colbyunzippedhispantsslowlyandslippedhiscockfree.Hissizewasstilloverwhelmingeachtimeshesawit,butknowingwhathehadplannedtonighthadanewanxiousfluttergoingthroughher.Shehadnoideaifshecouldtakehimthatway.ButGodknowsshewaswillingtotry.
“Ilikehowyou’relookingatme,”hesaid,givinghimselfalongstroke.“Areyouimaginingwhatit’sgoingtofeellikewhenwe’rebothinsideyou?BecauseIknowthat’swhatI’mimagining.Howtightandhotyou’regoingtofeelaroundme.Howit’sgoingtofeeltohavetwococksrubbingagainsteachotherinsideyou.”
“Fuck,”Keatssaid,hishandsfistingashearchedinthebindings.
Shesecondedthatemotionandhadtomoveherhandawayfromherselfforamomentsothatshewouldn’ttakeittoofar.Colbysmiled,likeheknewexactlyhowhewasaffectingher.
Shewenton,suckingKeatsanddroppinglowertolickhisballsandnuzzlehim.Shetookhertimeandbroughthimtothebrinkafewtimes.Allwhileteasingherselfandridingtheedgealongwithhim.Colbywatchedthemwithheatedinterest.Sheknewthenthatshewasdefinitelymorethanavoyeur.Therewasawholeotherlevelofintensitywhensomeonewaswatching—especiallywhenitwasColby.Becausewhenhelookedather,itwaslikethedevilplanninghislistoftemptationsandsins.Shecouldn’twaittocheckoffthelist.
Finally,whenKeatsstartedpanting,ColbyreachedoutandgrippedthebackofGeorgia’sneck.“Enough.Getoffthebedandstandbesideit.”
Shescootedoffthebedandfollowedtheinstruction.WhenColbymovedtostandinfrontofher,hepulledsomethingfromhispocket—asmallvibratorwithelasticstraps.
“Stepintothis.Keatscan’tusehishands,andIwantyouflyinghighforthis.Itwillbeeasierforyou.”
Sheswallowedhardandsteppedintothestraps.Theelasticpositionedthelittlesiliconevibratoragainstherclit.Colbyhitabuttonandshegaspedasthelow-levelvibrationmovedagainstheralreadysensitiveflesh.
“Now,climbontopofKeatsandgethiscondomon.”
Hehandedheracondom,andshemadeherwaybackontothebedandoverKeats’sbody.Keats’sgazehadgonehooded,andhewaswatchingherlikehewantedtoeatherbitebybite.Abeautiful,wickedmanspreadoutforherenjoyment.She’dheardofbeinghousepoor.Rightnowshewasmanrich.
Colbysteppedtothefrontofthebedandreachedfortheblack-and-whitecityscapehangingaboveit.Helifteditoffthehookandtookitawayfromthewall.Amirrorhungbehindit.Colbymovedalatchandthewholethingangledforward,givingthemaperfectshotofthebed.Georgiafoundherselfstaringatherwantonreflection.
“Mightaswellenjoytheview,right?”Colbysaid,thoselipscurlingupatonecorner.“IknowIwill.”
Forasecond,shecouldn’ttakehereyesoffthesceneinthemirror.Hernaked,arousedbody.Keatsspreadoutbeneathher.Itwaslikesomeeroticpainting.HergazestayedfixedonthesceneassherolledthecondomonKeats,andColbypositionedhimselfbehindher,hisbigbodyradiatingheat.
“Pretty,isn’tit?”Colbyasked,hiseyesmeetinghersinthemirror.
“It’samazing.Andyoureallyareadeviant.Whohasahiddenmirror?”
Colbysmiledandlacedhisfingersinherhair,thenturnedherheadtothesidesohecouldleaninandkissher.Thekisswasdeepandfull,andhedidn’ttrytohidetheneedinit.Shegaveherselfovertoit,tohim.Herwholebodydialeduptoeleven.Inthismoment,she’dprobablygivethismananything.
Whenhepulledaway,thelookhegavehernearlyundidher.“I’mreadyforyou,gorgeous.Youreadyforus?”
Thequestionseemedtoholdmoreweight—likehewasn’tjustaskingifshewasphysicallyready.Liketherewasmoretoask.Andwhatthosehazeleyesheldscaredher.
Butshemanagedtowhisper,“I’mready.”
Hereleasedherhairandmovedhishandstoherwaist.Thevibratorhummedsteadilyagainsther—enoughtotorturebutnotsendherover.“We’regoingtotakegoodcareofyou,baby.JustlistentowhatIsayandyou’llbefine.”
“Iknow,”shesaid,meaningit.
“Goodgirl.”Hekissedhershoulder.“You’regoingtoneedtoletKeatsinfirst.”
“Excellentplan,”Keatssaidwithadrunk-on-lustgrin.Shehadtosmileback.Shelovedthattheycouldstillbeplayfulinbed.She’dworriedthatwithColby’sdominance,itwouldbeformal.Butbothmenlikedtolaughandhavefunalongwitheverythingelse.
Sheloweredherself,takingKeatsinslowly,thestretchingofherbodyjostlingthevibratoragainstherclitandmakinghereyeswanttorollback.God.Keatswasgiftedinhisownright,andshefeltfullwithonlyhiminthere.Sheseatedhimdeep,andKeats’seyesfellclosed.
Colby’stiebrushedagainstthetopcurveofherass,andthenhishandwasonher.Theirgazesmetinthemirrorasheslidtwoslickfingersbetweenhercheeks,findingherbackentrance.Thosewarmfingersmadeaslowcirclearoundheropening,massagingthelubricantoverit,andshehadtroublekeepingthegroantoherself.Hismouthmovedclosetoherear.“Fuckhim,Georgia.Butdon’tyoudarecome.”
Thatwouldbeamiracleifshecouldmanagethat.Sheliftedherhips,drawingKeatsalmostallthewayout,andthendippeddownagain.Upanddown,upanddown.HerfocusmovedfullytoKeats,whowaswatchingthembothwithraptinterest—hisbellyrisingandfallingwithstrainedbreaths.“Icoulddierightnowandbehappy,”hesaid,hisvoicelikesandpaper.
“We’lltrynottokillyou,”shesaidasColby’sfingerscontinuedtomoveoverher,gettingherslickandaching.“Butnopromises.”
“Lieoverhim,baby,”Colbysaidafteranotherfewminutes.
ShedrapedherbodyoverKeatsandrockedforward,lettinghimslideoutalmostallthewayandthensinkingagainsthimagain.ThatmovementenlightenedheronwhyColbyhadwrappedtheropearoundKeats’schest.Witheverythrust,hernippleswerenowrubbingagainstthesofthemp.Evil,evilman.
Colby’sfingermovedagainstherassagain.“Relaxandletmein,baby.Pushoutanditwillmakeiteasier.”
She’dbeenridingtheedgesolongnowthatrelaxinghermusclesactuallycameeasy.Shewantedhimin.Sheneededtofeelhim.Onefingerslidinandthenanother.Thesensationwaslikearocketboostertoherarousal.ShemadeagutturalsoundandpressedherforeheadagainstKeats’sshoulder.
“That’sit.Sogood,”Colbysaid,hispleasureclear.“You’redoingsogood.”
Hisfingersmovedinsideher,scissoringgentlyandstretchingher,asshecontinuedtofuckKeatsslowly.Everythinginherwantedtocomerightthisveryminute,butshefoughthardtokeepitatbay.
“I’mnotsurehowmuchlongerIcanlast,”shesaid.
“Idon’twanttorushyouorhurtyou,baby,”Colbysaid,hisslowthrustingcontinuing.
Anothersparkofarousalwentthroughherandherfingersgrippedthesheets.“Canwetry?I’mhangingbyathread.AndIwanttotry—”
“Anythinghurts,youtellmetostop,”hesaid,commandinhisvoice.
“Ipromise.”
“Staystillforasecondthen,”hesaid,shiftingbehindher.
Sheglancedup,theangleofthemirroraffordingherpartofaviewofColbybehindher.Hehadn’ttakenhisclothesoff,buthisflywasundoneandhewaspouringlubeintohishand.Herubbeditoverhiscockuntilitwasshinyandglistening.Shewasmesmerizedbythesightofit.
Thenhewasgettingintopositionbehindher.Hepushedfingersintoheragain,separatingtheminsideherandopeningher,preparingher.Keatswastremblingbeneathher.Sheimagineditwastakingalotofworkonhisparttostaysostill.Hehadtobeclosetocoming,too.Butthelookonhisfacewaspurerapture.Hewasbeingdenied,buthewasintothisonehundredpercent.
Colby’sfingersslippedoutofherandsomethingmuchbiggernudgedherbackside.Aboltofpanicmovedthroughher.Hefeltimpossiblybig.Maybeshe’dmisjudgedwhatshecouldtake.
“Colby,I—”
“It’sokay,”hesaid,squeezingherhip.“Youcantakeme.Youjusthavetorelaxandletmein.I’llgoslow.”
HergazewenttoKeatsandhesmiledsoftly.“We’vegotyou,George.He’sgoingtomakeyoufeelgood.Trusthim.”
“Saysyouwhohasn’tdonethisyet.”
Helaughed.“Showmehowit’sdone,then.I’lltakenotes.”
Forsomereason,thateasedhertension.Shegavealittlenodandputallherconcentrationonlooseninghermusclesandrelaxing.SheshiftedbackabitandtheheadofColby’scockbreachedher.
Theburningsensationwasintenseandshelostherbreathforasecond—regrettingeverythinginthatinstant,buthekeptmovingforwardandoncethethickheadmovedpasttheringofmuscle,therestslidforwardmoreeasily.Anoverwhelmingfloodofsharpneedmovedthroughher.
Colbymadeadeep,rumblysoundbehindher.“God,baby,youfeelamazing.Youokay?”
“I’mgood.Ijust—”Shefeltimpossiblyfullanddidn’tdaremove.Shemightneverbeabletomoveagain.
“Justholdon.Youdon’thavetodoanythingelsebutfeelfromthispointon,”Colbysaid,easingmoreofhimselfinsideher.“Youcancomewheneveryouneedto.”
ThankGodforthatbecauseshefeltonthevergeofexplodingalready.
Thetwoguysmust’vetalkedaboutthisatsomepointbecausesomehow,theyknewhowtomoveoneatatimeinakindofrhythm.Itwasslowandsteadyandimpossiblysensualastheyrockedintoherinturn,stimulatingeveryinchofherfleshalongtheway.Thevibratorbuzzedsteadilyagainsther,andwitheachmovefromColby,hernipplesrubbedalongtheropeonKeats’schest.
ThenKeatswasliftinghisheadtokissher,partingherlipsandpouringallthepassionthatmustberumblingthroughhimintoit—frantic,hungry,alittlecrazed.Shefeltdizzywiththepowerofitall.Shewasgoingtoloseit.Colby’shandsgrippedherhipshard,hiscocksinkingevendeeper,andthereweresomanysensationsatoncethatitfeltliketherewereahundredhandsonher,acrowdofmentakingher.
Everythingdetonatedinsideher.HernailsdugintoKeats’sshoulders,earningalust-filledgruntfromhimashepulledawayfromthekiss,andherbackarched.Bothmenburiedfullyinsideher,theircockspressingagainsteachotherthroughthethinwallinherbody,andshethoughtshewoulddiefromthefeelofbeingsofullytaken.
“Ican’t—”shepanted.
Colbymust’veusedthatashiscuetohitthebuttonontheremoteforthevibrator.Becausethesoftpurrturnedintoanurgentbuzzandshecriedout.Themooringsbrokefree.Sheshookwiththeforceoftheorgasmasitovertookher,andthenoisesshemadestoppedsoundinghuman.
ColbyandKeatsstartedmovingagainandallshecoulddowasholdonforthegasping,shriekingride.Soon,Colby’sgripturnedbruisingandhegroanedbehindher,hisownreleasesendinghimovertheprecipice.
Keats,everpatient,pressedhisteethagainstGeorgia’sshoulder,bitinghardenoughtostingbutnotenoughtobreaktheskinuntilitwasclearColbywascoming.ThenKeatsletloose,too,buckingbeneathherandcallinghernameashethrustupward,hisarmsyankingathisbindings.
Itwasallsomuch.Toomuchprobably.Butwhenhergazecaughttheirreflectioninthemirror,allofthemlosttopassion,shehadafeelingthatforher…itwasjustright.
Thesetwomenwereright.
Toobadshecouldn’tkeepthem.THIRTY-FIVE
ColbyshiftedinthechairinPrincipalAnders’soffice,dreadsittingheavyinhisstomach.She’dcalledhiminforalast-minutemeeting,andaftertheinterviewshe’dbeenthroughlastweek,hedidn’thavealotofhope.Keats’sfatherhadapparentlypaintedquitethepictureofanirresponsible,deviousColbyWilkes,andtheboardhadtreatedColbyinawaythatlethimknowtheyweregivingAlanKeats’sclaimssomecredence.They’devenaskedhimifhethoughthis“homosexualstatus”madethemalestudentsreluctanttoopenuptohim.He’dwantedtobreakthings.
Andwalkingthroughthebusyhallwaystogetherethisafternoon,seeingthekidsstreampasthim,somewavingandhappytoseehim—ithadphysicallyhurt.Thesefewweeksawayfeltlikeyears.He’denjoyedspendinghisofftimewithGeorgiaandKeats,buthemissedhisjobmorethanhecouldsay.
Rowanbreezedin,astackoffoldersinherhandsandherhairtuckedneatlyintoalowponytail.“Thanksforgettingheresoquickly.SorryI’mrunningafewminuteslate.”
Colbyleanedforwardinhischair,forearmsbracedonhisthighs,assheslidbehindherdesk.“Notaproblem.What’sgoingon?”
Shelookedupafterputtingthefoldersasideandmethisgaze.“Well,AdamKeatsisgoingon.”
Colby’sstomachdroppedtohisfeet.Oh.Shit.Sheknew.She’dfiguredoutwhothehalf-nakedguyinhiskitchenhadbeen.“Whatdoyoumean?”
PrincipalAndersspreadherfingerswideacrossthepapersfannedoutonherdesktop.“Hecameforwardandspokewiththelawyerandaschoolboardofficialafewdaysago.”
“Hedidwhat?”Colby’sjawwentslack.
“Hedefendedyou,Colby,takingfullresponsibilityforwhathappenedbackthen.Hestatedthatyoutriedtohelphimandheranawaybecauseofhisfather.”
Colby’sbrainscrambled.Keatshadcomeforward?HadRowanseenhim?“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
Sheliftedaneyebrow.“Youdidn’tknowhewasgoingtodothat?”
Well,thatansweredoneofhisquestions.Heswallowedhard.“Youknowwhoheis.”
Shenodded.“Herequestedaprivatemeetingwithnoschoolstaffthere,butIsawhimwalkingoutafterward.Ipulledhimasidetotalktohim.”
Colbyrubbedahandoverhisface.Hewassofuckingfired.
“Ittooksomeconvincingtogethimtotalktome,butwhenItoldhimyourjobwasontheline,hetoldmethestory.Hepromisedmenothinghadhappenedbetweenyoutwobackthen.”Shesmirked.“AndhetoldmetohookhimuptoaliedetectortestifIdidn’tbelievehim.Theremayhavebeenafewexpletivesinvolvedinthatlastpart.”
Colbyblewoutabreath.“Iknowitlooksbad,Rowan,buthe’stellingthetruth.”
Shetappedafingeronherdesk.“Iknow.”
Helookedup,surprised.
Shegavehimasmallsmile.“I’vebeeninthispositionlongenoughtohaveaprettygoodbullshitmeter.IfIhadbelievedanythingbadhadhappenedbackthen,Iwould’veneverhiredyouinthefirstplace.Plus,ImetAdamKeats’sfathertheotherdayanddon’ttrusthimasfarasIcouldthrowhim.”
“Theguy’sscum.”
“Yeah,Igotthat.”
Colbyscrubbedahandthroughhishair.“Sowhathappensnow?Areyougoingtotelltheboardwhatyouknow?”
Sheshookherhead.“Inmyopinion,thathasnobearingonthecurrentcase.They’veinterviewedwhotheyneedtoandhavethepertinentinformation.TwoteachersfromHickoryPointvouchedforyou.AdamKeatsvouchedforyou.AndTravistoldhisdoctorsattheinpatientfacilitythathehidhisplansfromyouandlefttoofastforyoutogetanyrealinformationoutofhim.TheonlypersonwhohadanythingnegativetosaywasAdam’sfather.Travis’sparentsdon’thaveanyevidencetoreallybackupacourtcaseatthispoint.Whathappenedtotheirsonwasunfortunatebutnotanyone’sfault.Theirlawyerhasadvisedthemnottopursueacase.”
Allthestarchdrainedoutofhim.“They’regoingtodropit?”
Shegavehimafullsmilenow.“Yes.Andiftheboardhadanynotionsaboutcontinuingtoinvestigateyouanyway,Itoldthemthatyoucouldsuetheirpantsofffordiscriminationforthehomosexualcommenttheymade.IalmostthrewsomethingatMartinDaviswhenheaskedyouthatquestion.”
Colbystaredather,afraidtobelievewhatshewassaying.“So…”
“You’recleared,Colby,”shedeclared,triumphinhervoice.“YoucancomebacktoschoolaftertheThanksgivingbreak.”
Colbysaggedinhisseat,relieffloodinghim.“Holyshit,Rowan.Ican’teventellyouhowhappyIamtohearthat.”
“And”—sheleanedforwardlikeshewasgoingtotellhimasecret—“ifyou’restillopentoit,I’dliketomoveyoutofulltimeafterthefirstoftheyear.”
“Seriously?”
“Aprincipalneverkids,”shesaid,pullingasternface.
“Icouldkissyourightnow.”
Shelaughed.“Howaboutyousavethatforthegood-lookingguyyouhaveathome.”
Hegrinned.“Idefinitelywill.”
Shestoodandputherhandout.“I’mgladtohaveyoubackontheteam,Colby.Thekidshavemissedyou.Weallhave.”
Hetookherhandandshookitashestood.“I’vemissedthem,too.Ican’twaittogetbacktoit.”
Colbylefttheschoolfeelingsogoodhecouldn’tstophimselffromwhistlingatuneonthewayout.Hecouldn’twaittogethomeandsharehisnews.Andtellhistwosneakyloverswhattheyweregoingtogetforkeepingthissecretfromhim.BecausehehadnodoubtGeorgiaknewexactlywhatKeatshaddone.
Hidingthingswasano-no.
Butitwasgoingtobeoh-so-fundeliveringtheconsequences.
—
ColbyleanedagainstthedoorwaytoKeats’sbedroom,watchingasKeats’sfingersmovedoverhisguitar.Hehadalookoffullconcentration—tonguestickingoutthecornerofhismouth,browsdrawn—ashetriedoutafewdifferentcombinationsofchordsforwhateversonghewasworkingon.TheremightaswellhavebeenasignaroundhisneckthatsaidCreativeGeniusatWork.
Colbytookhistimesoakingintheview,knowingthatKeatswassoinvolvedhehadn’tnoticedhimstandingthereyet.Colbydidn’tthinkhe’deverbeenmoredrawntoaguy.Theshyteenagerhadgrownintoamanwhowassoquietlyamazing,Colbycouldn’tgethisheadaroundit.Thiskid,who’dhadnofuckingshotgrowingupwiththatscumofafather,hadsurvivedonhisownonthestreetswithoutanyhelp.He’dkepthisshittogetherenoughtonotendupinjailorhookedondrugs.Hehadn’ttakentheeasywayoutforanything.Andthoughhewasstillgettingonhisfeetnow,he’dsomehowmanagedtobecomeamanwithsomuchheartandloyaltythatColbywasdamnhumbled.Hehadn’tbeenhalfthemanKeatswaswhenhewastwenty-three.
“Ihadameetingatschooltoday,”Colbysaidquietly.
Keatslookedupfromhisguitar,hisfingerspausingmidstrum.Hepushedhishairbehindhisear.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.PrincipalAndersinformedmethatthelong-deadAdamKeatsmagicallyappearedtomakeastatementtotheschoolboardofficialsafewdaysago.Amiracle.Runawaykidallgrownupjuststrollingintoseteverythingright.”
“Imaginethat.Mustbeafullmoon.I’veheardthat’swhenpeoplecomebackfromthedead.”
“Keats,”hesaid,steppingintotheroom.“Youdidn’thavetodothat.”
Heshruggedlikeitwasnobigthing.“You’reagoodteacherandshouldn’tbegettingdickedaroundforsomethingthatwasn’tyourfault.Plus,Iwasn’tgoingtoletmyfatherfuckthingsupforyou.Iknewhewasn’tgoingtotakebackwhathe’dsaidaboutyou,soIdidwhatIneededtodo.”
“Thankyou.”Hesatontheedgeofthebed.“Thoughsayingthankyoudoesn’tseemlikeenough.Youwenttoseeyourdadfirst,didn’tyou?”
Heblewoutabreathandsettheguitaraside.“Itwastime.”
TheideaofKeatshavingtofacethatmanagainmadeColbysicktohisstomach.“Youshouldn’thavegonealone.”
“Ididn’t.Georgewentwithme.”
“Oh,well,I’mglad.”ItwasprobablygoodColbyhadn’tbeenthereanyway.Allthoseyearsago,Colbyhadheldbackhisopinionbecausehewasateacher,andAlanKeatswasaparentofoneofhisstudents.ButifthatmansaidonecrosswordtoKeatsnow,Colbyprobablywould’veknockedthebastardoffhisfeet.
“I’msureyou’llbeshockedtofindoutthathe’sstillaheartlessasshole,”Keatssaiddryly.“Apparently,heknewallalongIwasinDallasbutdidn’tbothertolookmeup.”
“God,Keats.”
Keatsleanedagainsttheheadboardandpulledakneeup.“ButIgottoseemyolderbrother,soitwasworthdealingwithmydadforafewminutes.Andhopefullyithelpedyouout,too.”
“Helpedmeout?Theygavememyjobback.Idon’tevenknowwhattosaytoyourightnow.”
Hisfacebrokeintoabroadsmile.“Yougotitback?”
“They’reevengoingtomakemefulltimeaftertheChristmasbreak.”
“Holyshit,that’sgreat.Imean,IhopedIcouldhelp,butIdidn’tknowhowmuchdamagemyfatherhadalreadydone.”
“Yourfatherdidmorethanenough.Yousureyou’reokayafterseeinghim?”
Herubbedahandoverhisjaw.“I’mallright.Hewasmydad.I’musedtothat.Butyoushould’veseenhowpissedGeorgegot.Shelookedreadytotakeaswingathim.”
Colbysmirked.“IhaveafeelingGeorgiawouldhavenoproblemgoingtothematforthepeopleshecaresabout.”
Keats’ssmilewaswry.“Itwaskindofhot,hergoingintobadassmode.”
“Yeah?Maybeonedaywecanconvincehertotryoutthedommeroleonyouforreal.Iknowagoodtrainerwhocouldshowherafewthings.”
Heshiftedonthebed.“I’mnotsureI’dsurvivebothofyoutoppingme,butI’dsurebewillingtotry.”
“Suchamartyr,Keats.”
Helaughed.“Yep,areallyhornymartyr.”
ColbymovedKeats’sguitartothefloorandscootedupthebedtositnexttohim.“Notgettingtiredofusoldfolksyet?”
“Shutthefuckupwiththatcrap,”Keatsgroused.“Youactlikeyou’rehobblingaroundonacane.”
“Idoownacane.”
Keatssniffed.“I’mnottalkingaboutthekindyoutorturepeoplewith.”
“There’sanotherkind?”Colbyaskedinnocently.
Keatsshovedhim,butColbycapturedKeats’swristbeforehecouldtakehishandback.HedraggedKeatscloser,bringingtheirfacesinchesapart.“Noone’severputthemselvesoutthereformelikeyoudid.Ican’ttellyouhowmuchthatmeanstome,Keats.Butyouknowthatyoudon’towemeanything,right?”
ThelightinKeats’seyesdarkened,andhisjawclenched.“YouthinkIdiditbecauseIowedyou?”
“You’reaguywhodoesn’tliketoleaveadebt.”
“No,I’mtheguywhohasyourback.Youneededmyhelp.Igaveittoyou.Maybeyoushouldlearnhowtoaccepthelpasmuchasyouliketodishitout.”
Thecommentlandedsquare.“Youknow,sometimesyou’resmarterthanyoulook.”
“Fuckyou,”hesaid,hissmilereturning.
“Funny,that’sexactlywhatIhadinmind.”
Keatsgavehimanup-and-downlook.“Yeah?”
“Yeah,Georgia’scookingdinneroveratherplacetocelebratewithus.WhatdoyousayIbringmytoybag,andwegiveheragowithalittlecontroltonight?”
“IsayI’llbethehappiestfuckerintheneighborhood.”
Colbyclosedthelastsliverofspacebetweenthemandkissedhim,lettinghisappreciationforallthatKeatshaddoneforhimspillintoit.Thisguywasturningouttobesomuchmorethanafuntimeoratrainingrelationship.Colbyknewitbeforetoday,butnowhecouldn’tpretendtodenyit.Thiswasgettingserious.Hewasgettingserious—aboutatwenty-three-year-oldkidwhowouldsoonrealizehestillhadoatstosowandawomanwhowasgoingtomoveawayinafewweeks.
He’dwaitedthislongtolethisheartgetinvolvedwithsomeone,andhe’dpickedthetwopeoplewiththehighestflightrisk.
Waytogo,Wilkes.THIRTY-SIX
ThepackagewaitingonherdoorstepThursdaymorningmadeGeorgia’sinsidestwist.SherecognizedLeesha’sfamiliarscrawlandknewwhattheinnocuous-lookingboxcontained.She’daskedforit.Nowshewasn’tsureshewantedit.Butwhensheheardheavyfootstepsonthestairs,shebentoverandgrabbedthebox.
Colbysteppedupbehindherandwrappedhisarmsaroundherwaist,kissingherneck.“Mornin’,gorgeous.”
Sheleanedbackintohimandmanagedasmileasshenudgedthefrontdoorshutwithherfoot.“Morning.Youlazyboysfinallydecidedtogetup?”
“Hey,youworeusoutlastnight,George,”Keatssaidashemadehiswaydownthelastfewstepsandjoinedthem.“Weneedourbeautyresttokeepupwithyou.”
Colbysethischinonhershoulder.“Gotanythinggood?”
“Huh?”shesaid,completelydistractedbythethinginherhands.
“Thepackage.”
“Oh,right.”Shetossedtheboxontothetablebythefrontdoorlikeitwasonfire.“JustsomelegalstufffromLeesha.”
“Soundslikeloadsoffun.”Colbyspunheraroundinhisarmsandsmileddownatherallsleep-mussedandsexy.Hegaveherasoftkiss.“Wanttograbalatebreakfastwithus?Iknowagoodpancakeplace.”
“Mmm,pancakes.”Keatssidledupbehindherandnippedatherneck.“Ormaybewecanjustpoursomesyruponyou.”
Sheclosedhereyesandsighedintotheirtouch.Beingbetweenthemfeltsogood,soright.Lastnightthey’dcelebratedColbygettinghisjobback.They’dallbeenonsuchahigh.Everythinghadseemedsobrightandhopeful.Butnowwiththearrivaloftheletters,itfeltlikeastormcloudhadmovedoverher.Reallifewasknockingatherdoor.Sheslippedoutoftheirhold.
“I’dloveto,butIcan’ttoday,guys.I’mbehindonworkandneedadayinaquiethousetocatchup.Y’allshouldgowithoutme.”
Colby’sgazecaughthers,evaluating,butshemust’vehiddenherfeelingswellenoughbecausehegaveheraquicknodandasmile.“Gotit.Youneedabreak.”
“It’snot—”
Keatsputhisfingersagainsthermouth.“Saynomore,George.It’sbeenabusyfewdays,andwe’vekeptyoufromworkalot.Iactuallyneedtogetsomethingsdone,too.IgotamessagethismorningfromColby’sfriendPike.He’sgoingtohelpmecutademo.”
Shegaveagenuinesmileatthat.“That’sfantastic.”
“Yep.ButthatmeansIneedtogetmyshittogether,decidewhichsongsIwanttorecord,andpolishthemup.”
“AndIneedtodriveouttoTheRanchlatertotalktoGrantaboutmytrainerschedule.OnceIgofulltimeatschool,I’mnotgoingtobeabletodomuchoutthere.”
Georgianodded.“ThenIguessIdon’tneedtofeelguiltyforskippingoutifweallhavebigto-dolists.”
Colbytuggedoneofhercurls.“Neverfeelguiltyforthat,beautiful.Therearethreeofusinthisrelationship.Thatcanbeintense.Noneofusshouldfeelbadwhenweneedtodoourownthingorbealone.”
“Thanks.”Butthewordsfellheavyonher.Relationship.Us.Theacheinherchestspreadwide.Partofhersowantedthosewordstobereal.Butshecouldn’tletherselfforgetthatthiswastemporary.NextweekwasThanksgiving.SheonlyhadalittlemorethanamonthleftbeforeshewassupposedtoheadbacktoChicago.Shegavethetwoguysaweaksmile.“Nowgetoutofhere,bothofyou.I’mabusy,importantwoman.”
ColbyandKeatslaughed,andeachleanedinforaquickkissbeforetheygrabbedtheirthingstoheadout.Itallfeltsodomesticandcomfortable.
Butshecouldn’tletherselflatchontothatfeeling,thatcomfort.Thiswasnotherlife.Thiswashertemporaryfantasy.
Shepeeredoverattheboxoflettersandinhaledalongbreath.Timetorememberwhyshewashereinthefirstplace.
Afterpouringherselfacupofcoffee,Georgiasatonthefloorinherlivingroom,lettersfannedoutaroundherasshewentthroughthepileLeeshahadreluctantlysenther.HerskinchilledasshereadeachlineofthesicklovenotesPhilliphadpenned.Onthesurface,theysoundedsweetandromantic—wordsfromamandeeplyinlove.ButGeorgiacouldreadthethreatstuckedbetweenthelines.
NooneelsecaneverloveyoulikeIdo.Fatewantsustobetogether.Idon’tgoanhourwithoutthinkingofyourface.Iwon’tletwhat’shappenedgetinthewayofourlove.
Shewantedtoclawatthewords,ripthemintoshreds,andtossthemintothefireplace.Butsheforcedherselftogothrougheachone,tryingtofindsomethingshecoulduseincourt.Surely,peoplewouldseethatasanemanwouldn’twriteawomanalettereverytwodayswhenshewasn’treturningthem,right?Butmaybesomewouldseeitaswildlyromanticinsteadofwildlyaggressive—aValentine’sDaymovieinthemaking.
Blech.
She’dlearnedthatshelikedhermenwithoutallthatglossonthem.ColbyandKeatsdidn’tneedtowriteherlettersorsendherflowers.Theydidn’tneedanyflash.Everydaytheyshowedhertheycaredjustbybeingthemselves—thelittlekindnesses,theteasingjokes,andthewaytheymadeherfeelwhenshecurledupbetweenthem.
Beingwithbothofthemwas…overwhelmingandintenseandsexyandperfect.Butthedaythey’dcomebackfromKeats’sfather’shouse,somethinghadchanged.Insteadofjustthinkingaboutwhatfuntheywerehaving,she’dfoundherselfentertainingwhatitwouldbelikeifthisweresomethingreal,ifshecamebackafterthetrialandtriedtolivethislifewiththetwoofthem.
She’dfallenforthemhardandfast.
Andithadtostop.Shecouldn’tletherselfcontinuelikethis.
She’dsensedthingsmovingtooquicklyfromearlyon.EvenLeeshahadpickeduponit.ButnowGeorgiaknewbeyondadoubtthatitwasmorethanacrushorafling.KeatsandColbylookedatherinawaythatmadeherphysicallyhurt.Theylookedatherlikeshemattered.Likethiswassomuchmorethansex.Liketheywantedhertostay.
Butshecouldn’t.
ShehadtogobacktoChicagoforaslongasittook.Itwasn’tfairtoasktheguystowaitaroundforherorputtheirlivesonhold.Beyondthefactthattherewasnoguaranteearelationshipwiththethreeofthemwouldworklongtermanyway,herfatewasinthehandsofthecourt.IfPhillipwentfree,shewouldn’tbeabletocomeback,andshedefinitelywouldn’tbeabletodateanyone.
Theselettersconfirmedexactlyhowdangerousthatwouldbe.NooneelsecaneverloveyoulikeIdo.Translation:Iwillkilleverybastardwhotries.
No.Phillipneededtobeoutofherlifeforgoodbeforeshecouldletsomeoneelsein.
Sheknewwhatsheneededtodo.AndpartofthatmeantendingthisrelationshipwithColbyandKeatswhensheleft.Theycouldenjoytheirremainingtimetogether,butshecouldn’tstringthemalongwithnodefiniteoutcome,andshewouldn’tdothattoherselfeither.Herheartwasalreadybreaking,thinkingaboutwalkingawayfromthem,andthatwasn’twhereherheadneededtobe.SheneededtoputallherfocusonPhillip.Onbeatingthismanwhohadhijackedherlifeandtakenhersisteraway.
Untilhewaslockedaway,therewasnospaceinherlifeforanythingelse.Lovehadgottenherintroublethefirsttime,butshewouldn’tletitderailheragain.
Shedidn’tgettofallinloverightnow.
Theguyswouldbefinewithouther.
Evenifshemightnotbefinewithoutthem.THIRTY-SEVEN
Keatspoppedachunkofbellpepperinhismouthashechoppedtherestofthevegetablesforthestir-fryhewasmakingandsangalongwiththeKeithUrbansongplayingontheradio.Thedooropenedbehindhim,andheglancedoverhisshouldertofindGeorgiahaulinginabagofgroceries.
Hesetdowntheknifeandwentovertotakeitfromher.“What’sallthis?I’vealreadygotteneverythingforThursday.”
Shehandedoverthebagandsetherpurseonthecounter.“Ididn’tseeanysweetsinyourstash,soIboughtstufftomakedessert.It’sThanksgiving,weneedpie.”
“Pumpkin?”hesaid,tryingnottomakeaface.Hewasn’tafan.ThatwasallherememberedaboutThanksgivingswithhisdadandJustin—goingtothecrappydinerintownandeatinginstantmashedpotatoes,mushyturkey,andwetpumpkinpie.
“Nope,pecan.Plus,cranberryvanillacheesecake.GottherecipefrommygoodfriendGiada.”
“SoFoodNetwork?”heteased.He’dlearnedoverthepastfewweeksthatGeorgiahadabitofanaddictiontocookingshows.
Shetouchedherfingertohernoseandpointedathimintheuniversalyouguesseditgesture,buthersmileseemeddistant,distracted.“Itwillprobablybeacompletedisaster.I’venevermadeitbefore,andIhadtobuyaspecialpanandeverything.Isyourbrotherstillcoming?”
“Yeah,he’sbringingtheliquor,whichisgood.HemayneeditwhenhefindsoutthatI’malsodatingaguyandthattheguyisColby.”
“Youthinkhe’sgoingtofreakout?”
“Probably.ButIthinkhe’llbefineoncehegetsovertheinitialshock.IwenttolunchwithhimtheotherdayandtoldhimI’mbi.Hewastotallyokaywithit.Hesaidmydad’sviewswereneverhisandthatafteralmostdyingfromthatroadsidebombinAfghanistan,he’slearnedhowimportantitistograbhappinesswhereveryoucanfindit.”
SomethingflickeredthroughGeorgia’seyes,butwhateveritwasdisappearedbeforeKeatscouldpinpointit.“I’mreallygladthingsareworkingoutforyoutwo.It’sgoodtohavefamilyaround.”
“Yeah,itis.Ididn’trealizehowmuchImissedhavingthatinmylife.”Hepeeredintothebag.“Didyougooutandgetallofthisonyourown?”
Shetiltedherchinup.“Yep.Secondsolotripthisweekandnopanicattacks.IevenstrolledthroughabookstorebeforeIgotthegroceries.Theyhavemynewestbookononeofthefronttables.”
Hesetasidethegroceriesandsweptherintohisarms.“Score.”
Sincethatdaythey’dgonetoseehisdad,shehadn’tletherselfgomorethantwodayswithoutleavingthehouse.She’dputherselfonatrainingschedulelikeamarathonrunner.Eachtimeshewentout,shestayedoutforlonger,pushingherselftoherlimit.HeandColbyhadtakentohummingtheRockythememusictohereverytimetheygotinthecar,whichalwaysmadeherrollhereyes.Andlatelastweek,she’ddecidedshewasreadytotryitwithouthimorColbyaccompanyingher.
Andreally,sincethatfirstshoppingtripthey’dalltakentogether,she’dhadonlytwooccasionswherethepanichadgottenthebetterofher.OncewhenanoverzealousfanofherbookshadrecognizedherinastoreandhadhuggedGeorgiawithoutwarning.Andanotherthispastweekendwhenthey’dgonetothebartolistentoColbyplayandadrunkguyhadcrowdedherinthehallway,tryingtocomeontoher.Keatshadbeenafewyardsawayandhadhurriedoverwhenhesawwhatwashappening,readytokicktheguy’sassifheputhishandsonGeorgia.ButbeforeKeatshadreachedher,Georgiahadputoutherpalmsandshovedtheguyback,shouting,“Backoff,asshole.”
Theguy,unsteadyonhisfeetalready,hadhitthewallandsaidsomethingnastytoher.She’dsteppeduptohim,pokedafingerintohischest,andtoldhimsomethingKeatshadn’tbeenabletohear.Theguy’seyeshadgonewideandhe’draisedhispalmsinsurrender.
Whenshe’dstalkedbackKeats’sway,she’dgrabbedhisarmanddraggedhimwithherouttotheparkinglot.“GetmetothetrucksoIcangetthisdamnpanicattackoutoftheway.”
She’dbeenshakingbutclear-eyed.He’dhustledherintothecabofthetruck,andshe’dleanedherheadbackandbreathedthroughit.Afterward,she’dinsistedtheygobackintothebartohearColby’sset.She’dorderedadrinkandhadbeenfinefortherestoftheevening.WhenKeatshadaskedherlaterwhatshe’dsaidtotheredneck,she’dsmiledsweetly.“Hetoldmetosuckhisdick.SoItoldhimexactlywhatIwoulddowiththatappendageifheputitanywherenearme.Itinvolvedrustyknivesandprofusebleeding.”
KeatssmiledatthememoryandlookeddownatGeorgia.“Well,twosolotripsinarow.That’sdefinitelysomethingtocelebrate.”
Sheshookherhead.“Noway.Tonightwe’recelebratingyou.Ican’tbelieveyouwalkintofindoutaboutademotapeandlandyourselfajob.”
Hegaveheranothersqueezeandlethergo.“IhaveafeelingacertainMr.Fix-Itpulledsomestrings,whichnormallywouldpissmeoff.ButI’mnotgoingtocomplainthistimebecauseit’stoogoodagig.Entry-level,errand-runningkindofstuffbutatarecordingstudio,soIcan’taskforabettershotthanthat.AndIreallylikedPike,theguywhoownstheplace.You’ddighim.Hehasthisbleachedblondspikedhairandthatwholerockerthinggoingon—moreinkthanme.Andhisbandisaprettybigdeal,soIkindofexpectedhimtohavethatI’m-a-badassattitude.Because,really,I’veheardtheirmusic.Heisabadass.Buthewassolaid-back.Andhe’stotallyintothispetprojectofhavinghisownstudioandproducingstart-upacts,soIthinkit’sgoingtobefun.”
“Isheinterestedinyourmusic?”
Heshruggedandwentbacktothecuttingboard.“HereallylikedthesongIplayedandsaidhe’lltrytobringinoneofhisfriendstohearmystuff,aguywhohasmoreexperiencewithcountrymusic.”
“That’sawesome,Keats,”shesaid,slidingontoastoolattheisland.“MaybeonedayI’llbeabletosayIknewyouwhen.”
Hefrowned.“Idon’twantthatwordtoeverbeinthepasttensewithyou—knew.Fuckthat,George.”
Hergazeflickeduptohis,strainthere.“Ileaveinafewweeks.Youknowthat.”
“Doesn’tmeanyoucan’tcomebackafterward.”
Shelookeddownthecounter,herposturestiff.“Thetrialcouldtakemonths.”
“So.”
“Mylifeisthere,Keats.Myfriends,thehouseIown.MyleaseisuponthehousenextdoorinJanuary.Youknowthiswasnevermeanttobepermanent.Itwasanunexpecteddetour.”
Heputhisbacktoherandturnedthedialonthestove,afoulmoodseepingin.“AndmeandColby?We’rejustadetour,too,then?”
“Comeon,don’tbelikethat.”
Heputoilinthepan,thedismissivecommentstingingmorethanitprobablyshould.Heknewhewastooattachedalready,thatheshouldn’tbefeelinglikethisafteronlyamonth,especiallywhenGeorgiahadmadeherintentionsclearallalong.Butsomepartofhimhadbeenharboringhopethatthishappyturninhislifewasn’tjustaninterludebeforeeverythingwenttoshitagain.That’dbeenhiscyclesofarinlife.Likethosegamesatthefairwhereyouthrowaringaroundthebottleandgetabigstuffedanimal.Itseemssoeasy.Ooh,look,you’regoingtogettohavethisreallycoolthing!Look,lookhowawesomeitis.Herewego!Then,clunk,theringsfallbackintothepit.Ha,ha,justkidding.Handoveranotherdollar,kid.
HecouldhearGeorgia’sheavysighbehindhimandthenshewasagainsthisback,wrappingherarmsaroundhiswaist.Shesetherchinonhisshoulder.“Believeme,it’sgoingtobehardonme,too.ButyouknowevenifIwerestayinghere,thisisn’trealistic.”
“Colby’sfriendJacehasthatkindofrelationship.FromwhatIunderstand,theydoallright.”
Herbreathcoastedalonghisneck.“Isthatwhatyoureallywant,Keats?I’velovedbeingwithyoutwo,andpartofmewishesthethreeofuscouldmakeitworkbecauseIcareforyoubothsomuch.Butit’scomplicated.Andyou’retwenty-three.I’malmostthirty-oneandatadifferentstageinmylife.I’minaplacewhereIwanttosettledown.OnedaysoonerratherthanlaterIwanttostartafamily.”
Hisstomachknotted.“AndyouassumeIdon’twantthosethings,too?ThatColbydoesn’t?”
“MaybeColbydoes.AndI’msureyoudo,too.Oneday.Butatyourage,you’re—”
“Immature,barelyemployed,incapableoftakingcareofyouorkids.”Hesteppedoutofherembraceandwentovertothecuttingboardagain.“It’sfine,George,Igetit.”
“Keats,that’snotwhatImeant.”
Butitwas.Theybothknewit.Ifhewasn’tinthepictureanditwasjustColby,wouldshebesayingthesamestuff?WithColbyshecouldhaveallthosethingsshewanted—traditionalmarriage,afamily,aguywhocouldwinDadoftheYearawards.Butno,herehewas,intheway.Andshewastoonicetokickhimoutofthepicture.
Colbygothomefromrunningerrandsafewminuteslaterandtheconversationwasdropped.Theyspenttheeveningeatingtogether,talkingaboutKeats’snewjobandhowColbycouldn’twaittogetbacktoschool.It’dbeenrelaxedanddomestic.Comfortable.Happy.
It’dbeenthatstupidgamefromthefair,wavingtheprettystuffedanimalinKeats’sface.
Buthe’dsatbackandreallywatchedColbyandGeorgiatogetherandcouldpainttheirfutureinhishead.Thingswouldbesomucheasierforthembothwithouthimphotobombingthepicture.Colbywouldn’thavetohidethefactthathewasdatingaformerstudent.Georgiacouldhavethekindoflifeshewantedwithouthavingtoanswerquestionsaboutherlifestyle.Godknowswhatpeoplewouldcallheraroundhereiftheyfoundoutshewasinarelationshipwithtwoguys.Thatkindofthingraisedeyebrowsanywhere,buthereinTexas,it’dbeasocialdeathsentence.Andhecouldn’tevenimaginewhatthatcouldturnintoifkidswereeverpartofthepicture.
Maybehehadbeenimmaturetothinksomethinglikethiscouldworklongterm.He’dlivedhisadultlifeonthefringesofsociety,wherepeoplelookedtheotherwayandmindedtheirbusinessaboutthings.Thestreethaditsowncodeofdon’task,don’ttell.Butthatwasn’ttherealworld.Thatwasn’ttheworldColbyandGeorgialivedin.
Andso,ashelayinbedthatnight,watchingColbyandGeorgiacurledupinsleepnexttohim,heknewwhatheneededtodo.
Tomorrow,he’dgetupandlookforanapartment.Becausehe’dfinallyfiguredouthowhecouldrepayColbyforallthathe’ddoneforhim.
Keatswouldgivehimthegirlheloved.
Andgetthefuckoutoftheway.
—
Georgiarolledoverinbed,expectingtorunintoanotherwarmbody,butonlycoolsheetspressedagainstherback.Sheopenedhereyesinthegraymorninglight.Colbywasnexttoher,sleepingsoundly.Keatswasgone.Shewasn’tsurprised,butmelancholyrolledthroughherlikewinterfog.
Yesterdayshe’dbeenhonestwithKeats,butithadcomeoutallwrong.She’dtoldhimtheirrelationshipwastemporary;he’dhearddisposable.She’dtoldhimhewasyoung;he’dheardimmature.Thewordshadcuthim.She’dseenitonhisface,howhe’dinstantlyshutdown.Thatsweet,opensoulhadscrambledbackunderitshardenedshell,andthebittermaskhe’dhonedonthestreetshadslidbackintoplace.Neverbeforehadshefeltlikesuchaselfishbitch.Inthatmoment,she’drealizedthatnomatterhowgenuineherfeelingswereforbothofthem,she’dusedthem.
She’dalwaysknownshewouldhavetoleave,butshehadn’tkepttheboundariesclear.Yes,she’dtoldthemthesituationwasshort-termfromthestart,butheractionshadsentacompletelydifferentmessage.She’dledthemon,lettinghopelingerandbloom—maybebecauseshe’dlatchedontoalittlebitofitherself.Thenshe’dgottenthoseletters,andrealityhadslammedbackintoher.
She’dbeenstupidandrecklesswithtwomenwhohadbeennothingbutthoughtfulandlovingwithher.Andnowhercontinuedpresencewasonlydrivingtheknifedeeperforthemall.She’dfeltitlastnightthroughoutdinnerandtheireveningtogether.She’dwantedtotalktoKeatsone-on-onesincethey’dneverfinishedtheirconversationfromthekitchen.Buthe’dactivelyavoidedbeingalonewithherallnight.
Sowhenthey’dfinallyreachedthebedroomlatelastnightandColbyhadsteppedouttogetsomethingfromthebathroom,she’dbroachedthetopic.ButKeatshadshakenhishead.“It’sokay,George.Wedon’tneedtotalkaboutit.I’mfine.”
“You’renot.I’msorry.Ididn’tmeanittheway—”
Keatshadpressedhisfingersoverhermouth,atender,sadsmileonhislips.“Don’t.Please.Igetit.Let’snotruintonightoverit.I’mgoingtobefine.Ijustwanttobewithyoutonightandleavetherestofthestuffoutsidethedoor.”
She’dnoddedandhe’dcuppedherfaceandkissedher.Kissedherlikehewantedher.Kissedherlikehelovedher.Kissedherlikeitwasgood-bye.
Andwhenallthreeofthemhadmadelove,she’dwonderedifColbyhadsomehowsensedthecracksappearinginthefoundationaswell,becausehe’dleftthekinktotheside.They’dtakentheirtimeandhadindulgedinthefreedomoftouchingandmakingeachotherfeelgood.Ithadbeensweetandsexy.Ithadfeltamazing.Ithadbrokenherheart.
Becauseinthosemoments,lookingatthefacesofthetwomenasshetooktheminsideherbody,she’dknownthatshecouldn’tkeepdoingthis—tothemortoherself.They’dallbrokentherules.They’dgottenattached.
Andtherewasonlyonewaytofixit.
Itwastime.
GeorgiareachedoutandranthebacksofherfingersalongColby’sbeardedjaw.Heinhaleddeeplyandhiseyelidsflutteredopen,darklashesblinkingoversleepyhazeleyes.Heturnedhisfacetowardherandsmiledalazysmile.“Mmm,goodmorning,gorgeous.”
Shedrewherhandlowerandletitlingeronhischest,feelinghisheartbeatingsteadilybeneathherfingertips.God,howshe’denjoyedwakingupnexttohimtheselastfewweeks.“Morning.”
Hetuckedanarmbehindhishead,hisgazetracingoverherandbecomingmorefocused.“Everythingokay?”
Sherubbedherlipstogether,hopinghervoicewouldn’tshake.“IjustwantedtoletyouknowIwasheadingout.”
Heturnedhisheadtoglanceattheclock.“Thisearly?”
“Yeah.I’mbehindoneverything.Ineedto…dostuff.”Itsoundedlametoherownears,soshecouldonlyimaginehowitsoundedtohis.
Hisbrowsknitted,andhereachedouttotakeherhand.“Yousurethat’sallitis?You’rewearingyourseriousface.”
Shetriedtomusterupaneutralexpressioneventhoughherheartfeltasheavyasananvilinherchest.“Ijustneedsometime.”
Somethingflickeredinhiseyes—theever-vigilantcounselornotonetomissmuch.Hisvoicewassoftwhenhespokeagain.“Whatkindoftime,Georgia?”
Herlungssqueezedtight,andsheletherhandcurlintohis.Whatcouldshesaytothisbeautiful,wonderfulmanwho’dturnedherworldinsideout,who’dhelpedherfindherselfagain?Shecouldn’tgetthewordsout,couldn’tfacethefinality.Shewassuchafuckingcoward.Sheforcedafacsimileofasmile.“Don’tworry.I’llbebackforThanksgivingdinner.Iwouldneverdenyyoucheesecake.”
Hedidn’tsmileback,buthedidn’tpush.Hegavealittlenod.“Whateveryouneed,Georgia.”
“Thanks.”Sheleaneddowntogivehimaquickkiss,butwhenshemovedtositupagain,hegrabbedthebackofherneckandtuggedherdown.
“Wecandobetterthanthat.”Hekissedherlongandslowuntilshewasbreathlessandonthevergeoftears.Everythingpouredintothekiss—theneed,thesweetness,theheat,thesadness.Whenhefinallyreleasedher,herinsidesfeltliketheywerefoldinginonthemselves.
Sheswallowedbackthetearsthatweretryingtobreakfreeandclimbedoutofbed,apainfulsmilefrozenonherface.Shegrabbedherjeansandsweateroffachairandtuggedthemon,herhandstremblingsomuchthatshestruggledtogetherbuttonfastened.“Well,Ibettergetgoing.”
Heproppedhimselfuponhiselbow,thesheetsinkinglowonhiships,andgaveheralonglook.Shetookasnapshotinhermind,neverwantingtoforgetthesightofhimlikethis.
Whatthey’dhadwasshort.
Butwhatthey’dhadwasbeautiful.
“Seeya,Georgia,”hesaid,hiseyesneverleavinghers.
Good-bye,Colby.
“Seeya.”THIRTY-EIGHT
December
Colbysatinhislivingroom,staringatoneoftheDieHardmoviesontelevision.Hehadn’tpaidenoughattentiontoknowwhatthehellwasgoingon,buttheboomingsoundofthingsblowingupcertainlyfithismood.
Heflippedoverhiscellphone.Nocalls.NeitherKeatsnorGeorgiahadbotheredtorespondtohisinvitationtograbdinnertogether.Thatseemedtobethecasealotlately.Theyalwayshadgoodexcuses,buthewasn’tdumb.Everythinghadchanged.
Hewasn’tsureexactlyhowithadhappenedorwhathadtriggeredit,buthe’dfelttheshiftassureasthecoldfrontthathadrolledthroughovernight.Oneday,it’dbeenthethreeofthem,havingagoodtime,fallingintothisexciting,oddlycomfortablerelationship.Thingswereturningaroundforthemall.Colbyhadhisjobback.Georgiahadmademassiveprogresswithheranxiety.AndKeatshadlandedagigthatexcitedhim.
Colbycould’vetakenaphotoandlabeleditperfect.Butthemomenthadbeenasfleetingastheclickofthecamera.Becauseafterthat,he’dfeltthetugoftheinevitable,theunraveling.Georgia,who’dbeensoopenandupforwhattheyweredoing,hadpulledaway—spendingmoretimeatherplaceinthenameofmakingawritingdeadline.Shewasstillpushingherselftogetoutofthehouse,butshewasn’taskinghimandKeatstocomealonganymore.AndColby’sbedhadbeencoldsincebeforeThanksgiving.
Thenifthewritinghadn’tbeenalloverthewallalready,Keatshadcomehomeonedaywithapartmentbrochures.ThathadreallypunchedColbyrightinthegut.He’dknownthatKeatscouldn’tstayhereforever.They’ddonetheirrelationshipbackward,movingintogetherfirst.Andthathadmadethingsmoreintenseandintimateforthestartofsomething.Keatswasayoungguywhowasjustdiscoveringabigpieceofhissexuality.Ofcoursehe’dwantsomefreedomandindependence.Hewouldn’twanttoshackupwithaguyinhisthirtiesandplayhouseindefinitely.ButColbyhadtoadmit,partofhimhadimaginedthatscenario.Andhe’dimaginedGeorgiainthatmix,too.
Thedayshe’dwalkedintohisplaceandhadbothKeatsandGeorgiahangingoutthere,waitingforhim,happytoseehim,hadbeensomeofthebestofhislife.Helovedthewaybeingaroundthemdialedhimuptorattle-and-hummode.Itwaslikeeverythingwassweeterwhenhehadthosetwotoshareitwith.Andthoughhe’dtriedtoconvincehimselfitwasjusttheamazingsexthatwasmakinghimfeelsodamngood,heknewthatwasbullshit.Becausesomeofthebestnightshe’dhadwiththemhadinvolvednokinkorsexatall.
Helikedbeingwiththem.Period.
No,helovedbeingwiththem.Helovedthem.Bothofthem.
Andnowhesuspectedhewaslosingbothforgood.
ThesoundofakeyinthedoordrewhisattentionawayfromtheTV.Keatshurriedthroughthefrontdoorinagustoffrigidairanddryleaves.Heshutthedoorwithabang.“Goddamn,it’scoldoutthere.DidsomeoneforgetthisisTexas?”
ColbyloweredthevolumeontheTV.“Theysaidwecouldgetsnow.”
Keatsslippedoutofhiscoatandhookeditonapegbythedoor.“IhavenoideawhyGeorgeissoanxioustogetbacktoChicago.Ifit’sthiscoldhere,Ican’timaginewhatitmustbelikethere.”
“Picturethisthirtydegreescolderwithwindthatwillmakeyourboneshurt.”
“Fuckthat.”HeploppeddowninthearmchairacrossfromColby,lookingwindblown,red-cheeked,anddamnfineinhisdarkgreensweater.“Youshouldusethatinyourargumenttogethertocomebackhereafterthetrial.”
Hefrowned.“Idon’tthinkweather’sgoingtoconvinceher.”
“Youwanthertostay,though,right?”
Colbysighed.“Ido.”
“Haveyouaskedherto?”
“No.Shetoldmewhereshestoodupfront.Itwasherhardlimit—nopressure,nothingserious.I’mnotgoingtobreakmywordonthat.”
Heblewoutabreath.“Iaskedher.RightbeforeThanksgiving.”
Colby’sbrowslifted.Sothatwaswhathadhappened.“I’mguessingshesaidno.”
“Shesaidnotome.Nottoyou.”
“Sayingnotoyouisasgoodassayingnotome,Keats.Allthreeofusareinthistogether.Orwereinthistogether.She’sgottowanttobehereonherown.Andthisisstillsonewtoallofus.It’salottoaskhertogiveupherlifeinChicagoforthat.It’dbeahugeleapoffaith.”
“AndwhatifIweren’tinvolved?”
Colbyfrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Georgetoldmewhatshewants.Shewantstogetmarried,havekidsoneday,dothefamilything.”
Colbysatforward.“Shetoldyouthat?”
“Yeah.ThedayIaskedhertostay.AndI’mguessingthat’swhatyouwant,too.Imean,Iknowyou’vedonethisbachelorgigforalongtime,butI’veseenhowyouarewithkids.AndIseehowyoulookatGeorgia.Youcouldofferherwhatshewantsifshecomesbackandgivesyourrelationshipashot.You’dmakeagreathusbandanddad,Colby.Youknowyouwould.”
Colbywasn’tgoingtodenythatabigpartofhimwantedthosethingsinhislife.Hehadn’talways,butathiscore,heknewtherewasnogoingbacktothewayhelivedhislifebefore.He’dalreadyputinhisresignationforhispositionatTheRanch.Thoseimpersonalhookupsheldnoappealanymore.Buthealsoknewatriadrelationshipdidn’texcludethepossibilityofhavingafamily.Andhedidn’tlikewherethiswasgoing.Keatshadthatlookinhiseye.“Whyareyouevensayingallthis?”
Keatspulledsomethingoutofhisbackpocketandsetitonthecoffeetable.Akey.“Igotmyownplacetoday.IcanmoveinrightafterChristmas.YoucantellGeorgiabeforesheleaveshowyoufeelabouther.Andthatyoujustwanttobewithher.Thatwillmakehercomebacktoyouwhenshe’sdonewiththetrial.Iknowitwill.”
Colbystaredatthekey,tryingtoprocessKeats’swordsandlogic,coldmovingthroughhim.“Soyou’rejustgoingtowalkaway?”
“Yeah.”Heshrugged,thoughhewouldn’tmeetColby’seyes.“Imean,itwasgoingtohavetohappeneventually,right?Three’sfun,butit’snotreallife.Someonewasgoingtohavetostepbackatsomepoint.Youtwocanhavewhatyouwanttogether.”
“Thatsimple,huh?”
Keatspluckedapieceofsweaterfuzzoffhisjeans.“Yep.”
Colby’steethclenched,andhereachedoutandthumpedKeatsonthethigh.“Lookatme.”
Keats,everthegoodsubmissive,liftedhisgaze.Somethingheavysatthereinthosegreeneyes.
“Soyou’reendingthingswithme?”Colbyclarified.
“It’snotlikethat.It’sjust…youtwoaregreattogether.Y’alldon’tneedmeintheway.”Hepushedhishairbehindhisears.“Mebeinginvolvedcomplicatesthingsfornoreason.”
ColbyfoughttheurgetofindhisridingcropandsnapsomesenseintoKeats.“Isthatright?”
Keatsshruggedagain—likeitwasnobigthing,likeitwasaforegoneconclusion.
Colbyleanedforward,pinningKeatswithahardstare.“Keats,youlistentomebecauseobviouslyyouneedtohearthis.Ifyou’rewalkingawayfrommebecauseit’sgottentooserioustoofastorbecauseyouwanttoexplorethisnewsideofyourselfwithotherpeopleorbecauseyou’renotreadyforarelationship,thenbyallmeans,takethatkeyandgostartyournewlife.Iwishyouwell.Truly.
“Butifyou’redoingthisbecauseyouthinkyouowemesomethingorbecauseyouthinkyou’reinthefuckingway,thenpayattentiontowhatI’msaying.”
Keats’sjawflexed.
“I’mfallingforGeorgia,yes.IfIcouldgethertocomebackandbeinarelationship,Icouldseemyselfmarryingheronedayandhavingkidswhohavethoseprettydarkeyesandcurlsofhers.”
Keatsclosedhiseyeslikeitmadehimachetopicturethat.
“ButoutsideofhowIfeelabouther,stupidmehasalreadyfalleninlovewithyou.Thetwenty-three-year-oldkidwhoIshouldbepushingoutthedoorbecausehedoesn’tneedtobestuckwithsomeguyinhisthirtieswho’sreadytosettledown.”
Keatsliftedhisgazeandstaredathim,expressiongoingslack.
“Soifyouwalkoutonthis,doitbecauseyouwanttobefree,becauseyou’renotreadyforacommitment,orbecauseyoudon’twanttobewithme.Butdon’tyoudaredoitbecauseyouthinkyou’redoingmesomesolid.Becauseallit’sgoingtodoisripmyfuckinggutsout.”
—
Keatscouldn’tgethisbraintokickinorhismouthtowork.Allhecoulddowasgapedumblyatthemanacrossfromhim.Themanwho’djustadmittedhewasinlovewithhim.Inlove.ColbyWilkeslovedhim.
AthousandthoughtsracedthroughKeats’smindatonce.WhatColbywanted—commitment,longterm,settlingdown.Thosewerewordsthatshouldscaretheever-livingfuckoutofKeats.Butsomehowhecouldn’tgraspontothefear.AfterthatafternooninthekitchenwithGeorgia,he’dmadeanefforttoseparatehimselffromthesituation,tofindhisownway.He’dstartedgoingouttoclubsandbarshereandthereafterwork.Straightones,gayones.Hehadn’tgoneouttohookupwithanyone,buthe’ddoneittryingtoweanhimselfofftheintensefeelingshewashavingaboutColbyandGeorgia,togetatasteforwhatthesinglelifewouldbelikeforhimnow.AndtogiveColbyandGeorgiasomealonetime.
Butthoughhe’ddancedwithbeautifulgirlsandhotguysandhadbeenflirtedwith,propositioned,andevenkissedbyonedude,hehadn’tbeenabletomusterupanyrealinterest.Ashewatchedpeopleplaythematinggame,he’dwantednothingmorethantogohomeandcurlupinbedwithColbyandGeorgia.Hedidn’tcravevariety.Hecravedthem.Theyfeltlikehome.Maybemorethananythinghadinhislife.
AndColbywantedhimhere.Hewantedhim.Forreal.Notbecausethiswaspartofsomefunthreesome.NotbecauseColbywastraininghim.AndnotbecausehewasdoingKeatsafavor.Colbylovedhim.
Keatspushedtohisfeet,feelingasifhewerefilledwithhelium.Alltheheavyshitthathadbeenweighinghimdownforweeksseemedtofallaway.Hegrabbedthekeyhe’dplunkeddownandwalkedaroundthecoffeetable.Hispulsepoundedathistemples,somanyemotionsrunningthroughhimatonce,buthemanagedtotakeColby’shand,unfurlhisfingers,andplacethekeyinhispalm.Colby’shandclosedaroundit.ThenKeatsloweredhimselftohisknees.
Allfeltrightinthemoment.TherestlessenergythathadbeenplaguingKeatsquietedassoonashewasthereatColby’sfeet.HeliftedhisheadandmetColby’sgaze.“Idon’twanttobefree.”
Colby’sthroatworked.“No?”
“No.Iloveyou,too.Sogoddamnedmuch.”Thesteelfingersthathadgrippedhischestforthelastfewweeksloosened,lettinghimfinallytakeafullbreath.“I’mstartingtothinkIalwaysdid.”
ColbysmiledasmilethatthreatenedtocrackopenKeatscompletely.Theguycouldbreaksomeonewiththatsmile.“Soyou’llstay?”
“Lookslikeyou’restuckwithyourstraynow.Youshould’veneverfedme.”
ColbyshookhisheadandcuppedKeats’schin.“Youwereneverastray.You’vealwaysbeenaguywhoneededtomakehisownway.I’mjustluckythatyoufoundyourwaytome.”HeliftedKeats’schinhigher.“Butmaybeit’stimeIgetyouacollarsothatyouneverdoubtagainwhereyoubelongandwhoyoubelongto.”
Keatsclosedhiseyesandbreathedthatin.HisheartfeltlikeitwastryingtoclimbouthisthroatsoitcouldhanditselftoColby.Goddamn,hewasturningintoasap.ButheknewwhatacollarmeantinColby’sworld.No,notColby’sworld.Theirworld.“Iwouldlovethat.Iwanttobelongtoyou.”
AndtoGeorgia.ButKeatsknewyoucouldn’talwaysgeteverythingyouwanted.HeandColbycouldbehappytogether.Hewoulddoeverythinghecouldtomakesureofit.
Colbyleanedforward,drawingKeatsuptohim,andkissedhimslowanddeep.Thekisssaideverythingwordscouldn’t.AndsomethinginsideKeatsthathadbeenoutofalignmentmaybeallhislifeclickedintoplace.
Colbypulledback,meetingKeats’sgaze.“Ithinkit’stimeforbed.”
“I’mallyours,sir.”
Colbynodded,thatsteelydominancecomingintohiseyes—alookthatmadeKeats’sbonesliquefy.“Good.BecauseI’mtakingeverythingtonight.”
Keatsshudderedatthepromiseofwhatthatmeant,butitwaspureanticipationatthispoint,nofear.Upuntilnow,Colbyhadn’tpushedKeatstomovetothatfinalstepinthebedroom.He’dtoldKeatshewouldn’tfuckhimuntilheknewKeatswasready.They’dtouched,they’dplayed,Colbyhadusedtoysonhim.Atpoints,Keatshadbeensoturnedon,he’dbeggedColbytotakehim.Butattherootofit,hehadn’tbeenready,andColbyhadpickeduponthat.
Now,hehadnodoubts.HewantedtogiveColbyeverything.Hewantedtosurrenderitall.
Theymadetheirwaytothebedroom,Colby’shandonthebackofKeats’sneck,andColbyorderedhimtogetundressed.KeatsgottoworkasColbydisappearedintothecloset.Keats’seyeslingeredontheclosedcurtainsforamoment,wonderingwhatGeorgiawasdoing.Hewishedhecouldopenthemandseeherstandinginthatwindow,lookingdownatthem.She’dprobablylovethiskindofshow.Keatssmiledtohimself.Dirty,dirtyGeorge.Damn,hemissedthatwoman.
Heshookfreeofthewistfulfeelingandunbuttonedhispants.Hecouldn’tworryaboutwhatifstonight.Whatiswasfartoogoodtoletanythingspoilthemood.Hefinishedundressingandsethisfoldedclothesonachairbythedoor.He’dlearnedthehardwaythatColbydidn’tlikehissubmissive’sclothesthrownaroundthefloor.
WhenColbysteppedoutfromthecloset,hewasrollingaridingcropbetweenhisfingertips.“Ithinkwe’llkeepitsimpletonight,whichisn’ttosayitwon’tinvolvesomesufferingonyourpart.”
GoosebumpsprickedKeats’sskin.Thiswastheparthemightlikebest.Beforethis,hewould’veneverthoughtofhimselfasamasochist,eventhoughhe’dalwaysenjoyedgettinghistattoos.Buthecouldn’tdenywhatadoseofpaindidtohimnow.AndColbyhadgottenincreasinglymoreaggressiveindishingitoutwithhim.KeatsknewColbywentalittleeasieronGeorgiabecause,thoughshewasgenerallyupforanything,shedidn’tseemtobeadyed-in-the-woolmasochist.Shelikedtheshiftingpowerdynamicsandtheadventureofitall.She’devenhadfuntakingalittlecontrolherself.Somehow,Colbyseemedtoinstinctivelyknowwhateachofthemrespondedtobestandsetituptoprovidemaximumenjoymentforthemall.Hewasn’taone-size-fits-alldominant.
AndfromthelookonColby’sfacerightnow,KeatsknewthatColbyhaddecidedthattonight,Keatsneededsomesting.
ColbywalkedoveruntilhewasrightinfrontofKeatsandleveledhimwithalook.HetappedKeats’scheek,whichwasasigntoopenhismouth.Whenhedid,ColbyputtheridingcropbetweenKeats’steeth.“Bitedown.”
Keatsobeyed,theunyieldinghandleofthecroppressingagainsthisteeth.
“Nowgoovertothebedandbendover,foreheadtothemattress,handsbehindyourback.Letgoofthecropandyou’llregretit.Nodifyouunderstand.”
Keatsnodded,sweatalreadygatheringonthebackofhisneck.
Hewalkedovertothebed,keepinghisbackstraight,andthenbentovertogetintoposition.Heclaspedhishandsbehindhisback.Despitethecoolairinthebedroom,hiscockwenthardalmostinstantly.
“Ifyouneedtosafeout,youdropthecropandsayyourwordorliftanarm.”ColbyranawarmhanddownthelengthofKeats’sspine,andKeatshadtofighttostaystill.
HehadnoideaifColbywasjustgoingtogoforit.Wasthisthemoment?Ablanketofnervesfelloverhim.
“Widenyourfeet,”Colbysaid,histonemilitant.“Andrelax.Ifyouwanttotakeme,you’regoingtohavetolearntoletmein.”
Keatssuckedinadeepbreaththroughhisnose,carefultoholdontothecrop,andreleasedit,tryingtoletgoofthetensionaswell.Hediditthreemoretimes.
“Verygood,Adam.Ilikethatyoucanfollowinstructions.”ColbyranhishandalongKeats’sinnerthighandthencuppedKeats’stesticlesinhishandwithafirmgrip.Hegavethemalittletug.
Keatsgroaned,thesnapofdiscomfortmixinginwiththepleasureofbeinghandled.
“Youshouldseehowfuckingsinfulyoulookrightnow.Thatgorgeousbody,allthatink,thishardcockandspreadass.OnedayI’mgoingtotieyoudownlikethisandenjoytheviewwhileyoubegmetotouchyou.”
Fuck.Keatsalmostlosthisgriponthecrop.
“ButI’mnotfeelingpatienttonight.I’mreadytomarkwhat’smine.”HisfingerstrailedalongKeats’scrackandfoundhisopening.Heteasedarounditforasecondandthenpulledaway.
Keatsmadeasoundofprotestinthebackofhisthroat,butthenheheardthesoundofthelubesquirtingintoColby’shand.Soon,thefingerswereback,paintingKeats’smostforbiddenspotwiththeslickfluid.Colbypushedafingerinside,andKeatsthoughthemightdiefromthewaveofneeditsentthroughhim.
“You’regoingtotakethisplugforme,”Colbysaid,addinganotherfingertothestimulation.“It’snotquitemysizebutitwillgetyoureadyforme.”
“Yes,sir,”Keatsmumbledaroundthecrop.
Colbytookhisfingersawayandthensomethingcolderandmorepliablepressedagainsthisopening.Keatsforcedhimselftorelax,takingafewdeepbreathsagain,andthenthetipoftheplugbreachedhim.Thepressurefeltgood,butKeatshadseenwhattheplugslookedlike.Theygotwideratthebase,sohetriednottobraceforwhatwastocome.Colbytwistedthetoy,theripplesinthesiliconestimulatingKeats’ssensitiveflesh,andthenhepusheditdeeper.Thestretchingfeelingwasalmosttoomuchtotakeforasecond—someweirdcombinationofpainandpleasureintersecting.Keatsdesperatelywishedhecouldreachdownandstrokehiscock,tipthescalesmoretothepleasureside,buthekepthishandsclaspedtightbehindhisback.
Finally,theplugseateddeep,andKeats’sbodymeltedaroundit,theflaredbaseholdingitinplace.ColbygaveitanothertwistandKeatsfoughttokeepfrombegging.
“You’regood?”Colbyasked.
“Yes,sir,”hesaidagainfrombetweenclenchedteeth.
“Perfect.Thenyouwon’tmindthis.”
Theplughummedtolife,vibratingaplacethathadneverbeenvibratedinKeats’slife.Hedroppedthecrop.“Shit.”
“Oh,well,wouldyoulookatthat,”Colbysaid,theTexastwanggettingheavyinColby’svoice.KeatshadfoundthemoreturnedonColbywas,themorecountrycameout.“Lookslikeyoucouldn’tfollowtherule.”
“Sorry,sir,”Keatssaid,fightingtheurgetomovehishipsandrubhiscockalongthebed.Thevibrationwasgoingtodrivehimtothebrink.
“I’mnot.Morefunforme.Getup,Adam,andstandbeneaththehook.”
Keatsreleasedhishandsandpushedhimselfoffthebed.Theplugmadehimfeelfullinthemosteroticway,buthemanagedtogethislegsmovingsohecouldgotothespotwhereColbywantedhim.
Colbywentovertohisdrawerandpulledouthisfavorite—rope.Thenhetookhisgoddamnedtime,tyingKeats’sarmstothehookintheceiling.Keatsfelthisthoughtshazingaroundtheedgesalready,thehighofsubmissionkickingin.
ColbymadesureKeatswassecureandthengrabbedtheridingcropoffthebed.HestoodinfrontofKeats.“Lookatme,Adam.”
Keatsliftedhishead,findingColbyloomingbigandpowerfulinhisjeansanddarkbluesweater—theteachertransformedintotheall-powerfulmaster.
ColbysteppedintoKeats’sspaceandreacheddowntogiveKeats’scockasqueeze.“Readytoflyforme?”
Keatsswallowedhard.“I’mreadytodoanythingforyou.”
“Goodanswer.”HepulledastripofblacksatinoutfromhispocketandtieditaroundKeats’seyes.“Seeyouontheotherside.”
TheblindfoldwasthelastthingKeatsneededtosettleinfully.HefelthimselfslippingintothehappyplacewhereallhehadtodowasgivehimselfovertowhateverColbywasgoingtodotohim.Freedom.
AndwhatColbydidwasmorethanhe’devergivenKeatsbefore.Theridingcrop,whichhe’dseenColbyuseinsuchaplayfulwaywithGeorgia,wasawickedbitchwhenyieldedwithforce.AndColbywasn’tholdingbacktonight.ThesharpsnapoftheleathermarkedapathagainsteverypartofKeats’sback,ass,andthighs.Snap,snap,snap.Therhythmbrutalandunrelenting.Itechoedthroughtheroomwithoutanywordsbeingspokentointerrupt.EverypartofKeats’sbacksideburnedandtingled.That,pairedwiththevibrationsgoingoninsidehim,hadhiskneesgoingweakwithinminutes.
“Standtall,”Colbysaid,snappingthecroprightagainstthebaseoftheplug
Keats’sspinewentstraightandstiff.
“Better.I’monlyhalfwaydone,andIknowyou’retougherthanthat.”
“Yes,sir,”Keatssaid,breathless,sweating.
ThesoundofColby’sfootfallsmovedofftoKeats’sleftandthenanotherlighterblowhithisnipple.Oh,shit.Colbyhadmovedinfrontofhim.
Colbyhittheothernipplewithalittlemorestingadded,andKeatsgrunted.
“Stillwithme?”Colbyasked,pushingtheleatherofthecropbeneathKeats’schin.“Lookslikeyourcockcertainlyis.”
“Stillhere.Bothofus.”
Colbygavealowchuckle.“Andstillasmartass.”
HetracedthetipofthecropdownKeats’sneckandoverhischest—lower,lower,lower.Keatsfelteverythinginhimcinchingtight,knowingwhathisdeviantloverhadplanned.
Buteventhoughhe’dknownitwascoming,whenColbyflickedthecropagainstKeats’sballs,Keatsalmostlostholdofwhatlittlecomposurehehad.Ithadn’tbeenahardhit.Butevenso,knowinghewasthatvulnerable,thathismostdelicatepartswereatthemercyofColby’swhims,dialedintosomethingelementalinKeats.Inthatmoment,hefelthisbodysurrenderfully.Withoutconsciousthought,hisstancewidened.
“Mmm,”Colbysaid,hisvoicerougherthanithadbeenamomentbefore,likehisownarousalwasovertakinghim.“Youlikethat.”
Keatsdidn’tthinkColbywasexpectinganansweronthisone,sohesimplyloweredhishead.
Colbytookthatasassent.HetappedtheundersideofKeats’scock,thenhisinnerthighsandballsagain,markingapaththatquicklymorphedintoeroticstimulationinsteadofpain.EverypartofKeats’sbodyfeltlikeitwashummingwithelectricity,allofitaliveandawake,hiscockleakingwiththeintensearousal.Andhecouldn’tfindashredofshameinanyofit.
Thiswaswhohewas.AndthismanwaswhoKeatscouldbeallversionsofhimselfwith—nojudgment.Thiswaswhatlovefeltlike.Hewouldn’tapologizeforthat.
Soon,handswerecradlingKeats’sface,andColby’smouthwasonhis.Astheirtonguesstrokedagainsteachother,Keatsfoundhimselfsinkingintothatstatewherehewasallfeelingandsensation.
Colbypulledback,cuppingthebackofKeats’sneck.“I’mgoingtogetmyknifeandcuttheropes.Idon’twanttowastetimeuntyingeverything.ButIneedyoutostaystill.Canyoudothatforme?”
Keatsnoddedandlethimselfdriftonthesensationsofhistinglingskinandthevibratorworkingitsmagic.ColbymovedquicklyandgotKeatsoutoftheropes.HerubbedKeats’sarmsandhands,bringingthebloodrushingbacktothem.Thenhetuggedofftheblindfold.
Colbyhadstrippedoutofhisclothes,andKeatslethimselftakeintheviewwithhungryeyes.BecauseColbysometimesstayeddressedinthebedroom,italwaysfeltlikeaspecialprivilegetoseehimcompletelystrippeddown.
ColbynoddedatKeats.“Getonthebed,lieonyourback.”
Keatslickedhisdrylips.“Myback,sir?”
Colbysteppedcloser,usingthefewinchesinheighthehadonKeatstohisfulladvantage.“Yes,Keats.TonightIneedtofuckyouface-to-face.IwanttowatchyouasImakeyoumine.”
Keats’sstomachflippedover.Hecouldn’timagineanythingbetter.
Gettingontohisbackonthebedreignitedsomeofthestingthecrophadcaused,buthewelcomedit.Itbroughthimbackintothemoment,centeringhimagain.Helikedthebuzzingfeelingfromthepain,buthedidn’twanttomissasecondofthis.Hescootedupthebed.
ColbygrabbedsuppliesfromthebedsidetableandthenclimbedontothebedbetweenKeats’slegs,loomingoverhim.“Putyourpalmout.”KeatsliftedhishandtoColby,andColbydrizzledlubeontoKeats’spalm.“Strokeyourselfwhilewedothis.Itwillmakeiteasierforyou.Butyoudon’tgettocomeuntilIdo.Soyouslowdownifyoufeelyourselfgettingclose.”
“Yes,sir.”
Keatswrappedhishandaroundhiscockandgaveitawelcomestroke.Butthelazypleasuredidn’tlastlongbecauseColbychosethatmomenttotugontheplug.“Easynow.”
TheplugslidfreebutnotwithoutalmostsendingKeatsintoorgasmasitglidedoverthatsweetspotinsidehim.Colbysettheplugasideandreplaceditwithhisgenerouslylubedfingers.HepeereddownatKeatsashemovedfromonetothreefingers,stretchinghimandreadyinghim.IthadtobeoneofthemosteroticmomentsofKeats’slife.Colbygazingdownathimwithlustandloveinhiseyes,hisfingersworkinghimlikeheownedhim.
Colbymovedhishandawayandshiftedposition,andthenhewasrollingonthecondomandlubinguphisowncock,turningitglossyinhisgrip.Keatsgavehisowndickasqueeze,warninghisbodynottojumpthegunyet.
Butluckily,Colbywasn’tgoingtomakehimwaitanylonger.ColbyputhishandsonthebacksofKeats’sthighsandpushedhislegsupward,openinghimfullytoColby.Theireyecontactdidn’tbreakasColbypositionedhimselfatKeats’sentrance.
“Readyforme?”Colbyasked.
“Yes.Please.”
Colbypushedforwardslowly.TheheadofColby’scockfeltsomuchbiggerthantheplug.Animpossibleamountofpressure.AndKeatshadabriefmomentofpanicthattheywouldn’tbeabletodothis,thathisbodywouldn’tbeabletoaccommodateColby.Buthebreathedthroughitandstrokedhisowncock,focusingonrelaxingandacceptingthepleasure.ThetightringofmusclestretchedandburnedasColbyeasedforwardandbeforeKeatscoulddraginanotherbreath,hisbodygaveway,takingColbyinside.
Thetaut,fullfeelingalmostsentKeatsintoorgasmbeforeColbysliddeep,butKeatssqueezedthebaseofhiscockandlockedontoColby’sgaze,determinedtoholdoffforhim.
Colby’seyesclosed,andtheveinsinhisneckbulgedasheseatedhimselffullyinsideKeats.ItwasthehottestdamnthingKeatshadeverseen—Colbyovertakenwithneed.Andhegotthesensethathewouldn’tbetheonlyonefightingbackatoo-quickorgasm.
“Fuck,”Colbygroaned.
“That’stheidea.”Keatssmiled.
Colbyopenedhiseyes,hisgazeholdingplayfulwarning.
“Sorry,sir.”
“Don’tbe.Ifyoucanmakejokes,thenImustnotbehurtingyoutoomuch,whichmeansIdon’thavetoholdbackasmuchasI’mtryingto.”
Keatsshookhishead.“Don’tholdback.Iwanteverything,Colby.Iknowwhatmysafewordis.TrustthatI’lluseitifIneedto.”
SomethingbrokeoverColby’sexpressionandhegaveanod.“Idotrustyou.”
Andwiththat,therewasnoturningback.Colbyrockedbackandthensankdeepagain,continuingwithlong,slowthruststhathadKeatsfeelingasifeverycellinhisbodywerereadytosplitinhalfandre-formintosomethingnew.
Colby’seyesnevermovedawayfromKeats’sface.Keatsheldontothatconnectionashishandmovedoverhisowncockinthesamerhythm,andhewelcomedColbyintoeverycornerofhimself.
Timeseemedtostretchandlengthen,theroomfadingaroundthem.ItwasjusthimandColbyandthisintensitybrewingbetweenthem.ThiswassomuchmorethanKeatshadeverexpected.Andheknewwithoutadoubtthathewaswherehewassupposedtobe.Everyoneelsebedamned.Nothingwrongcouldfeelthisright.
Soon,sweatglazedthemboth,andslowandsteadyfellbythewayside.Keats’shandwasmovingfasterandfasterandColbywaspistoningintohimwithtenseneedonhisface,hisdamphaircurlingathistemples.“Youreadytocomeforme,Adam?”
“God,yes.”
“Thencome.”ColbypushedonKeats’sthighs,openinghimevenwider,andsankimpossiblydeep,rubbingoverthatsensitivespotoverandoveragainashepulledbackeachtime.
EverydropofbloodinKeatsseemedtoracedownward,andheexploded.Hisreleasejettedoutoverhishand,splashinghisbellyandchestashegroanedandgruntedlikeacrazedanimal.
ThenColbywentover,hisfacecontortinginpleasureandhiscockpulsinginsideKeatsasanotherwaveofsensationmovedthroughKeats.
ColbyhadpromisedtosendKeatsflying,buthe’dlaunchedhimintothefuckingstratosphereinstead.
Whentheybothquieted,KeatsreachedoutandwrappedhisarmsaroundColbyandpulledthembothintoaheapinthesheets.Theywereamess.Theywerespent.Itwasperfect.
Keatsglancedatthewindow.Well,almost.
—
Aftertheirnighttogetherandalong,hotshower,theybothshould’vebeenexhausted.ButColby’smindwaswhirlingashelayinthebed,Keatsstretchedoutonhisbacknexttohim.AndfromKeats’sconstantshiftingofposition,hecouldtellKeatswasstrugglingtosettledown,too.
“Whatareyouworryingaboutoverthere?”Colbyasked,keepinghiseyesclosed.“Icanhearyouthinking.”
Keatswasquietforalongminute.“Doyoumissitbeingthethreeofus?”
Ah,thatquestion.Itcouldbeastickyone,buthewasn’tgoingtolietoKeats.“Areyouaskingifyou’reenough?”
“No,”Keatssaid,movingontohissidetolookatColby.“It’snotaboutthat—honestly.Iwasjustwonderingifyoumissher.”
DidhemissGeorgia?Hemissedbothofthemwhentheyweren’taround.“Ido.”
Keats’seyeslookedgrayinthemoonlight,pensive.“Doyouthinkshe’sdoingwhatIwastryingtodo?”
Colbyglancedtowardthewindow,tryingtopicturewhatGeorgiawasuptorightnow—probablycurledupandsleeping.Alone.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Shetoldmeyouwerefallingformeonthatfirstnightwewerealltogether.Shesawwhatwashappeningbetweenusbutcouldn’tseethatshewaspartofit.Doyouthinkshepulledawayfromustogiveusroomtobetogether?”
Colbygrimaced.“Y’allareabunchofmisguidedself-sacrificingfuckersifthat’sthecase.Butno,evenifthat’sinthebackofherhead,Idon’tthinkthat’sthemainreason.Ithinkshecaresaboutus.AndIknowwecouldmakeherhappy.Butshecan’tseepastthetrial.She’sprotectingherself.Andus.There’sabigpossibilitythatsickocouldwalk.Ifhedoes,shewon’tcomebackhere.”
Keats’sjawclenched.“Ifhegoesfree,thatwouldbetheendforher.She’dneverfeelsafeagain.”
“No,shewouldn’t,andthisguyhasmurderedpeoplewhoareclosetoher.That’shisM.O.Soguesswho’dbefirstonthelistifshestayedinarelationshipwithus?”
“I’mnotafraidofthatshitbag.Iwishhe’dtrytocomeafterus.That’dgivemeachancetotakehimoutofherlifeforgood.”
Colbyrubbedahandoverhisface,theurgetotearPhillipapartarecurringone.“Look,I’mwithyou.ButGeorgia’snotgoingtoriskanyoneshecaresabout.Ifhe’sacquitted,she’sgoingtodisappearagainandnotletanyonenearher.”
ThinkingofGeorgiaallalone,alwayshiding,lockedinsomehousesomewhereagain,madeColbyill.Andangry.Andfuckinghelpless.
“God.Wecan’tletthathappen,”Keatssaid,stricken.
Colbysighed.“Iknow.Andit’shardputtingfaithinourjusticesystem—especiallywhenitcomestoasociopathwhohasalotofmoneyandlegalknowledge.”
“That’slikeputtingfaithinfuckingroulette,”Keatscomplained.“MaybeweshouldjustgotoChicagoandhuntthatbastarddownourselves.Accidentallyrunhimoverwithyourtruck.Oops,sorry,motherfucker,goodluckinhell.”
Colbysnorted.Butthengotquiet.Thinking…
Keatsnudgedhimintheside.“Okay,youknowIwasn’tserious,right?”
Colbytappedhisfingersalonghissternum,thinking,thinking,thinking.HowhardwoulditbetomakeatriptoChicagoanddrawPhillipout?IftheguywassofixatedonGeorgia,knowingshewasseeingsomeoneelsecoulddrivehimtothebrinkagain.IfColbycouldgethimtotrysomething,sethimup,maybehecouldgettheguycaughtintheact
ButbeforehecouldopenhismouthtosharehisthoughtswithKeats,therewasaloudbangingatthedoor.
“Whatthefuck?”Colbysaid,pushinguponhiselbowsandpeeringatthetime.Pastmidnight.
“Wantmetogo?”Keatsasked,sittingup.
“Nah,Igotit.”Colbyswunghislegstothesideofthebedandreacheddownforhisdiscardedpantsandshirt.Hestoodandtuggedbothon.Thebangingcameagain.“Goddammit.I’mcoming.”
Heheadedintothehallwayandstrodetowardthefrontdoor,hisbodypricklingwithworry.Midnighthousecallswereneveragoodthing.Thelastonehe’dgottenwaswhenhe’dbeennotifiedhisbrotherhadbeenarrested.Hedidn’tturnonanylightstoalertanyonehewashome.Ifthefaceontheothersideofthedoorwasn’tacop,afirefighter,orafriend,thedoorwasn’tgettingopened.
Butwhenhepeeredthroughthepeephole,hewentforthelockinstantly.Heswungthedooropen.“Georgia?”
Sheshookherheadandtearsleakedouthereyes.
“Baby,what’swrong?”
Butbeforeshecouldanswer,heheardtheguncock.Amansteppedoutoftheshadowsfrombehindher.“Betterletusin,baby.”THIRTY-NINE
Georgiacouldn’tstopshakingasshecrossedthethresholdintoColby’shouse,Phillip’sgunatherback.Herpanicwaspoundingatthedoors,tryingtobreakthrough,butsheforcedherbreathingtostaysteady.Shecouldn’triskpassingoutrightnow.NowaywassheleavingPhillipalonewiththeguys.She’ddoneeverythingshecouldtopersuadehimnottocomeoverhere.Buthe’dbeenwatchingandwaiting.Asalways,he’ddonehishomework.
Atsomepointinthelastmonth,he’dbrokenintoLeesha’sofficeandhadgottenGeorgia’sinformation.Andhe’dsentaprivateinvestigatordowntoTexastoseewhatGeorgiawasupto.GeorgiacouldimagineexactlyhowPhilliphadreactedwhenhesawaphotoofherwithanotherman.Hewouldn’thavebeenabletogetitoutofhismind.Andclearly,hehadn’tbeenabletoresisttheneedtocomedownhereandtakecareofit.
Becauseheknewhowtotakecareofthesethings.
Hewasgoingtomakeherwatchwhilehekilledthetwomensheloved.
Colbybackedup,handsouttohissidesbuthiseyestrainedonthemanbehindher.“Lethergo,Phillip.Iknowyoudon’twanttohurther.”
Colby’svoicewasstrongandforceful,andsheknewhewastryingtoalertKeats,whohadtobesomewhereinthehouse.Hisbikewasoutside.ButKeatssteppedoutfromthehallwayamomentlater,unawareofwhathewaswalkinginto.
“Stoprightthere,asshole,”PhillipcalledtoKeats,shiftingtoGeorgia’ssideandaimingthegunatColby.“I’dhatetoaccidentallypullthetrigger.”
Keatsliftedhishands,hisshockedgazeflickingtoGeorgia’s.
Phillipgrippedthebackofherneck.ItwasaplaceColbyoftenheldher,andshehatedPhilliptouchingherlikeheownedher.Hesqueezedtight.“Don’tyouseewhat’sgoingon?”
“Pleaseletusgo,”shepleaded.“Youdon’tneedtodothis.Please.”
“No!”heroared,shakingGeorgialikeadogshakingaragtoy.“Ineedyoutosee.Openyoureyesandlookatwhat’sgoingonhere,sweetheart.”Hesaidthelastwordwithacloying,whinytone.“Thisscumyou’regivingyourselftocaresaboutyousomuchthatwhenyou’renotaround,he’sstickinghisdickinwhateverholehecanfind.”
Georgia’steethrattledinherheadfromtheshake.Butshe’dregisteredenoughofwhatPhilliphadsaidtorealizehehadn’tputittogetherthatGeorgiahadbeenseeingbothColbyandKeats.Phillipthoughthewasuncoveringhercheatingboyfriend.Sohishatredwasgoingtobedirectedatoneperson.Colbywouldbehistarget.
“Ididn’tknow,”shewhispered,scramblingtogethimcalm.“Youwereright.Ishould’veneverdatedsomeoneelse.”
“Youlethimdisrespectyou,Georgia,”hesaid,seething.“AllthatI’vedoneforyou.AllthatIwaswillingtogiveyou,andyouletsomeredneckcocksuckerinyourbed.Whatiswrongwithyou?”
ShecouldseewhatitwasdoingtoColbyandKeats,toseehertreatedthisway,butsheprayedtheywouldn’tdoanythingstupid.Iftheymadeonemove,Phillipwouldn’thesitatetokillthem.
“I’msorry,Phil,”shesaidinhermostplacatingvoice.“Ineededtotakeabreak.Ineededtogetsomeperspective.Iwasn’treadyforacommitmentyet.YoudeservedmorethanIcouldgiveyou.”Thewordsmadebileriseinthebackofherthroat,butshepushedpastitandkepttalking,frantic.“Butifyouhurtthem,you’llgotojailforgood.There’llbenowaytohideit.Andwe’llneverbetogether.Iknowwhatyoudidbeforewasjusttoshowmehowmuchyouwantedtoprotectme.Butyoudon’tneedtoprotectmefromtheseguys.Itwasjustafling.IwasusingColby.Wecanleaveandgobackhomenow.Iwon’ttestifyinthecase,andwecanbetogether.Noonehastoknowyoucamedownhere.”
Phillip’sholdonhernecksoftenedeversoslightly,andhegaveheranarrow-eyedlook.“HowdoIknowyoumeananyofthat?You’veliedtomebefore.”
Sheblinkedrapidly,searchingforsomething,anythingthatwouldkeephisfocusonher.“Icanshowyou.”
Hisgunarmwaveredabit.“How?”
“Colbyhas…restraints.Wecantiethesetwoupandthengotothebedroom.”Shefoughthardtokeephervoicefromshaking.“It’sbeensolongsinceyou’vetouchedme.LetmeshowyouthatImeanit.”
Theflareofinterestinhiseyeswashardtomiss.“Nowyou’retalkingsomesense,sweetheart.”Heranaknuckleoverhercheekwithhisfreehand.“Andwon’titbefuntoletthesetwowatchwhileIshowthemhowarealmantakescareofhiswoman?”
Colbymadesomelownoisedeepinhischest,butsheforcedherselfnottolookhisway.Shewetherlipsinwhatshehopedwasaprovocativeway.“I’llhelpyoutiethemup.”
Phillipreleasedherneck,hiseyesonherbuthisgunstillaimedatColby.“Takeoffyourclothes,sweetheart.Iwanttotrustyou,butIalsowanttomakesureyoudon’ttrytodosomethingstupidlikerun.”
Panicwelledupinhergut,butshewouldn’tletittakehold.Ifshegaveintothatnow,shehadnoshot.“Ofcourse.Whateveryouwant.”
ShemovedslowlysoasnottostartlethedudewiththegunandtuggedherT-shirtandsleepshortsoff.
“Panties,too,”Phillipsaid,hisvoicedroppinglower.
Workinghardtokeepherhandsfromshaking,shepushedherpantiesdownandoff.Sheknewwhenshelookedupagainthatthiswasherbestchance.Phillipwasgettingaroused.Andanarousedmanwasadistractedone.Shegavehimherbestcome-hithersmile.“Let’sgotothebedroom.”
“Leadtheway,love.”HewavedthegunatColbyandhisvoicehardened.“Followher.Tryanythingortouchherandit’sabulletintheback.”
GeorgiacouldtellitwastakingeverythingeachmanhadforKeatsandColbytoobeyPhillip,butshesentthembothpleadinglooksthatshehopedconveyedthatsheneededthemtoplayalong.
Theyallfiledintothebedroom,anditwasclearthatColbyandKeatshaddefinitelyhadafunnight.Cutropewasonthefloorandaridingcropwasonthetopofthedresser.Thesheetswereinatangle.Apangofsadnesswentthroughherthatshehadn’tbeenpartofit.Thatshe’dshutthemout.
“JesusChrist,”Phillipsaid,takinginthescene.HewavedthegunatColbyandKeats.“Onyourknees,handswhereIcanseethem.”
ThemenobeyedbutnotwithoutshootingPhillipdeathglares.Please,pleasedon’ttrytobeahero.Thatwasthepleashetriedtochanneltheirwayoverandoveragain.Phillipwasexpectingtheguystotrysomething.Heprobablywantedthemtotryjusttomakeitmorefuntokillthem.Theguyshadtoplayalongortheywerealldone.
Iftherewasanychanceatgettingoutofthis,itwasuptoher.ShewastheonlyonePhilliphadahairoftrustin.ShewenttoColby’schestofdrawersandpulledouthandcuffs.“Theseshouldwork,right?”
“Aretheretwosets?”
“Yes.”
“Cuffthemwiththeirarmsbehindtheirbacks.”
RevulsionfilledheratthesoundofPhillipgivingherorders.Revulsionandresolve.Hedidn’thavethatprivilege.Forthelastyear,herwholelifehadbeenadailyfight,tryingtofixthethingsPhilliphadbrokeninher.Andrightwhenshewasgettingherfeetunderherandherconfidenceback,hewasgoingtowaltzinhereandactlikehehadarighttoher,hadarighttohurtthepeopleshecaredabout?Fuck.Him.Shewasn’tgoingtolethimdothistoheragain.
BythetimeshemadeherwayovertoColbyandKeats,herhandsweresteady.Shekneeleddownnexttothem.“Givemeyourhands.”
BothfollowedherdirectionsbutColbypeeredbackoverhisshoulder,whispering.“Don’tdothis.Thesedon’thavearelease.Wecan’tgetoutwithoutthekey.”
Shegaveaslightshakeofherhead.Don’ttalk.
Thecuffssnappedinplace,securingbothofthem.
Phillipstalkedoverandgavethechainsatug.“Therealpoliceissuestuff,huh?Sickfuckers.Givemethatrope.Iwanttomakesurethesetwodon’ttryanything.”
Georgiastood,andsheschooledherexpressionintooneofcoolcalm,despitethefrantic,careeningthoughtsinherhead.Shepicturedherselfthatfirstnightshe’dwalkedovertoColby’shouse.Iamincontrolofmybody.Sheheadedovertothediscardedrope.It’dbeenslicedopen—likeColbyhadbeeninarushtogetKeatsuntied—buttherewasenoughlengthtomakeitworkforPhillip’sneeds.SherubbedherthumboverthefrayededgesofthecutendsbeforehandingitovertoPhillip.
“Whileyou’redoingthat,whydon’tIgetthebedclearedoff?”shesuggested.
Heflickedthebarrelofthegunherway.“Stripittothemattress.”
Philliptuckedtheguninhiswaistbandandwenttoworktyingthemen’sanklesandloopingropethroughthecuffs.Thiswouldbeheronlychance.
Sheputherbacktothem,busyingonehandwithtuggingoffthesheets.Withtheother,sheopenedColby’sbedsidedrawer,prayingshehadn’tmisheardhimthatfirstnightthey’dspentinhisroom.AndprayingColbyhadn’tleftitsomewhereelsetonight.
“Somethingwrong,sweetheart?”Phillipsaid,hisvoicetooclose.
Shejumped,ballingherhandsinthesheets.“Fine.”
Hesteppedcloserandpeeredoverhershoulderintotheopendrawer,whichcontainedaTVremote,anovel,andcondoms.Phillipgavealowlaugh.“Wewon’tbeneedingthose.”
“I’mnotonthepillanymore,”shelied.
Hekissedthesideofherneck.“Good.I’dlovetohavemybabygrowinginsideyou.”
Theshudderthatwentthroughhercouldn’tbestopped,butPhillipmust’vereaditasanticipationinsteadofabjectterror.Fuckingsociopath.
Hetrailedkissesdownalonghershoulderandshefeltthegun,stilltuckedinhispants,pressagainstherspinewithcoldcertainty.Hishandswrappedaroundherandcuppedherbreasts.Shegrittedherteethandtriedtoshutherbodyofffromconnectingtoherbrain.Thiswasn’thappeningtoher.Phillipwasn’ttouchingher.Thatwasn’twhatsheneededtofocuson.
Shetookadeepbreath.“Kissme.”
Hemadeapleasedsoundbehindher.“Youdon’tknowhowlongI’vewaitedtohearyousaythat.Turnaround,sweetheart.”
Shespunaroundslowly,stillgrippingthesheetsinherhands,andhepulledthegunoutofhiswaistband.Hesetitinthedrawerbehindherandclosedit.“Wedon’tneedtoworryaboutthatuglinessfornow.Comehere.”
Hegatheredhertohimandhisdrylipsmethers.Shewaiteduntilheclosedhiseyes,whichseemedtobethelongestsecondofherlife,andthenshedroppedthesheetsandwoundherarmsaroundhiswaist.Histonguepartedherlips,andhetookherfaceinhishands.Hetastedofcinnamongum.He’dalwaystastedofcinnamongum.
Sherememberedhisbreathonherthatdayinthekitchen.Rememberedwhathappenedafterward.Rememberedgivingtheeulogyathersister’sfuneral.Shegroundherhipsagainsthim,makingsoft,sexysounds,andhitthebuttonontheswitchblade.
Phillip’sbodystiffenedforafractionofasecondbeforeshedrewherhandbackandjabbedwitheverybitofstrengthshehad.Thebladewentintohislowerbackclean.Andthescreamthatcameoutofhimlandedhalfonherlips.
“Youfuckingbitch!”heshouted,reachingforthepointofentrywithacrazedswipeofhisarm.
Sheshovedhimhard,gettingsomespacebetweenthem,andlungedforthedrawer.Theknifehadstayedlodgedinhisbackwhenhe’djerkedawayfromher,buttherewassomethingmoreeffectiveshewasafter.Thegunwasn’tliketheoneshepracticedwithattherangeinChicago.Itwasheavier,bigger,andhadsomesilencerthingscrewedontheend.Butsheturnedaround,channelingeverythingshe’dbeenthrough,everyoneshe’dlost,andaimeditrightatPhillip.
Hisfingerswerecoveredwithblood,andhehadtheknifeinhishands.Hestumbledtowardher,coldrageinhiseyes.
Itwasthethingofhernightmares.Thevisionthathadspawnedsomanypanicattacksshe’dlostcount.Phillipwasgoingtofinallykillher.Hewouldwin.
Hetookanotherstep.
Shesqueezedthetrigger.
Thegundidn’tmakeasound,butthebodyhittingthefloorcertainlydid.
Shecrumpledtoherkneesandfinallyallowedthepanicattacktorolloverher.FORTY
LeeshabuzzedaroundGeorgia’shousewithanotepadinherhandsandalookofconsternationonherface.“IsthisTVstandyours?”
“No,itwasherewhenImovedin,”Georgiasaidfromherspotonthecouch.
Leeshacheckedoffsomethingonhernotepadandthenpulledarollofstickersfromherpocket.ShetaggedtheTVstandwithabluedot,whichGeorgiaassumedmeantdonotpackforthemovers.
“Ifyougivemethatrollofstickers,Icanhelp,youknow.”
“I’vegotit.”
Georgiasighedinfrustration.LeeshahadinsistedthatGeorgiarelax,thatshe’dtakecareofeverything,butitwasdrivingGeorgiaalittlecrazytobeforcedintosittingstill.
Aweekhadgonebysinceshe’dshotPhillipinColby’sbedroom.Thescenestillplayedoverinherheadeverynightwhenshetriedtogotosleep.ButshetriedtochaseawaythenightmaresbyremindingherselfthatPhillipcouldn’thurtheroranyoneelseanymore.Shewasfree.Finally.
Butshe’dkilledamantogetthere.Partofthatstainedherconscience,eventhoughsheknewhewasamurdererandwould’vekilledheroroneoftheguyswithoutabitofremorse.Shedidn’tthinkanynormalpersoncouldtakesomeoneelse’slifeandnotbeaffectedbythat.Anditseemedpeopleweregivingherspaceortreatingherwithkidglovesbecauseofit.Leesha,herparentswhentheyflewintoseeGeorgiathedayafter,andtheboysacrosstheway.
She’dspentalongnightinthepolicestationwithColbyandKeatsaftereverythinghadhappened.They’dgonethroughendlessinterviewswhilethecopstriedtoputtogetherexactlywhathadhappened.She’dneverbeenofferedcoffeesomuchinherlife.Itwasasifthatwereallanyonecouldcomeupwithtodoforher.Morecoffee,hon?
Allthewhilethecopswereofferingittoher,though,sheknewtheyweretryingtodetermineifshe’dkilledPhillipincoldblood,especiallywhenthey’drealizedshe,Colby,andKeatswereallinsomesortofrelationship.Shecouldalreadyseetheheadlinesinherhead:Inanerotic-crazednight,threepeopletookoutascornedloverinanelaborateplan.
ButwhenthelocalcopstalkedtothepoliceinChicago,thefocushadshifted.Philliphadn’tbeensocarefulonhiswayoutoftownsincehehadn’tplannedtoreturn.He’dpurchasedthegunillegallyfromapoliceinformant.Andyesterday,he’demptiedouthissavingsandhadboughtausedcarwithcash.
WhenthelocalssearchedPhillip’svehicle,thingsbecameevenclearer.HehadanotebookdetailingallofGeorgia’sactivityfrombackwhenshewasinChicagothroughnow.Themostrecententrieshadstoppedusinghernameandreferredtoherasthewhoreortheungratefulbitch.Colbywaslabeledasthecocksucker.Andbeneaththelinerofthecar’strunkwasabagofcashandtwofakepassports—onewithGeorgia’spictureonit.Allevidencepointedinonedirection.PhilliphadcomedowntokidnapGeorgiaandescapeacrosstheborder.ThepoliceconcludedthatitwasenoughtoshowthatGeorgiahadactedinself-defense.Plus,basedonKeats’sandColby’sseparatestatements,itwasclearPhilliphadforcedhiswayintoColby’shome,whichinTexasgavetheoccupantstherighttousedeadlyforce.
They’dreleasedallthreeofthemaroundlunchtimethenextday.
She’dbeennumbandshell-shockedstill.Andtheguyshadseemedtosensethatshedidn’twanttotalkaboutit.Whenthey’dgottenintothebackofthecopcarfortheridehome,Colbyhadputhisarmgingerlyaroundher,offeringsupportifshewantedit,andhe’dwhispered,“Yousavedallofourlives.I’veneverseenanyonebesobrave.”
Keatshadtakenherotherhandandlacedhisfingerswithhers.“I’msorryweletyoudownanddidn’tprotectyoulikewepromised.”
She’dshakenherhead,wantingtotellthemthattheyhadn’tletherdown,thattheveryreasonshehadn’tcollapsedintoapanicwhenPhilliphadsurprisedherinhergaragewhenshe’dgottenhomefromrunningerrandswasthatthey’dhelpedherfindherstrengthagain.Butshecouldn’tgetthewordsout.
“He’sgonenow,George,”Keatssaidsoftly.“You’refreeofhim.”
She’dfinallycriedthen,saggingintoColby’sshoulderandsqueezingKeats’shandtight.
Whenthey’darrivedatherhouse,she’daskedthemtocomeinwithher.Shehadn’twantedthemfacingthecrimesceneatColby’shouseand…she’dneededthemtherewithher.Maybethey’dallneededeachother.They’dgonequietlyupstairs,showereduntilthehotwaterrancold,andcrawledintobed,simplyholdingeachotheruntilsleepfinallyovertookthem.
Butthefollowingdayhadbeenchaos.Thecopshadwantedtotalktoeveryoneagaintofillindetails.LeeshahadcalledtosayshewasflyinginwithGeorgia’sparents.AndallthewheelshadstartedturningwithoutGeorgia.
ColbyandKeatshadleftwiththepromisethattheywouldalltalksoon.Butwitheveryonevisitingandsomuchhappening,theyhadn’tgottenthechancetodomorethancheckinbyphone.
Butshe’dseencarpetsbeingpulledoutandfurniturebeingremovedandreplacedoveratColby’s.Shedidn’tblamehimfornotwastinganytimeremovingmemoriesofwhathadhappenedthere.Butpartofherhadseenitaserasingitall.Thebedroomthatshe’dlookedinsomanytimeswouldbedifferentnow.Andthepeopleontheothersideofthewindowhadbeenchangedinwaysthatcouldneverbeundone.Shedidn’tknowwhereshefitanymore—ifshefitatall.
Leeshacertainlyhadherownideas.She’dgoneintoget-Georgia-back-to-Chicagomodeassoonasshe’darrived.AndGeorgiahadn’tprotested.Phillipwasgone.HeroldlifewaswaitingthereforherinChicago.Herhouse.Herfriends.Allthethingsthathadoncebeensofamiliarandcomfortable.Butshecouldn’tfinditinherselftogetexcitedaboutit.
“IwasthinkingmaybeweshoulddoChristmasdinneratarestaurantthisyear,”Leeshasaid,breakingGeorgiafromherruminating.“Italkedtoyourmom,andwe’reallsoexcitedtogetyoubackhome.Butnoonewantsthestressofcookingthisyear.Notwithallthat’sgoingon.I’veheardthatrestaurantintheTrumpHotelhasagreatChristmasmenu.”
“That’sfine,”Georgiasaid,pickingaloosethreadoffthecouch.
Leeshapausedwhatshewasdoingandturnedaround,handonherhip,dipinherbrow.“What’swrong?YousoundlikeIsuggestedamealofcateyeballs.”
“Sorry.It’sjusthardformetothinkaboutChristmas…it’shardformetothinkaboutChicago.”
Leeshastaredatherforamomentlonger,thensighed.ShetossedhernotepadontothecoffeetableandsatinthechairacrossfromGeorgia.“Isthisabouttheneighbors?”
Georgiadidn’tfeellikehavingthisconversationrightnow.
Leeshashookherhead.“Oh,honey,yougotattached,didn’tyou?”
“Pleasedon’tpatronizeme,”shesaid,irritatedatherfriend’sI-told-you-sotone.
Leeshaflickedherdreadsawayfromherface,adeadgiveawaythatshewastryingtoholdontoherpatience.“I’mnotpatronizingyou,Georgia.I’vemettheguysyougotinvolvedwith.Igetit.They’regood-lookingandseemlikeniceenoughmen.Butyoucan’tthinktoreallystayhereandbeinarelationshipwithtwopeople.Imean,I’mnotonetojudgewhatpeopleliketodoforfun.AndIcanseehowwitheverythingyou’vebeenthroughyouneededawildescape.ButIknowyou.”Sheleanedforwardinthechair.“BeforeeverythingwentwrongwithPhillip,whenyoudatedmen,youdatedwiththepurposeoffindingapartner—ahusband.Webothdatewiththatinmind.We’replanners.Youwanttogetmarried,haveafamily,doallthosemilestoneswepinonthattimelineinourheads.Andneitherofusisgettinganyyounger.Hoppinginbedwithtwoguysisfinewhenyou’reinyourtwentiesandexperimenting,butwe’regrown-upsnow.Comeon,youknowsomethree-wayisn’tasustainablerelationship.Stayingherelongerisjustgoingtomeanwastingmoretimeandgettingyourheartbrokenanyway.You’vehadenoughheartbreak,honey.Idon’twanttoseeyougothroughmore.”
Georgiareleasedalongbreath,lettinggooftheretortthathadjumpedtoherlips.SheknewthatLeeshahadnothingbutGeorgia’sbestinterestsatheart.Andherfriendwasn’tsayingthingsthatwereuntrue.Georgiahadalwayswantedthatneatlyplanned-outlife.Shelikedtheideaofhavingarelationshiplikeherparents—along-lastingloveandclosefamily.She’dfeltsafeandlovedgrowingup,andshewantedtocreatethatinherownlife.Butnowwhenshetriedtopicturegoingaboutfindingthat,shecouldn’tstopthinkingaboutthetwomennextdoor.
“MaybeIjustneedsometimetoclearmyhead,”shesaidlamely.
Leesha’sfacebrightenedwithasmile.“Exactly.That’sthebestmedicine.We’llgetyoubackhomeandonyourfeet,andyou’llseehoweverythingfallsbackintoplace.”Shestoodandcameovertohugher.“God,I’vemissedyou,girl.”
Georgiaswallowedpasttheknotinherthroatandhuggedherfriendback.She’dmissedLeesha,too.ButGeorgiahadafeelingwhenshegotbacktoChicagoshe’dmisssomethingelsemuchmore.
Georgia’sphonebuzzedfromitsspotonthecoffeetable.Leeshastraightenedandsmiled.“Backtoworkforme.”
Georgiareachedforthephoneandhitthebuttontoreadthetextmessage.Onewordappearedonthescreen:Window?
Herheartleapt.ShebitherlipandglancedoveratLeesha,butherfriendwasalreadybacktotaggingandmarkingfurniture.GeorgiatypedbackOKandexcusedherselfonthepretenseofgettingsomethingfromherbedroom.Hermindwasstillwhirlingaboutwhattodo,andshedreadedhavingtosaygood-byetoColbyandKeatsinafewdays,butshecouldn’thidefromfacingthemanylonger.
WhenGeorgiawalkedintotheguestbedroom,itwasalittlelikesteppingbackintime.Butlikeallthetimesbefore,herheartwaspoundingandherpalmsweredamp.Shedidn’tknowwhatshewantedtoseeontheothersideofthatcurtain.Herheadwasspinningwithsomuchrightnow.Butsheknew,ifnothingelse,shecouldn’twalkawayfromthisinvitation.
Shemovedovertothewindowandpulledbackthecurtain.Thesunwasalmostdown,andthelightsinColby’sbedroomwereglowing.Ontheothersideoftheglass,twomenstood,waitingforher.Theyseemedsofarawaynow.
Sheliftedherphone,expectingittoring.ButinsteadColbybentdownandcamebackupwithwhatlookedtobebigsquaresofposterboard.Keatstooktheonefromthetopandhelditagainsttheglass.
TOP10REASONSCHICAGOSUCKS
Keatsdroppedthesignandputupanotherone.Georgialeanedclosertothewindow,herlipscurlingupward.
10.IT’SFUCKINGCOLD
9.PUTTINGTOMATOESONHOTDOGSISWRONG
Shelaughed,andColbyhandedKeatsanothersign.
8.NOONESAYS“Y’ALL”ORCALLSYOUSUGAR
7.TWOBASEBALLTEAMS—HOWTODECIDE???
6.THEYDON’TDEEP-FRYEVERYTHING—ATRAGEDY
Georgiasmiledwider.Leaveittothosetwototrytomakeherlaughrightnowwhensheneededitmost.Anothersignwentup.
5.WEWANTYOUTOBEHAPPY
4.ANDWEWON’TPRESSUREYOU
Sheheldherbreath.Keatsdroppedthesign,andColbysteppednexttohim.Theybothliftedtheirwhiteposterboardsandpressedthemagainsttheglass.
3.BUTTHETWOMEN
2.WHOLOVEYOU
1.AREHERE.
Shestaredatthebigblocklettering,thewordsblurringwhenhereyesfilledwithtears.Shepressedherhandtotheglass.Theydidthesame.
Andforthefirsttimeinaweek,shedidn’tfeelnumbatall.
Shelookedattheirsplayedhands,imaginedthosefingerslinked,handspiledontopofeachother.Bodiestangledinbed.Morningsfulloflaughterandteasing,stolenkisses,andnaughtycomments.Nightsfilledwithwarmth.
Allalong,she’dneverreallyletherselfthinkpastgettingbacktoChicago.Shewouldn’tallowhermindtogothere.Anytimeshe’dfeltthosefeelingsdevelopingforthesetwomen,she’ddrawnitbackin—likeabordercollieherdingescapeesheepbackintotheirpen.Don’tgetattached,don’tgetattached.Ithadbecomehermantra.Butthinkingaboutthetwoofthemnow—Colbywithhiskindeyesandsolidpresence,Keatswithhiscockyhumorandgivingheart—sheknewshehadn’tkeptitincheck.Thosesheepwerehoppingaroundinthewildwithgiddyfeelings—hope,affection…love.Especiallywhentheguyslookedatherliketheydid.Likethey’dloveherforeverifshe’dletthem.
They’dbecomesomuchmorethanthesillyForaGoodTimeCalllabelshe’dputinherphone.Thethoughtofleavingthemhadbeentearingherupforweeks.Butshestillhadn’tletherselfconsiderthepossibilityofstaying.Philliphadbeensuchaloomingthreatovershadowingeverythoughtofthefuture.
Andbeyondthat,allthistimeshe’dbeenlookingatreturningtoherlifeinChicagolikethebrassring.ThesignthatshewasA-OKagain,fixed.Butnowitfeltlikeanemptyvictory.Whensheimaginedgoingback,shedidn’tgetexcitedaboutthatfast-pacedcitylifesheusedtolead.Shefelt…nothing.
Sowhatwouldhappenifshestayedhere?
ThequestionhadbeenknockingaroundinherheadthelastfewdayslikeaPing-Pongballgainingmomentum.
WasLeeshawrong?CouldGeorgiabuildalong-termrelationshipwithColbyandKeats?Letthiswonderfullystrange,just-for-funarrangementbecomesomethingelse?Becomerealandlasting?
Thepracticalpartofherbrainalwayssaidno.Howwouldthreepeopleevengoaboutthat?Butanotherpartofherrebelledagainstthat.AndwhenLeeshahadoutlinedallthereasonswhyitwasn’tagoodidea,Georgiahadwantedtogointofulldebatemode.Whocarediftherelationshipwouldn’tfitintothemoldofwhateveryoneexpectedhertodo?Hermother,whohadtaughtwomen’sstudiesatNorthwesternsinceGeorgiawasakid,hadalwaysraisedhertonotgiveintogenderexpectations,tomakeherownway.Shecouldstillrememberthetalkshermotherhadgivenherthroughherteenyears.Ifyoudon’twanttogetmarried,don’t.Awomandoesn’tneedamantohavealife.Ifyouwantkids,havethem.Ifyoudon’t,don’tletanyonemakeyoufeelguiltyaboutit.Youfindyourownroadtohappiness,mygirl.Nooneelsecantellyouwhat’srightforyou.
Backthen,Georgiahadkindofrolledhereyesathermother’srah-rah,you-are-a-strong-independent-womanspeeches.Mainlybecausedespitehermother’sopinions,Georgiahadalwaysbeenatraditionalistatheart.She’dwantedtheperfectfairy-talelife—PrinceCharminginthecastleonthehill.Butnowhermother’swordswashedthroughher,rainingwaterontheseedsKeatsandColbyhadplanted.Ifshewantedtostayhere,shecould.Shecouldhavewhateverkindoflifeshewanted.
Shedidn’tneedsomedustyfairytale.Shecouldmakeherownnew,shinyone.
Shedidn’tneedtobescaredanymore.
SheliftedherphoneandhitForaGoodTimeCallFORTY-ONE
Colbywasn’tsurewhattoexpectwhenheopenedthedoortoGeorgiaafewminuteslater.HeandKeatshaddonewhattheycould.They’dbaredtheirfeelings.Putitalloutthere.ButevenifGeorgialovedthemback,theywerestillaskingalot.
Evenso,whenheopenedthedoorandsawherface,sawthatbrightnessinhereyes,aweightthathadbeenpressingdownonhimsincehe’dleftherthedayaftertheattacklightenedabit.He’dworriedthatwheneverythingsetin,shemightbeoverwhelmedbyit.Thatoldfearswouldresurface.Orworse,newoneswouldcomeup.Butheshould’veknownbetter.He’dseenfirsthandhowunshakableandbraveshe’dbeenthatnightwithPhillip.Shehadn’tflinched.Theirgirlwassoftnessbuiltonsteel.
Well,nottheirgirl.Notyet.
Keatssidledupnexttohim,andColbycouldfeelthenervesvibratingoffhim.Somuchforbeingtoughguys.Theyweregonerswhenitcametothiswoman.Shecouldknockthemdowninoneswoop.
“Hey,neighbor,”Colbysaid,keepinghistoneneutralincaseshewascomingoverheretogivethemthebigsend-off.
“Hey,”shesaid,andglanceddownatherfeetlikeanervousteenager.
Heshiftedhisstance.“How’sthepackinggoing?”
Shesmirked.“Leeshahastackleditlikeasergeantimplementingamilitaryoperation.Iamameresoldierinherplan.”
“Youcanhideoverhereforawhile,”Keatsoffered.“Wepromisewewon’ttell.”
Shesmiledthen.“Iamkindofsneakingoverhere.Shedoesn’tapproveofyoutwohoodlumswhoaretryingtopersuadeherfriendnottogohome.”
“Weare,indeed,selfish,selfishhoodlums,”Colbyagreed.“Butwecouldn’tletyougowithouttellingyouhowwefeel.Evenifyou’restillgoingtoChicago,weneededyoutohearthetruth.”
Georgiawetherlips.“Well,atleastnowIknowyourfeelingsonhotdogtoppings.Tomatoesonhotdogsareawesome,bytheway.”
Colbylaughed,theunexpectedcommentbreakingsomeofthetension.
“Sorry,George,Ihavetotakeastandonthatone.Notomatoes.Orthatelectricgreenstufftheyputonthere.”
ShelookedtoKeats.“Evertriedit?”
“Don’tneedto.IknowIwouldn’tlikeit.”
Shegavehimaslysmile.“IbetIcanconvinceyouotherwise.”
Colbytuckedhishandsinhispockets,fightingtheurgetoreachoutanddragheragainsthim.“ComingoverheretocookChicagodogsforus,then?”
“No,”shesteppedinside.“IwashopingIcouldbuyyoutherealthing.”
Colby’sbrowswentup.
“HowdoesChristmasinChicagosound?”sheasked,hertonetentative.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Keatsasked.Colbywaswonderingthesamething.Wassheinvitingthemupthereforanextendedgood-bye?
Shetookadeepbreathandreleasedit.“Youguyssteppedoutonalimbforme,andIknowthatwasn’teasy.SoIcameoverheretotellyouboththetruthaswell.”
Colbybracedhimself.
“IloveChicago.Thecity.Theculture.Thefood.Ilovebeingclosetomyfamily.AndIhavefriendsthereImiss.”
Colby’sheartwaspounding,pounding,pounding.Oh,shit.Maybeshehadcomeovertoletthemdowneasy.
Shereachedouttotakebothoftheirhands.“Butit’sgotoneglaringnegativethatIcan’tseemtogetpast.”
“Yeah?”Colbyaskedhopefully.“What’sthat?”
“ThetwopeopleI’vefalleninlovewithwon’tbetherewithme.”
“George,”Keatssaid,hisvoicecatching.
“IneedtogohometoseemyfamilyforChristmas.Imissthem.Andwithmysistergone,Ithinkweallneedtospendtheholidayswitheachotherevenmore.ButI’mgoingtotellthemwhileI’mtherethatI’vemetsomeone…someones.I’mgoingtotellthemthatI’minloveandthatTexasiswhereIneedtobe.AndIwantthemtomeetyoutwo.”
Colbyfeltlikehewasgoingtobreakopen,thefloodofjoyandrelieflikeaforceofnaturemovingthroughhim.
“You’regoingtotellyourparents?”Keatsasked,nothidingtheshockfromhisvoice.
Georgiasmiledhisway.“Myparentswantnothingmorethanformetobehappy.Andyoutwomakemehappy.I’vewantedtotellyouthatforsolong.Youbothtotallybroketherulesofthefling—makingmecareaboutyouandshit.”
Colbychuckled.“Neitherofushaseverbeenverygoodwithrules.”
Shesqueezedtheirhands.“Iwon’ttrytopredictwherethisisgoing.AndIknowpeoplearegoingtosaywe’recrazy.Andmaybeweare.Maybethat’sokay.”
“Itisokay.Wecanbecrazytogether,”Colbysaid,pullingheragainsthim,everythinglooseninginsidehimatonce.
Shegazedupathim,theloveinthosebigbrowneyestakinghisbreathaway.“Ican’tstandhavingthewindowpanesbetweenus.Iwouldn’tsurviveathousandmiles.”
Keatsmovedbehindherandslidhishandstoherwaist,pressinghisforeheadtohershoulder.“God,George,we’vemissedyousomuch.”
ShesmiledupatColbyandloopedherhandaroundKeats’sneck.“I’mallyours.Noexpirationdatethistime.”
ThewordssoakedintoColby’ssoulandlithimupinside.Thetwopeoplehelovedwerehisnow.Forgood.“We’reallyoursrightback,gorgeous.”
Hishandsmovedtoherface,andhedidthethinghe’dbeenwantingtodoforsolong.Hekissedherwitheverythinghehad,finallynothavingtoworrythathewouldscareherawayorthatshe’dslipthroughhisfingers.
Thistimehehadtherealthing.Georgia.Keats.
Love.
Hedidn’tneedtotakeasnapshot.There’dbealbumsofhappymomentstocome.Startingnow.
Heshutthedoorbehindthemandlockedtheworldout.
Hehadeverythingheneededrighthere.EPILOGUE
Spring
GeorgiaadjustedherpositionintheboothandColbyputhisarmoverhershoulders,pullinghercloser,astheywatchedKeatspracticehissongonstage.Thesmallclubwasemptyexceptforafewemployeesmillingaroundsincethedoorsdidn’topenforanotherhourorso,andsheandColbyweretuckedawayinthecorner,tryingnottomakeKeatsevenmorenervousbybeingfrontandcenter.
Pike,Keats’snewbossandself-designatedmentor,wasclimbingonstagetogiveKeatssomeadvice.Keatshadbeenright.ThatPikeguybledrockstarwhenyoulookedathim—bleachedhair,eyesthatseemedtoalwaysbelaughingatsomeprivatejoke,andasmilethatpromisedhecouldshowyouthingsthatcouldturnyouinsideout.Buthealsoseemedsupremelydowntoearthandlaid-back.Alive-and-let-livekindofguy.
GeorgiawatchedasPikeputhishandsonKeatsandadjustedhisstanceatthemic.ThewordsownitdriftedherandColby’sway.
“PoorKeatslookslikehe’sgoingtopuke,”Colbymused.“IrememberthefirsttimeIplayedforrecordexecs.I’dhadthefluforaweekandalmostpassedoutonstage.Notpretty.”
“Iwishthereweresomethingwecoulddotohelphim.Heknowshe’sgood,knowsPikewouldn’tputhisnameonthelineifhedidn’tthinkKeatswasworthit.”
Colbysmirked.“I’mnotsureifthenervesareallabouttonight.IthinkPikekindoffreakshimout.Theguycanbeintensewhenhe’sfocusedongettingsomethingright.”
GeorgiaglancedupatColbyandpokedhimintheside.“IthinkKeatsdealswithintenseguysjustfine.”
“Who,me?”heaskedinnocently.“I’mjustabigteddybear.”
“Uh-huh.Untilthebedroomdoorshuts.”Shestretcheduptokisshim.“Butthat’sonereasonwhyweloveyou.”
Hegrinneddownatherandgaveheralookthatmadeherwishtheyweren’tjustinadarkcornerbutaplacewithadoortoclose.Shepulledhergazeawayandpeeredtowardthestageagain.PikewasbehindKeats,handsonKeats’sshoulders,ashecoachedhim.Keatslookedtobetakingineveryword,aseriousexpressiononhisface.
“Damn,”shesaid,consideringthebeautifulmanonstagewithatouchofawe.“Lookathim.Yourealizethatifhe’ssuccessfulwiththismusicthing,women—andmen—willbethrowingthemselvesathim.We’regoingtohavetofightthemoffwithsticks.EvenPikecan’tkeephishandsoffhim.”
Colbyleanedback,amused.“Well,don’tworryaboutPike.He’sstraight.He’sjustoneofthosepeoplewhothinkspersonalspaceisoptional.Butyeah,that’sthebeautyandcurseofbeinginarelationship,especiallyonelikeours.”
“What’sthat?”
“Weallhavetobewillingtofightforit.”
Sheturnedinhishold,takinginthewayhelookedather,hergorgeous,big-heartedman.Somedaysshestillcouldn’tbelieveallshehad.Sheloopedherarmsaroundhisneck.“I’llalwaysbewillingtofightforyoutwo.”
“Gladtohearit”—hepushedherhairawayfromherface—“becausewearen’tgoingtoletyougoeither.You’restuckwithus.”
Sheleanedintohimandpressedherfaceagainsthisneck,breathinghimin.Afewmonthsagothatkindofdeclarationwould’vesentherrunning.Guyswhodidn’twanttolethergo—nothankyou.Butnowshecouldn’timaginewantinganythingmore.She’dfoundherspaceintheworldwhereshefitjustright—andithappenedtobebetweenthesetwomen
Afewminuteslater,Keatswrappeduphispracticeonstageandheadedtotheback.SheslidoutofColby’shold,watchingKeats’sretreatingform.Everythingabouthisstancesaidhewasnervousasallget-out.Shenoddedherheadtowardhim.“SoIthoughtofawaywecouldhelphimout.”
Colbyliftedabrow.“Yeah?”
“It’sadeviousplan.”
“Well,thenI’mobviouslyin.”
Shegrabbedhishand.“Comeon.”
—
“Sohe’sactuallyhere?”Keatsasked,anxietytighteninghisstomachashepacedbackandforthinthedressingroomoftheclub.“HarlenBiggs,theexecfromNashville?”
ColbysethisguitarcasedownandgaveKeats’sshoulderasqueeze.“Yes.Butdon’tgetalltwistedupaboutit.He’saniceguy,reallylaid-back.HeintroducedhimselftomeandGeorgiaafewminutesago.Remember,he’salreadyheardyourdemotape.Helikedyouenoughtostopintonightwhilehewasintown.”
“Imightthrowuponmyshoes.”
Georgiagavehimasympatheticlook.
ButColbychuckledandheadedovertothecounteronthefarwalltosettherestofhisthingsdown.“You’llbefine.AndI’llbeuptherewithyouforafewsongsattheend,soyou’llhavesomebackup.”
“Good,youcanholdmyhairbackformewhenIpukeonthefrontrow.”
GeorgiasteppedoverandslidherarmsaroundKeatsfrombehind.Shesetherchinonhisshoulder.“You’regoingtodogreat.AndIwilltotallyholdyourhairbackifneeded.”
KeatsturnedaroundinGeorgia’sembraceandtouchedhisforeheadtohers.“Yousaythesexiestthingstome,George.”
Shegavehimawrysmile.“Itry.Andreally,Ican’twaittohearyoubothperform.I’veneverseeneitherofyouplayforthisbigofacrowd.Well,exceptforthestuffIsawofColbyonYouTubefrombackintheday.”
Colbyturnedtoher,surpriseonhisface.“Youwatchedoldfootageofme?”
ShesteppedbackfromKeatsandshrugged.“Beforewegottogether,I’dseeyouleavewithyourguitarandwascurious,soIGoogledyou.”
“See,allthistimeIthoughtyouweredatingmeforme.NowIknowyou’reaftermeformyformerdivebarfame,”hesaidwithasigh.“Ifeelsoused.”
Shestrolledovertohimandpattedhischest.“Oh,babe,don’tworry.That’snotwhatit’saboutatall.I’musingyouforyourkillerbodyandyourhotboyfriend.”
Helaughedandhookedanarmaroundherwaist.“Icanlivewiththat.Heisprettyhot.”
TheybothturnedandpeeredKeats’sway.Anditwasthatlook.Hebackedupandpickeduphisguitarcase,usingittoblock.“Oh,hell,no.Thereareallkindsofpeopleoutsidethatdoor.Andwedon’thavetime.AndIneedtofocus.I’mtooworriedto—”
Georgia’seyebrowarched.“Soundslikesomeoneneedstorelax.”
Colby’ssmilewasslowashewalkedovertothedressingroomdoorandlockedit.“Ithinkyou’reright.GoodthingIknowafewtricks.”
Ah,shit.Keatsknewthenresistancewasfutile.Wheneitherofthemlookedathimlikethat—likehewastheonlythingtheywantedintheworld—hecouldn’tthinkstraight.“I’moninfifteenminutes.”
“Unbuttonyourjeans,Keats,”Colbysaid,loominglargeagainstthedoor.
Keats’sdickjumpedtoattentionlikeit’dneverbeentouchedinitslifeandthiswasitsoneandonlychanceevertogetoff.
Fuck,fuck,fuck.Nowhedefinitelycouldn’twalkoutonstage.Hesetasidehisguitarandhisfingersfumbledwithhisfly.
“Pullyourjeansdownandbraceyourhandsontheedgeofthatcounter,”Colbysaid,noddingtowardthefarwall.
Keatsstrodeovertothecounterwiththelongmirroredwall,hisnervesabouttheperformancemorphingintosomethingmuch,muchmorepleasant.Heshovedhispantsandboxerstohisankles,freeinghiserection,andlockedhisfingersaroundtheedgeofthecounter.Thecounterwaslow,sohehadtobendoverabit,whichheknewwasColby’sintention.Theguycouldn’tresistputtingKeatsinavulnerableposition.AndKeatscouldn’tstophimselffromlovingthewayitfelttobeathismercy.Atboththeirmercies.Georgiahadtakentoswitchingrolesbackandforthprettyeasily.Keatsliftedhishead,findinghisownreflection.Healmostdidn’trecognizehimself—flushed-faced,determined,andinfullsurrender.
Georgiawalkedovertohim,meetinghisgazeinthemirror.Shesmiledanddippedbeneathhisarmuntilshewasrightinfrontofhim.Shetookhisfaceinherhandsandkissedhimsoftly,theslowtwiningoftheirtonguesunwindingmoreofhisnerves.Shepulledbackandtouchedafingertohislips.“Let’stakecareofthosejitters.”
Shesliddownhisbodyassheloweredherselftothefloor,andwhenshegottoherknees,Keatsdecidedhedidn’tneedtodietogotoheaven.He’dsomehowfounditinthemortalworldwiththesetwoamazingpeople.Hehadnoideahowhe’dgottensolucky,buthewasn’tinthemoodtoquestionit.HegroaneddeepwhenGeorgiawrappedherlipsaroundhimandtookhiscockinsidehermouth.
Colbysteppedupbehindhimanddangledaredbandannainfrontofhisface.“Openup.Thatdoor’sthinandnooneneedstoknowwhatyourpre-performanceritualis.”
Keatsopenedhismouth,andColbycreatedamakeshiftgag.
“Ifyouneedtosafeout,spitoutthegagoruseyourhandtotakeitout.”
Safeout?WhatexactlywasColbyplanning?Itwasn’tlikehehadafloggerlyingaround.ButKeatsshould’veknownnottodoubthim.BecausewhenColbysteppedback,Keatscouldseehimholdingatowelinoneofhishands.
Keatsmight’vemustereduptheenergytobeworried,butrightatthatmoment,Georgiaranhertonguearoundthetipofhiscock,andKeatssuddenlydidn’tcareaboutanythingatall.
Colbyflickedthetowelwithsound-barrier-breakingspeed,andthewetcorneroftheterryclothsnappedagainstKeats’sasswithasurprisinglypotentsting.Hebitintothegag,mufflingtheoomphsoundthattriedtoescape,andafieryburnbloomedoverthespotthathadtakenthebruntoftheimpact.Holyshit.
Keatshadbeensnappedwithtowelsinlockerroomsbefore.Ithadneverbeenapleasantexperience.ButwhenColbyflickedagain,theloudcrackreverberatinginthesmallroom,andhitthebackofKeats’sthigh,Keatshadtogriptheedgeofthecountertokeephiskneesfromsagging.ColbycontinuedtopepperKeats’sassandthighswithlightning-fastpopsfromthetowel,andGeorgiacontinuedherslow,sensualassaultonelickatatime.Thecombinationwasdeadlygood.
Keatsbroketherules,reachingforGeorgiawithonehandandthreadinghisfingersinherhairasshemoved.Upuntilthispointinhislife,he’dneverbelievedgirlsreallylikedgivinghead.Theydidittobeniceortoimpressaguy.ButwithGeorgia,hebelievedthatshereallydidtakepleasureingivingpleasure.Sheneverrushedthingsandseemedtorelishtheexperience.Hecouldrelate.HewentintothesameheadspacewhenhewentdownonherorColby.Maybeitwasthesubmissivething.Hewasn’tsure.Buthe’dneverhadanywomanmakehimfeelsocomfortable,sofreetoenjoythemoment.
Andthecombinationofthatmind-bendingpleasuremixingwiththerelentlessblowsofColby’seviltowelhadKeatsonthevergeinmereminutes.Hisentirebacksidewasonfireinthebestwaypossible,andhe’dnodoubtfeelthatburningallthroughhisperformance.Thethoughtturnedhimonevenmore.NooneintheaudiencewouldknowthatashestoodtherehewaswearingColby’smarksonhisassandGeorgia’slipstickonhisdick.
“Openyoureyes,Adam,”Colbysaid,closetoKeats’sear.
Keatshadn’tevenrealizedColbyhadstoppedthebeating,hisbrainbuzzingtoomuch.Buthiseyespoppedopenimmediatelyatthecommand.ColbypressedagainstKeats’sbackandmethiseyesinthemirror.
“Watchwhatwedotoyou,”Colbysaidquietly.“Whatyoudotous.”
ColbyslidhishandoverKeats’sass,rubbingthemarksandtrackinglower.HecuppedKeats’sballsandranhisfingersalongthebaseofhisdick.Georgia’smouthenvelopedbothKeats’scockandColby’sfingers,gettingeverythingslick.ThenColbytracedbackwardwithwetfingers.HefoundKeats’srimandputpressuretherewithhisfingertips.
Keatsgroanedbehindthegag.Spitdidn’tworkquiteaswellaslubesoColbywascarefulwithhim,butwhenafingertipbreachedtheringofmuscle,Keatsrockedforwardonhistoes.
Georgiamadeanmmmsoundandincreasedherpaceandpressure.Keatstriedtoholdontotheimageinthemirror—Georgia’scurly-hairedheadbobbingathiswaistandColbywatchingeverymoment,hisattentionbouncingbetweenGeorgiaandKeats’sfaceasheslowlypumpedonefingerinsideKeats—buttherewasnohopeforKeatstokeephiseyesopen.
Theneedtocomewasblastingthroughhim,poundingagainsthisresistance.Heputeverythinghehadintoholdingon.ButwhenGeorgiatookhimtothebackofherthroatandColbyfoundKeats’ssweetspot,everythingfellapart.Keats’steethgroundintothebandannaandhisreleasejettedoutwithsomuchforce,histhighsshook.Georgiaheldontohim,takingeverythinghehadtogive,andColbydidn’teasehisfingeroutuntilKeatswasgaspingforair.
Georgiaduckedoutfromherposition,andKeatscollapsedontohiselbows,pantinghard.Hespitoutthegag.“JesusChrist.”
ColbytuggedKeats’sunderwearandpantsbackupandpattedhimontheassnonetoogently,rightoveraspotwhereKeatsknewweltswereprobablyrising.Fucker.
“Fiveminutesuntilyou’reon,kid,”Colbysaidcheerfullyashewentovertothesinkandwashedhishands.
Keatsshookhisheadandsmiled.“Well,Idon’twanttothrowupanymore.ButnowI’mnotsureIcanremembermynamemuchlessanysongs.”
Georgialaughed.“Justknowthatyournumberonefanisoutthereintheaudience.AndIdon’tcareifyouforgetthewords.”
Keatsturnedtoherandcradledherfaceinhishandsashegaveheragood,longkiss.Hecouldtastehimselfonhertongue,andsuddenlyhewasregrettingthathehadtoleaveherbehindandnotreturnthefavor.“Youarethebestgirlfriendever.IncaseIhaven’ttoldyoutoday.”
Shesmiled.“Ifanythinggoeswrong,I’lltakeonefortheteamandflirtwiththisrecordguytomakesurehegivesyouasecondchance.OrwithPikesincehecanpullstringsforyou.”
“Oh,hell,no.Noflirting,George.I’drathernotgettheshotthanhavetocompetewithsomerock-stardrummer.”
Shesmirkedandgavehimanotherquickkiss.“There’snocompetition.Idon’tneedsomerichguyorarockstar.Imakemyownmoney.AndIalreadyhavemytwobadasscountrysingers.That’sallIneed.”
ThewayshesaiditmadewarmthbloomdeepinKeats’schestbecauseheknewshetrulymeantit.LikesomedudewhowomenliterallyfelloverthemselvestogettohadnochanceatturningherattentionawayfromColbyandKeats.“Iloveyou,George.”
Shegavehimanotherquickkiss.“Iloveyou,too.Nowgooutthereandshowthemhowamazingyouare.”
—
Georgiawasbuzzingwiththeenergyfromthenightasthethreeofthemmadetheirwayupthedriveway.Theneighborhoodwasquietandstillaroundthem,makingitfeelliketheyweretheonlyonesintheuniverserightnow.Justthemandthestars.
Keatscameupbehindher,liftingheroffherfeetandspinningheraround.“IfeellikeIcouldrunamarathonrightnow.”
Shelaughed,tryingtokeephervoicedownandfailing.“Iknowwhatyoumean.”
Keatshadkilleditupthereonstage.Theguywho’dbeennervousandstiffduringpracticehaddisappearedandtheperformerhademerged.He’dhadtheclubinthepalmofhishand—especiallythefemalesegmentoftheaudience.Andtherecordexecutivehadbeenenthusiasticaftertheperformance,wantingtotalktoKeatsmoreandeveninterestedinsomeduetmaterialfromthesongsColbyandKeatshadperformedtogether.Nothingwasinkedyet,butitwasagreatstart.
Keatssetherdown,andColbywrappedhisarmsaroundherfrombehind,movingthemintotheshadowbythegarage.“Idon’tfeellikerunningamarathon,butIcanthinkofsomeotherthingswecoulddotoburnoffenergy.”
“Charades?”Keatssuggested.
Georgiaturnedherhead.“Monopoly?”
Colbygruntedandhishandslippedunderthehemofhershirt,trackingoverherbelly.“Smartasses.”
Keats’seyesfollowedthemovementofColby’shand,andhisteasingexpressionmeltedintosomethingmorebase.“Well,therearesomeothergameswecouldplay.”
“Agreed,”Colbysaidnexttoherearashelethishanddipjustalittlebelowherwaistband.“I’mthinkingthatHowManyTimesCanWeMakeOurGirlLoseHerMindinOneNightcouldwork.”
Keatsclosedthespacebetweenthemandpressedhisbodyupagainsthers,hishipsbumpingthehandColbyhadagainsther.“Bestgameever.”
Colbykissedthebackofherneck,andKeatsleanedforwardtotakehermouth.Sheclosedhereyes,fallingintothesensationsofbeingcaughtbetweenthetwoofthem.Theycouldoverwhelmherinaninstantandshelovedit,lovedlosingherselftothemomentswhereitwasallroaminghandsandwarmbodiesandwhisperedwords.
Bothmenweregrowinghardagainstherastheystoodthere,makingoutinthedarkcornerofthedriveway.Herinsidesturnedmolten.Shewasn’tsureshecouldevergetenoughofthesetwo.Everytimetheytouchedher,itwaslikeherbodywasstarvedalloveragain,likeshe’dneverbeentouchedbefore.
Colbykissedthespotbehindherear,sendinggoosebumpsdownherneck.“Maybeweshouldtakethisinside.”
“Goodidea,”Keatssaid,pullingbackandsmiling.“Wouldn’twanttodisturbtheneighbors.Theymaywanttojoinin.”
Georgialaughed,butwhentheytookherbythehand,andsheturnedtolookbackatthehousethathadbeenherprisonforsolong,shesawashaftoflightfalloverafaceinthewindow.Heroldhidingplace.
Herbreathcaughtforamoment,butthentheirnewneighbor,anolderladywho’dmovedintothehouseafterGeorgiahadvacatedit,liftedherhandinalittlewaveasiftosay,“Don’tmindme.Goonanddowhatmakesyouhappy.”
AndGeorgiacouldn’thelpbutsmileandgiveawaveback.
Becauseshewas.
Finally,shewasthesceneontheothersideoftheglass.Shewasoneofthehappyones.
Shewastheirs.ReadonforasneakpeekatthenextLovingontheEdgenovel
CALLONME
ComingJuly2015fromBerkleyBooks!ONE
“Areyoutouchingyourself?”ThevoiceinOakley’searsoundedlaboredandovereager—likeaSaintBernardattemptingphonesex.Hewasprobablydrooling,too.Lovely.
“Yes,youmakemesohot”—shequicklycheckedthestickynoteshe’dputonthekitchenisland—“Stefan.”
Stefan.Literatureprofessor.Single.Sixfootfive.
Thatwastheinfohe’dgivenher.Whichprobablymeant:Steve,unemployed,married,andfive-sixonagoodday.
Hegroaned.“You’resosexy.”
Sexy?Twopointsoffforlackoforiginality,Mr.LitProf.Thougheventhesuaveguystendedtoforgettheirvocabularywhentheygottothispointintheconversation.Oakleycoveredthemouthpieceonherheadsetandturnedoffthetimerontheoven.Ifnothingelse,shewasimpressedtheguyhadlastedthroughthefullbakingtime.
“Thanks,sugar,”shesaid,lettinghertonedropintoalowerregister.
“God,yourvoiceissofuckinghot.”
Thatsheheardalot.Arecordcompanyexechadoncedeemedhervoice“smoky,X-ratedperfection”whenhe’dheardherdemo.Atthetime,shehadn’tconsideredhowinappropriateit’dbeenforagrownmantotellafifteen-year-oldkidthat.Butherraspyvoicehadgottenherthegigthen,andit’dgottenherthisonenow.Though,admittedly,thebarwasn’tsetquiteashighforthiscurrentone.
“I’mgonnagiveittoyousohard,Sasha,”Stefangroundout.“Icanfeelyourhotmouthclosingaroundme.”
Oakleydonnedovenmittsandleaneddowntopulloutthetrayofbrownies.Thesmellofchocolateandtheheatoftheovenhitherwithfullforce.Sheinhaleddeeply.“Mmm,that’ssogood.Icouldjustlickupeverylastbit.”
“Yeah,”hepanted,thesoundofhisslick,pumpingfistobscenelyclearthroughthereceiver.“That’sright.Showmehowmuchyouwantit.”
Thereyougo,Steve,yougoonandgetyourmoney’sworth.Oakleysetthetrayofbrowniesonatrivetandtuggedoffthemitts.Herstomachrumbled.She’dstayeduplateenoughthatherbodywaslookingfordinnernumbertwo.Buttheseweren’tforher.
Sheglancedtowardthedarkenedhallwayandthestairsbeyond.Well,maybeonelittlecornerpiecewouldn’tbemissed.Shecutasmallsquareanddippedherfingersintograbit.Butassheliftedthebrownie,herknucklesgrazedthesearinghotpan.
“Ah,shit!”shehissed,jerkingherhandback.
“Oh,yeah,letmehearit,”Stefansaidonamoan.“Comewithme,baby.”
Oakleyshookoutherhand,suckingairthroughherteeth,andtriedtokeepthepainoutofhervoice.Herphonecompanionthoughtshewasmid-orgasm.Shethrewinanoh,oh,ohandrantothesinktoplungeherfistintothedishwatershe’ddrawntosoakthemixingbowl.
Stefanmadechokedsoundsashereachedhisownrelease.Inanotherworld,maybeitcould’vebeenaneroticmoment.She’dtalkedaguyintoanorgasm.Hewascallinghername.Butthenamewasfakeandsowasthetalk.Andthoughsheheldnothingagainsttheguyswhocalled—theyhelpedherpaythebills—herlibidohadlongagocrawledintoadarkcornertodieapeacefuldeath.EvenifsheimaginedtheguyontheotherendofthelinelookedlikeJohnnyDepporJustinTimberlakeorsomething,shecouldn’tdrumuponeounceofinterest.
Stefanpantedheavy,wetbreathsrightagainstherear,resuminghisresemblancetoaSaintBernard.Maybesheshouldofferhima“goodboy”oraMilk-Bone.
“Thatwasamazing,”shesaid,usingherhusky,after-sexvoiceasshesoakedherhandinthewater.“Thankyou,Stefan.”
Panting.Panting.Thatwastheonlyresponse.
Thenatight,highsound—whistling.
No.Wheezing.
Uh-oh.“Stefan?Areyouokay?”
Thosesqueakingbreathscontinuedforafewseconds,then:“Yes…I’m…fine.”
Hedidn’tsoundfine.“Stefan,ifyou’rehavinganasthmaattackorchestpainsorsomething,youneedtocallforhelp.”
“Can’t…”Hegavearaggedcough.“Mywife…can’tknow…I’mdownherethislate.She’llknowI’mup…”
Hecoughedagain.
JesusChrist.Oakleyshookthewateroffherhand.“What’sshegoingtothinkwhenshefindsyoudeadinthebasement?Hangupthephoneanddial911.”
“I—”
“Stu?”asharpvoicesaidinthebackground.“Whatareyoudoingdownhere?Stu?”
“Oh,shit,”Stefan/Stusaidbetweenwheezes.
ThedialtonebuzzedinOakley’searasecondlater.
Shepulledoffthewirelessheadsetandsaggedagainstthefridge,exhalingalongbreath.Okay.Itwouldbeallright.Stu’swifemightkillhimwhenshefoundhimwiththephonetohisearandhisunderweararoundhisankles,butatleasttheguywouldn’tdieofaheartattackonOakley’swatch.
Shecouldhandlealotofstuff—callersthrewallkindsofbizarreshitather—butshecouldn’tberesponsibleforhelpingkillone.Itwasbadenoughthatshe’djustcontributedtostrifeinanothermarriage.
Goldstarforher.
Itshouldn’tbotherher.Theguyswhocalledweregrownmenmakingaconsciousdecisiontoseekoutpaidphonesex.Shewassimplythetoolofchoice.Anothernight,theymightdownloadpornandwatchadirtymovieinstead.Ifshe’dlearnedanythingduringheryearofdoingthisjob,itwasthatitwasn’tpersonal.Shehadajobtodo.Thecallersneededafacelesssomeonetofillinfortheirfantasythatnight.Therelationshipwaspurelytransactional.Andhell,she’dbeenusedforfreebyenoughmeninherpast.Nowshewasatleastpaidforitandnotgettingemotionallyannihilatedintheprocess.But,still,sometimesshefeltlikethedrugdealer,givingaddictseasyaccesstotheirvice.
Sherolledhershoulders,tryingtoshrugoffthestressofthecall,anddugatubeofantibioticointmentoutofthejunkdrawertoslatheronherburnedknuckles.Itwaspasttwoandshereallyneededtogettobed,buttherewasnowayshe’dbeabletosleepafterthatburstofadrenalinefromthecall.
Plus,she’dnevergottenherdessert.Andrightnow,shecoulduseabighonkingpieceofchocolate.
Shewentbacktothebrownies.They’dcooledenoughbynow,soshecutherselfabiggersquarethantheoriginalcornershe’dplannedandtookabite.Sheclosedhereyes.Yeah,that’sthestuff.
Afterpouringabigglassofmilk,shebroughtthatandtherestofthebrownietothetable.Sheglancedatthewalkie-talkieshe’dplacedonthetable,thesoftwhitenoiserelaxingher,andleanedbackinthechairtoenjoythesolitude.Shewasusedtopullingthenightshiftbynow,butusuallyshefellintobedafterthelastcall,graspingforanyshredsofsleepshecouldgetbeforethealarmwentofftostartherrealjob.Butitwasnicetositforamomentandsimplybe.
Shepolishedoffthelastbitofbrownieandmilkandbroughtherglasstothesink.Theexhaustionwassettlinginfullforcenow.Shebracedherhandsontheedgeofthecounterandeyedthesoakingdishes.Hermotherhadalwayshadtheruletonevergotobedwithadirtysink—asifabright,gleaming,emptysinkwassomesignofhowtogetherthehouseholdwas.Maybeitwas.
Oakleyturnedawayfromthedishes.They’dhavetowaituntiltomorrow.Shedidn’thaveitinher.
Sheputplasticwrapovertherestofthebrowniesandgrabbedthewalkie-talkieandherheadset.Sheshouldbeabletogetatleastfourhoursofsleep.Butrightassheflippedoffthelight,thewalkie-talkiebeeped.
“Mom?”
Oakleyhalted,startledbythesuddenvoiceinthequiet.Shepressedthebuttononthesideofthedevice.“Yeah,baby?”
“What’sthatsmell?”Reaganasked,hervoicegroggyfromsleep.
Oakleyshookherheadandsmiled.Sheshould’veknownthebionicnosewouldpickupthatscenteveninhersleep.“It’sjustthebrowniesforyourbakesaletomorrow.”
“It’snotmybakesale.It’stheschool’s,”Reagancorrected.
“That’swhatImeant.”
“Butthat’snotwhatyousaid.”
Oakleyleanedagainstthewallinthehallway.Thiswasanargumentshe’dneverwin.Reaganwasintoexactness.“I’msorryIsaiditwrongthefirsttime.Nowgobacktosleep,sweetheart.Idon’twantyoutobetiredinthemorning.”
“Didyouputnutsorcaramelinthem?”
“Ofcoursenot.Iknowyou’reabrowniepurist.”
“Okay.Good,”Reagansaid,andOakleycouldalmosthearherdaughternodding.“Thanks,Mom.Loveyou.”
Oakleypressedthewalkie-talkietoherchestforamoment,warmthfillingher.“Loveyou,too,Rae.Goodnight.”
Oakleyheadedtoherbedroom,listeningtothefootfallsupstairsandtheflushofthetoiletasReaganmadeaquicktriptothebathroom.Shemust’vereallyhadtogobecauseRaehatedgettingoutofbedinthemiddleofthenight.Andsheoutrightrefusedtocomedownstairsafterdarkbecausethereweren’tenoughplacesfornight-lights.
Hencethewalkie-talkies.OakleyhadgottentiredofReaganyellingfromafaranytimesheneededsomethingatnight.Andleavingeverylightblazingthroughthehousealleveningwasn’tanoptioneither.Theelectricbillwasalreadyhighenough.
Bills.No,shewouldn’tthinkaboutthatnow.Eventhoughshecouldseethestackstaringatherfromherdesk.Thegasbill.Rent.ThequarterlyinstallmentforReagan’sprivateschoolandtherapies.Shecouldn’tfacethattonight.Plus,sheknewtheduedatesbyheartsoshecouldholdontohermoneyuntiltheverylastminutewithoutbeinglate.
Sheclosedherbedroomdoorandwalkedovertohercomputertowakethescreen.Hersign-inpagefortheservicesheusedtogethercallswasstillup.Itshowedhowmanyminutesshe’dloggedtonight.Notbad.Butshewassixminutesshyofhittingthebonuslevelwhereshegotanextrafiftybucksforthenight.Stu’shealthscarehadcosthermorethanstress.
Shesighedandsaggedintoherdeskchair.FiftyextradollarscouldpayforthatpairoflimegreenChuckTaylorsReaganwantedforherbirthday.
Oakleyyawnedandcheckedtheboxthatindicatedshewasavailabletotakeacall.Hercellphonerangwithinsecondsandsheslippedontheheadsetagain.“Hello,thisisSasha.Readyforafantasynight?”
“Soready,”saidthedeep-voicedcaller.Therewasmaletitteringinthebackground.
Great.Afrat-boycall.
“Whatareyouwearing,Sasha?”
OakleylookeddownatheroversizedT-shirtandyogapants.“Asheerrobewithnothingunderneath.”
“Aw,yeah,”thedudesaid.“Howbigareyourtits?”
Oakleyputherheadtoherdesk.Sixminutes.Sheonlyneededtokeepthemonthephoneforsixmoreminutes.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Theyhungupattwo,laughinginthebackgroundasthephonewentdead.
TheirTruthorDaregamecomplete.
Andshewasshort.
SheliftedherheadandcheckedtheAvailableboxagain.
“Hello,thisisSasha…”TWO
Thechickinhislivingroomwastakingaselfienexttohisgoldrecord.Pikeleanedback,watchingherthroughhishalf-openbedroomdoor.“Fantastic.”
“What’sfantastic?”hisfriendGibsonaskedontheotherendoftheline.“DidyouevenhearwhatIsaid?”
“No,Ididn’t.Andwhat’sfantasticisthatIhaveaseriouslyhotB-listactressinmylivingroom,whowasallkindsofcoolaftertheshowtonight,butisnowsnappingduckfaceselfiesinfrontofmyshit.”
Gibsonsnortedalaugh.“Atleastshe’snotusingyoujustforyourbody.”
“ThatI’dbeokaywith.Butthis…”
“Hey,ifthere’snoselfieforproof,theeventneverhappened.Atleastthat’swhatmyniecetellsme.It’slikeatreefallinginthewoods.”
Pikesighed.“Observation:Duckfaceisafriendtonoone.”
ThelongerPikewatched,themoreheregrettedhisdecisiontobringthiswomanhomewithhim.He’dbeenbuzzingofftheenergyoftheperformancetonightandhadwantedtokeepthatfeelinggoing.DarkfallhadkickedassonstageandhadimpressedthepromotersputtingtogetherthebigSummerInsanitytour.IfDarkfalllandedthatspot,they’dhaveachancetorecapturesomeofthetractionthey’dlostwhentheirleadsingerhadtotakeextendedtimeoffbetweenalbumstogetsurgeryonhisvocalcords.Insomeways,tonightfeltlikearebirthoftheband,andhewantedtocelebrate.
Andusuallytheonlythingmoreexcitingthanpoundingthedrums,makingthousandsoffansscream,wasmakingjustonescream.Butashewatchedhisdatetakeanotherphotoofherself,hewaslosinghisenthusiasmforhisplan.
Maybeachillnightathomewiththedogwould’vebeenabetteridea.
Montybarkedfromsomewhereinthelivingroom,protestingthefactthatPikehadn’tgivenhimhisrequisitebellyrubanddogbiscuitwhenhe’dcomehome.He’dbeentoobusypouringadrinkforhisguest.
“What’shername?”Gibasked.
Pikescrubbedahandthroughhisdamphair.“Whydoesthatmatter?”
“Comeon,tellmethatyou’renotthatbigofadickandyourememberhername.”
PikegrimacedatGib’stone.Thisiswhathegotforhangingoutwithbusinessmantypesinsteadoffellowmusicians.Thesuitshadadifferentcodeofconduct.Withthedudesinhisband,rememberingnameswasonlyexpectedafteryousleptwithsomeone.Luckily,Pike’smemorywasgood.“LarkEvans.”
“Allright.Holdonasec.”Theclickingofakeyboardsoundedontheotherend.
“Gib,look,canwetalkaboutwhateveryouwerecallingfortomorrow?I’mignoringmycompany.”Hewalkedawayfromthedooranddroppedthetowelfromaroundhiswaisttopullonafreshpairofwell-wornjeans.“ItoldherI’donlybeintheshowerforaminute.”
“Ha!Iknewit,”Gibsonsaid,triumphinhisvoice.
“What?”
“Yourgirl’sonInstagram.Andguesswhatpicsaremakingtheirwayaroundtheworldaswespeak?”
Pikesighed.
“Damn,sheishot,though,”Gibsonsaid.“Ducklipsnotwithstanding.”
“Whichiswhy—”
“Ah,shit.You’regonnalovethis.Waitforit…captiontothepic:HangingoutwithSpike,thedrummerfromDarkfall!Hashtag:hawt.”
“Holdup.Spike?”
Gibsonburstintolaughter.“Spike!Man,shedoesn’tevenknowyourname.Howveryrock-starofher.”
Pikelookedtotheceiling,lettingthatsinkin.Karma’safuckingbitch.“Youaretotallyruiningmyhard-onhere.”
“Nowdon’tkid.Iknowmydeep,broodingvoicemakesyouhot,”Gibsaid.“Wantmetotalkdirtytoyou,Spikey?”
Pikegrinned.“Soit’sfinallyhappened.You’regoinggayforme.I’mflattered.Ofcourse,itwasinevitable.Imean,haveyouseenme?ButIhatetobreakyourheart,Gib,Ionlyplayforoneteam.”
Hesniffed.“IfIweregay,I’dhavewayhigherstandardsthanyou.Thatrecordwouldneedtobeplatinum.”
“Aw,loveyou,too.I’mevenmakingmyduckfaceforyou.”Hemadealoudkisssound.“NowI’mlettingyougobecause,unlikeyou,I’mabouttogetlaid,son.”
“Fine.Butcallmebackinthemorning.IhaveacharitythingIneedtorunbyyou.”
Piketuckedthephonebetweenhisshoulderandearandpulledhisbedsidedraweropentocheckthecondomsupply.“TheDineandDonateevent?Itoldyoutheband’sinagainthisyear,ifyouneedus.”
“No,thisisforsomethingdifferent.Moreofafavorthananythingelse.”
“Soundsominous.Butyeah,callyoutomorrow.”
“Cool.Nowgorockherworld,Spike.”
Pikesnortedanddisconnectedthecall.HetossedhisphoneonthechairbythewindowandpaddedtohisclosettograbaT-shirt.Butwhenhesteppedoutofhisroom,readytoblockoutalltheinformationhe’dlearned—selfies,Instagram,Spike—inordertoenjoyhisdate,hewasgreetedbyashriekinstead.
Larkhadn’tseenhimcomeinbecausehergazehadzeroedinonagrowlingMonty
“Giveitback,youstupidmutt!”sheyelled,andjabbedaclosedumbrellaatMonty.Montyyelped.
“Whatthefuck?”Pikehurriedforwardandgrabbedherwrist,stoppinganotherpoke.“Whatthehell’sgoingon?”
ShepointedatMonty,ragetwistingherprettyfaceintosomethingugly.“Lookathim!YouridioticdogiseatingmyJimmyChoos!”
ShesaiditlikeMontywasmurderingherkid.PikeglancedatMontywhowasindefensemode,baringteeth,twolittlepawsononeofLark’shighheels.Pikeshrugged.“Well,thebranddoessayChoo.Maybehe’sjustfollowingdirections.”
LarkgaspedandlookedatPikelikehe’dlosthismind.“Doyouknowhowmuchthosecost?Whatiswrongwithyou?Dosomething!”
Thegratingtoneofhervoicemadehisteethclamptogether.Beingyelledatbyanyonepushedhisbuttons.Butmessingwithhisdogpushedtheugliestofthem.Hetookabreath,tryingtokeephiscool.“Doyouknowthatmydogwasabusedasapuppy?Andthatjabbinghimwithasharpobjectisfuckingtraumatizingtohim?I’llbuyyouanotherpairofyourgoddamnedshoes.”
Herheadsnappedbackabitatthat,andshehadthedecencytolookchagrined.Sheglanceddownattheumbrellastillclutchedinherhand.“Oh.Shit,I’msorry.Ididn’tknow.”
Andhedidn’tcare.Abusedornot,youdon’tpokeananimalwithsomethingthatcouldhurtthem,especiallyoversomethingasstupidasashoe.Hecouldputupwithherusinghimforhisfameorwhatever.Theywould’vebothbeenusingeachother.Theyeachknewthescore.Buthewasn’tgoingtoletanyonefuckwithhisdog.
“Monty,release,”hesaid,inthefirm,dominantvoicethatworkedbestonthefeistydachshund/schnauzermix.Montylookedupwithbig,sadpuppyeyesandbackedawayfromtheshoe.ButjustwhenPikewasabouttosendhimofftohisbed,MontytrottedovertoLarkandgavehertheI’msorrylook.
Lark’sexpressionsoftened,andshereacheddowntopathisheadawkwardly.“It’sokay,buddy…”
Montyliftedhislegandpissedalloverherbarefoot.
“Monty,no!”Pikesaid.
Butchaosensuedafterthat.Larkhoppingandshrieking.Montybarkingandspinninginacircle.AndPikedoinghisdamnedestnottolaugh.
Hewasn’tentirelysuccessful,andthatearnedhimaglarefromLarkandahappy,yippingbarkfromMonty.Finally,hegatheredhimselftogetherenoughtodirectMontytogotohiscratesohecouldhelpLark.
Heshowedhertothebathroomsoshecouldrinseherlegoffinthetub,andhecleanedupthemessinthelivingroom—aftersneakingMontyhistreatandabellyrub.
HewashalfwaythroughabeerwhenLarksteppedintothekitchenafewminuteslater,wearingnothingbutapairoflacypinkpantiesandabrathatmadeherbreastslooklikeicing-coveredcupcakes.Hisdickjumpedtoattention—theresponseautomatic.
Sheleanedinthedoorway,posinglikeshewasataVictoria’sSecretcovershoot,andgavehimtheinvitingsmileshe’dgivenhimfromtheaudiencetonight.“Sorryaboutallofthat.Howaboutwestartoverandgetbacktowhywe’rehere,hmm?”
Pikestillhadthebottleofbeerpressedtohislips.Helowereditandsetitonthecounter.
Lark’ssmilespreadwiderandshesaunteredoverwithaheavyswayinherhips.Shepressedherhandtohischest.“Ihaveallkindsofwayswecanapologizetoeachother.Forgettingmadatyourdog,Iwasthinkingthiswouldmakeituptoyou.”
Shedraggedherhanddownandloweredtoherknees.Pikestareddownather.Shelookedlikeafuckingpornstarathisfeet.Poutylipswithafreshcoatofpinklipstick,blondhairflowingdownherback.Awetdreamofawoman.Butwhensheputherpaintedfingernailstothezipperonhisjeans,heputhishandoverhers.“Standup.”
Sheblinked,thesultrylookshiftingtoaperplexedone.“What?”
HehelpedLarkgettoherfeet.“Berightback.”
Hersmilereturned,thoughithadaconfusedtilttoit.“O-kay.”
Heheadedbacktohisbedroomforaminute,thenreturnedtothekitchen.Shewasdrinkinghisbeer,puttinglipstickmarksonthebottle.Hedrapedherdressononeofthebarstools,setapairofhisflip-flopsontopofit,andhandedherafewhundred-dollarbills.“Fortheshoesandacab.”
Shestareddownatthemoneyinherhand.“What?”
“Thisisn’tgoingtohappentonight.”
“Wait,youwantmetoleave?ButIthought—”
“It’stimeforyoutogo.”Hewastemptedtotakeaco-selfiewithher.Hashtag:HookUpFail
Shestiffenedlikearodhadbeenshovedupherbackandmadetheselittlesoundsofdisbelief—likeshewastryingtocomeupwithareallygoodinsultbutcouldn’tthinkofany.
Whensheobviouslycouldn’tstringanythingworthytogether,sheshovedonhisflip-flops,whichlookedlikeflippersonhersmallfeet,andyankedherdressoverherhead.“Ican’tfuckingbelievethis.”
Hedumpedthebeerinthesink,bored.
Hislackofresponsebroughtanewlevelofhatredglowinginhereyes.“Isthisaboutthedog?Becausethat’sjuststupid.HowwasIsupposedtoknowhewasabused?”
Hewalkedtohisfrontdoorandpulleditopen.“Youneverknowwhereanyone’sscarsare.Doesn’tmeanyougetapasstohurtthem.”
Sherearedbacklikehe’dslappedher.Thenherlipspressedtogetherandsheflouncedoutthedoor,mutteringsomethingabouthopingthatthedumbdogkepthimwarmtonight.
Heshutthedoorwithoutwatchinghergoandleanedagainstit,absorbingthequietofthecondo,reliefinsteadofdisappointmentsettlingin.Hookupfail,yes.Butevenhehadstandards.He’dratherfuckhisfistthanspendanothersecondwithDuckfacethePuppyPoker.
Ayearago,hemight’vejustwrittenitoffandtakenhertobedanyway.Whatdiditmatterifawomanwasshallow?Itwasn’tlikethey’dbeseeingeachotheragain.Plus,he’dalwayshatedsleepingaloneinahouse.Butnowhecouldn’tstomachthethoughtofspendinganothermomentwithawomanlikethat.
Maybehewasgettingusedtobeingbyhimself.Afterhisroommate,Foster,hadmovedouttolivewithhisgirlfriendlastyear,Pikehadfeltthatoldneedtoalwayshavepeopleover.Mostlyofthenakedfemalevariety.Butforthelastfewmonths,he’dbeensobusywithbandstuffandworkingathismusicstudioonthesidethathehadn’tsoughtoutthatbrandofcompanionshipveryoften.Hehadn’tevengonetoTheRanch,thekinkresortheandhisfriendsbelongedto,inatleastthreemonths.Tonighthadbeenthefirstnighthe’ddonethehookup-after-a-showthinginawhile.
Nowherememberedwhyhe’dbackedofffromthiskindofthing.Hehadnoissuebeingsomeone’sone-nightstand.Mostofthetime,hepreferredthingsthatway.Butnowthathe’dseenhowFosterandCelaweretogether,howexplosivethechemistrycouldbewhentwopeopleconnectedlikethat,hecouldseehowsuperficialthisothershitwasincomparison.Womenfuckedhistype.Thebadboy.Thedrummer.Whatever.Theydidn’tfuckhim
Andhe’dbeenguiltyofthesame.He’dfuckthegroupie,themodel,theBactress.IfnotforMontychewingLark’sshoetonight,hewould’veneverknownthatthewomanwascapableofhurtingadogforsomethingasinconsequentialasashoe.Becausehedidn’tknowher.
Forsomereason,thatdugintohimlikeaburr,annoyingtheshitoutofhim.
HesankontohisbedandMontyjumpeduptojoinhim.HescratchedbehindMonty’sears.“Goodjob,Monts.You’remakingmegrowagoddamnedconscience.”
Montylickedhischops.Therewerepiecesofredshoeleatherstuckinhisteeth
PikechuckledandkissedthetopofMonty’sscruffyhead.Montyrewardedhimbyreleasingsomenoxiousgasanddog-grinningattheeffort.
“Jesus,Monts.”Heputhishandoverhisnoseandmouth.“Takethatstuffsomewhereelse.”
Monty,ofcourse,tookthatashiscuetosettlenexttohimonthebed.Pikewavedthepoisonousfumesaway,coughing,andgrabbedhiscellphone.
Gibsonansweredonthesecondring.“Pleasetellmeyoulastlongerthanthatbecause,seriously,anythoughtsofgoinggayforyouaredefinitelyoutofthequestionotherwise.Irequirestamina.”
Pikelethisheadfallbacktothepillow.“Shutthefuckupandstopflirting.It’snotgoingtowork.”
“Soyoukickedherout?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.You’rebetterthanthat,”Gibsaid,nosarcasminhisvoice.“Youneedtostopdippingintothegroupiepool,anyway.You’retoooldforthatshit.Findyourselfsomenormalwomenwhoareyourownage.”
“Normalwomenhavetoomanyexpectations.”
“What?Likerememberingtheirnamesandcallingthemthenextday?”
“Exactly.Plus,I’mbestinlimiteddoses.I’dsendnormalwomenrunningforthehillsaftertoolong.”
“Idon’tknow.Youhaven’tscaredoffyourfriendsyet.Imean,yes,IthoughtyouwereanegotisticaldouchebagwhenIfirstmetyou,butnowyou’vegrownonme.Likeafungus.”
“Soyou’resayingIshouldtrytoinfectsomenormalwomanwithmyfungus?Goodtalk,buddy.Goodtalk.”
“Dr.Philgetsallhisbeststufffromme.”
“JusttellmeaboutthischaritythingsoIcangettobedandthinkaboutthesexIwon’tbehavingtonight.”
Gibsonpausedasifreadytopushthetopic,butthenrelented.“Fine.Thecharityprojectwouldinvolvemusic.”
“Excellent.”
“Andwouldbehelpingmylovelysister-in-law-to-beout.”
“MakingsexyTessahappy.Good.”
“You’dbeworkingwithkids.”
“And…I’mout.”
Gibsonscoffed.“Youhavesomethingagainstkids?”
“I’minkedup,curselikeaconvict,andhavepiercingsinquestionableplaces.Parentsdon’twantmeneartheirchildren,andthekidsfreakmeout.”
“Bullshit.Howcanyoubefreaked-out?You’reoneofthem.”
“Sorry,Gib.”
“Areyoubeingseriousrightnow?”
“I’mnotakidperson.”Hecouldstillsmellthestenchofthehousehe’dgrownupin.Theoverstuffeddiaperpails.Thespoilinggovernment-issuedbabyformula.Hisyoungersiblingsseekinghimandhissisteroutwhentheirmomcouldn’tkeepup.
“Thiswouldbetheoldergroup,notthelittleones.”
“Can’tIjustwriteacheckordonateproceedsfromashoworsomething?”
Gibsonblewoutabreath.“No,theyneedyourexpertise,notyourmoney.Justhearmeout.Tessahasagreatideaforafund-raiser,butsheneedssomeonewithexperienceinproducingmusic.Allthemoneywouldgotowardthecollegefundandresourcesfortheafter-schoolprogram.Youknowwhatthecharity’sabout.Thesekidsdon’thavealot,man.YouandIbothknowwhatthat’slike.”
Fuck.“You’rereallygoingforthejugularhere,Gib.”
“Justspeakingthetruth.”
Yeah,thatandGibsonwasabrilliantPRguywhoknewhowtopitchthings.MontylaidhisheadonPike’schest,andPikescratchedbehindMonty’sear.“You’veevengotmydoggivingmethedon’t-be-a-bastardlook.”
Gibsonchuckled.“IsneakhimtreatswhenI’mthere.He’sonmyside.”
Pikeranahandoverhisface.“Whatexactlydotheywantmetodo?”
HecouldalmosthearGibson’svictorygrinoverthephone.“Itwon’tbeabigdealatall.”
Pikeclosedhiseyes.Famouslastwords.RoniLorenwroteherfirstromancenovelatagefifteenwhenshediscoveredwritingaboutboyswaswayeasierthanactuallytalkingtothem.Sincethen,herflirtingskillshaven’timproved,butshelikestothinkherstorytellingabilityhas.Thoughshe’llforeverbeaNewOrleansgirlatheart,shenowlivesinDallaswithherhusbandandson.Ifshe’snotworkingonherlatestsexystory,youcanfindherreading,watchingrealitytelevision,orindulginginherunhealthyaddictiontorockstars,er,rockconcerts.Yeah,that’sit.Visitherwebsite:roniloren.com.Lookingformore?
VisitPenguin.comformoreaboutthisauthorandacompletelistoftheirbooks.Discoveryournextgreatread!