In fact, for a moment, I forget where we are and what’s going on because holy shit. She isn’t going for a peck; she’s jumping off the high dive and taking me with her. My hands lower to her hips, and I bring her up against me as she parts my lips, touches her tongue to mine, then strokes against it. Full, openmouthed assault. And I’m so totally down with this plan. Sign me up. Let’s do this.
Time seems to stop for long seconds as our tongues and lips tangle, and her fingers curl in my hair. My blood goes hot, and I have to remind myself that we’re in public and that I can’t grab her thighs and wrap her legs around me.
She pulls back with a soft gasp, leaving me blinking and a little stunned. Well, that hasn’t happened in a long time—a girl taking charge and leaving me speechless. I’m usually the one making the moves. But I’m definitely not complaining. She spins to face Dickhead again, and I keep my hands on her waist, unsure if I’m doing it to keep her steady or to keep me from tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her out of here caveman style.
Meanwhile, Caleb is doing an excellent impression of a fish, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out—the yuppie guppy. Finally, he seems to come back into himself. “You wanted to make me mad, fine. Mission accomplished. Now let’s go home.”
“I’m going home with him, not you,” Natalie says.
“For what? To prove some stupid point?”
“I don’t need to go home with him to prove a point. Apparently, I’ve been missing out on the benefits of our open relationship,” she says, her tone as sweet as Karo syrup. “I guess it’s happy birthday to me after all. Good-bye, Caleb.”
The staff has come up to intercept the disturbance, but Natalie’s already pulling me with her and striding for the stairs. Wide eyes follow our progress, but she doesn’t stop until we’re back on the sidewalk in front of my bike. Her proud shoulders sag instantly, and all the breath seems to wheeze out of her.
She puts her hands to her face. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just did that. I am so sorry.”
I grin. “Well, I’m sure as hell not. Holy shit, woman.”
She peers up at me, wary. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, too late, princess. I’ve got ideas. Lots of ideas. You don’t kiss a guy like that and expect him to forget it.”
“It was an act.” But her gaze flicks away and her cheeks go pink.
I lean against my bike. “It was hot as fuck. You can’t fake that.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
Ha. She wasn’t denying the hot as fuck part. “All right, how ’bout I make you a deal? I won’t sleep with you unless you ask me to.”
She snorts. “Would you like a sidecar for that ego of yours?”
“Come on, seriously. Putting aside the question of whether you’ll be able to resist my infinite charm or not, no one should spend her twenty-first birthday alone, especially after that spectacular throwdown upstairs. It’s time to celebrate.”
“No, it’s time to get a pint of ice cream and do an ugly cry. Because I guarantee you, as soon as this adrenaline wears off, it’s not gonna be pretty. You need to get out while the gettin’s good because it’s gonna be all snot and chick flicks in an hour.”
“No fucking way. This is not a tragedy. You just got rid of a dickbag boyfriend and a skank of a roommate. You, princess, are a free woman and the town is yours tonight. Plus, you told them you weren’t going home. You can’t lose that poker hand.”
She groans. “I had to add that part, didn’t I? God, I just want to curl up in bed.”
“No bed to go to except mine.”
“Opportunist.”
“Always.” I grab the helmet and put it in her hands. “But there’s another option besides finding a place to crash.”
She shoots me a suspicious look, but I can tell she’s working hard to keep it together. The girl has had the shit day of all shit days. And the minute she slows down, it’s going to take her down hard. So I know what my job needs to be.
“The other option is you don’t go to sleep at all.” I pull my phone from my pocket and show her the time. “It’s almost nine. Sun’ll be up in about ten hours.”
“Ten?” She cringes. “That seems like forever.”
“If you’re going to mope around, yes. But you know what they say about time flying. All we need to do is find something fun to do each hour. Then you can walk into your place looking like the badass wild girl you want them to think you are.”
She gives me a skeptical lift of her brow. “You want to spend the next ten hours with me? We don’t even like each other.”
Wrong. “I’m liking you better all the time, princess. Come on. Get on the bike. Hour one, I’ll take you to my favorite bar, and you can tell ’em it’s your twenty-first. Everyone will buy you a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“What about cake?”
“Cake?” She perks up a little. “What kind of cake?”
“The best cake.” I straddle the bike and pat the spot behind me. “Let’s ride, birthday girl. I want to get out of here before the cops arrive to charge you with death of a handbag and ball bashing.”
“No promises that I’m done with the ball bashing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She sighs, but I can tell I’ve won. Cake was the clincher. She eyes me for a moment longer then relents. “Fine.”
But before she can get on the bike, I take her hand and drag her close. Her leg brushes my thigh. She stiffens, almost as if bracing for another kiss—one I probably could take, based on the way she’s looking at me. But instead, I put my mouth close to her ear and whisper, “And don’t close your eyes this time. You’re missing all the good stuff.”
Chapter 4
Natalie
I manage to keep my eyes open for most of the ride since Monroe chooses side roads instead of getting back onto the interstate. I still hold on to him like my life depends on it—and I guess it does—but this time it’s less from fear of falling off and more about the fact that everything in my life feels like it’s crumbling around me, and holding on to something solid grounds me.
I can’t really process what’s happened. Every time I picture the cozy scene between Caleb and Rebecca, the anger rushes through me all over again, drowning me in rage. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic, kneeing Caleb, ruining Rebecca’s precious purse. Hello, Jerry Springer moment. But it was like all the little annoyances I’d tucked away throughout my relationship with Caleb had gathered together in a ball of crazy and exploded all at once.
It makes me sick to think I reacted like that. That’s my mother’s style—freaking out, making a spectacle. And she at least has the excuse of being drunk or blitzed on her pills when she has her outbursts. I acted like a psycho while stone-cold sober.
And the worst part is that it had felt so damn good to go off. Like my screwed-up genes had simply been waiting for me to go into drama-queen mode.
But regardless of how I must’ve looked, the whole thing might’ve been worth it just to see Caleb’s face after I kissed Monroe. I’d shocked him. And my boyfriend didn’t ruffle easily. Ex-boyfriend. I hope he’s still sitting at that table I reserved, completely distracted because he’s picturing what I’m doing with Monroe right now.
Because I know I planted that seed in his brain and then dumped fertilizer on it with my little show. The kiss hadn’t been sweet; it had bordered on obscene. It was definitely not how I usually kiss Caleb, and he knew it.