Читать книгу The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa - Jay Crownover - Страница 13

I counted the pile of money in front of me for the fifth time. I was having a hard time concentrating for a few reasons: first, the bar had gotten busy so I had stayed two hours past my shift and I was dragging; second, there were ten other girls all trying to cash out and the chatter was like a swarm of bees buzzing about purses and boys; third, Ayden kept watching me like a hawk, looking for something, but I didn’t know what; and finally, Loren Decker, my post-high-school Amy Rodgers, wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about Rule.

Loren was a living, breathing centerfold and was what happened when mean girls left high school and entered the real world. She was vapid, boring, and made more money than most of us combined when she was on the schedule because her job was to be flirty and come across as easy—things that were hardly a stretch for her. For some reason she was dying to get every single detail I possessed about Rule. She wanted to know how I knew him, how come he had never been in the bar before, how old he was, what he did for a living, if we were dating, if he had a girlfriend, if he liked blondes, and so on and so forth. It was endless, exhausting, and I think it bothered me that yet another bimbo was just tripping over herself to fall on him. Although I knew my feelings for Rule were my burden to bear alone, I wasn’t about to offer up my slutty coworker on a platter. So I just kept grunting responses and evading all the personal questions, which unfortunately didn’t stop her from rambling about how good-looking he was.

“I mean I don’t normally go for guys with all those tattoos and piercings like that, but oh my God, those eyes! Have you ever seen anything like them? They’re like minty toothpaste or something, so pretty! And his body, I bet he works out. I mean, I normally like a guy with a six-pack, but that tall, lean thing totally works with his look. What kind of girls does he normally go for? Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Seriously, Shaw, I just want to lick that hoop he has on the side of his lip, like, so freaking bad. I can’t believe you’ve been friends with someone that sexy and haven’t gotten a piece. That’s, like, against nature.”

I hadn’t gotten a piece of anyone, ever, not that she needed to know that. Guys had tried and I had been tempted, but every time I was close to sealing the deal my brain short-circuited and reminded me that they weren’t who I really wanted and I shut down like a light going off. I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes.

“Lore, I’m trying to do my cash-out, can this wait?”

“Just give me his number,” she insisted.

I was close to losing it and ready to shove the pile of ones down her throat. Ayden must have sensed the storm brewing, because she settled in the seat next to me and leveled a dark look at the blonde. There was just something about Ayden that made people pay attention to her; whatever it was, I loved her for it.

“Lore, give the girl a break. It’s not like they’re besties. If you wanted to ask him out you should’ve done it while he was here.”

She made a face that probably made guys buy her things, but made me want to roll my eyes. “I would’ve but he was too busy checking out Shaw’s ass—that’s why I asked what was going on between them. I mean, he didn’t even give you a hug or anything when he left, but you looked at each other like you were about to start making out any second.”

Startled, I looked up at Ayden. Since when did Rule, who normally ignored me or pretended I didn’t exist, start checking anything on me out? She lifted her eyebrow.

“If Shaw runs into him anytime in the near future I’m sure she’ll pass it along that you want his number or she can just give him yours if he’s interested. Now, let’s talk about something really important: What do you want to do for your birthday? It’s only two weeks away.”

I groaned and gave up on trying to get an accurate count. Instead I just handed the money to Ayden and started sorting and stapling the credit card slips, which took far less brainpower. I hated my birthday. Normally, it was a fight between which parent and stepparent I was going to spend an awkward dinner with—when they bothered to remember, that is. Last year I just got a card from Dad with a check for a grand in it and a call from my mother with a promise of something when she found time—there was never time. Ayden had ended up taking me for sushi and to see some stupid romantic comedy, and the day passed, lackluster and unremarkable. Even the Archers tended to be low-key on my birthday. I think it reminded them that another year had passed and that Remy was still gone. Rome always sent me something from whatever part of the world he was in and, to date, his were always my favorite gifts. I guess since I was turning twenty this year I should try to make a big deal about it; I just didn’t want to.

“Why don’t we go dancing?” Loren suggested, and I looked at her like she had grown a third head. I didn’t really socialize with the girls from work, but not because I didn’t like them. Some of them were really sweet, and most of them were just like me and Ayden—struggling to pay bills and balance college, but they were usually also into drinking, partying, meeting guys, going out, and doing all the things that just didn’t register for me. Granted, I needed the actual income far less, but it gave me peace of mind every time either of my parents tried to use the fact they paid the bills for me as leverage to get me to do something they wanted. I didn’t need any more people in the world thinking I was fundamentally broken, so I just avoided those kinds of social interactions.

“Uh … I don’t dance.”

Ayden scowled at the blonde. “Plus, who invited you?”

She blinked heavily lashed eyes and wrinkled her nose. “I thought maybe since it’s your birthday Mr. Tall, Dark, and Tattooed would be around. I’m telling you ladies, I’m in stage-four lust and it can only be cured by Rule.”

Ayden and I shared a look and I went back to my stapling. “No, my birthday isn’t a big deal so Rule won’t be around. I like to keep it low-key.”

“You mean boring.”

I wasn’t friends with Loren; in fact I wasn’t even particularly fond of her, so I was about to tell her to stick it where the sun didn’t shine—which was pretty out of character for me—but Ayden just kept on talking like Loren wasn’t even there.

“Come on, Shaw, let’s do something fun. You know your parents are just going to stress you out, and you only turn twenty once. It needs to be fun and exciting.” She had a glimmer in her amber eyes and I knew she was cooking something up that I would be hard-pressed to talk her out of. I shoved the piles of paper into the drop bag and took the money Ayden handed me and did my tally. We always made good money, but for whatever reason today had been very profitable. I pulled my hair out of the ties and raked my nails across my scalp.

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? I just want to find Lou to walk us out, in case Gabe decided to show back up, and head home.”

She hooked her arm through mine and we made our way to the main entrance. “Do you think he would have the nerve to do that? I mean, Rule and his friends seemed pretty intent on getting the point across that he back off and Lou told him to scram or he was gonna kill him.”

“I don’t know, Ayd. He’s acting crazy. I never would have thought he would show up here and try to be all grabby and in my face. I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I mean, it isn’t like we had some great romance and I left him heartbroken or anything. We were lukewarm on our best days. Rule thinks he’s embarrassed that I dumped him, plain and simple.”

“He’s probably right.”

I made a face as Lou escorted us to my car. We said good-bye and headed home. I was trying so hard to make decisions that were best for everyone: I wanted Rule to have the love and support of his family, I wanted Margot to get help and stop vilifying her son, I wanted Gabe to get over his deal and just move on, and mostly I wanted to stop feeling so responsible for it all.

The next week went by in a blur. I had two tests, picked up an extra shift at work, and was doing a very complicated game of Dodge-the-Ex. Gabe also went to DU and even though he was prelaw and typically on the other end of campus, he seemed to be popping up around every corner and called me at least twice a day. I was considering getting a new number, but it seemed like such a hassle that I just sent his calls to voice mail and got really good at pretending I didn’t see him.

Rome called and said Margot wasn’t doing any better. She was flat-out refusing to go see a grief counselor and was now blaming Rule for the fact that I refused to come to Brookside on the weekends. According to Rome she was insisting Rule had somehow brainwashed me and turned me against her. He wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone just yet even though Rule was harassing him to come to Denver and hang out. I could tell he was feeling the familiar tug I often felt of being caught between his brother and his mom. I was bummed he wasn’t going to be around on my birthday, but he had so much on his plate I didn’t say anything.

When the weekend rolled around I was tempted to give my Sunday shift away just to avoid one more weekend of drama, but the bar was busy, and if Rule came in with his friends I didn’t see him. It was still weird not having to wrangle him for family brunch every Sunday, but when my shift was over and there hadn’t been any headaches or accusations or hurt feelings, I breathed my first sigh of relief in what felt like years. I was feeling so mellow I let Ayden talk me into skipping a study group and going to grab Mexican food instead. It was the first time in forever that I just felt like me and I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.

Since it was the start of a new semester and I felt like I was drowning in homework, I gave away my Friday and Sunday shifts, and I wasn’t scheduled Saturday since it was my birthday and everyone at the bar knew that Lou just loved me and would murder anyone who tried to make me work on the day I turned twenty.

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I still hadn’t heard from either of my folks so I figured I was off the hook for forced family time. I did receive a text from Margot asking me to reconsider this Sunday for my birthday. I had replied that I would gladly come if Rule was invited as well and hadn’t heard anything back. Ayden was being secretive about what she had planned and it was making me nervous. I would’ve been happy with sushi and the movies again but she kept insisting that we needed to branch out, have an adventure and do something new. Those words and her take-no-prisoners attitude seemed like a recipe for disaster, but I was trying to stay positive because she was only trying to be nice to me.

I was walking out of my anatomy class and texting one of the girls from work to remind her that she was working my closing shift that night when I bumped into someone and immediately recoiled in fear and irritation. Gabe was standing in front of me looking as wrinkle-free and immaculately groomed as always. His dark hair looked like he had been running his hands through it nonstop and when he reached out to steady me I scrambled back so fast that I almost fell backward onto my ass.

“What are you doing?” I wanted to sound indignant and hostile, but my voice cracked and I had to clear my throat to regain my composure. His blue eyes searched mine intently and I wondered how I had ever found him attractive—now he just weirded me out.

“Uh … you aren’t returning any of my calls and you’ve been really hard to pin down lately.”

“That’s because I don’t want to talk to you or see you. Get out of my way.”

“Shaw, wait.” He held up a hand and dug something out of his pocket and held it out toward me. “I know your birthday is tomorrow and I just wanted to get you something to say I’m so sorry for how I’ve been acting. I was just crazy that you might have moved on to that freak, but your mom explained that it isn’t like that between the two of you. Here, take it.” He shoved the velvet box toward me and I backed away like he was holding a live snake in his hand.

“I’m not taking that from you. I’m not taking anything from you. Leave me alone, Gabe, I’m serious.”

“Look, Shaw, you can’t honestly believe there can ever really be anything between you and that guy. Your mom told me you’ve been carrying a torch for him for years and that he’s never even looked twice at you. You’re just not his type—you’re too good for him and he knows it. Just give me another chance; we make so much sense together.”

I wanted to punch him, but I just let the ice that traveled through me at his words coat all the anger I felt starting to build.

“No.” I didn’t say anything else, just “no,” because I didn’t need to explain myself or my feelings or the fact that I knew most of what he said about Rule was true. I wasn’t too good for him; I was just too ME for him to see me as anything other than he always had, and I made peace with that years ago. I took a few more stumbling steps backward and then turned on my heel and broke into a full-on jog to get away from him. I think he called my name, but I didn’t care; I just bolted. He was starting to really freak me out and the fact that my own mother was giving out the most intimate details of my life to him just made me want to vomit. I couldn’t believe that a woman who didn’t even bother to make note of when I was moving out of her house for college had noticed how I felt about Rule. If Gabe didn’t knock it off I was going to have to look into not only changing my phone number but also possibly get a restraining order against him.

When I got home the apartment was empty, so like a dork I made sure all the doors were double locked and that the deadbolt on the front door was closed. I hid out in my room and did homework and wallowed in the self-pity that was threatening to drown me. I didn’t consider myself an overly outgoing or optimistic person; it came from years of being overlooked at home and socially awkward at school. For a while Remy had managed to pull my head out of the privileged shell I normally cowered in. I had thought for sure that when I left Brookside and went off to college I would come into my own, but instead Remy had died and I was still trying so hard to be all kinds of things to people who just didn’t seem to appreciate my efforts.

I dressed nice and minded my p’s and q’s so that my parents wouldn’t totally forget I existed. I babysat Rule and put up with his awful behavior because I wanted Margot and Dale to remember that he needed and deserved their love just as much as Remy had. I wore a ridiculous outfit to work and put up with silly girls and drunk customers because Ayden deserved a solid roommate she could rely on. And mostly I acted like interacting with Rule, watching him plow his way through the greater population of young adult women in Denver, didn’t bother me and didn’t kill something inside me. And doing all these things day in and day out was starting to turn the little bits that were really me into a shadow.

I knew the reason I had initially agreed to go out with Gabe was because he, in a very vague sense, reminded me of Rule. He had dark hair and light eyes, and although he was preppy and clean-cut, he still had a little bit of mischief in him that just got past my normal reservations. I had known within the first few dates there was no spark—there never was. I was always looking for something, or rather someone, that wasn’t there. Gabe was polite and comfortable until he realized I didn’t want things to get physical. Six months was a long time to string someone along, I knew that, but it didn’t justify the bizarre obsessive behavior he was showing now, and it was just one more burden I felt I had to shoulder.

I was so ready to just let it all go. I changed into a pair of sweats and curled up on the bed to watch some Netflix. Knowing that Ayden wouldn’t be home from her shift until after two, I was left to pout alone. I should be out and about, should have a phone full of friends I could call to spend a rare Friday night off with, but I didn’t, and that was just sad. All I needed was a couple of cats and a pint of ice cream to make the pathetic picture complete. Sometime after my second romantic comedy and Chinese delivery I vowed to fully embrace whatever Ayden had in store for me for my birthday tomorrow because what I was doing now was depressing. My roomie was right; I needed some fun, needed to lighten up, and I was on board with however she decided to make that happen. I fell asleep watching yet another dorky girl get a fantastic makeover because for whatever reason the guy she longed for couldn’t see how beautiful she was under her glasses and messy hair.

I woke up the next morning to happy birthday texts from Rome and my father. As usual, there was nothing from my mom and I hated to admit I was sad that Margot didn’t send one. I decided to make breakfast and headed to the kitchen. I was surprised by a beautiful bouquet on the kitchen table and recoiled when I saw who the card was from. I was seriously going to have to do something about Gabe.

Ayden was an early riser and she went running every morning no matter how late she got in from work the night before. She motioned to the flowers with her mug and scowled. “They were on the porch when I got back from my run.”

“I think I might have to get a restraining order.”

“Isn’t his dad a judge or something?”

I sighed. “Yeah.” Getting Gabe to back off might be harder than I thought. “Do you want me to make breakfast?”

She shook her dark head and her eyes glittered at me with excitement. “No, I have the best birthday planned for you in the history of birthdays. First, we’re going to Lucile’s.”

I loved Lucile’s. It was a popular Cajun restaurant in Washington Park and probably one of the few places outside of New Orleans where you could find an honest-to-god beignet.

“Yay! Sounds good. What else is on the docket for today?”

“Shopping.”

I made a face because I hate shopping. I lived in a ridiculous uniform for work and expensive, name-brand clothes that my parents insist I wear because I’m supposed to be dressing for the job I want and not the job I have—apparently doctors of any sort don’t walk around in jeans and T-shirts even when they’re off the clock.

Seeing my face, she grinned evilly. “No, we aren’t going rich-girl shopping, we’re going normal, everyday college-girl shopping. We’re going to the mall, we’re going to my favorite thrift store, we’re going to that cool vintage store on Pearl Street, and you, my friend, are not allowed to spend more than fifty bucks on any one thing. There will be no two-hundred-dollar heels, no five-hundred-dollar cashmere sweater sets, and no perfectly tailored slacks that are hand-stitched by blind monks in the Andes or whatever. We’re just going to be two normal friends spending a day blowing our tips on useless crap.”

That actually sounded like fun and something I’d never done. “And then,” she said, her whiskey-tinted eyes widening dramatically, “we’re going to the salon and getting our hair done and mani-pedis. One of the girls in my inorganic chemistry class has this great hair—she looks like Rainbow Brite—she swears by this place. So we’re going to get all pretty, put on our new, normal-girl clothes, and go have dinner at that Brazilian place we’ve both been dying to try.”

It sounded awesome—all of it sounded awesome. I was about to launch myself at her in a huge hug of gratitude when she held up a hand. “I’m not done.” She disappeared into her room for a minute and came back out with a card in a pink envelope. “Then you are going to take this very cool, very necessary birthday present I got you, and come out with me. I don’t mean out to Dave and Buster’s or Old Chicago, I mean out out. I will cram a good time down your pretty little throat if it freaking kills me.”

I opened the card with mild trepidation. I didn’t know what she meant by out out. Inside the card was a shiny wrapped present that at first glance looked like a credit card. After I read her sweet birthday wishes I carefully pulled the paper off and gasped when I saw what was looking back up at me. “Ayd, I can’t use this.”

The ID had my face on it, my birthday—only one year older—and looked exactly like a Colorado driver’s license. In fact, it looked so much like the one in my wallet there was hardly any difference.

“Oh, yes you can. You’ve spent twenty years being everybody’s good little girl, and I’m sick of you killing yourself over it. Most girls your age go out, sneak into clubs, kiss boys, have sloppy one-night stands, get into ridiculous, drama-filled fights with their girlfriends, and you, Shaw, you don’t do any of that. Tonight you are taking that ID and coming out with me and you will act like every idiot twenty-year-old I know. We’re going to drink too much, act silly, and have fun—you deserve it. I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile or laugh. You’re letting your soul wither away trying to be someone you’re just not and I can’t stand by and watch it happen anymore.”

“I turn twenty-one next year.” I’m not sure why I thought that was a valid argument to all her more-than-accurate points, but for some reason it’s what popped out of my mouth.

She shook her dark head. “Who cares? You’re twenty today and you’re living like you’re fifty.” It stung because on the last trip to Brookside, Rule had said pretty much the same thing. With a sigh I remembered my resolution last night to just turn myself over to Ayden’s plan, to for once just let go. I tucked some hair behind my ears and squared my shoulders.

“Okay.”

Ayden looked up under raised eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Yep. Let’s do this. Let the birthday fun and debauchery commence.”

She squealed loud enough to make my ears hurt and rushed around the table to wrap me up in a hug that squeezed the life out of me. “Trust me, Shaw, you will never forget today.”

And she was right, because by the end of the night this birthday would prove to be life changing.

Breakfast was amazing. We stuffed ourselves so full of fried goodness that by the time we hit the mall I needed to do a few laps just to keep moving. I tried on a million pairs of jeans and ended up buying quite a few. I grabbed a pair of Chuck Taylors that I’d always wanted but had never had the nerve to buy because they would immediately be deemed inappropriate. I stocked up on boring old T-shirts and tank tops. At the thrift store I scooped up an awesome old-school leather jacket and a couple Western-style shirts with pearl buttons that I knew would look awesome with my new skinny jeans. At the vintage store I went a little crazier because I just fell in love with all the fifties- and sixties-style dresses. I looked like a character out of Mad Men in a few of them and like Bettie Page minus the height in a couple more. I bought a pair of heels that were peacock blue and had sequined feathers on the side and a sweet pillbox hat that I probably would never wear but adored. More important, I laughed with Ayden for hours while we tried on one thing after another. I felt like a giant weight was off my chest. It was fun, plain and simple, and the fact I had forgotten what that felt like was just sad.

At the salon I got a hot pink mani-pedi and, just for kicks, had them add little black stars. It was cool and totally unlike the normal pale and pearly colors I went for. The lady doing it had bright green dreadlocks and a tattoo across her forehead so I was thrilled when she grinned at me and told me she approved. Everyone who worked at this salon had a cool, rock-and-roll kind of vibe. I normally would have felt out of place and reserved, but they were all so nice and friendly that it was impossible to do anything but relax and have a good time. The guy in charge of my hair was a big, obviously gay African American with a shiny bald head with a big eye tattooed on it. He was dressed head to toe in leopard print and was wearing shoes that certainly cost more than mine. He was sweet and told me my hair was gorgeous and suggested I just put some layers in it to give it body and life. I was all on board and even asked him if he could do something new with the color. My hair was so pale I normally avoided dying it simply because it would just be too extreme. His dark eyes gleamed in excitement when I asked for something kicky, but still respectable.

What I got was my normal ash blond with a shadow of chestnut brown underneath. It was awesome and different but understated enough not to be alarming. My favorite part was that he had bisected my superstraight bangs in half and added the darker color to one side. It was trendy and hip and so different from what my hair normally looked like. I hugged him hard in glee on my way out. He hugged me back, more than likely because I tipped him enough to take a weekend trip, but who cared, I looked awesome.

We ran back to the house to get dolled up for dinner. I put on one of my new outfits, a supertight pencil skirt and a sheer blue top with a black cami underneath. I curled my new hair, put on more makeup than I normally wore, and decided, just for the hell of it, to wear my awesome black boots that looked like something a Harley-Davidson model would wear. They gave my look a certain edge that I was feeling after a day of letting the real Shaw off her perpetual leash.

At the restaurant, Ayden’s slinky red dress, which made her long legs look endless, had our waiter practically drooling into our water every time he stopped by to refill our glasses. She made me try out my new ID by ordering a drink, and it worked like a charm. Before I knew it we were both feeling no pain and having a great time bouncing from club to club in LoDo and hitting the hip dive bars in Capitol Hill. I was surprised that I didn’t even need to show the fake ID at most places—turns out a tight skirt and exposed cleavage work just as well.

I was laughing hysterically at Ayden doing an impression of some guy flailing around on the dance floor. We had drawn a fair amount of attention everywhere we’d gone and had had to pay for very few drinks. At the moment a guy from CU–Boulder was telling me all about his illustrious football career, or rather he was telling my boobs about it since I don’t think he had looked up from the girls once. Ayden was rolling her eyes and trying to avoid some guy in a banker suit who was offering to do her taxes for free if she gave him her number. It was silly and fun and I didn’t have to work hard at the flirting or being charming. I was well on my way to being wasted, so conversation was out. All I had to do was smile and sit prettily on the bar stool, two things I was apparently getting really good at. Another cosmo, which I definitely didn’t need, had just appeared before me and Mr. Football was leaning even closer to me when some sixth sense, or maybe it was my fight-or-flight response, suddenly kicked into overdrive.

I lifted my head and swiveled around on the stool, practically kneeing the leering football player. I looked around, craning my neck to see what had my skin suddenly feeling too tight, but all I saw was the regular bar crowd mixing and mingling. The football player was trying to get my attention back by running a finger up and down my bare arm; I guess it was supposed to be sexy, but now I was drunk and unnerved and I wanted him to get lost. I was suddenly ready to go, and looked around for Ayden so we could get a cab and get out of there. Before I could find her a warm hand slid under the heavy fall of my hair and settled on the back of my neck. A deep voice growled in my ear, “How in the fuck did you get in here, Casper? And what did you do to your hair?”

The football player’s eyes went huge because, well, Rule was Rule. Gone was the purple hair spiked up in a crazy mess. Now he had it all shaved on the sides and bleached out into a startling white Mohawk that was several inches tall. He had on a tight black shirt with a flaming skull in a Viking helmet on it, showing off both sleeves of tattoos, a pair of black jeans with a hole in the knee, and his heavy black motorcycle boots. He should have looked sloppy and unkempt next to the V-neck-sweater-wearing footballer, but he didn’t. He looked hot and rumpled and clearly not someone to be messed with. The footballer pushed away from the bar in a hurry and vanished into the crowd.

I was drunk, admittedly probably not the best state to try to go toe-to-toe with Rule, but I liked my hair and he wasn’t going to rain on all my birthday vibes, especially since he clearly didn’t even remember what day it was. I shook his grip loose and sucked back the tart drink in one swallow.

“What are you doing here?”

He lifted an eyebrow at me and took up the same spot the football player had vacated, looking down my low-cut top. “This bar is right around the corner from the shop—Nash and I stop by all the time after work. I just finished with a client. I know they ID at the door, how did you get in?”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder like I had seen endless annoying girls do, only I practically fell off my stool because that last drink was letting me know just how bad an idea it had been to chug it. I grabbed the edge of the bar and Rule reached out a hand to steady me. I felt like it burned where he gripped my upper arm. Definitely should have listened to my flight response a minute ago. I put a hand on my forehead because it was warm and I suddenly felt clammy. “I need to go.” It was too hot, too loud, and if I didn’t get out into some fresh air, like now, I was pretty sure I was going to puke everywhere.

I tried to climb to my feet but the room started to spin around like crazy and I had to grab on to Rule’s biceps just to stay upright. I was so glad I opted for my boots instead of heels—I would have ended up on my face otherwise.

“Who drove?” Rule’s voice was coming from far away and he smelled really good. With a sigh I leaned into him and buried my nose in his throat. He was so tall I had to use my leverage on his arms to reach. “Seriously, Shaw, how did you get here?”

“Ayden and I, we took a cab.”

“Where is she?”

“With a banker. I need to go home.” I felt my boozy legs start to wobble and he locked a heavy arm around my waist to keep me anchored to his chest. It was nice. Not bothering to think about it, I wrapped both my arms up around his neck. He felt as good as I always knew he would.

“Her roommate is running around somewhere; wanna see if you can grab her? I’m gonna walk her to our place.” I wasn’t sure who he was talking to but a familiar voice rumbled an affirmative. The next thing I knew I was being half marched, half carried out the front door of the bar. The cold January air made me snap my head back and Rule moved me from the front of his body to his side, securing me with an arm around my shoulders. I hooked an arm around his lean waist and cuddled into him. I knew logically it was the vodka making me act crazy, but I couldn’t stop it.

“We’re only three blocks from my place. I’ll pour a gallon of coffee down your throat and shove some chips or a frozen burrito in your face and get you a cab. You’re even paler than normal and if you try to get in a car right now you’re gonna puke everywhere. Why are you drunk and dressed all sexified tonight anyway?”

I shivered a little as the wind breezed across my bare legs. I turned my cold nose into his ribs and inhaled. He smelled like the antiseptic from the shop, like cigarettes from Nash, like the hair product in his Mohawk, and underneath it all the warm, earthy smell that was just Rule. In the six years I had known him, I’d never been this close to him for this long. It was enough to send my sex-deprived and alcohol-soaked system into overdrive.

“You think I look sexy?” That seemed like the important part of the conversation. We stopped at a stop sign and he looked down at me with exasperation clear in those pale eyes.

“Shaw, every guy in the bar was circling you like you were bait in the water during shark week. You know you look good, what I think shouldn’t matter. What should matter is why you’re suddenly dressing, looking, and acting like a different person. What’s going on with you?”

I wanted to scowl up at him but that seemed too hard, especially when his T-shirt rode up in the back and my arm was brushing against nice, warm skin. I stumbled off the curb as we made our way down another block and his familiar Victorian apartment building came into sight. He pulled me in tighter to his side and I didn’t even try to hide the soft sigh that fell out of me.

“Everyone thinks I need to act a certain way—you, my parents, your parents, the girls from work, Gabe. Everybody always wants me to be this, do that, walk this line, toe that line and I’m sick of it. Maybe for just once I just want to act how I want and feel how I want to feel without someone judging me and expecting something from me in return.”

He was quiet as we walked up the front steps to the apartment. Maybe he was trying to translate my drunken speech because even I could hear that I was slurring between my chattering teeth. He pushed the door open and twisted the lock. It was warm inside so I shook off my jacket and pushed my shaking hands through my hair. I turned my blurry eyes on him and almost swallowed my tongue. He was leaning back against the door watching me with hooded eyes. He wasn’t throwing sarcastic barbs at me or ignoring me, he was just watching me. I blew out a breath and tasted the tartness of the cranberry juice across my tongue.

I took a few unsteady steps toward him. He was so tall that I had to stand on the very tips of my toes to reach his ear. I put a hand on his shoulder and one on the door beside his head and whispered, “It’s my birthday, Rule.”

I expected him to move away, to gently shove me to the side, but he uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on either side of my waist. Those pale eyes flared for a second and his mouth twisted down, making the hoop on the side of his mouth glint at me. “I’m sorry, Shaw. I had no idea.”

I shrugged it off and moved a step closer to him. “It’s okay—my own family didn’t even remember it.” I pressed so close to him that my chest was flat against his. I could feel that the close proximity was having an effect on him. If I hadn’t had to concentrate on my balance since I was on my toes I might have grinned at that. All I had ever wanted in life was to affect him, to get him to feel something, anything, other than simple tolerance for me.

“I know what you can do for me to make this officially the best birthday ever.” I wanted to sound sure, to sound sexy and sultry, but I’m pretty sure I just sounded horny and drunk. I didn’t care. I was here—the real me—the one who wanted him so desperately and always had. There was no chance at putting her back in her cage now.

I didn’t think—didn’t reason—just used the grip I had on him to pull myself up even taller and plant my mouth solidly over his. The ring in his lip was shockingly cold against my own; the rest of him was undeniably hot and hard. It was everything I had ever wanted, and even though he didn’t kiss me back, I still ranked it up there as the best birthday gift ever. I went to settle back down on my booted feet when something shifted, something changed, and Rule went from a passive recipient to something else entirely.