Better Than Okay (8 page)

They entered the bar, and it was immediately obvious that it was
more laidback than most of the places that surrounded it. For one thing,
nothing was glowing. And even though the music was upbeat, it wasn’t deafening.
There were also no waitresses wearing bikini tops.

They were able to find three seats together at the bar and again,
she’d ended up in the middle. She snuck a glance at Brian. He was staring right
at her, his expression unreadable. Again. She looked away quickly, biting her
lip and pretending to study the drink menu.

“Yo, B,” Dorian was saying.

He nodded his head in the direction of a group of girls who had
just walked in. They looked like models. All three of them had on stilettos and
tight dresses that weren’t too revealing, but showed just enough. Destiny
glanced at Brian as he turned to look then quickly turned back to her menu,
still pretending to read it.

Dorian caught the eye of the girl in the pink dress and grinned at
her, working his panty dropping mojo. She smiled back and turned to her
friends, laughing as they made their way from the entrance to the crowded
lounge area. Mojo accepted. Destiny wondered which one Brian was into, the girl
in the blue dress or the black. Probably the black dress one—she was the
prettiest, with smooth chocolate skin, slanted, smoky eyes, and bone-straight
hair that hung just below her neck.

She bit her lip as he motioned for the bartender. His knee brushed
against hers and she looked up at him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking away again.

He frowned slightly, studying her. He looked like he wanted to say
something but the bartender rushed over, smiling.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she
talked.

“Jack and ginger for me,” Brian answered, “Jack and coke for him
and a strawberry daiquiri for her.”

He grinned at Destiny, his expression teasing. She rolled her eyes
at him.

“No, I’ll have a Jack and ginger too,” she corrected.

The bartender nodded and bounced away.

“Hey, you’re Destiny Michaels, right?”

Destiny turned on her stool to greet whoever it was tapping on her
shoulder.

“Hi,” she said carefully, not entirely sure where she knew the guy
from. His collar-length dreads framed his face, and his gold teeth glittered
when he talked.

“Yeah, you did that story on me and my boys for
UMusic
a while back,” he said, grinning.

She stared at him, recognition finally dawning on her. The guy was
part of a local rap group, the Lucky Ones. They were alright but sounded like
everything else that was currently played on mainstream radio—boring.
Sadly, Destiny recognized that meant they actually had good chance at making
it.

“Yeah,” she smiled politely. “How are you?”

“I’m good, baby,” he said emphatically, shifting his weight,
allowing his gaze to travel slowly over her.

She shifted in her seat. Both Dorian and Brian had turned slightly
to assess the guy, whose name she still couldn’t remember—Rocky? Rookie?
She had no clue.

“Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

Forgotten Rapper Guy stepped a little closer, still eyeing her
hungrily. He was starting to irritate her. It was one of the things that she
hated about her job. It was male dominated and too many of the guys that she
interviewed tried to hit on her. She figured it was mostly because they
considered her to be on elevated groupie status. It was her job to ask them
questions and be interested in what they were doing. She guessed the attention
confused them into thinking she somehow wanted their advances. She frowned
slightly.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound
polite.

“Come on, what you drinking, baby?” he insisted, licking his
bottom lip. His eyes swept greedily over her again.

“She said she was good,” Brian spoke up suddenly, making eye
contact with him.

He didn’t raise his voice at all, but there was a severe edge to
his tone and the stare he was leveling at Forgotten Rapper Guy that made him
subconsciously back up. Destiny glanced at Brian then back to Dorian, who was
staring at the guy too. Oh, shit.

“My bad, bruh,” he said, backing up a bit more, assessing Brian.
“I was just tryin’ to buy her a drink.”

He grinned toothily. Brian’s hard expression didn’t change and
Forgotten Rapper Guy backed up a little more.

“Alright, Ms. Michaels, guess I’ll see you around,” he said,
finally sauntering off.

Destiny offered a little wave and turned back toward the bar,
shaking her head slightly.

“You’re always attracting cornballs, Tweet,” Dorian said, frowning
at her like it was her fault.

She wrinkled her brow and glanced quickly at Brian. He met her
eyes, his expression unreadable and she looked away, wondering what he was
thinking. He seemed a little pissed.
 
She sighed and glanced at Dorian again. He was already scanning the
crowd, no doubt looking for more women to fill his weekends with.

“Hey,” Dorian said abruptly after a few long seconds, turning his
attention away from a mousy brunette who had just entered the bar. She
definitely looked a little lost, like she’d somehow inadvertently wondered onto
Ocean Drive.

 
He placed his arms on
the bar and leaned toward Destiny and Brian so that they could hear him over
the music that was blaring loudly from the speakers.

 
“Do ya’ll remember
Ashley Nevins?”

They both stared at him blankly.

“You know, she was kinda nerdy, on the debate team or something, I
think she was a grade ahead of you, Tweet,” Dorian prompted.

Brian shrugged, and motioned for him to continue.

“You know that story about the teacher in Tampa that had an affair
with her eighth grade student and then the kid posted the sex tape on the
Internet?”

Destiny nodded, it was all anyone was talking about.

“That’s her!” Dorian finished, his eyes wide.

“No way!” Destiny exclaimed, mirroring his expression.

What she did remember of Ashley was pretty normal. She was
actually kind of shy and reserved. Brian laughed incredulously.

“Are you serious?” He pulled out his phone and Googled her name.

“Wow,” he said several seconds later, shaking his head in
disbelief. “She looks different.”

He leaned over slightly to show Destiny the article and mug shot.
She backed up a bit, concentrating on studying the picture.

“That’s crazy, right?” Dorian was saying. “I always knew she was a
damned weirdo. She was always wearing Daffy Duck t-shirts.”

Destiny laughed and automatically eyed Brian.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Dude, who the hell wears Daffy Duck t-shirts, like every day?
That shit is weird as hell. Daffy Duck is a cartoon….”

He rolled his eyes impatiently when she stared at him blankly.

“Little kids like cartoons… she likes little kids…” he continued
theatrically, raising his eyebrows.

Destiny laughed and looked at Brian who had dropped his head in
his hands.

“You’re retarded.”

Dorian shrugged and grinned. Their drinks arrived and he quickly
grabbed his.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said abruptly, still eyeing the
girl in the pink dress.

 
Destiny watched as he
made his way over to their couch, seating himself comfortably on the edge of
the armrest next to the girl in the pink dress. She smiled up at him and
Destiny shook her head from across the room. So much for Nichelle.

Destiny sighed and took a long sip of her own drink. She glanced
at Brian again. He was looking into space, his expression unreadable, bobbing
his head to the music. His face had stubble again and he looked a little tired.

“You tired?” she asked, taking another healthy swig of her drink.

The liquor was starting to course through her bloodstream and she
felt herself loosening up. He shrugged, meeting her eyes.

“Not really.”

She took another sip of her drink.

“So,” he said, looking at her. “We gonna talk about New Orleans?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, her cheeks heating at
his bluntness. He was studying her when she looked back up at him.

“No,” she said, peering into her drink again.

Her throat was dry so she took another sip. “You can’t keep doing
stuff like what you did in the living room.”

He wrinkled his brow. “What did I do in the living room?”

She stared into her cup. “You were flirting with me. Right?”

When she finally looked back at him his gaze was slightly amused.
He picked up his drink and sipped it slowly, peering at her over his glass. He
sat it back down on the counter, never breaking eye contact.

“I was just stating a fact,” he said finally, with a sigh. “You’re
gorgeous, Destiny. You do look really, really good.”

She looked down and studied the inside of her drink like it had
the solution to world peace floating around in it.

“That makes you uncomfortable,” he stated, rather than asked.

Amusement was dancing in his eyes. She was glad he thought this
was so funny.

“You think this is funny?” she asked, annoyed.

He chuckled. “A little, yeah.”

She frowned and bit her lip. She looked away, toward where the DJ
was situated in the far corner of the room. She heard him sigh and she looked
back to him.

“Are you uncomfortable with being called gorgeous in general? Or
is it just that I’m the one calling you that?” He paused deliberately. “Or is
it because we kissed in New Orleans?”

She looked up at him quickly, biting her lip again.

“Hey,” he said softly, when she didn’t answer. He leaned toward
her and she met his eyes. “How long have we known each other? A long time,
right?”

She nodded.

“You trust me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So why are you so bothered that I think you’re attractive? Or
that I really, really liked kissing you?”

His eyes dropped to her lips when he said that and she literally
felt them tingle. What the hell was wrong with her? She stared at him, her
heart thudding in her chest.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

He chuckled humorously, shaking his head at her as he made slow
circles on the rim of his cup with his index finger. She looked away and when
she met his eyes again his expression, as usual, was unreadable.

“It’s just… I’m not…” she finally started, then stopped, trying to
gather her thoughts. “I mean, you never said you thought about me like that before.
You never said anything about even noticing me like that.”

He glanced at her and laughed. It was another short humorless
sound.

 
“I am a man, Tweet,”
he said, his voice deep as he met her eyes.
 
“I’ve always noticed.”

“Oh.” She flushed again and sipped her drink.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Of course he was a man. She
wasn’t some naïve girl. But… he was Brian. She shook her head again chewing on
her lip.

“You all right?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence.

She didn’t say anything and he sighed exaggeratedly.

“Don’t go getting weird on me, okay?” he said, sighing.

“Shut up.” She looked at him, her expression serious. “It just… it
can’t happen again. We work because we don’t blur the lines. Okay?”

“So, you want to stay inside of the lines.”

He glanced at her, his expression giving away nothing. She nodded.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, his tone even. “We’ll stay
inside of the lines.”

She nodded resolutely again. He stared at her for a long second
before grinning and picking up his drink.

Chapter
5

“Seriously?” Destiny giggled and reached into
the large box she was unpacking.

She pulled out a bright pink Care Bear and
waved it in Brian’s direction. Brian rolled his eyes and caught the bear with
one hand when she tossed it at him, still laughing.

“I’m sure Lex did this, trying to be funny,” he
said, throwing the bear in the closet behind him.

“Yeah, right.” She eyed him, still grinning.
“No one will judge you if you still sleep with Funshine Bear.”

He threw a sock at her and she quickly dodged
it, laughing. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in his room, helping
him unpack. She’d been there for the past couple of hours. She was glad that
after a week, things seemed to pretty much be back to normal between them.

Brian had called her early that afternoon,
asking if she was still planning on helping him. It had taken them a couple of
hours but they were finally almost finished. Stevie Wonder’s
Innervisions
was currently blaring
through the speakers at her demand.

“Is there anything better than Stevie Wonder
during his genius years?” she mused aloud.

She leaned back on her hands and glanced over
at him. It wasn’t really even a question. Even though he loved Bill Withers,
she knew he felt the same way. Stevie was universally undeniable.

“Nope,” he answered anyway, grinning at her. “
Innervisions, Songs in the Key of Life
….
”

“And
Talking
Book
,” she finished for him rounding out the album selection they mutually
dubbed his best work. “And all of the stuff he wrote for Minnie Riperton on
Perfect Angel
…”

“And for Michael Jackson on
Off the Wall
…” he finished.

“If I had to live inside of a Stevie Wonder
song, it’d be “Knocks Me off My Feet,” she mused absently.

“Your brain is abstract,” Brian said eyeing
her.

“‘Abstract’ sounds like a nice way of calling
me ‘weird.’”

 
“Nah, if I wanted to call you weird, I
would just do it.”

He grinned crookedly at her.

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes. She eyed
his guitar sitting in the far corner of the room, still in its worn case.

“When’s the last time you played?” she asked
him, nodding her head toward it.

He glanced at it and shrugged. “It’s been a
while.”

He’d picked up the guitar when he was in the
eighth grade. She remembered it clearly because it was around the time that his
mom had basically disappeared and they moved in with his aunt Clara. He was
naturally good at it, although it was only a hobby for him, a stress reliever
of sorts, she guessed. She loved hearing him play though, whenever she could
convince him to do it, which wasn’t often. She knew better than to even ask him
now.

 
She
rose up on her knees and peered into the nearly empty box she’d been
concentrated on for the past hour. She pulled out two t-shirts and dangled them
in front of her.

“Oooh, can I have this one?” she asked for what
was probably the twentieth time.

Brian shook his head without even looking up.
He was folding his undershirts into a neat pile before placing them in his
simple, dark brown dresser that was pushed against the wall, near the end of
his king-sized bed. Everything in the room suited him—from the deep blue
of his comforter to the black and white framed pictures of the sky he had still
sitting against the wall where his small desk was situated, on the opposite
side of the room.
 
Destiny glanced
up at him.

“You didn’t even look to see which one it is,”
she pouted, examining the dark green t-shirt that had a silhouette of Nelson
Mandela stamped on it.

He flicked a look her way. “Tweet, you’ve asked
for every single t-shirt I own.”

“And how many have you given me?” she retorted,
eyeing him pointedly.

He grinned and picked up his phone, which was
buzzing. He read the text then tossed the phone next to his neat pile.

“Dorian said he’s bringing back pizza and
beer.”

She ignored him.

“I find you to be very unappreciative,” she
continued theatrically.
 
She threw
the shirt back into the box and eyed him. “I’ve invested my time and energy and
sweat into helping you unpack and you can’t even give me an old t-shirt?”

He sighed and stared at her. “Fine, Tweet.”

 
He
walked over and kneeled beside her. His shoulder brushed against her as he
reached in and pulled the t-shirt out of the box.

“Please accept this as a token of my gratitude
for making the seven minute trip over here and helping me unpack half of a
box,” he said sarcastically, extending the shirt to her.

“Whatever,” she retorted indignantly, pushing
at his shoulder.

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to her
sides. He shook his head at her, suppressing a grin.

“We’re really going to have to do something
about your violent tendencies.”

She frowned exaggeratedly, tilting her head
slightly.

 
“We’re really going to have to do
something about your ungrateful attitude,” she countered, acutely aware that he
still had her hands pinned to her sides.

“We’re really going to have to do something
about your smart mouth.”

His eyes dropped to her lips when he said that
and she felt her face flush. She shifted slightly, her breath coming a bit
faster when she saw the playfulness slowly leaving his eyes. She watched the
rise and fall of his chest as his breathing increased.

His eyes were penetrating and dark and she
couldn’t move away. She didn’t know if she wanted to, and that scared her.
There was no alcohol this time. She knew exactly what she was doing. He ran his
hands up her arms to her shoulders then back down and pulled her toward him. He
pressed his forehead to hers, hesitating.

“Destiny,” he murmured deeply, his eyes
conflicted.

The ache and hunger in his voice caused her
heart to beat violently in her chest. She was breathing audibly now. She
couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She could feel his breath
warm against her mouth, his warm, clean scent filling her, making her
lightheaded.

His thumb traced the inside of her palm,
feather light and heat spread traitorously through her body. But she couldn’t
help it. She couldn’t move. He was going to kiss her again and she couldn’t
move.

She inhaled and her lips parted. Whatever
internal battle he was fighting was lost and he suddenly pulled her closer,
finally lifting his head to touch his mouth to hers. Her entire world shattered
in that second, only to be put together again as his lips moved over hers,
hungry, hot.

It only took a few seconds for her to respond.
She wasn’t really thinking anymore. Her thoughts were cloudy and the only thing
that was clear was how good he felt. Without any conscious thought about why
she was doing what she was doing, she reached up, wrapped her arms around his
neck, and pulled him more firmly against her mouth. She’d kissed him while she
was intoxicated but this was so much better, more real, more intense, more
everything.

He ran his hand restlessly up her ribcage, and
back down to her hips, his mouth never leaving hers as he kissed her intently,
his tongue probing, seeking hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate, and
arousing as hell.

He pulled back slightly but only to drop hot
kisses on the corners of her mouth, her chin, her jaw. She sucked in a breath
and tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her neck as he kissed
her there, trailing kisses back up her jawline.

They were still on their knees as he pulled at
her waist, his hands pushing under her tank top as he drew light circles on her
abdomen with his thumbs. His hands were rough, but his touch was light and she
heard a soft moan escape her when he nipped her neck then traced the mark with
his tongue. Oh God. This was getting out of control. She willed herself to open
her eyes.

“Brian, we…” she managed to whisper.

But she closed her eyes again and forgot
whatever she was going to say when his hand inched up further, his thumbs
skimming the underside of her bra. He trailed his fingers back down, returning
his attention to her mouth, plucking soft kisses from her lips as if he was
drinking her in. She couldn’t take his teasing anymore and she pressed her lips
fully to his, intensifying the kiss the way her body needed her to. He inhaled
sharply and sat back then pulling her with him so that she was straddling his
hips.

 
She
heard the noises that were escaping her echoing in the back of her mind, but
they were foreign to her. She’d never felt anything like this. Ever. Like she
had no control over her limbs, or thoughts. He ran his hand to the strap of her
tank top and pushed it down over her shoulder, trailing his lips along her
collarbone, pulling at her hips. He wanted her closer and she wanted to be
closer. She pressed herself into him, her fingers skimming the back of his neck
as he kissed and licked the base of her throat. Her entire body was throbbing.
He found her mouth again, kissing her more intensely than he had before.

Then the front door slammed.

 
“Yo, they were out of Guinness so I got
some Newcastle,” Dorian yelled from the living room.

Her eyes flew open and she scrambled to get off
of him, falling onto her back in the process. She rolled over and sat up,
frantically straightening her shirt.

“Alright,” Brian yelled. His voice was steady,
but his chest was still heaving in and out.

The TV clicked on in the living room and she
heard Dorian on the phone laughing.
 
Destiny looked at Brian, her breath still coming in clipped spurts as
she tried to calm herself. He stood up and paced to the far edge of the room
away from her, his own breathing labored as he ran a hand over his head. She
felt panic rising in her chest and her stomach clenched. What the hell had just
happened? What had she just done?

She looked at him again, knowing her horror was
all over her face. His expression was dark and intense again, although he
seemed to have more control over his respiratory system than she did. She had
just kissed Brian. Again. Her stomach clenched again and she rubbed it,
scooting so that her back was against the wall near where she’d pushed the
empty box she was unpacking before she’d lost her ever-loving mind and any
sense of control.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, eyeing her
hand on her stomach.

She stared at him. Was she okay? No. No she
most certainly was not okay. She wasn’t even remotely close to being okay.

“No,” she hissed,
shaking her head wildly. “We just… this… ”

She couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out.
He was just standing there, calmly, and she couldn’t even talk. He studied her,
waiting for her to speak, she guessed.

“Brian, we just kissed… again,” she said,
keeping her voice low so that Dorian wouldn’t come back to the room and find
out his only cousin had turned into a slut.

Saying it out loud somehow made it more real
and another wave of panic washed over her.

“We did a little more than kiss,” he said
deliberately, watching her continue to rub her stomach.

She looked at him, her stomach tightening in
desire at the very recent memory of what “a little more than kissing” entailed.
She was confused. And embarrassed. And honestly, still aroused. Which confused
her even more.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen this way,” he
said finally, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his head
again.

What did that mean?

“I’m sorry,” she offered, biting her lip.

Now everything was ruined. She stared at him
wondering how the hell she was going to be around him ever again in life.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, staring at her.

She wrinkled her face, her confusion
increasing.

“For doing… that, or this…” she said waving a
hand between them. “I mean. We weren’t thinking straight. You’re tired. And
probably like, jet-lagged or driving-lagged or something. And I’m stressed and
tired and… we weren’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking. And last time we were both
drunk and the city had a vibe and we were caught up in the moment… and yeah…
just, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were trained on her hands the entire
time she was talking and she drew in a breath and finally looked up at him. She
flinched at the anger she saw there.

“I didn’t kiss you because I’m
tired,
Destiny,” he practically snapped,
his voice low. “Or because of a damn
‘vibe’
.”

He released a breath and ran a hand over his
head again, diverting his eyes to the floor as he shook his head. He looked
back up, his expression a bit calmer but just as serious.

“I knew this wasn’t going to work.”