These Things About Us (13 page)

“A cape!” Vincent burst out.

I lost track of where the conversation was going and despite their friendly smiles, I wondered if I was being made fun of. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about what booze had made me do. I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater and tucked it over the back of my hand and did my best to veil how unwelcome I felt with a bright smile. It would be considered socially acceptable to leave in a few minutes. Until then I just had to put up a brave front.

I searched Trace’s face for answers but it was scrunched up like he’d bitten into a lemon. Sensing my attention on him, he met my eyes, then without looking away he announced, “I’m taking Kitty home.”

I didn’t want him to feel obliged to get me back to The Dirty Dungeon, especially not when he could be having fun with his friends, going to that party I heard them talking about earlier. Nobody would blame him if I got lost. “We can stay, or actually, you can stay and I go back home.”

“Start moving your ass before I change my mind.” Both, not wanting to cause a scene and not being keen on navigating the bus system in the dark on my own outweighed that Trace was the second-to-last person I wanted sitting next to me on the bus. I said a few quick goodbyes and then I hightailed for the door. Trace was never more than a few inches behind me. At one point I was certain he’d pushed a poor guy half his size out of the way to keep following me this closely.

As soon as we were outside and the night air cooled my skin, I stopped Trace mid-step and raised a warning finger at him. “I’m just gonna say this once: you don’t have to take care of me, let alone walk me everywhere. I’m not going to get lost. I even have a map now. But if I do happen to get lost or something happens to me, that’s not your fault and neither your dad nor Wes can blame you for anything. I never needed a babysitter and I don’t need one now. BUT, I greatly appreciate what you’re doing. Especially when it’s dark outside and we’re god knows where and you volunteer to take me home.”

A soundless laugh vibrated through his chest. “You’re welcome, Kitty. Or should I call you Miss Pamela now?”

“Who is Miss Pamela?”

“Famous groupie from the 60s. I thought the name fits perfectly since you shag musicians,” he grinned and walked past the bus stop. I didn’t have much choice but to follow, but I smelled a chance to give him yet another bit of a taste of his own medicine.

 “Trace, no part of my body thinks you’re hot in case this is your way of begging me to sleep with you,” I repeated the words he said to me a couple of days ago and smiled coolly.

“Nice try, Pam, but you’re a terrible liar.” He shot me a sideways grin.

“I wasn’t lying,” I said, although my nose was strangely attracted to his smell. Didn’t mean my nose wanted to sleep with him.

Trace grabbed my wrist and for a moment I thought he was about to pull me forward because I was too slow for him. Instead, he spun me around, so I was facing him. I waited a beat for some monumental speech, then, with a determined push, he had me pinned against a car. The raindrops from the window soaked through my clothes and turned my back to ice.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, because he’d broken through that invisible privacy border and stepped so close I could see each tiny hair of his stubble in the dim light. He moved even closer and his hands sprawled out on my hips, the warmth seeping into my bones. I sucked in a deep breath and my breasts stroke his chest.

“Trace,” I warned and my voice hitched in my throat when the stupid asshole bent down, bringing his mouth to hover a mere breath above mine. My insides tightened and my chest fluttered in anticipation. Every part of my body knew the drill of what was logically about to follow.

I knew he was doing this to prove a point. It was working. A familiar warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time spread between my legs when his fingertips brushed the hem of my shirt.

“Yes?” he growled. The roughness of his voice almost made me whimper.

“Please stop,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, hoping that by killing the visual temptation I could make my body remember what my mind already knew: That this was a terrible, terrible idea. That I could not let myself fall back into this hole. I wasn’t sure if I could crawl out a second time.

“What? This?” His thumbs slid in under my shirt, his rough skin scratching against the softness of my belly. They left a blazing tail up to my sides. I took a sharp breath and suddenly his face was closer than before, his nose brushing against mine, his breath tingling on the corner of my mouth. My eyes fluttered open and met his emerald gaze.

“Yes. Please. Stop,” I pleaded, fully aware that my lips were a shudder away from brushing against his.

„Fuck.” He pushed himself off me and spun around, flattening his hands against his face. “Fuck!”

I pulled the shirt back down over my hips and crossed my arms over my chest to keep myself from falling apart right here on the street. I had let him go too far. I had boundaries, rules, morals and we just broke a whole lot of them. “So maybe some part of me thinks you’re pretty hot, but you can’t pull this kind of thing, Trace.” I lowered my head, letting my hair fall down like a curtain to hide the tears glazing my eyes.

He fished something from his pocket and grabbed my hand to press the crumpled paper into my palm. It was money. “Get a cab. You’re too fucking much for me, Kitty.”

“Are you seriously getting pissed at me for saying no? I’m sorry. Excuse me if the last bit of decency in my bones is
too much
for you.” My throat  was so tight, the words hardly found their way out.

“Get a fucking cab.”

Whatever had come over Trace, he loaded it on the foulmouthed girl that night while he unloaded inside her. At least that’s what I suspected he was doing when she started cursing heaven and hell in a manner that would make every sailor pale. I considered heading over to Wesley’s room to restage the last time the cursing girl had visited, but I hadn’t complained to him anymore after that night. If I restarted, he’d want to know why it bothered me now that Trace was banging some random chick and I’d rather avoid thinking of the answer.

It turned into a very long night, only stretched out further when I saw an unknown caller ID lighting up the display on my phone. I figured Dad didn’t know about the time difference, so I let the phone buzz on my nightstand already contemplating whether I’d listen to the voicemail. Maybe I’d just play the first few seconds to confirm that it had been Dad calling. I wouldn’t want to miss an important someone.

I couldn’t have closed my eyes for longer than a second when soft knocks pulled me out of a dreamless sleep. Bright, yellow sunlight flooded the small room. Maybe I’d gotten a bit more sleep than I thought, but it definitely hadn’t been good sleep.

“Come in!” I croaked, my throat still tight from sleep. I quickly hiked the blanket up to my chest to hide the braless state of my breasts beneath that grey shirt of Trace’s.

“Rise and shine! You can’t ignore me all day.” Wes closed the door behind him and fell down on my mattress. “Don’t tell me you’ve been out partying all night. If Vince could coax you into one of his flat parties and didn’t text me-”

I cut him off, “I was home by eleven.”

“You don’t look like it.”

“Aren’t you full of compliments? Very loud girl, very thin walls. Didn’t you hear?” I bent my arm back and patted the wall above my headboard.

“I didn’t sleep in my own bed last night,” he grinned.

“Weren’t you supposed to look after a depressed friend?” I furrowed my brows.

“I did. We took her out, got her drunk and played wingmen for about half an hour before she disappeared with some chav and left Gabe and me in that club.”

“So you and this Gabe...hooked up?” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the bed hair then wiped under my eyes to get some of the crumbling mascara off.

“Yeah. You should see his place. I swear to god, if I ever get rich I’m getting his interior designer. His house looks like the inside of the Enterprise. It’s so cool. He is pretty cool. Almost too cool, you know? It’s very hard to know where I stand with him. I don’t even know if he likes me or if I just happened to be the first easy fuck he came across last night.” Wes stopped the blabbering and sighed, letting his eyes wander to the window.

I crawled across the mattress and threw my arms around Wesley’s mid.
Immediately, he encircled me in a full hug.
“You’re not just an easy…target, Wes. I bet he at least noticed that you are smoking hot.”

“You think I’m smoking hot?” he teased, poking his finger into my waist and I had to force myself not to turn into stone in his arms just because Trace had touched me in the very same spot but in a very different manner.

“I did not say that,” I grinned into his chest.

“Yeah, you said I’m smoking hot. You think I’m the spitting image of a Greek god. Adonis was his name, yes? You think I should be half-naked on the cover of every magazine.”

I pulled back a bit to look up at him, grinning at me. “No, I think you’re ugly. You should hide your face. Oh my god, is that a pimple on your nose?”

He laughed and I liked hearing it. It was so much better than him putting himself down over a stupid guy that couldn’t show him how special he was. “A pimple?”

“Yes. Giant thing. Big, red, shiny, right there.” I pointed at his nose and in a swift move, Wes threw me over into the mattress and tried his best to stifle his laughter.

“Say that again.” He put on his best angry face but it still made me crack up.

“Pimple,” I laughed, holding my belly to even produce words between the breathless laughter. Wes crossed his eyes to catch a glance at the tip of his nose where the imaginary pimple was blooming.

The door to my room swung open. “I need my shirt,” Trace announced. I turned my head to see him standing in the doorway with his arms knotted across his chest and his eyes travelling over… Damn it! I hadn’t even registered that Wes had come up between my knees. And my left leg was tangled with his. I was sprawled out under him the way I would be if we were about to do it. Wes must’ve noticed too because he sat up and quickly lifted my right knee and directed it over his lap to close my legs.

Only Trace remained unflustered.

“Now?” I asked and propelled myself up on my elbows.

“Yes now. Get the fuck out of it and hand it over.”

I glanced down my body only to remember that my breasts were still bouncing happily without a bra underneath the shirt. Even if I’d worn a bra it would have been more than unlikely for me to undress in front of Trace. Especially after last night. He’d gotten as close to see seeing me naked as he’d ever be. But without a bra? Not a chance in the world.

“Can you step outside for a moment, please? I need to change.”

Trace didn’t do as he was told. I should have guessed that much. He just turned around and left me with a tiny bit of privacy but not remotely enough to make shedding my clothes feel comfortable. Wesley rolled his eyes then turned around, too. Apparently I had to get naked with both of them in my room. Great. Last night hadn’t pushed my limits far enough, it seemed.

I let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed a top from the floor. I turned so that even if either of them looked over their shoulder – I was more worried about Trace than about Wesley – they wouldn’t see my breasts. I quickly changed shirts, then held an arm protectively over my chest, because the shirt I was wearing now was a lot tighter than Trace’s and that view was meant for no one’s eyes.

I stalked over to Trace and smashed his shirt into his arms. It didn’t smell like him anymore anyway. “Anything else?”

He stretched for the door handle and pulled the door closed. We were shut out of my room, separated from Wesley. I had a very good image of what this was about and I didn’t feel like discussing it, but when I started to reopen the door, Trace grabbed hold of my hand.

“What did you tell him?”

I decided to play dumb and maybe dodge this topic. “That he has a pimple on his nose.”

“What? About last night.”

“That I was home by eleven and had a hard time sleeping thanks to your girlfriend.”

I felt him scrutinizing me but refused to look up at him. “You didn’t tell him that I almost dry-humped you in the street?”

“No.”

“Okay.” A whole lot of weight fell off his shoulders. Apparently he only had a problem with people knowing that he did stupid things to prove he’s right. I had a problem with doing stupid things. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I answered honestly, still avoiding eye contact. He was starting to see more and more of the girl I used to be from the stolen phone to the tattoo and now last night when I didn’t push him off. It was time he understood what was going on before he started to raise hell. Lowering my voice, so Wes wouldn’t hear me, I said, “A year ago, I promised myself to be a better person but you can make that very hard.”

“A better person than who?”

“Than who I used to be.” I didn’t say the other answer.
Than my dad
. “Are we done here?”

Trace let go of my hand and I fled into the safety of my room, shooing Wesley out before he could start asking questions. I didn’t care if people in the pub would think I was a little girl, I put on the skirt that fell to my knees and a T-Shirt that didn’t show the least bit of cleavage. I might freeze to death if I set a foot outside but as long as I stuck to the bar, I should be good.

Since I was already thinking of avoiding Trace until I died, I felt a lot lighter when I rounded the corner from the stairs into the pub later that day and found Alex standing behind the bar. His beard had grown since the last time I saw him. It framed his entire jaw now, instead of just his mouth and chin.

“Hi,” I smiled. Close-up I could see the circles under his eyes that were even darker than the ones I had covered up with a ton of concealer. He’d been hardly around since I got the hang of what to do here and when he was here, he usually spent an hour or two in his office, so I doubted he could have too much work on his shoulders. “Is everything alright?”