Use Somebody (40 page)

With his jaw on the floor, he watched as Ricky led me away. I smiled to myself thinking of what a great big brother Ricky was. This was certainly a benefit to being seen with him in public. Guys were intimidated by Ricky Storm, so as long as I stayed close, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting hit on at all.

Hmm… I wondered if it would work around Vance.

We stopped in the living room where a few guys were playing beer pong. I took a sip of my drink and licked my lips merrily when I realized it wasn’t beer.

“Rum and Coke?”

He looked down at me with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Yeah?”

Why was he already in a funk? I gave him my full-dimpled smile and hoped to turn that around. “My favorite.”

It worked like a charm. After a few seconds, his frown disappeared and he returned my smile with a small one. My favorite one.

“I know.”

* * *

The only time I left his side was when they played “Thriller.” I couldn’t listen to that song and not dance to it. Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. That just wasn’t an option. So I shoved my cup into Ricky’s hands and moved to an empty space in the room, busting out the routine I had known since I was eight.

As the beat picked up, a few more girls joined in, and others stood to the side and tried to watch our steps and learn.

There were almost a dozen of us moving in unison. Sexy animals and silly superheroes shared smiles as the music thrummed between us, experiencing something great together. We were strangers united by a common love for a hit written before any of us were born. That was one of my favorite things about music: its timelessness. So many people could be moved by a single piece—spanning time, space, and even social circles—yet it touched each of us uniquely.

I was a few drinks in, so my nerves were steel. Even though we had a crowd cheering us on, the only person I noticed was Ricky. And despite the scantily clad girls surrounding me, he only had eyes for me.

I danced for him with a secretive, confident smirk. Despite the alcohol in my system, my movements were spot-on and strong. What was it about being inebriated that turned me into an entertainer?

I giggled when one of the steps reminded me of the night Ricky made me dance to the fox song in Vance’s cabin. When I made a silly face and improvised a move, Ricky rewarded me with a very rare full-on grin. He remembered, too, which made me feel even warmer.

After the song ended, one of the girls turned to hug me and complimented my costume. Initially I was taken aback. She didn’t look familiar and I couldn’t help but wonder what her motive was with pretending to be nice. I narrowed my eyes warily, but mumbled ‘thanks’ from my ingrained politeness. She just shrugged and skipped away.
Weird.

My chin was then pulled in another direction and a big kiss landed on my cheek. I blinked in shock at a familiar face.

“Farrell?”

“Check you out, Texas! Lookin’ good!”

I laughed when Ricky appeared and smacked him playfully in the back of the head.

“Sorry, man. Your girl has some moves.” Farrell wore a smile as well. I loved seeing the easy banter between Ricky and his friend.

I giggled at their silliness and smiled a glossy smile at Ricky. “Your girl?”

His smoky gray eyes softened toward mine. “My girl.”

Ricky cut me off the good stuff after that. Every time I handed him my cup, he filled it with water and handed it back. He said I needed to be sober enough to stay on his bike at the end of the night. It was so nice having someone look after me. I had never been able to determine my own drinking limits. If it were up to me, I would’ve ended up smashed already.

Not once did I feel out of place or like I didn’t belong. Ricky let me cling to him when I got a little dizzy on my own two feet. We had never been very touchy before, but for whatever reason (probably the rum), it didn’t feel totally awkward.

He went along with it, talking to friends and shooting darts while cradling me at his side. A few more girls tried to flirt with Ricky and shot me the look of death when he ignored them. He was so beyond caring about any of them, I started to find it funny. I returned their coldness with an innocent smile. Killing the bitches with kindness.

Another classic song came on and everybody whooped. I tried to pull Ricky off his stool to dance with me, but he wouldn’t budge. Not even “pretty please with a cherry on top” worked. The man was made of stone. He reminded me, just like he had the first party he brought me to, that he didn’t dance.

This was unacceptable.

Disregarding his refusal, I stood between his knees and placed my hands on his shoulders, shaking my hips as if he were my willing partner. As I got lost to the music, I couldn’t help but wonder if Vance would’ve danced with me had he been here tonight.

“I’ve heard somewhere that men that can dance are amazing lovers,” I teased. “Why won’t you show me what you’ve got?”

The next dart he threw missed the bull’s eye by about five feet.

I faced away from him and continued to dance, moving my body with the beat. I even did a silly little booty shake to make him laugh. Big arms encased me and held me against him, my back pressed into his chest. “You’re a little troublemaker,” he said in my ear. I giggled.

He kept hold of me like this until the end of the song. The next one was slower. I rested my head back against his shoulder and shut my eyes. It felt good to be so close to another human being. I wondered what costume Vance was wearing, and if he was dancing with somebody tonight. Maybe Summer. When a whiff of smoke hit my nostrils, I secretly wished he smelled like peppermint and spice.

I started humming along to the melody. Eventually I realized that we were swaying lightly together. I wasn’t sure who started it, but Ricky was definitely swaying with me. I smiled to myself in victory.

At the end of the night, we walked back to his bike with arms wrapped around each other’s waists, me slightly off kilter.

I’d tried to avoid thinking of Vance all night, but he was ever-present in the back of my mind. Hooking up with him and rekindling my need for touch was like playing with fire, because all I really wanted was selfish momentary pleasure. I’d been so good about not allowing even the barest trace of male contact for months. I wasn’t in a healthy place emotionally, and I feared discipline and reason weren’t enough to stop me from getting myself into major trouble.

That’s what I liked about Ricky. Nothing was ever complicated with Ricky. We could sleep next to each other without worrying about attachment or expectations. I could always count on him to help me leave the world behind.

Ricky was more than my friend. He was family. Why should it be any different now that we hung out in public? I didn’t know why I had even been worried.

“I wish you were my brother instead of James.”

It confused me when he stopped and looked down at me, brows drawn together. I wasn’t sure what that look was for. He
was
my family. Period. Blood didn’t matter. I didn’t mean to suggest that it did.

But seriously. It would have made things a whole hell of a lot easier.

“Don’t you?”

Silently, he resumed walking, holding me at his side until we reached his bike. Then he lifted the helmet over my head and fastened the strap, just like he always did.

“Sure, kiddo.”

A few nights later, I found myself back at the old park. Don’t ask me why because I don’t have an answer to that. It was another bad night at home and I couldn’t sleep, so I just started walking until I ended up here.

I sat on a swing, swaying slightly to and fro, toes rooted in the sand. I was getting so tired of it all—running away from my problems like it was the only way to survive. It was exhausting, especially carrying a load like mine. Every day it felt like I was dragging around an extra thousand pounds. Tonight even opening my eyes again seemed too arduous.

My thoughts drifted to years long past, when this playground used to be made of wood and nails. There was a tire swing. I remembered twirling on it until I could hardly walk straight. For one reason or another, the city must’ve decided it was too dangerous and ripped it out. Now everything was soft and plastic.

I felt bad for the future generations of kids who would never know the dizzying joy of that tire swing. And I wondered how they would ever learn to make it out there if we were constantly trying to bubble wrap the world.

A twig cracked. A throat cleared. I stilled in my swing and watched a hooded figure approach. He was silhouetted against the street lamps, but even so, I knew who it was.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” I questioned.

Vance took a seat in the swing next to mine. “I didn’t.”

His answer was atypically short. I just knew he was still thinking about what happened in my driveway. I was so nervous that he was going to bring it up, I said something that took a special kind of stupid.

“So… do you actually like me?”

He chuckled softly. I could tell he knew exactly what I was doing, but was willing to humor me. After all, the last time he pushed, I bolted.

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

“Yes,” I squirmed uncomfortably. “I need the words.” It was pathetic and awkward to make him say it out loud, especially something so seemingly obvious. But I had lived in denial and assumptions for so long, it was time to get everything out in the open.

“First I want to know what you think,” he said delicately. “How do you think I feel?”

That was the problem… I was struggling to trust my own instincts. This wasn’t the first time I had ever felt wanted, but I had been wrong enough times in the past to make me doubt.

What I felt with Vance was different. It felt good, comfortable, natural… I didn’t know how else to describe it. Surely that was all due to the friendship we had built. We were both in a vulnerable place, it was possible he was just mistaking those feelings for something else.

“I think you’re confused,” I hesitated. “Are you sure this isn’t all just because, you know, you’re feeling lonely? In love with the idea of love? Just looking for someone to help you move on, and I’m your friend, and a girl, who happens to be the exact opposite of your ex, so it’s just… convenient?”

Ever the patient man, he gave me an understanding smile. “This isn’t a rebound. It’s never been that. No offense, but if I was looking for something
convenient,
there are much easier ways to find it.”

I couldn’t argue with that. No doubt a hundred girls would want Vance Holloway now that he was back on the market. But he wasn’t interested in any of them; he had been too busy chasing me.

“Whatever happened to catch and release?” I asked.
“The victory is in the catch,”
he had said. I thought for sure after one night together, it would curb his curiosity. So why was he still pursuing me?

“You’re many things, Scarlett Rose, but a fish isn’t one of them. If I ever catch you, I plan on never letting you go.”

“Yeah okay,” I breathed out sharply and looked away. “Now you’re talking crazy.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. It’s… impractical.”

He tilted his head dubiously. “My feelings are
impractical?”

“‘Never let me go?’
You must be kidding. I’m just a messed up girl with a long line of issues that you’ll never understand.”

“I want to understand. I want to help bring you back.”

Another thought suddenly occurred to me. This was bigger than a heroic pet project, and messier than an affair. “You don’t want me,” I said quietly. “You’ve fallen for the idea of a girl that no longer exists.”

Maybe once upon a time I had been a nice girl. Sweet. Optimistic. Ready to chase my dreams. Maybe even worthy of someone like Vance Holloway. We might’ve been right for each other, if circumstances were different. If I never went away to school. If I never dated one jerk after the other. If I never experienced such debilitating grief. Sure. We might have been perfect together.
If
. That’s what Gwen saw. That’s what Vance saw. But it wasn’t reality.

“That’s not true,” he said. “It’s
you
that I’m falling for.”

“Then you would realize you can’t bring her back.”

He turned to face me, trapping me in his gaze. “I like that you listen to kickass music, and that a good song can make you light up. I like your dry humor. I like that just because you’re introverted, you think no one notices you. I like that you don’t care about expensive jewelry and gifts. I like that you’re not constantly in front of a mirror obsessing about the way you look. I like that you don’t
expect
me to pay for your meal or open your door. I like that you always thank me when I do it anyway. So many girls our age are petty and shallow, no offense, but not you. You are strong, intelligent and independent. And when you didn’t like the direction your life was going, you had the courage to say enough’s enough, and start over.” His swing was fully twisted in my direction at this point. Mine still faced forward. “I like
you
, Rosie. Not an ideal version from your past. You.”

I nodded numbly. That certainly squashed any counter arguments I could make.

But I had one more question, and I feared this answer most of all.

“Did you feel this way when you were still with your girlfriend?”

I couldn’t bear it if he said yes, but I had to know. His heart changed too quickly for someone who just got out of a serious relationship. This whole thing was probably my fault. Had I really justified all those car rides, late night pancakes, and long talks by telling myself it was safe to hang out with him because he already had a girlfriend? What the hell was wrong with me?

“When I was with Evelyn,” he paused to breathe, then started over. “I always thought you were a cool girl. When you started working at Mooshi, I wanted you to feel at home there, so I tried to reach out to you. I had no idea how difficult you were going to make that.” A smile curled up on one side, but he grew serious again just as quickly. “I never thought about you like that, not until after we broke up. But since I had already gotten to know you, it happened instantly. All of a sudden it just… made perfect sense.”

“It makes
no
sense,” I countered. We clashed in every single capacity: he was light and I was dark, he was pure and I was damaged. “I’m not the kind of girl you should want, Vance. I have so many issues I don’t even know where to begin. I’m broken and paranoid and destructive—”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you want to see what else is out there beyond our little suburb? Meet people? Sow your wild oats?”

Vance laughed darkly. “I have no interest in sowing wild oats.”

“Okay, another relationship then. I think you’d be much better off with a nice girl who wants to settle down here in San Dimas. White picket fence. Two-point-five kids and a golden retriever.”

“Are you finished yet?”

“She should be blond, I think.”

“Rosie, look at me.”

I did not want to look at him. If I looked at him, surely I would crack. I had to hold my ground and resist him. So I stared straight out at the playground, knuckles white as my fingers held tightly to the chains at my sides.

Vance hastily stood up from his swing and crunched across the sand until he stood directly in front of me. Bending to my eye level and gripping both of the metal chains to my swing, he effectively had me trapped, and I was forced to look up into his very intense gaze.

“I know you’re not as tough as you act. You can try and pretend that you’re fearless and that nothing can touch you. But every relationship you have is controlled by fear.”

I swallowed, wide-eyed, feeling open and exposed.

Vance took advantage of my speechlessness and blurted out, “You’re beautiful.”

I frowned, his words catching me off guard. “I’m cute. At best.”

A small smile touched his lips. “And modest.” I rolled my eyes. He shook his head as if I were being ridiculous, gaze never leaving mine, and moved closer, pushing my swing backwards, one slow inch at a time. “I’m not gonna lie, Rosie, with those blond curls and big, innocent eyes, you were cute. You were downright adorable back then. But this… your fire, your complexity… you’re not that little girl anymore… You are extraordinarily sexy.”

I tried to move away but he continued.

“That’s the one that really gets to me. You have no idea how beautiful you are. Blond hair, black hair, green hair, it doesn’t matter. You’re gorgeous. Your smile. Your laugh. Even your little scowl. The way you looked up at me right before I kissed you…” he took a breath and held it, closing his eyes momentarily to savor the memory. “It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

His voice had grown deep and husky. He was so close to me now, we were breathing the same air. It took an incredible amount of restraint not to touch my lips to his after hearing his confessions. I was so sure he could see me losing control.

But Vance was steady. His gaze now straight at my lips, the cool mint of his breath whispering intimately across my skin. “Every day I’ve wanted to touch you again. Every… damn… day.”

“Vance,” I said, a breathless plea. We needed to stop this… not that I could remember why at the moment. Only that somewhere out there existed a very good reason to stop.

But the logical part of my brain shut off the moment he ignited my body. I was no longer thinking straight, only feeling. I was consumed by the memory of his hands on me, his lips on me. The tenderness in his eyes. The warmth of his embrace. He was so close to me now, making the memory of his touch fresh in my mind, the fantasy of it happening again palpable.

His smile told me he was well aware of just how much he was affecting me.

“Do you ever think about that night? How it felt to give in? To let go?” I closed my eyes as his cheek ghosted along the curve of my face. Leisurely, methodically. He was teasing me. I wanted him to really touch me. I needed it. And he knew. “You looked so beautiful, glowing in the moonlight. You wanted to show me the stars, but I could barely take my eyes off you. That first kiss…” He traced the tip of his nose enticingly up the length up my neck, only to stop and murmur in my ear. “Just remembering the little sound you made drives me out of my mind.”

I shivered. His soft lips were on me now, lightly brushing the lobe of my ear, trailing back down my neck and across my collar bone. Just tiny little tastes that weren’t nearly enough. I shifted to give him better access. I might have even whimpered. I just needed him to touch me already. For real. But his hands were securely on my swing, holding me in place.

“Do you remember?”

A soft moan was my only response. What a stupid question. Of course I remembered. Wasn’t it obvious in the way he had so quickly reduced me to this needy vagrant? No matter how hard I tried to forget, the memory of my one night with Vance under the stars was burned into me.

Just like the alcoholic, the first sip set me on a fast track to destruction. It was so much easier to concede to temptation the second time around. Because I knew exactly how soft his lips would feel. I knew just how warm he was, and how perfect his weight would fit over my body.

And the worst part… Vance was now aware of how enticing I found him. Hence one of the reasons that I hadn’t allowed him to touch me at all. Everything was different now that he understood why. He knew it was not disgust, but a craving, an addiction. And he was using it to his advantage. He was drawing me in, building my need exponentially. By barely touching me, I was already writhing beneath him, practically begging for it. He must have been using an insane amount of control to resist. I knew I was.

“Keep your eyes open,” he coaxed me softly, like he had so many times before.

Knowing full well he would see the desperation in my eyes, I hesitated only a moment. Then I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

My own emotions were reflected in his face. The same as before—yearning and restraint. Vaguely I recalled him admitting this was the moment that turned him on that first night. The expression of being open, asking to be kissed. I wanted the memory of tonight to affect him just as much. To tease him the same way he was teasing me. I gently bit into my bottom lip. Carefully, as if in slow motion.

His eyes snapped to my mouth, and I watched his green irises darken in desire. This was so much deeper than the shallow lust I’d felt from countless flings, and even from the few I really cared about. They had wanted and they had taken. But they never made me feel beautiful the way I did in this moment. Vance didn’t need cleavage or lipstick to get his attention. He didn’t just want to use somebody for the night. He wanted to own me. And in that moment, I wanted to be his.