Different Roads (5 page)

            "Yeah,"
Brad didn't take his eyes off the road when he asked, "Why? You know
him?"

            "We've
met," I said quietly.

            The
road ended in a large field that had already started to fill up with pickups
and various off road vehicles. Brad parked his midnight blue Ford next to a muddy
yellow and black Jeep. I didn't have to open the door to hear the music
blasting out of the concert-sized speakers. He reached for my hand and I let
him tug me along toward the source of the noise.

            "Before
we get this starty parted," Brad joked and stopped abruptly right in front
of me. "Are you staying sober tonight or am I?"

            I
scanned the area; there must have been a hundred kegs. I whistled softly,
"You got hammered last night, and probably the night before that. Give
your liver a rest tonight."

            He
pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose into an ugly face, "My liver will
probably go into shock if I take a night off. But I suppose one night won't
hurt. I'll do it for you, Jaq." His ears flushed red and he squeezed my
hand.

            I
spotted Shelley standing in line for the Porta-potty and dropped Brad's hand.
"There's Shell, I'll catch up with you later."

            He
nodded, already heading off toward a cluster of guys I recognized from school,
"Behave Jaq," a gapped toothed smile split his face.

            "As
if," I shouted after him.

            When
Shelley was done using the green toilet, which leaned a little too far to the
right for my liking, we made our way through the people knotted around the
kegs. We each poured a cup of beer and I followed her over to stand near the
bonfire which was actually more like a miniature towering inferno. She rubbed
her hands in front of her to warm them. The breeze picked up and wafted a huge
puff of smoke in our direction so we slid around to the other side of the
blaze. I tried not to lose sight of Brad to make sure he didn't go back on his
word and would stay sober enough to get us both home in one piece at the end of
the night.

Several hours later, Shelley and I sat
on the tailgate of someone's pickup when I got a creepy sensation, like someone
was watching me. I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced around at the people scattered
about. I was about to chalk it up to the amount of beer I'd consumed and my
overactive imagination when I spotted him.

Damon Blackwell had me locked in his
sights and a lazy smile crept across his beautiful face. His squared jaw was
shadowed with day old stubble. He took a long drag off his cigarette and
flicked it into the fire, never once moving his wolfish eyes off of mine. Like
a moth fascinated by the light of a dangerous bug zapper, I found myself unable
to look away. I couldn't even blink or breathe during the two-minute standoff
between his eyes and mine. I swear I could feel my heart pounding against my
ribs. The connection was lost when someone waved a bottle of José Cuervo in
front of his face. I watched his wavy black hair kiss his shoulders as he
tipped his head back and swallowed a big gulp of the amber-colored alcohol.

Shelley tugged on my arm, forcing me out
of my daze, and asked if I wanted her to get me another beer. I hopped off the
tailgate and drained the last swallow from my cup trying to wash down the
baseball-sized lump lodged in my throat. I handed her my empty cup and nodded,
"Yeah, why don’t you see if you can find us some tequila."

"Oh hell no," she crossed her
arms in front of her. "You know what that stuff does to you."

"I'll behave," I smiled and
drew an imaginary X across my chest. "I swear."

Smart girl that she is, she didn't buy the
lie, "Of course you won't."

When I turned back to where Damon had
been standing, he was gone. My eyes darted around as I tried to pick him out of
the crowd. My mouth tipped into a half frown.

"Looking for someone?" Damon
breathed into my hair and sparks shot down the back of my neck.

Involuntarily, my shoulders drew up to
my ears, trying to squelch the shivers that had erupted inside of me, "Not
you," I said, trying my hardest to sound indifferent.

"Maybe you're looking for
this?" He held up the bottle of tequila, and my inner lush did invisible
back flips around the bonfire. I reached for the booze and he yanked it out of
reach. "Ooh, you like?"

"If you're not going to
share," I pushed away from him on wobbly legs, praying they held me
upright. "I'll just go find someone who will." I started to walk off
and his hand shot out, snaking around my wrist with an iron-like grip. I looked
first at his hand and then at the cocky expression on his face. My reflexes
were dulled by the beer I'd consumed and the intoxicating way his eyes seemed
to see through my usually hidden vulnerable side. Before I could yank free from
his hold, his lips were on mine. It's a damn good thing he still held me
tightly in his grasp because I'm pretty sure my knees melted into a puddle. The
warm kind of puddle that made me ache to fist clumps of his black hair through
my fingers and wrap my long legs around his waist.

Two heartbeats longer, and that's
exactly what I would have done had Brad not interrupted us. "You okay over
here, Jaq?"

Damon's mouth pulled away and he rested
his forehead on mine, "Guess I'll have to take a rain check on hearing you
scream my name," he breathed.

His smugness brought me to my senses and
I shoved him away from me. He stumbled back with a surprised laugh. I narrowed my
eyes at him, "You owe me," I said and pointed to the bottle in his
hands.

"Get your own fucking bottle,"
he sneered. "That pathetic kiss didn't earn you anything from me." He
grabbed his crotch and tipped the bottle back in some sort of crazy poetic salute.

Brad swung Damon around and clocked him
hard in the mouth, "Take that back you sonofabitch," he glowered down
at Damon, who sat in the dirt rubbing his jaw.

Damon shook his head and hopped to his
feet. He held up two hands, 'Easy there cowboy. She's all yours," his lips
curled into a cruel smile that didn't erase the hard glint in his eyes. "Jaq
knows I was only messing with her. Don't ya, Jaq?"

I nodded, "It's cool. No harm, no
foul."

"Brad!"
I said and punched him in the shoulder. "Look, I know you were just trying
to protect me and all, but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. Really."

            He
scowled and folded his arms in front of his chest, "I know that Jaq. But Damon
Blackwell is all kinds of bad news. Promise me you'll stay away from him."

            "I'm
not afraid of him," I said.

            The
muscles in his jaw clenched and he gave me a hard look, "Yeah well, you
should be."

            A
warning itched at the back of my subconscious. Somewhere inside, I
knew
Damon Blackwell was way out of my league as far as dangerous guys to lock lips
with go, but I sure didn't want anyone telling me to stay away from him. The
more I was warned not to do something, the more my evil inner twin dared me to
go for it. "It's not your choice to make, Brad." I spun away from him
in search of Shelley and my next beer.

            "We'll
talk about it when you're sober sometime," he growled. I peeked back at
him over my shoulder and the wounded expression on his face almost melted my
cold heart. That feeling lasted until he said, "Do what you want Jaq, but
don't come whining to me when he breaks your heart. Or worse."

            When
I finally found Shelley she gave me an ugly glare, "I don't know what you
did to piss off Brad, but you did it up right." I told her about him being
mad at me for kissing Damon Blackwell. "It doesn't surprise me he got pissed
that you kissed someone other than him. You know how he feels about you."

            "I
think he was just being over protective and his love of fighting overruled
logic. Damon just happened to get in the way of his fist," I shrugged.
"I'm kind of glad Damon didn't decide to retaliate. You know Brad's been
in more than his fair share of barroom brawls, but something tells me he'd be
no match for Damon Blackwell."

            "Well
you'd better start sobering up or plan to ride home with Tim and me tonight
because I just watched Brad chug three beers in about sixty seconds,"
Shelley said.

            I
tapped my beer cup against hers and smiled, "Looks like we're riding
together tonight after all."

            "Oh
I don't know," she nodded her head toward something behind me. "I think
he
might have other ideas. If the way his eyes are undressing you is any
indication."

            I
turned, prepared to flip Damon the bird but instead found myself staring into a
pair of familiar blue eyes which peered out from under a baseball cap.  Where did
I recognize those eyes from? Before I could put a name to the eyes, there was a
commotion on the other side of the fire.

            "Awe
fuck, fight," Tim shouted, sprinting toward the yelling. Right away I
assumed it was Damon pounding Brad to a bloody pulp for taking that cheap shot
earlier. We ran over to find two strangers rolling around in the dirt, each of
them trying to get the upper hand in their drunken wrestling match. I sighed in
relief and stepped away from the crowd that had knitted together to watch.

Before I knew it, someone tapped on my
shoulder and whispered, "Jaq?" I turned around and holy shit! It was
him
.
The crazy, blue-eyed, Wild Turkey guzzling guy from practically a lifetime ago.

"Seth? Um. Well this is embarrassing.
I've seen you in your boxers and I don't even know your last name," I
smiled shyly.

"It's Thomas," he offered. I
looked confused, wondering if I'd gotten his first name wrong when he smiled
and said, "Seth Thomas."

"Hey Seth, good to see you again,"
I smiled. Inside my heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings and I only
hoped he couldn't hear it from where he stood. 

He smiled, "The party's just about
over and
now
my night decides to get better."

I tipped my head to stare at him,
"What?"

"I've been here all night and not
only one, but two of my fucking ex's showed up. One of them is completely
psychotic. I don't know how many times I have to tell her it's over before she
takes the hint, but she's about one phone call away from me filing a
restraining order."

I glanced nervously around, "I hope
she's not watching. That's the last thing I need. Some psycho ex-girlfriend
after me."

He laughed and shook his head,
"Nah. They're gone now. You're safe."

 "That's good, one psycho a night
is about all I can handle," I muttered.

"Yeah I saw your boyfriend knock
Blackwell on his ass earlier," he said. "I was going to come over and
talk to you before that happened. I guess it's a good thing I didn't. "

"You saw that?" I asked,
cringing inside from embarrassment. "Brad's not my boyfriend. He's just a
little overprotective."

There was something about Seth that put
me at ease. I had completely lost track of time as we stood there talking. It
was only when I took a quick glance around that I noticed barely a handful of
people remained. Shelley found me to tell me they were leaving.

"I'll give you a ride," Seth
offered.

My breath hitched, and the nervous
fluttering returned. I looked up at Seth and decided to take him up on his
offer.

I waved Shelley off, "I'll ride
with Seth."

She looked between the two of us and nodded,
"Okay. Better hurry. Brad and Damon are going to race to the main
road."

"What? Are they crazy? That road is
barely wide enough to race two bicycles, let alone two trucks!" I yelled
in panic.

"One pickup and a Harley," she
shouted back at me while Tim pulled her after him toward his truck.

"Speaking of completely freaking
psychotic!" I shook my head. "We'd better go."

It started to sprinkle just as I hopped
into Seth's Chevy. I heard the roar of Damon's bike as he worked the throttle
back and forth, revving it up loud enough to rattle the windows of the truck.
Seth reached over and tugged the seatbelt snug across my chest. "Better
hang on baby, things could get a little rough."

It's a good thing the cab was dark and
he couldn't see my cheeks morph into two overripe tomatoes. "I bet you say
that to all the girls," the beer said.

The few stragglers still around the
bonfire scattered to their vehicles, either to avoid the rain or to see the two
idiots try and out-chicken each other on their way to the main road. Absent
mindedly, I traced the butterfly tattoo on the inside of my wrist.

Brad had gifted me with the tattoo when
he lost some stupid bet a few months ago. The tattoo hadn't cost him anything
but his talent and time. It's a beautiful likeness of a Blue Morpho butterfly.
He had laughed and told me, "Now you'll never be able to forget me.
Whenever you see that tattoo, there I'll be."