Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (79 page)

BOOK: Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance
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“Don’t move,” she says.
“Just stay right…”

She lets out a guttural
moan, and her breath comes in short bursts as I can feel her tightening around
me.

If I was worried about
not coming before, I’m past that now, as the look and feel of Mia’s pending
climax catapults me skyward and I feel my own body begin to come alive, ready
to come with her.

“Holy shit,” I breathe,
my body responding to her with such urgency that I can hardly process the surge
of ecstasy running through my body.

Her arms are around me
tight, now and I can feel her heart racing through both our chests as she kisses
me hard, her tongue halfway in my mouth before I can even react.

As always, we’re close,
but not quite on the same page as my body starts to shudder just as hers starts
to calm, only I don’t hit that peak when I think I’m going to, I just shoot
right past it, the pleasure its own entity moving through my entire body until
that moment when… everything… fades… away.

I embrace Mia, as we both
try to catch our breath and, together, we fall haphazardly onto the bed.

“You know,” she says,
between deep breaths, “sometimes I wonder how you can physically skate carrying
that thing around between your legs.”

I just laugh and hold her
close. The last thing on my mind right now is skating.

 
 

*
                   
*
                   
*

 

“We’re too early,” I tell
her. “We’ve got to go.”

“Go?” she asks as we pull
up to the demo, two towns away at the Richfield Community Skate and Ride.

It’s a lot more inspiring
before you know the name of the park.

“We can’t go, we just got
here, and we’ve only got twenty minutes before this thing starts,” Mia says.
“We’ll be lucky if we can get you to the start area by then, and don’t you have
to check in or something?”

“Yeah, but could we just
drive around for a little bit?” I ask.

“You’re nervous!” she
gasps. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve seen me nervous,”
I tell her (nervously). “What’s the big deal?”

“Okay, I’ve seen you
nervous,” she says, “but this is a whole new level of scaredy cat I wasn’t
anticipating.”

“Oh, ha, ha,” I mock.
“So, can we get out of here or what?”

“Got your board?” she
asks.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Got your pads or do they
give those to you?” she asks. “You know, you really should have let me help you
pack.”

“No,” I tell her. “I had
to go into my dad’s house, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with that.
I
didn’t want to deal with that, but I
haven’t really been back to pick up any of my stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve been
wondering why you’ve been alternating between the same three or four outfits
since you moved in with Rob,” she teases.

“All but one of them are
his,” I tell her. “Fuck, now I’m all freaked out because I’m going to have to
go back at some point and deal with my dad. You know, for a student of
psychology, you’re really not helping here.”

“Hey!” she protests,
“who’s the one that finally got you past your mental block on the ramp?”

“I did,” I tell her. “You
may have provided the guidance, but I did the work.”

“That’s how psychology is
supposed
to work!” she exclaims.

“Well, it’s not working
now, I can tell you that much,” I mutter and look out the window.

Yeah, we’re really
cutting it close. I’m really hoping to have the decision made for me, only when
it happens, it doesn’t happen in the way I expect.

“You know,” she says, “I
never paid up.”

“What do you mean?” I
ask.

“That day we went to the
park and I was trying to convince you to take three more runs,” she says.

“Oh, that’s right,” I
answer. “That was the day you told me that you didn’t think we were going to
work out. Thanks, now I’m worried about how solid our—”

“Oh, quit your stalling
and get out of the car,” she says, taking the keys out of the ignition and
getting out, herself.

She shuts the door and
now I’m sitting in Mia’s dad’s car by myself.

It’s nice and quiet in
here. Things are so much simpler in this car. Maybe I can just stay here until
the demo’s over and then I won’t have to trash my future by trying to drop in
in front of a couple hundred people today.

If that plan had any
wings, though, they’re effectively clipped as Mia makes her way to the outside
of my door and pulls on the handle.

She lets go, frustrated.

“Let go of the handle,”
she says through the window.

“What?” I mouth. “I can’t
hear you.”

I know we’ve gone past
the realm of nerves into a near-complete age regression, but I do not want to
get out of this car. It has a nice, minty aroma that I find rather soothing.
How could anyone be so callous as to want to pull me away from such a thing?

The back passenger’s door
opens and Mia grabs the duffel bag containing my pads, two beers, and my
victory joint.

“What are you doing?” I
ask.

“I’m giving away your
stuff,” she says. “Apparently, it looks like you’re not going to be using it,
so I thought we could make some kid really happy.”

“Yeah, very funny,” I
mock, but when she drops the duffel bag on the ground next to her and grabs my
board, I try to lunge and grab it.

“Oh, looks like someone’s
starting to take me seriously,” she says. “How about you get out of the car and
go win this thing?”

“It’s not a competition,”
I tell her. “Well, technically it is, but the winner doesn’t get anything but a
little plaque and a picture in their advertising for the next year.”

“Sounds pretty sweet,”
she says, dangling my board. “Now, are you coming, or am I going to have to
walk over there and see if that young man would like some free gear that used
to be owned by a former-almost-pro?”

“Fine,” I tell her and I
unbuckle my seatbelt. I get out and take the board from her. “Oh, was she mean
to you?” I ask my skateboard, cradling it like I’m burping an infant.

“I can’t believe I let
you put your thing in me,” she says with a scoff and shuts the back door,
locking it with her key fob.

We’re making our way to
the front, and I’m hoping Mia can’t hear the guy on the loudspeaker announcing
that competitors have only five more minutes to check in for the demo.

“What were you going to
say before?” I ask.

“When?”

“You were talking about
when we were at the skate park and I didn’t want to—” I start.

“Oh, right,” she says. “I
never gave you your reward. I told you I was going to make it worth your while
if you tried three more times and, well you did, so I guess I owe you that
reward.”

“You weren’t just going
to say that and leave it there, though, were you?” I ask. “I mean, why bring it
up now if that’s all you were going to say about it?”

“Well,” she says, “I was
considering offering you an even bigger reward on top of that one for going
through with the exhibition today, but you’ve really been less than easy to
work with, so I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

“Oh, come on,” I tell
her. “Look, I’m already on my way in.”

“Nope,” she says. “You
blew it.”

“At least tell me what
you were going to—” I start, but I don’t get a chance to finish.

“Ian?” a familiar voice
calls from nearby. “Ian Zavala?”

Oh shit.

I turn to find Nick and
Rob walking toward the entrance.

“Oh my god!” Nick says,
throwing his hands above his head. “I can’t believe—it
is
Ian Zavala!”

“Yeah, man,” Rob chimes
in, “will you sign my balls?”

“Really great, guys,” I
say, glad that I’m now almost certain to be well out of running distance,
should Mia realize just how little time I have left to get signed in. “Really,
you’re very clever.”

“I’ve got all your
magazines. Seriously,” Nick says, “you’re living with Rob now, man. You really
need to get your porn out of my hou—oh, hey!” he says, acknowledging Mia’s
presence. “I’m Nick, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Nick,
Ian’s attractive friend, and you are…?”

“I’m Mia,” Mia answers,
extending her arm to shake Nick’s hand.

Exactly how the two of
them have never been properly introduced eludes me, but the farther I can keep
Nick from Mia, the better. It’s not that I don’t like the guy, I just don’t
want either of them exchanging embarrassing stories about me.

I’m really not so worried
about Mia. Apart from my vert troubles, of which Rob and Nick are very aware,
Mia’s never really seen me do anything to humiliate myself.

Nick, on the other hand…

“Hey, aren’t you supposed
to be checked in and all that shit already?” Nick asks.

“He’s probably just
trying to bitch out of it,” Rob says.

“What exactly does it
mean to ‘bitch out’ of something, Rob?” I ask. “What’s the etymology on the
phrase?”

“Are we really that close
to time?” Mia asks. “I knew my dad didn’t set the clock for the right time.”

He didn’t. I set it ahead
ten minutes when I was loading up my gear and she was finishing getting ready
to go.

“What time is it?” Mia
asks.

Rob looks at his watch
while Nick looks at Mia, and I can see the little fucker salivating over the
chance he thinks he’s going to get to make me look like an idiot in front of
her.

“A couple minutes after
four,” Rob says. “You’re fucked, bro.”

“Nah,” Nick says, still
looking at Mia with that crooked little smile he gets when he’s about to spill
something. “I got it.”

“Got what?” I ask, but
Nick doesn’t answer. He just pulls out his phone.

“Hey, slut, what’s up?”
he asks, and I’m turning to Mia, mouthing an apology.

She waves me off and
looks back toward Nick.

“Yeah, I got a buddy who
was supposed to get his ass here like an hour ago, but he’s… Yeah, he’s signed
up and everything, he just needs to get checked in,” Nick says. “Any chance you
could do us a favor?”

“It’s already after
four,” I tell Mia. “I’m sorry I took so long in the car like that.”

“Yeah, his name is Ian
Zavala,” Nick says. “Z-A—hey Ian,” he says, turning to me, “how do you spell
your last name?” Before I can go to answer, though, he presses his phone harder
against his ear, saying, “You’ve got it? Awesome, we’re coming through the
front now. Just hold the start. You’re the best, mom.”

“That was your mom?” Mia
asks.

“Yeah,” Nick says. “When
I started getting into boarding, she started looking around for inroads. That’s
my mom’s thing, man,” he says. “She may not be an expert at most things, but
she can dig her way into any business and, once she’s there, she always gives
me the hookup. She’s been an outside investor in this place for years, man. She
says the word and shit gets done, you—”

“I think she was asking
because you started the conversation with, ‘slut,’” I interrupt to tell him.

“Dude, don’t call my mom
a slut,” Nick says, shaking his head and taking one too many steps toward me.
“That’s not cool.”

He’s about an inch from
my face, and I’m not sure whether he’s serious or not—it’s often difficult to
tell with him.

“Nah, I’m just fuckin’
with ya,” Nick says and pats my cheek. “Now get your ass in there.”

“He hasn’t signed my
balls yet,” Rob says.

You know, apart from his
willingness to let me crash at his place even after we beat the crap out of
each other, I’m really having a difficult time remembering why I’m still friends
with Rob.

As much as I’m dreading
the vert portion of the demo—why the hell did I even sign up for it?—I don’t
think I’m going to be able to stall my way out of this any longer.

“Go,” Mia says. “I’ll see
you when you’re done. You’re going to do great.”

“Yeah,” I mutter and get
on my board.

I can do this. It’s not
such a big deal.

As long as I just keep
telling myself that, maybe it’ll become the truth.

Once I’m through the
gate, it’s easy enough to see where I need to go and so I skate over to the
start area while a woman’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, seeming to thank
everyone that had ever made any sort of contribution—financial or otherwise—to
the skate park.

That must be Nick’s
much-fabled mom.

Even knowing the guy for
years, I’ve still never met anyone in his family, though apparently he has a
big one.

I get to the start area
and a big guy, also with a clipboard, stops me, saying, “I’m sorry, this area’s
for skaters only.”

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