Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls #4) (8 page)

That night, I have a dream.

A dream about Jack.

It starts on my couch. We’re watching a movie but I don’t recognize whatever’s on the screen. I’m against his chest and his arm is around me. His fingers are brushing the back of my neck, caressing it so softly. I rub my hand up his chest. It’s firm and warm. My body is tingling all over, just from touching his chest and him touching my neck.

I turn my head to look up at him. His arm tightens around me. He looks me right in the eye as he leans in and puts his lips on mine. Warm and soft. My heart swoops up into my throat.

Things change then.

We’re kissing, really kissing, tongues eager. He’s on top of me and we’re in my bed. I’m fully dressed but he only has jeans on. My hands are all over his bare back and my legs are tight around his waist. The hard material of his jeans press into my legs and his hard cock digs into my crotch. And I’m so, so eager for him.

Things change again.

His cock’s in me and we’re both naked and sweating. He’s kissing me like he can’t get enough and squeezing my breasts and his cock is rubbing inside me.

My body is climbing and climbing. It goes on and on. Jack inside me and my heart bursting open and my body aching for release. I get so close. Again and again I’m almost there as I feel him rubbing inside me, but I never go over.

My agitation pulls me into a state of partial dreaming, partial awareness. Part of me knows it’s a dream, but part of me still thinks it’s real and so damned good. My body is squirming in bed. The part of me that knows it’s a dream understands that’s the reason why I haven’t been able to come. The dream hangs on, Jack still fucking me, and god he feels so amazing and I want him so much. The real me slides my hand under my panties, barely aware of what I’m doing. The second my finger touches my clit, I climax at last, contracting under the covers.

After a few seconds, my body releases and I’m left with a pounding heart. As the dream slides away, I realize where I am and what’s just happened.

Then it hits me.

Oh my god, it all hits me. “Oh, god,” I say out loud.

I love him.

“Oh, shit.”

I’m in love with him.

The revelation is so powerful, I feel like it’s flat knocked me over. And I’m fucking still lying in bed.

Suddenly, it all becomes horribly clear, what the unsettled feeling has been and why I’ve been so mad at him.

“No, no, no.”

This can’t happen. I can’t fall in love with Jack. I can’t fall in love with anybody. How the hell did this happen? God, it’s his stupid fault for making me trust him and being all funny and sexy and freaking
Jack.
That boy snuck right under my radar and now I’m sunk.

Then I remember there’s an Emily. My heart hurts so much I think it’s going to stop beating. Now I know what I don’t like about her.

Oh, god.

For a moment I wonder if I can hatch some sort plot to get rid of her. But I can’t come up with a devious plot without my plotting partner, and my plotting partner is fucking Jack.

“Shit.”

And even if I did get rid of Emily... or she got hit by a bus... or something... what then? I don’t know the first thing about being in love. What? Do I, like, want to be in a
relationship
with Jack? What the hell would that even look like?

I have no clue. But I know how it would end. Like every bad relationship my mother’s ever been in. Including, probably, her most current one.

No, no, no. I could never let that happen to Jack and me. Because you can’t just go back to being friends after a tragedy like that. No, after relationships turn sour, you take to despising the person you use to love and the thought of despising Jack makes my heart hurt.

It makes my entire body hurt.

I realize every muscle in my body is clenched. I’m gripping the covers under my chin. I may as well be hiding from a boogeyman, the way I’m acting.

It feels like something’s about to get me.

I love Jack and that terrifies me. It kills me to think I can’t have him—what with the whole we’re-best-friends-and-he’s-got-stupid-Emily thing—but I’m terrified to want him, too.

Except that I do.

Against all reason, I want him, want him, want him.

I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

I’m lying on the couch in Emily’s condo, with Emily lying half next to me, half on top of me. We’re watching
Grey’s Anatomy
. I have my arms around her, because I’m allowed to do things like that with my girlfriend. It’s only eight o’clock, but I think I’ll head home soon. It’s a work night, so that can be my reason. The real reason is things have been a little strained between Emily and me lately.

It’s completely my fault, of course. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing any more. I really don’t. Here I’ve got this great girl who actually wants me, but I’m busy wishing for the girl I can’t have and fucking up my friendship with her to boot.

It’s tearing me up.

I thought I could get this thing with Sam under control. I made progress in Spain. Kind of. Maybe it wasn’t long enough. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back. Do I need to move the fuck away forever? What do I need to do? Because with Sam in the same city, I can’t seem to stay away. And all that does is make me want her more.

You’d think our fight would’ve helped, but no. It didn’t. Because I’ve barely talked to Sam about Emily at all, and yet she knows me so well she hit the nail on head without hardly trying. That’s probably what pissed me off more than anything.

I
am
being analytical about Emily. She’s great. She really, really is. But even though everything about her and I together looks good on paper, my brain can’t convince my heart to go along with it.

My heart wants Sam. My body wants Sam. Every time I see that girl I want to eat her the fuck up, but I can’t. It’s be her friend or nothing, because she’s clearly not going to break her relationship rule just for me.

The way she scooted away from me on the couch that day
still
fucking hurts.

It’s starting to feel like I have two choices: stay here and be miserable forever, or leave altogether and try to get to the point where I can at least breathe.

Emily readjusts and nuzzles deeper into me. She’s getting heavy and a bit warm. Falling asleep, I think. Maybe if I move away, I can persuade Emily to come with me. Maybe it’ll be easier to fall in love with her—because she really is a great girl—if I get clear of Sam.

I know I told Sam we’d always be friends. But that girl is breaking my heart.

My phone rings, causing Emily to stir. I reach over and grab it off the coffee table. The caller ID says “Nick Bartender.” He’s the main bartender over at Rounders. We usually only chat when I’m at the bar, but he’s invited me to his house a few times for BBQs and his killer Super Bowl Parties. I didn’t know his last name when I first put him in my phone. Thus, “Nick Bartender.”

“Hey Nick,” I answer. “What’s up?”

“Hey Jack.” His voice sounds serious. “This might be kind of weird, but I think you need to come down here and check on Sam.”

“Sam? She’s there?” It’s a Monday night. What’s she doing at Rounders unless...

Fuck, Nick. I don’t need to know every time Sam’s down there picking up some guy.

Emily stirs again and lifts her head off my chest to look at me. I try to give her an “everything’s fine” smile to get her to lie back down, but she’s listening now.

“Yeah,” Nick continues, “and she’s so drunk I had to cut her off.” Huh? Sam never gets drunk.
Ever
. “I don’t really want to ask Frank to escort her out of here, but it’s getting to that point. I don’t know. I thought maybe....”

“Yeah,” I say, watching as Emily’s brows turn down. “No, I get it. Thanks. I’ll be there soon.”

Emily starts to crawl off me and sit up. I sit up, too. She’s watching me like a hawk.

“Thanks, Jack,” Nick says.

I get off the couch and slide my phone into my pocket, avoiding Emily’s eyes.

“What was that about?” she asks as I go to the door and start putting on my shoes.

“Um...”

Okay, yeah, I’m having a hard time looking Emily in the eye at this precise moment, but let’s be clear about something. Emily’s not the jealous type, and I’m not the cheating type. In fact, I think guys who cheat are stupid, selfish, bastards, but hey. Maybe that’s just me. That said, I’m perfectly aware that something in me is being a little evasive. “Sounds like Sam might be in a bit of trouble down at Rounders.”

“She’s at a bar on a Monday night? What kind of trouble?”

“Too much to drink, is all. I’ll check on her on my way home. It’s getting time for me to go anyway.”

“Okay,” Emily says, but she’s frowning a bit. She gets off the couch and comes over to give me a hug. When I take her into my arms, she leans her head on my shoulder and stays there for a while.

Okay, maybe I’m not technically doing anything wrong, but I’m starting to feel like the world’s biggest ass.

I tuck my fingers under her chin and turn her to face me so I can kiss her. I try to give her the kind of kiss she deserves. It must not have been too bad, because when we pull away, she’s smiling up at me.

I should be grateful a woman like her is smiling at me like that.

I give her a soft peck and say, “Call you tomorrow.”

Then I head out the door, to get Sam.

Once I flash Frank my ID and make it inside Rounders, I do a quick scan and come up short. I spot Nick behind the bar and we make eye contact. He’s pouring vodka into a glass, but nods in the direction of the back rooms.

Sam and I don’t generally go back there unless we’re playing pool or something, but maybe she has a different routine when she’s here for... other reasons.

Ugh.

When I find her, she’s in the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms, and is surrounded by three guys. I can’t tell which one, if any, she has her sights on, because she’s got her hand on one guy’s chest but is smiling seductively—overtly so—at another. They all look like they’re hoping to get lucky, which gets my blood boiling. She’s dressed for it, too: she’s wearing her tiny black skirt and black, laced suede boots that go up to her mid-thigh. I haven’t seen those things in years.

As I approach, I can see she’s unsteady on her feet. Her body movements are exaggerated and unnatural. Yeah, she’s clearly had a few too many. Whatever she’s drinking, the glass in her hand is nearly empty.

One of the guys says something and she laughs, too loudly. God, it’s really weird seeing her like this.

“Hey there, Sam,” I say.

Her eyes swing in my direction and fumble around a bit before landing on me and staying there. Her face lights up. “Jack!” she says. She half walks, half stumbles in my direction, grinning and saying “Oh, Jack! Hi!”

She throws her arms around my waist and gives me an unbalanced hug. I hang on to her to keep her from falling. Also, just because. She’s pressed all the way against me and I might be an asshole but she feels really, really good in my arms.

Still hanging on to me, she looks up and gives me a smile that I feel ballooning up in my chest. I smile back down at her. God, I’m really trying not to, but I fucking love her so much. Then she furrows her brows together. “Hey wait,” she says loosely, “I’m mad at you.”

“Again?”

She pushes herself off my chest, fumbling a bit with her nearly empty glass, the brown liquid swirling around in the base. She’s fumbling with her feet too, for that matter. I hold her elbow to steady her. “I don’t know,” she says, frowning. “Did we make up?”

“I thought we did.”

Her frown deepens as she looks back up at me, like she’s trying to remember. “Oh no, no, no,” she says in her ornery tone, turning back and heading for the guys, who’ve been doing their own bit of scowling in my direction. “I remember,” she says. “I’m mad at you and your fingers.”

What?

“So run along now,” she says, half leaning against, half falling into the guy who had his arm around her before. He puts his arm around her again, his hand dangerously close to her ass. He gives me a satisfied smirk, but he’s a moron if he thinks he’s winning this battle. No fucking way am I leaving her like this. With him or anyone.

“Come on, honey,” I say reaching out my hand to her. “Let me take you home.”

She shakes her head firmly and downs the rest of her drink in one fell swoop. “Be a doll and get me another one, would you, Chad?” she says, handing him the glass and smiling at him with half-lidded eyes.

Be a doll? Wow, her flirting really suffers when she’s drunk. Still, Chad holds the empty glass out to one of his companions, who swaps it for a full one, which he then gives to Sam. Now I see how she’s working around Nick’s drink cap. Assholes.

“Hey,” I say firmly, as she starts to drink up, but begins to lose her balance doing it. The guys laugh, watching her recover. “You’ve had enough, Sam.”

“Back off, dude,” Chad says.

I ignore him, coming right up and taking the glass from her. She makes a grab for it but I hold it out of reach. Chad straightens and puffs up his chest. I give him a murderous look that means business, and I see him hesitate, sizing me up.
Just try me, buddy.

“Hey!” Sam protests, as I shove her glass toward another guy, who takes it just in time to keep it from spilling all over him. “I want more.” She’s practically pouting.

“No way,” I say. “You’ve had enough.”

She huffs and scowls at me. “You know, Jack, if you’re going to ride my ass, you should at least pull my hair.”

Even pissed as I am, even drunk as she is, my cock responds to the idea of riding her ass and pulling her hair. Fucking hell.

I take her hand, but she yanks it away. “Uh-uh, you. I’m going home with this one here.” She jerks a thumb in Chad’s direction.

This looks like news to him, but he smiles at her in a way that makes me want to knock his teeth out.

“Isn’t that right, Chad?” she asks, but she’s not looking at Chad. She’s scowling at me.

Chad exchanges grins with one of the other guys. They’re all grinning ear to ear. “Anything you want, baby. We’ll take you home.”

Yeah. I don’t think so.

“I’m not leaving you here for a gang bang,” I say, glaring at Chad, who narrows his eyes. I try to take her hand again, but she pulls back, scowling.

“You don’t own me, Jack Thomas Anderson.”

The guys laugh, but I ignore them. I’m done fucking around. I bend over, heft Sam over my shoulder, and start walking back through the bar.

“Jack! Hey! Put me down!”

Her boots kick and her little fists pound on my back a couple times but I keep walking.

“Put me down right now or I’ll puke all over your jeans!”

“They’ll wash,” I say, raising a hand to Nick, who’s watching the whole thing and laughing.

“Jack, put me down!”

On the way out, I wave to the bouncer.

“See ya, Jack,” he says. “Bye, Sam.”

“Frank!” Sam hollers at him. “Frank, help me!”

Apparently she realizes Frank’s not going to come to her rescue, because she says, “Ugh!” and flops down against my back.

I walk up to my truck, set her on wobbly legs, and open the passenger door. “Get in.”

She folds her arms and scowls up at me. We stand there in silence, sizing each other up. She’s getting in that truck even if I have to toss her in myself.

She huffs and turns toward the seat. She’s trying to climb in, but can’t seem to aim her foot properly. I put my hand under her arm to help steady her, but she bats it away.

“I can do it myself.”

I sigh and let go of her, but after she practically falls backward trying to lift her foot again, I catch her deftly and set her on the seat.

“See?” she says. “I told you I could do it.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a big girl,” I mutter, shutting the door and going around to the driver’s side.

By the time I buckle her in and start heading for her house, some of the fight seems to have gone out of her. She’s leaning back, wedged between the seat and the door, her knees together and her feet angled out in opposite directions. We drive in silence for a while, which suits me fine because I’m catching my breath from the whole thing. What in the hell’s going on with her? I can’t believe I just had to haul Sam out of a bar like that.