W
e took turns looking at each other as he drove. I’d stare straight ahead or gaze out the passenger window, seeing his long glances in my peripheral vision. And then he’d give his attention back to the road and it would be my turn to examine his profile. My eyes were hungry for every detail: the small mole on his neck, the tiny bump in his otherwise perfect nose, the slight wave to his hair, those thick eyebrows and lashes. . . . I’d been starved of these images for too long.
“I’m surprised you still have this car,” I said at one point.
“Yeah, well. I’ve nearly traded it a few times, but . . . sentimental value and all that rubbish.”
He mumbled the last part and scratched his neck. My heart swelled at the thought that the SUV might remind him of our road trip and that’s why he’d kept it.
“I’m surprised you still wear the necklace.”
I touched the turquoise stone. “I wear it every day.”
He kept his eyes on the road and in that moment he looked peaceful.
I curled as close to him as the seats would allow, and we were quiet for the two-hour trip to Los Angeles. It was the most at ease I’d felt in ages. I didn’t think about our fight, Kope, or the other Anna. I didn’t think about whisperers. I just enjoyed this unexpected time with him.
Kaidan lived in an apartment complex that was bursting with life. His neighborhood resembled a college campus with two-story buildings surrounding a common area, and people hung out around the pool holding plastic cups.
When we parked and he turned off the ignition, a look of panic crossed his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Er . . . I just remembered . . . the flat is sort of, well . . .” He averted his eyes. “It’s a wreck.”
“I don’t care about that. I can help you clean it.”
His eyes stretched wide. “No! I can’t have you cleaning anything. I’ll call someone to come tidy. I’ve been meaning to for ages.”
Okay, now he was just being ridiculous.
When I rolled my eyes, he said, “I had a small party before I left for Blake’s, you see.”
“I see.” Reaching for the door handle, I smiled. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Just as I was about to climb out I heard him hiss. I followed his gaze up to the top of the steps where a fauxhawked guy
stood, looking pissed.
“Isn’t that Michael from your band?” I asked.
“Yes.
Damn
.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and clicked around, but it was dead. “Forgot to charge it at Blake’s. Sit tight a bit while I deal with him.”
I settled back in my seat and pushed my hearing out as Kaidan walked up the steps.
“Where the hell you been, man?” Michael asked. “We had practice today. That’s the second one you’ve skipped out on.”
Kai opened his mouth to speak, but Michael beat him to it. “Dude, if you want to quit, say the word, but I can’t have you dickin’ us around. You haven’t been into it since we got here. I thought after Thursday maybe the old Kaidan was finally back and then you go and skip out today—”
“I know, okay? I know.” Kai ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I’ve been dealing with some issues. But things will change now.”
Michael sighed and shook his head. “I hope so, man. We rescheduled for tonight at ten.”
Kai glanced toward me. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there.”
After one last skeptical look, Michael went down the steps to a flashy little car and left. I climbed from the SUV and headed up the stairs to where Kaidan stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t say a word. I glanced down at the view of the parking area and nearby pool while he opened the door.
Kaidan hadn’t been kidding about the state of his apartment. He gripped the back of his neck as we stood in the doorway, surveying a living area that appeared to have been
ransacked by special agents.
“Looks like it was a good party,” I said, closing the door behind us. The room held a sour odor underneath the scent of stale cigarettes, and a sudden tension permeated the air. Our eyes met and fell, like two shy kids.
“We can go somewhere else,” he whispered.
“No.” I turned to him. If we stayed busy, everything would be fine. “I just want to be with you, and we might as well be productive. Let’s clean together.” I looked up at him, giggling at his furrowed forehead. “It’ll be fun,” I insisted.
“Fun? You’re mad.”
But I meant it. I went first to the hideously destroyed kitchen, opening the cabinet under the sink. It was empty.
“Do you have any garbage bags?” I called.
He wandered in, grabbing at the back of his neck again. “Uh . . . ,” he said, glancing around as if he’d never seen the place. My flip-flops made crinkly noises on the sticky floor as I moved to the pantry. It was empty, too, except for a half-eaten sleeve of crackers. Sensing a problem, I opened the refrigerator. Old take-out containers and pizza boxes stared back at me.
“You don’t have any food,” I said. “How about cleaning supplies?”
He shook his head and moved closer, looking miserable. “Anna, please. Bugger it. You don’t have to—”
“Shh.” I put a fingertip on his soft lips and we both stilled. “Let me.”
We stood there like that for several seconds before I grabbed some plastic grocery bags that had been shoved behind empty bottles and cans on the counter. Handing one to him, I headed
for the living room and started picking up cans, bottles, and cups. Kaidan followed suit.
I came across a loose CD insert tucked in a side table. It was a mock-up CD jacket for Lascivious’s first album. I opened it and found scribbled tiny writing that I recognized as Kaidan’s. I looked closer and held my breath when I read “A Good Thing: Lyrics by Kaidan Rowe.” Next to it he’d written “change to Michael Vanderson.” All the love I carried for him sprung up and forced a smile to my lips.
“You did write it,” I whispered.
Kaidan looked up at me from across the room, his eyes getting big when he saw what I held. He swallowed and looked down, pretending to focus on cleaning. “Yeah, well, Michael wrote the first few lines and was going to throw it out, so I just . . . finished it. You can, er, toss that in the bin.”
I bit my lip and folded the jacket closed before tucking it in the pocket of my shorts and getting back to cleaning. I dumped a full bowl of cigarette butts and ashes into a bag and held my breath against the dingy puff of air. We were making good time on the cleaning.
As I moved toward the coffee table, a strange feeling overcame me. I tried to shake it off, but found myself wading through cans and cups, dropping to my knees between the cluttered coffee table and his black leather couch in search of the source, my heart stammering and my hearing dim. Kaidan said something, but I couldn’t quite make it out as everything around me went blurry.
There
. On the edge of the glass-topped table were remnants of white powder. I wanted it. I reached a finger down, touched it, and brought it to my
face, but my wrist was grasped hard.
“Anna . . .”
I tried to yank my hand away. “Let me have it,” I said through clenched teeth.
He blew on the tip of my finger and I gasped.
“Anna,” he said again.
“What?”
I snapped, angry for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. He let go of my hand and swiped an arm across the table. I stared at the spot where the powder had been, rubbing my fingers together.
He paused long enough that I finally looked at him. I didn’t like how he examined me at that moment. As if I were fragile or I scared him.
“Do you do it a lot?” I asked, jealousy edging the question.
His voice was low and cautious. “No. Not a lot.”
“Do you like it?”
“Um . . .” His eyes darted around the floor. “It doesn’t last long. It’s barely worth—”
“But how good does it feel while it lasts?”
I knew my eyes were wild when he caught them with his. His lips were pursed and he wouldn’t answer. He tried to take my hands, but I pulled them away.
“Is there more here?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was hard.
I drew in a ragged breath, wishing this vile agitation would leave me.
“Let’s just keep cleaning,” I said absently. I reached for a folded piece of paper in the center of the coffee table. Kaidan grabbed it from my fingers and shoved it in his pocket,
mumbling a rough curse. I stared at his mouth, astonished.
“You said the f-word.”
That definitely shouldn’t have been the thing to relieve me of my annoyance, but it did.
“Sorry. I just . . . I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
I wondered what the paper was, and why he didn’t want me to see it, but those questions were pushed aside by other instincts. The blood under my skin buzzed with thoughts of drugs and parties and dirty words on Kaidan’s lips. A molten brazenness roared up inside me as we faced each other on our knees. Kai caught my eye and held it, dark clouds brewing in his own.
“Careful how you look at me right now,” he warned. “I’ve been on edge since your little striptease today.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “About that . . .”
Catching my bottom lip in my teeth, I ran a hand over his shoulder, down to the bare skin of his forearm. His chest rose and fell faster. Our eyes connected, crashing.
He took my hand and lifted it between us, singling out the finger that had been coated in powder. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over my fingertip.
“The way this made you feel?” he said. “That is what you do to me.” He dropped my hand and gripped my waist.
I inched closer. I wanted to kiss him, but this would be no tame kiss. A low sound rumbled in the back of his throat and his fingers tightened on my sides. I shouldn’t push him when we were both like this, but I wanted to. He’d once told me I was playing with fire. I felt the tip of the flame now, the threat of being singed. I wanted to give in to that temptation and
make him lose control. Mentally, I smacked myself, and the angel and demon girls within me brawled. Kicking. Screaming. Teeth and nails.
The angel came out on top, panting and weary, because now, more than ever, we couldn’t afford to be burned.
Ugh!
My darker side seared with regret as the decision was made.
I broke away from him, moving a few feet backward and crouching. His eyes stayed locked with mine. We needed more space to get our heads under control, because I could see he was about to crawl right after me. I jumped to my feet, blood still pumping hot in my veins.
“Where are your keys?” I asked, breaths coming fast. We’d passed a grocery store down the street. “I’ll go get food and cleaning stuff.”
Still eyeing me, he fished out his keys and a few bills. Our hands touched when I took them and I heard his sharp intake of air. I stood, running nervous fingers through my hair.
“I’ll be back soon.”
When I returned he seemed calmer and cleaner. He’d showered and changed.
Large garbage bags and antiseptic wipes made cleaning the living room and kitchen much faster. When it was time to look at the bathrooms and bedroom, I braced myself, but they weren’t as bad as I expected. The bedroom had clothes everywhere, and his sheets were hanging half on the floor. I made quick work of the bathrooms, while Kaidan stripped the sheets and shoved them into the washing machine.
“Er . . . Anna?” he called from the hall. I found him staring
at the dials. I’d already decided that I was not going to do everything for him. The boy had stacks of dirty clothes in his room because he chose to buy new ones instead of washing them. I showed him, pointing and explaining, then watched as he did it himself. My heart bloomed every time he wore that cute grin of accomplishment.
I showered after that, grimy from the day’s events, which already felt far in the past. His bathroom smelled of yummy boy products, and I smiled to myself, still disbelieving I was really there with him, no matter how unromantic the circumstances.
I headed back to the kitchen to make meals. I wanted to fill his freezer. Every burner on the stove was boiling, sautéing, or searing something and the counters were filled with ingredients. I stood there, staring at it all with my hands on my hips, working out the exact timing in my mind. And then the air thickened around me.
My eyes hesitantly went to the doorway where Kaidan stood, taking up way too much space and oxygen. As he loomed there, his eyes became rolling clouds and his red badge expanded.
My heartbeat thumped so loud in my ears that it drowned out sounds of sizzling pans and bubbling pots. Kaidan took a predatory step toward me and I instinctually stepped back. In that slow way he stalked forward until I was against the sink. The intensity of his face charged me, and I swore to myself I’d kill any creature that tried to come between us this time. His hands reached out and gripped the sink on either side of my waist, and without a word his hot mouth covered mine.
My hands went straight to his hair, fingers tangling in the silky waves. This was a kiss unlike any we’d experienced so far—possessive and consuming, tapering off into the sweetest, most tender pecks and then back to possessive again. His hands never loosened their grip from the edge of the sink. In fact, while I wiggled and pulled him, his entire body remained still as if only his mouth had been given permission to participate. When my hands moved down to his forearms and felt the absolute rigidness there, I knew he fought to maintain control. I leaned back against the sink and with much effort broke the kiss.
We searched each other’s eyes, mere inches away. I felt light. Sensitive.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“You’re cooking,” he growled.
“Yeah?”
“For me.”
“Um . . .” I bit my lip. “Is that okay?”
He seemed to wrench himself away and took a step backward, hands in his hair. The fire in his eyes had not settled. At all.
“I need another bleedin’ shower,” he said in a gravelly voice. And with that he ghosted from the kitchen.
I stood there a moment before breaking into a smile and touching my lips until the timer went off and the packaging of homemade meals for the freezer called my attention.