26. Jasper
26
JASPER
The loud crack of a metal door hitting the wall breaks us apart. I’m flattening Cora to the wall in a split second, my instincts overriding everything else.
“Jasper?” her voice is muffled against my chest, her hands gripping my shirt.
“Shh, baby. I heard something.”
I look from the left to the right, squinting to see in the dim lighting. Both doors are closed, but there are endless shadows along the far wall of the poolroom. Deep wells of darkness engulf the corners, and I don’t like the possibilities of someone lying in wait for us.
She taps my side with her index finger a few times. I ease off of her, enough for her to talk, but not so much that she’s unprotected.
“It’s probably the tour guide. We should go before they lock us in here or something.” She shudders, like the thought of spending the night in here is terrifying.
“You know it’s not real, right? They’re just stories, baby.” I glance around again, looking for any movement. It’s probably nothing, but my gut has never led me astray before, so I’m not about to ignore it now.
“Everything is a story until it’s not.”
My brows wrinkle in confusion but I don’t ask her to clarify. “Alright, time to go, baby.”
I take a small step back and link her fingers in mine before she has time to protest. I’ll cite PDA—one of her silly rules if I have to. I’m not above a little stretching of the rules, at least for now. Eventually, I’ll break all of her rules.
I keep my gaze on a swivel as I usher us out of the poolroom. She picks up on the mood, her steps quick as she keeps pace with my long strides. Normally, I’d slow down a little, so she doesn’t feel like she’s running. But I don’t like the fucking vibes in here, so we’re leaving. Maybe I let myself get caught up in the lore of this place, after all.
The door opens with ease, and I let it slam closed behind us. We’re a few floors underground now, and it does something to the sound, changes it somehow. It’s not quite an echo, but it sort of reverberates, carries as if it’s on the wind.
I guide us toward where I think the tour group is. I’m tempted just to leave and get the fuck out of here right now, but I don’t want to go wandering around this maze of a building, not this late at night. And I don’t want to cut my time with her short.
We can hear the tour guide telling a story about Elvis requesting his concert be in one of these rooms, so I think we’re on the right track.
Coraline clears her throat. “We’re friends, by the way. Me and Hawke.
I tsk, a soft disagreement. “Nah, baby. Hawke doesn’t have friends. He has brothers in the club and the occasional . . . woman.”
Her fingers flex against mine but she doesn’t try to drop my hand. “You mean bunny.”
I shrug. “Sometimes, sure. But mostly I meant this thing between us isn’t going to work if you’re hooking up with Hawke on the side too.”
She stops in the middle of a hallway. “That’s why we made rules. I told you I wouldn’t be with anyone else while we’re . . . doing this thing,” she says, gesturing with her free hand between the two of us.
I turn around to face her, trying to gauge her mood by the color of her eyes. But it’s too hard to tell even in the significantly brighter hallway. Industrial sconces line the walls, in between the framed articles about Grand Avenue.
My thumb brushes across the inside of her wrist. “Some rules are made to be broken.”
She shakes her head, her lips pursing. “Not this one.”
I nod, a slow dip of my head. “Alright, not this one. But that includes flirting too, yeah?”
She rears back a little, her cheeks growing pink. “I am not flirting with Hawke.”
“You gave him my strawberry shortcakes.” I soften the accusation with a smirk. But it’s there, a steel band underneath the softness.
She tips her chin up, defiant as always. “I didn’t give them to Hawke . I put them in the clubhouse’s kitchen for anyone to have. Including you.”
“Which you conveniently forgot to mention, by the way. But that’s my fault too, yeah? Because—” I pause to draw it out, arching a single brow. “You were distracted by my huge cock.”
“I definitely did not say all that.” She folds her arms across her chest, pushing up those delicious tits of hers. The tops of them swell above the scooped neckline of her red sundress. Her red-painted lips flatten into an unimpressed glare.
I snap my fingers, like an answer just came to me. “Ah, that’s right. You said you were distracted by the sight of my impressive cock.” I waggle my brows at her, all smug male satisfaction.
“I didn’t even see your cock,” she argues with an exaggerated eye roll.
I toy with the end of her ponytail, flipping the strands between my fingers and tugging a little. “Baby, are you flirting with me?”
Her mouth falls open but nothing comes out. Almost like she didn’t realize she was flirting. Huh.
I can work with that. I can definitely work with that.
She shakes her head and drops her arms, her hands hitting her bare thighs. “Absolutely not. I’d never.”
Mischief swirls around inside of me. “Never say never.
“Unless you want to become a permanent resident of Grand Avenue, might I suggest catching up with the rest of the group?” The tour guide’s voice startles me.
Coraline and I share an amused look.
“I don’t know, it seems pretty roomy here,” I muse as we walk toward the tour guide at the end of the hall.
She nods, biting her lip around in a shitty attempt at hiding her grin. “Mm-hmm. And you’d have plenty of space for your arts and crafts. Tiny furniture building, fairy gardens, friendship bracelets.”
Surprise hits me in the middle of the chest. Goddamn do I love it when she surprises me though.
I huff a laugh under my breath and pitch my voice to the end of the hallway. “Don’t mind her, man. She’s trying to get lucky tonight by being charming and cute.”
She sends me a dark look, her pleased smile curving into a scowl. “Get lucky? Puh-lease.”
“Well I don’t find either one of you charming or cute,” the tour guide drolls. “So hurry up before I leave and lock the door behind me.” He’s still using his showman accent, all booming voice and sweeping vowels.
“Fucking ouch, bro.” My hand presses against my chest like I’m staunching a wound. “I’ll have you know I’m one of the most charming motherfuckers around.”
The tour guide grumbles something about not getting paid enough. But I don’t really give a fuck. Because tonight was the best fake date I’ve ever had. I wink at my girl and hustle us toward the impatient tour guide holding the door open.