Twenty-One
Reece
“Nashville, huh?” Gemma says, sucking down the last of her dirty martini.
“Only way to get Brayden away from Vegas,” I explain as I snack on some of the nuts laid out on the bar top.
Gemma rolls her eyes. “Do we have to invite him?”
“Well, he was second in line for best man, so.” I shrug and grin at my sister. “I don’t think we really have a choice.”
She groans as the bartender slides a water in front of her. “He always makes creepy passes at me. I hate that guy.”
“We all do, Gem,” I remind her before sipping on my own water.
Gemma texted me asking to meet for a drink at a cocktail bar about halfway between Wing Haven and Cincinnati. It was a bit of a pill to work the outing into my busy schedule, but my sister doesn’t ask me to hang out alone a lot so it piqued my interest.
Not to mention, I’m currently taking any excuse I can to get my mind off of my kiss with Stacy.
I know she thought it was all for show, all because Lily was there, but something came over me when I saw her dancing with Devin.
A possessive streak I’ve never felt before rocked through my body and I needed to express it.
When I kissed her, I wasn’t even thinking of Lily or keeping up a facade.
I just needed her mouth on mine, I needed to show all the guys at that party that she was off-limits.
Even though she wasn’t.
She’s not .
And I have to remind myself of that because this is all still fake, even if that kiss wasn’t.
Considering I already want to sleep with Stacy more than I want to breathe, I’m not doing myself any favors by replaying that kiss in my head over and over again.
Gemma sighs, drumming her manicured fingernails on the bar as we both stare at the MLB game playing on TV. “Been thinking about you a lot.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lean over and bump my shoulder into hers with a smirk on my face. She glances over at me and I notice her brow is furrowed, her lips turned down, and I feel my smile fall.
“I know you’re you and you’re perfectly happy in every situation and for everyone around you but…
I just want to make sure you’re okay. No one would blame you for being upset about the situation with Tashia and Evan.
And now you’re the best man in their wedding?
I don’t know, Reece.” She shakes her head.
“Evan’s my twin, I would die for him, but even I can admit when something’s fucked. ”
My jaw clenches as my sister finishes her spiel. I thought bringing Stacy around and doting on my gorgeous girlfriend would be enough to keep my family from pitying me. From worrying about me.
“Gem, I know you’re worried about me. I know everyone is waiting for me to lose my mind or punch Evan in the face.” A small smile touches my mouth. “But I’m honestly doing fine.”
Gemma considers this for a moment as the bartender slides us our bill. My sister swats my hand away before I can reach for it, slapping her card down. She smirks, waggling her finger at me like I should’ve been quicker.
“Is chivalry dead?” I complain.
“You’re my baby brother, shut up and let me buy your beer.” She beams over at me before looking down at her nails. She picks at her thumbnail for a minute before she says, “She asks about you a lot.”
I rear back, turning in my barstool to face my sister. “Who? Tashia?”
Gemma nods.
Jesus. I kind of assumed that after Tashia and Evan got together, I turned into an afterthought.
Frankly, I was kind of an afterthought before they were officially together because they sure shit were sleeping together for a good, long while before we broke up.
Hearing that Tashia thinks about me, asks about me, feels like a kick in the gut.
“Why?” I ask.
“I mean, I know what she did was fucked up but I don’t think she’s heartless.” She shrugs. “I think she worries about you, too. Cares about you. And lately, I think she wants to make sure you’re actually happy.”
“What, with Stacy?”
Another nod. “Are you? Happy, I mean. Are you happy with Stacy, Reece? She seems like a sweet girl but I…” She trails off, gnawing on her lip. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.” Gemma’s voice breaks slightly and I feel my ch est squeeze in response.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me now,” I joke, jabbing her lightly with my elbow. “But… I am. I really am happy with Stacy.”
And it’s true. Whether it’s her companionship, our budding partnership regarding cheer, or our fake relationship… I’m genuinely happy when I’m around Stacy Dunn. I’m starting to realize that I care about her on a deeper level. As an actual friend, as a partner.
As something more?
No . No, just as a friend. A friend whom I’m incredibly physically attracted to.
Gemma smiles at me, breathing a sigh of relief at my answer. She looks like she’s about to say something else when both of our phones go off with a weather alert.
“Ah, shit.” Her brows knit together as she unlocks her phone. “Severe thunderstorm watch. Maybe we order another round and hunker down here until it passes?”
I feel some of the blood drain from my face as I hear thunder rumble in the distance. Her words trigger something inside of me, a deep sense of worry that I can’t quite put my finger on until the reason snaps into place.
I amble off the barstool while my sister’s glancing at the beer list. “I have to run,” I tell her hastily, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Wait, Reece! The storm.” She tries to reason with me but I’m already on my way out of the dimly lit bar.
“I’ll text you when I’m safe and explain later,” I promise her without looking back.
When I push out of the doors and into the parking lot, the sky looks menacing.
Dark clouds are building in the distance, in the direction of Wing Haven, full of flashes of light promising quite the storm.
I hear menacing cracks of thunder and pick up my speed across the parking lot, sliding into my car.
So, you’ll come kill the spiders for me if I come sit with you during thunderstorms?
I don’t even know if Stacy’s home. But I’m damn sure not going to let her sit there alone if she is, not if something worse is coming.
My drive back to Wing Haven takes longer than I want, the weather creating unnecessary traffic as the heavier storm starts to creep into the area.
I can hear the thunder from inside the cab of my Audi and as I drive into town, it looks like I’m driving straight to the gates of hell.
Dark, black clouds are looming right on the horizon and I just know the storm’s about to unload on Wing Haven.
As I pull into our complex, my phone dings with another alert. I pull it out once I park in front of Stacy’s building to see that the watch has become a warning, a gnarly storm imminent.
Just in the nick of time.
The rain is pelting, bits of hail mixing in with the droplets as I throw my jacket up over my head and barrel towards the building.
I take the steps up to the second floor two at a time, my heart in my throat as the world goes dark.
When I reach Stacy’s door, I waste no time pounding on it with my fist, hoping with everything I’ve got that she’s home.
If not, I’m going to have a nasty trek back to my car.
Luckily, Stacy’s door cracks open almost immediately and my heart cracks with it.
“Angel, why are you crying?” I breathe, pushing into her living room without an invitation and cupping her face in my hands.
Stacy looks up at me with doe eyes, wide and stained red with tears. She’s dressed in the most adorable matching lounge set, pink, of course, and her blonde hair is twisted into a knot on the top of her head. She looks precious, juvenile almost, and the tears in her eyes knock the wind out of me.
She shrugs, averting her eyes so she doesn’t have to meet my gaze. “What are you doing here?” she mumbles.
“Nuh-uh. I asked you a question first,” I tell her, stroking her cheeks with my thumbs.
Stacy gestures towards her window as an inopportune rumble of thunder sounds. “It’s dumb.”
“Is it the storm?” I ask.
She hesitates, still looking anywhere but at my face.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
Stacy finally obliges, meeting my gaze with her arms crossed over her chest. We’re close, inches apart, and the smell of peaches snakes up my nostrils. I have to clench my jaw to keep from closing the space between us because that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here for Stacy, nothing more.
“It’s the storm,” she nearly whispers.
A sad grin breaks across my face. “Yeah. That’s why I’m here, Stace.”
She raises a brow at me, searching my face for a better explanation.
“You got rid of the spider,” I remind her when she doesn’t ask the question on her mind. “So, I sit with you during the storms. Remember?”
Stacy steps back from my hold and studies me. For the first time since I’ve met Stacy, she seems fragile. She looks like if I talk too fast or push too hard, I might spook her, break her even. So, I slowly move to the couch, lowering myself down and patting the cushion beside me.
She doesn’t budge.
I take the remote, putting on The Office where we left off the night of the spider fiasco. Stacy continues to stare.
She’s afraid. She’s vulnerable .
“Come sit with me,” I say gently, trying not to scare her off.
She bites on that damn bottom lip before surrendering. Slowly, she takes her spot next to me on the couch. I’m relaxed, leaning back, but she doesn’t match my body language. Instead, she sits with her knees pulled to her chest, gazing unseeingly at the TV screen.
I sit with her in silence as the storm picks up.
I let her worry at her bottom lip as she holds herself even though I want to do it.
I won’t, though. Not yet. I need to let her come to me.
She’s no doubt embarrassed about crying over a thunderstorm and if I’ve learned anything over the past few weeks, it’s that you can’t push Stacy Dunn.
Stacy’s still tense when a sharp crack of thunder splits the sky, followed by a low roll that rattles the windows.
The lights and TV flicker for a second before coming back on and even though it’s brief, it’s enough to send Stacy into a spiral.
She buries her head into her trembling hands, her body shaking like a leaf.
“Hey,” I whisper, touching my hand to her knee. “Hey, I’m here, Stace. Okay?”
She doesn’t lift her head but she nods slowly against her hands.
“You’re not alone. I’ve got you, angel.”
Another tiny nod .
I bite the inside of my lip as I contemplate asking my next question. But Stacy looks so small, so scared, that I don’t stop myself from murmuring, “Will you let me hold you?”
Stacy’s body tenses up, at my words or the storm I’m not sure, before she slowly lowers her hands from her face. Her cheeks are blotched with tears and her bottom lip trembles. The sight makes me want to fist fight the thunderstorm myself and I’m suddenly afraid I took it a bit too far.
But then I get a third, little nod.
A nod that makes my heart soar.
Stacy slowly ambles over to my side of the couch and I open up my arm to invite her in.
She snuggles up against my side, resting a hand on my abdomen, and I press my cheek to the top of her head.
I breathe in her scent as inconspicuously as possible and duly note that I would let myself drown in the way that Stacy smells.
I would swim in a bottle of her perfume or shampoo or whatever it is she uses that makes her smell so damn good and it would be a hell of a way to die.
“Thank you,” Stacy murmurs into my slightly damp t-shirt.
“Anytime, Stace. You’re my girl. Don’t forget it.”
Stacy’s body goes slightly rigid against me. I can feel her hesitating before she whispers, “Fake girl. Right?”
My heart jumps into my throat. A million responses flood my mind at once, all along the lines of, “no,” “hell no,” “fuck no,” and, “no way in hell.”
But I’m not stupid. I know what I am to Stacy and what she’s supposed to be to me. I have to keep my feet on the ground and a tight grip on reality because Gemma’s right.
I can’t get hurt again. I can’t go through the heartache that Tashia put me through ever again. And falling for Stacy would leave me wide open for just that; for heartache.
I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to survive Stacy Dunn.
So, to protect my pride and my heart, I whisper, “Yeah.” I press my cheek a little harder against Stacy’s hair, trying to savor the moment. “Of course.”