Chapter 15 Colt #2
“It’s not a trauma bond,” I counter. “I liked her before I knew about her past. And I didn’t tell her about myself until earlier this week.
The past couple of months, I’ve been hanging out with her solely because we both wanted to.
” Okay, so maybe it took Stella a little longer than that to warm up to me, but that’s beside the point.
“And you’ll be able to handle it if things don’t work out with her?” he asks. “This will be the first girlfriend you’ve had since your dad passed.”
“I’ll be fine. Sure, it would suck if we didn’t work out, but I’m not going to lose my mind over a breakup. I’m not the same person I was two years ago. I’m better now, Beau. For real.”
He nods, knowing what I’m saying is true, but is reluctant to agree, nonetheless. He doesn’t want me to spiral again.
“Should we talk about your aversion to relationships now?” I turn the conversation around on him, only half joking.
He shoots me a glare, causing me to chuckle. He rolls off the bed, ruffling his hands through his shaggy hair. “Maybe I just like women too much to settle with just one,” he responds.
I raise my eyebrows but don’t argue with him. He’ll tell me whatever he wants, whenever he wants to. No amount of pressure can crack Beau Warren.
“You putting on a costume tonight?” he asks as he heads to the door.
“Nah, I’m just the DD. I don’t want to be sober and uncomfortable,” I say.
“What’s Stella wearing?” he asks.
“Not a clue.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No, she just said that she’d find something to wear at home.”
“Hmm,” is the only response he gives before leaving my room.
I picked Stella up from work and took her home to get ready while I circled back to pick up the boys.
With my three friends smooshed together in the back seat of my truck, I text Stella to let her know we’re sitting outside her building.
I insisted that they let her ride shotgun, and they, after a lot of arguing, finally agreed.
Drew is dressed as Spider-Man. I’m not sure I want to know where he even got the too-tight suit.
Beau, ever the pragmatist, says he’s dressed like Rocky, so he’s wearing a pair of shorts and no shirt.
I told him he looked dumb because he doesn’t even have a pair of boxing gloves, but he told me that “wasn’t the point. ” Tool.
Booker decided to wear a black leather jacket, saying he’s a biker, which sums up the amount of effort I figured he would put into a costume.
I look out the windshield to see Stella walking out the front door of her building, and I have to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Hot damn,” Drew mutters under his breath.
Stella struts toward the truck wearing a little silver bodycon dress.
It doesn’t have sleeves or straps, and, by the way her chest bounces as she descends the stairs, it’s obvious she decided to forego a bra.
She’s wearing knee-high black leather boots with a matching black leather jacket hanging off her bare shoulders, and has her dark hair curled, pulled half away from her face in a fancy clip.
The most startling part of her ensemble, however, is her face. She’s applied the most intricate-looking makeup I’ve ever seen, somehow painting herself to look like a skull while also remaining sexy and feminine.
She reaches the truck and opens the passenger door. When she sees the look on our four faces, she smirks. “Hey, boys,” she coos.
“Stella, you look good as fuck,” Booker says, being the first one to speak. His eyes browse her body, and I can’t even find it in me to be jealous.
“Thanks. I’m Ghost Rider,” she explains, pointing at her earrings, which are little plastic flames.
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Drew comments, making her laugh again as she climbs into the truck.
Finally, waking up from the lust-induced coma I had briefly fallen into, I grab her hand and plant a kiss on the back of it. I want to do more, but I wouldn’t dream of messing up her makeup.
“You. Look. Incredible.” I lean over the console to whisper in her ear. She turns so her bright eyes are staring right into mine.
“What are you supposed to be?” she teases with a cock of her head.
“A horny hockey player,” I retort immediately. This earns me a few snickers from the backseat and a playful eye-roll from the sexiest skeleton on the planet.
I turn back to the wheel, not-so-subtly adjusting myself in my jeans, and head to the party.
Stella tenses as soon as we enter the house. Music is blaring, and people are everywhere. It’s been a long time since I went to a party that was this packed.
The boys immediately darted for the kitchen for drinks, but I stayed and waited to see what Stella wanted to do next.
“Are you alright?” I ask, bending down to speak into her ear over the music.
She nods but continues looking around the room, scanning for any danger.
“I’m right here,” I tell her, placing a gentle hand on her back. “I’m not planning on leaving your side all night. Just tell me what you want to do.”
“Let’s…I think I want a drink.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She nods again. “Yeah. I don’t actually hate drinking. I just quit because…”
“I know. It’s alright. You’re safe with me.” She gives me a brave little smile and threads her fingers with mine before heading to the kitchen.
“Yo, Crosby!” I hear someone shout from across the house. Within a few seconds, a tall guy wearing nothing but jeans, a construction vest, and a hard hat comes barreling over to us. He daps me up and pulls me into a one-armed hug.
“Ryan, how’s it going, man?” I ask as I pull away.
“You know me, bro, never a bad day in the life of Ryan Thompson,” he replies, leaning back against a cabinet. He smells like vodka, and his eyes are glassy, telling me everything I need to know.
He glances at Stella for a little longer than he should, not introducing himself and making her fidget, so I put an arm around her shoulders in an innocent but protective gesture. “Stella, this is Ryan, tonight’s gracious host,” I introduce.
“Nice to meet you! Great party,” she says, smiling at him. She leans into my body, wrapping an arm around my back. Her smile looks genuine, so I can only assume I’m doing a good job of making her feel safe.
“Great costume,” he replies, “You guys enjoy your night,” he says before wandering away to greet more people.
“That felt…odd,” Stella says as we continue to make our way to the various coolers set about the kitchen.
“Ryan’s an odd guy. He’s nice and insanely good at basketball. But I’ve always thought he was a little…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence because I’ve never had to put it into words before.
“Creepy?” she supplies.
“Maybe not creepy, just a little unhinged?” I suggest. “As far as I know, he’s never gotten into any sort of trouble. He’s just always bouncing around. Like he can’t just sit still and have a conversation. I don’t know how he sits through a class, honestly.”
Stella pulls a pineapple-flavored seltzer out of one of the coolers and cracks it open, taking a tentative sip.
“You doing okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, I am. This isn’t so bad.”
“It’s a party, Stell, it’s not supposed to be bad,” I reply, chuckling.
“Will you dance with me?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“Of course. Lead the way.”
Down in the basement of the house, a DJ is set up in one corner. Neon lights flash all sorts of different colors overhead as scores of sweaty bodies dance to the beat of the music. The song currently playing has so much bass that I can’t even hear the words.
Stella pulls me along to the center of the room. The blacklights cause her makeup to glow eerily, and I find it slightly arousing. She looks hot, sure, but she also looks powerful. I’ve never seen her embrace herself, embrace her body and beauty, the way she is tonight.
When we reach her chosen destination, she wraps her arms around my neck, her drink pressing against my upper back.
I trail my hands up the sides of her thighs, over the curve of her hips, and up her ribcage. I let my thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts in the lightest of caresses.
“I think I need to reiterate how amazing you look tonight,” I say, pressing her body into mine. Her soft, delicate curves meld into the hardness of my thighs and abdomen, as if we were made to be fused together.
“Thank you,” she purrs, arching into my touch. I like that she doesn’t try to deny it.
She rolls her hips in time with mine. I lean down and run my nose along the column of her neck.
Her lavender and cinnamon scent washes over me. My hands trail down her sides, stopping to sit on the curve of her ass.
Stella pulls away from me slightly to take another swig of her drink.
How long we danced for, I’m not sure. Hours. I know we stopped a few times for her to get a few more drinks. We let the music lead us, sometimes dancing for real and sometimes just grinding unapologetically against one another. We didn’t stop until she said her feet couldn’t hold her up any longer.