Chapter 13
I needed a drink. Strong. Whiskey. Neat. Never in my life had my stomach been flopping on such a relentless cycle unless I voluntarily strapped myself into a death mobile on a rollercoaster. And those butterflies were electively endured, not set loose by my teenage fantasy deigning to acknowledge me. My phone buzzed incessantly as my emotional support humans freaked out nearly as much as I was. Broderick got us seats for the concert tonight, and even scoped out an authentic Italian restaurant near the event center. First Mexican, then sushi, now my weak spot for authentic marinara and favorite musician from high school?
Alice
You have got to be kidding me.
Max
So help me god, if you don’t climb this man like a tree, I will fly down there to kick your ass.
Mara
Climbing the competition is generally frowned upon.
Max
Frowned upon but not specifically prohibited. Fine by me.
Alice
I can’t believe he’s doing this. HOW is he doing this?
Max
One does not ask questions when handed sold out tickets to Taylor Swift.
Alice
Isn’t she sold out all week? Aren’t seats like a grand a pop? How’d he even get them?!? If he didn’t know you were coming, he couldn’t have planned this ahead of time, which means he got his hands on these this week.
Mara
The conference has been three consecutive ten plus hour days. I would also like to know how Professor Handsome pulled this off.
Alice
Did Mr. Allen defend somebody in the mob? Win some kind of favor Broderick cashed in?
Max
A gambling ring, maybe?
In all my searches, I found nothing but squeaky clean, obnoxiously bright sunshine and rainbows regarding the Allens. Believe me. I do my research.
Alice
Sissy, you’re going, right?
Max
Of course she’s going.
Right, El?
Elora Rhodes, so help me. You answer this phone right now.
Dammit, Elly. You don’t pass up the opportunity to see the Queen beside tall, dark, and freakishly compassionate.
Alice
Sissy?
When I finally remembered how tolift my jaw off the marble floor, I’d stammered a measly, “What?”
“I distinctly remember one too many Rhodes sisters’ renditions of Teardrops on my Guitar, and rants about her empowerment of women, ongoing charitable contributions, Guinness World Records set, and some nonsense about her funding music schools?—”
“Music departments in colleges,” I cut in before my mouth fell open again, fingers lamely coming to settle against my lips as nerves rode bulls inside my stomach.
Broderick didn’t miss a beat, even as the corner of his lips quirked, he continued, “Along with some briefly fixated and then forgotten goal to get her on your show. Or has your infatuation changed, and I’m totally off base?”
Jaw cracking shut, I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.” Did the man have a single clue what that slow, sexy smile did to me? The rare show of confidence? I was equal parts transfixed and terrified because even the suggestion was making me feel the things I wasn’t prepared to be feeling for the same guy that rejected me…twice.
Dammit, this was dangerous territory.
Was this a friend thing? A bonus little sister thing? Or…as significant a gesture as it felt? If I accepted, I was setting myself up to get my heart smashed again when we went our separate ways—him back to my big brother in Mistyvale, and me onto my next adventure—and not even my comfort music would peel me off the bathroom floor this time, because even her new albums would remind me of him.
Cautiously, I clarified, “Tonight?”
“Seven pm,” he confirmed with a sheepish little smile and nod, bringing a palm to tug on the back of his neck.
“On the strip.” He’d chuckled as I echoed back the pieces of information he’d hurled at me with the stumbling finesse of a semi-truck descending stairs. My fingers were suddenly ice cold where they settled on my lips, which were still sticky with stain. I watched that little spark in his eyes, body remembering what he felt like against mine in that tiny bed this morning. When he lifted his gaze and slipped that hand into his front pocket, rocking on his heels, I saw something in him that hadn’t been there before. He leaned in and for the briefest inhalation, I thought he was going to kiss me, right there in the hallway as attendees rushed by us in a river of chatter. But he gently tucked my hair behind my ear, stealing my breath as he grinned down at me.
“Go make your pro-con list. I’ll be by the room at six. Be ready if we’re going, or I’ll be making some strangers on the strip very happy with these,” he waved his cell phone, where the digital tickets were still proudly displayed on the screen.
With that, the man melded into the flow of passersby, and I was left standing, gaping like an idiot as I attempted to process what the hell just happened, and all of the—if there were any—implications.
Hair curled and sprayed, makeup set, I took one last fragrance-tainted breath, and grabbed my phone from its incessant buzz on the counter.
Elora
What does this mean? To him, I mean. Am I making something out of nothing?
Max
It means that your sexy nighties were hotter than intended?
Alice
*eye roll emoji* Jesus, Max.
Max
Am I wrong?
Alice
It means that Broderick is the most thoughtful man we know, and maybe he’s capitalizing on time, spent with just the two of you to see if there’s anything there.
Mara
If he can’t see what’s there, he might be pretty, but he’s also blind, and dumb as rocks.
Max
Agreed.
Alice
The man is loyal to a fault. Cut him a break.
Elora
So…I’m doing this?
Max
Send us a selfie first.
I obliged,snapping a close up of my makeup, and then reversing the camera to show off the form-fitted black cocktail dress that cut off mid-thigh. It dipped low in the back, showing off the delicate tattoos on my spine. Rolling my eyes, I watched the replies bounce right back into the inbox.
Alice
Damn. Good luck, Broderick.
Mara
*bowing emoji* YASS goddess.
Max
Elora-2 Broderick-0.
Elora
You’re sure I shouldn’t go with the red one?
Alice
You are literal perfection.
Max
Don’t you dare fuck up your hair with an outfit change.
Mara
You’ll have to tell me where you get blowjob-red lipstick.
Max
Stand tall. Get it, babe.
Smiling,I shook my head and headed for the suitcase, where I fished out a matching clutch and tucked my phone away before transferring my ID and cards.
And I would stand tall tonight.
Out.
With my long-time crush, in a strange city, where nobody knew us, so no ridiculous ancient pacts of small-town brotherhood could be broken.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Right?
That’s the mantra I gave myself when there was a subtle, rhythmic knock on the door. Before opening it, I stood tall, closed my eyes, blew the last trace of nerves out, and turned the handle.
What I didn’t expect was for Broderick to be extending one long stem rose in front of that ear-to-ear knockout smile.
“A congratulatory token for making the top three,” he said gallantly. Prince Charming had nothing on Broderick Allen. And God, were those nerves adding gravel to that gorgeous baritone?
It wasn’t until he’d closed the distance, his thumb brushing over my lower lip, that I realized I’d clamped my teeth into it. Tentatively, eyes narrowed suspiciously on his face, I accepted the smooth stem, and brought it to my nose to inhale that intoxicating scent.
“Broderick Allen, are you wooing me?” I said over a smirk that barely contained the grin begging to be set free.
“Just practicing my graceful loser routine, like they do before the Oscars.”
“I wouldn’t count yourself out so quickly.”
“I would be an idiot to underestimate my competition,” he countered, smiling with something like pride in those deep browns. It was of no shock to Mara and I that the three finalists moving on to the next round were us, Pierce and Cheyenne, and Broderick—fate clearly had a sense of humor. Taken aback, I studied the sincerity there, my breaths coming in faster, shallower little pumps of air when he didn’t yield. Nothing about this felt like a bonus little sister outing.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, throat constricting in some invisible turtleneck as I turned back, wishing for some way to put my rose in water. Broderick sidled into the room and leaned casually against the entertainment center, hands in his front pocket, watching as I gingerly set it across my pillow. He was always so damn classy, and today was no different. Sleek charcoal slacks complimented a pale blue button-up shirt—the sleeves rolled up to expose those gorgeous forearms he’d used to cage me against him—beneath a navy vest. It was the moment he slid those bronze glasses on as he studied me that I was well and truly done for. My heart had grown wings. Wings that fluttered like the happiest little hummingbird as I turned back to face him. God, that smile might just kill me yet.
Broderick
Be ready at six.That was the indication I’d asked for in order to feel her out. To see if this was okay with her. And damn, Elora didn’t hold back.
I was still getting used to her longer locks of hair down and free flowing, since she almost always had it pulled back. That silky dark brown framed her face tonight, curled in a sexy, messy way, just begging me to wrap it around my fist. Her lips were a gorgeous shade of red that snagged my attention the moment she all but threw the door open, but her eyes were still beautifully, perfectly, Elora.
It was the dress that did me in. Tight in all the right places, a midnight black fabric hugged the supple lines I’d ardently attempted not to focus on for my entire damn adult life. I needed to taste her. To know what her soft curves would feel like beneath my palms. It was that primal urge that kept me anchored to the table with my hands safely tucked inside my pockets. El loved nothing if not a woman who refused to make herself small. This concert was an ode to that. I didn’t know a single song, but when Brex asked me what I could do for some grand gesture, I put in a call to my uncle, who had a buddy from college on the inside of the event scene here in the city.
Judging by the way the invitation had robbed away her coherent words, I thought I hit it outta the park.
This was insane.
I knew it as I watched her set the rose on her pillow. Knew it as she nervously ran those pearly teeth over that tempting, painted bottom lip. Some part of me clung to the fact that her brothers would kill me for the amount of time I allowed my eyes to linger on those strong bare legs or the swell of her ass. As for the rest of me…
Well, ultimately, for tonight, I was just going to do what made her happy. If that took us down a new road, fine. If not…at least she was smiling at me.
At least I would always have this picture of her tonight, flustered and beautiful…for me.
When she reached my side, I stretched out my hand in offering, preening like a damn bird when she took it. “Got your ID?” I asked, needing to say something to break the silence, to make sure nothing would stand between us and a night she’d remember.
I had to admit,the pop princess put on one hell of a show, and judging by the permanent smile on Elora’s face as she rattled off every single fact she could think of about the music empire, she was thrilled with it. I’d been hoping for the opportunity to dance with her, but it wasn’t really that kind of show. Too much screaming and giddy, uncoordinated flailing about with drinks held upright by women much younger than us. I now knew a disturbing amount of information about the thirty-something icon.
Dinner had been just as disconcertingly smooth, and watching our chipper, round little waitress entirely enamored by Elora putting down another basket of breadsticks might have been the highlight of my evening.
We’d opted to walk back down the strip, rather than trying to compete for a ride share in this chaos. The flash and glow of the omnipresent neon colored her skin as she prattled on beneath the roar of car horns, tires grinding across asphalt and the constant chatter of voices. Props to Taylor for creating such a feral fandom. But it was that smile I watched.
“You still want to meet her someday?” I finally asked as a limo passed us with feather-boa-baring women woo-hooing through the sunroof, saluting the city with raised middle fingers. Grinning at the surrounding insanity, El slowly glanced my way.
“I mean, obviously,” she said, like the question was ludicrous. “Who wouldn’t?”
Well. Me, for starters. But that didn’t need vocalizing.
“Can you imagine how much I could learn in thirty minutes with her on the show?”
“I love that you’re always learning.” I did. It was one of the sexiest things about her.
“Grow or die, baby. Grow or die.”
Chuckling, I shook my head, simply smiling at her smiling.
“What about you? If you could have dinner with anyone, who would it be?”
I slid her palm back into mine, pleased when she curled her fingers around me. “Present company aside?”
That tiny hitch in her breath as her eyes darted to me before returning to the bustling sidewalk was sexier than it had any right to be. Mischief sparked a beat before she used her free hand to toss her hair over her shoulder with a quippy eye roll. “Obviously.”
“Living or dead?” I pressed as I guided her behind me while a group of boisterous young men took up more than their share of the walkway. She gave a thoughtful little hum, barely audible against the onslaught of the city.
“Living.”
“Mmm. Keanu Reeves.”
“What!?” An elated little yip burst out of her lips as I guided her back to my side, trading her hand for my arm over her shoulders, tucking her against me. She reached up the opposite hand to lace through my fingers, my heart hammering harder. “Like The Matrix guy?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me for some kind of tell. Knowing El, she’d find it if it was there to find.
“Why so surprised?”
“I just…expected a scientist, or philanthropist, or maybe one of the less corrupt politicians,” she said thoughtfully, still studying me.
“Too predictable,” I supplied.
“Is it the tragic backstory or the charitable contributions?”
“Dude just seems…inordinately good. All of that pain, and he still goes out of his way to help people. Of all the celebrities flashing their wealth around, I think an hour with Keanu would be…wholesome. Insightful. I bet he knows things the rest of us don’t.”
“I know Kung-Fu,” she said in a hilariously accurate imitation, those years in theater class resurfacing.
“Ahhh, I should’ve known I’d regret this.”
She cackled skyward, and I gave her hand a little squeeze, not willing to head back to the hotel yet. Not willing to let this little bubble of…stolen time burst.
“Nah, you’re right,” she said, hip bumping me and giggling as our path bent in that direction for a beat before getting back on course. “I bet he’d be pretty chill. Insightful, but chill.”
The ostentatious drive and classy illuminated sign for our resort became visible ahead, right as another rowdy limo zoomed past us. Too soon. I wasn’t done with her. With us. Doing something fun for once. Glancing around, I thanked every member on the event board for selecting this insane city for our meeting point, because down half a block and across the street was a glowing sign for a gelato shop, with a line of people out the entrance after ten pm. Long live Las Vegas. I jerked my chin in that direction, watching as she tracked the movement.
“Still a cookies and cream girl?”
Her eyes widened as a slow smile hooked her lips to one side a beat before she shrugged off my arm, catching my hand as it fell away so that she could yank me toward the light that just went red, the crosswalk filling with pedestrians. Demanding little thing.
Flashing a grin over her shrugging shoulder, she quipped, “Always.”