6. KOA
6
KOA
My phone buzzes as I walk out of the house to my car. I take a quick glance at the screen and stop short when I see it’s a text from Sydney. It catches me off guard. After her abrupt exit from dinner, I assumed it would be a few days before she would reach out to me.
SYDNEY:
So you can spot me at the bar tonight. I hope you and Nash approve.
Always the little brat testing my restraint.
The text is followed up by an image that has me frozen in place and cursing under my breath. It’s a bathroom selfie of her at Ray’s—she’s wearing a pair of dark wash jeans that hug the flare of her hips and the curve of her ass, and her light pink Ray’s shirt has been cut and distressed exposing her midriff.
She lives in flowy tops and loose fitting pants, and she loves pairing overalls and jumpsuits with tank tops and cropped tees. Sydney in a pair of tight pants is a rare sighting on any given day of the week around campus. When she’s at Ray’s? She wears her clothes like a second skin .
I don’t bother texting her back. I put my phone on the charger in my car and start the engine. Responding to her texts never does me any good. She’d never believe me if I told her that I don’t enjoy fighting with her.
When she walks away from me angry? I hate it.
I’m not sure why she started sending me photos of herself. It isn't just because Nash wanted me to keep tabs on her. She has her own agenda. Texting me photos isn't anything new. The bratty comments, however, is something she's added over the last year or two.
Being younger has never stopped him from being protective over his big sister. He takes it to extreme levels commenting on everything her clothes to who she should be spending her time with.
Have I made comments to Sydney about what she wears? Yes. It’s not something I’m proud of. I know I’ve overreacted in the past. Last Halloween comes to mind.
God she looked incredible in the floral corset dress she had on. I knew exactly who she was—the lost fairy queen from the book series she read over the summer and never stopped talking about in the forums. I was probably the only one who recognized her. Not that I could have said anything about it.
She hates it when I speak up about what she should or shouldn’t be wearing. If you want to set Sydney off, tell her to change clothes.
The thing is, if I don’t get mad and demand she wear something else, I’ll slip up and tell her how fucking gorgeous she is. It isn’t fair to her and I know she doesn’t deserve it. It’s not her fault that it’s my coping mechanism and default mode with her now.
How would she react if she knew how bad I still want her? Would she be willing to give me a chance after everything? I’m nervous about what Nash would say too. He’s adamant about his ban on his sister. I don’t want to lose his friendship but there isn’t a day that passes when I don’t think of what it would be like to truly be hers.
It’s gotten even worse seeing all of my friends pair off with their girlfriends. I’m happy for them but damn I want that with Sydney too.
The parking lot is full when I pull up to Ray’s. For being hidden off the highway, they get a steady stream of customers. I like to think it’s the cheap beer that lures them here but I know better than that.
It’s the entertainment. Every hour the bartenders take over the dance floor and put on a show. Some even dance on top of the bar.
Walking past the dance floor full of couples spinning around to a classic country song, I find a seat at one of my favorite tables. It’s far enough in the back I can easily blend in with the crowd but close enough I have a decent view of the bar.
The waitress, Margo, brings me a beer without being prompted. She gives me a knowing smile. After my tenth visit, she put together why I sat here for hours nursing a beer until it was half empty. She said her boyfriend did the same thing when she first started working at Ray’s .
I didn’t correct her that I wasn’t Sydney’s boyfriend. I wasn’t much of her anything anymore. It guts me to even think about how much our relationship has changed. It went from fucking to perfect to absolute disaster in a blink of an eye.
I am trying to be better. Baseball keeps me away some nights. Something I’m sure Sydney is happy about. I also don’t stay her entire shift anymore. I usually show up the last hour or so to make sure she gets home okay.
It may seem like I’m possessive, or borderline psychotic. I like to think I’m being a good friend. That I’m looking out for her safety. I don’t talk to her or bother her while she’s working. It’s like I’m not even here.
Sydney’s smile widens as she places a mixed drink in front of a customer. Her hair is down and secured on one side with one of her handmade clips, and tight ringlets of black curls cover her forehead and bounce slightly when she laughs.
I used to be the one making her laugh.
I pick up my phone and check the time. One more hour, give or take, and I’ll be back home talking to her online. When I lift my gaze to search for her behind the bar, I catch her watching me. She quickly looks away and busies herself clearing glasses off the bar.
When Margo comes by to check on me, I go ahead and pay my tab. I’m done drinking for the night. I usually don’t even finish the one I order. I only get something to blend in, which clearly I’m failing at with the way Sydney keeps glancing over at me .
She’s writing something on a piece of paper and talking to one of her fellow bartenders. Any minute the music will turn to a familiar one that will have everyone up on their feet.
I’ve learned there is only a few routines that Sydney participates in. Any time I hear one of the songs, it puts me on edge. It has nothing to do with the men who watch her and everything to do with the images I have burned into my brain.
She moves around the bar along with Lauren and another bartender clearing glasses and plates out of the way in preparation for what’s about to come.
The guy in the DJ booth—if you can call it that since it’s essentially a table on a small raised platform that mimics a stage—signals to the girls he’s about to switch to their song.
On the third eight count they walk up steps that are built into the bar in sync with each other. They are clapping their hands, stomping their boots, and dropping down to a low squat to tease the customers lucky enough to have front row seats.
Colorful lights flash across the room catching every now and then on Sydney, highlighting various parts of her silhouette. I would never admit this but as much as I hate her working here, I’m glad she said yes to doing it.
Dancing on top of the bar—working here at Ray’s—offers her the opportunity to be carefree and happy which is something she hasn’t been for a long time. On the surface, maybe. But deep down? No.
She can try and tell me differently but I would never believe her. That is a story I would never buy.
The song ends and the girls work their way back down the stairs to start serving drinks again. Before Syd gets too far, a hand shoots out and grabs the back of her calf.
I stand so fast I have to catch my chair to keep it from toppling over. Her eyes connect with mine over the guy’s head. She shakes her head slightly telling me to stand down.
Her mouth curves in a salacious smile and her eyes narrow slightly. One could assume this is Syd being sultry, but I know better. This is her getting angry. I’ve been fooled by this look myself.
She dips low, balancing on the balls of her feet. Then palms his forearm with both hands. Her grip tightens which again could be mistaken for her reciprocating the advance of this guy.
Twisting her hands in opposite directions, she sneers at the guy. I can’t hear her but reading her perfectly shaped lips she tells him to let go. He doesn’t hesitate after the way she almost peeled the skin off his arm.
I’ve been on the receiving end of one of Sydney’s forearm twists before and they hurt like a bitch. I would do whatever she wanted if it would get her to stop her torture.
After Syd hops off the bar, she grabs the piece of paper she was writing on earlier and flashes it in front of Lauren. She nods in acknowledgment as Sydney passes her, walking toward the dark hallway to the left of the bar.
Mr. Grabby Hands doesn’t take his eyes off Sydney and a few seconds later he’s following her step for step. This hallway leads to the break room and two storage rooms. He has no reason to be over on this side of the building.
I know every face that walks in this place. He’s been here a few times and is well aware the bathrooms are on the other side of the bar. He’s chasing after Sydney, and he’s delusional if he thinks he will have another shot at putting his hands on her. He’s lucky he got away with it the first time.
I quicken my steps, bumping into people as I go. Suddenly being on the other side of the bar doesn’t seem like such a good idea. I’m too far away from her. Sydney unlocks a door in the hall and flips the light switch on. He waits for her to walk inside before entering the storage closet after her.
The vein in my forehead pulses and my fists clench at my sides. I don’t like getting in fights. It’s not a good look especially if I want to be a professional athlete. At the moment, I don’t care about the public eye. I care about Sydney. I promised her years ago I wouldn’t get into any more fights. Not over her.
Promises are meant to be broken. If this guy has his hands on her uninvited…I can’t even finish the thought.
Sydney’s squeal in surprise has me moving my feet faster. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I came to apologize,” he says. I call bullshit but wait outside the door just in case it’s true. I don’t want to charge in there making a scene and get Syd angry at me when I didn’t need to. The only reason she hasn’t sent me packing every night is because I keep to myself while I’m here.
“Go ahead,” she quips.
“I’m sorry. I thought I felt a connection between us.”
“Apology accepted. You need to leave now. I have work to do.”
“Awww. Don’t be like that, sugar,” he drawls. Glass clinks from somewhere inside the room.
“I really think you should leave.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he sneers, then the door starts to close. I rush to the entry and jam my size fourteen in the gap before I get locked out. I push the door open, startling this asshole who can’t take a hint.
Sydney’s eyes widen at my sudden appearance. He has her backed against a wall to wall shelving unit full of liquor bottles. With every step I take in her direction, her breathing steadies and her body loosens. That’s right. I’m here now. Nothing will happen to you.
“The girls said you were back here,” I say, announcing my arrival. I maneuver around the guy, checking his shoulder as I pass. “Sorry man,” I snarl in his direction. “Hi, baby.” The term endearment slips past my lips with ease. Sydney inhales a sharp breath and her lips part.
“Hi,” she whispers. Her eyes lift and she glances over my shoulder. I don’t like the fear I see in them.
Standing in front of her, I put one hand on her hip and pull her flush against my body. I wrap my other hand around the back of her neck and dig my fingers into her hair. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”
My thumb skims her bare skin above the waistband of her jeans, causing her to shiver. She’s still so soft and warm. Just the way I remember. The guy behind me growls. I don’t like having my back to him but there is no way I’m switching positions with Syd.
“We were having a conversation here,” the guy has the nerve to say.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “And now your conversation is over. Take a walk.” I nod toward the open door.
“Are you with this guy?” He points a finger in my direction but his eyes are focused on my girl. I would love to snap that finger in half for pointing it at her. Or maybe poke out his eyeballs for the way they leer in her direction.
Her gaze drops to the floor. I angle her head to where she is looking back at me and see vulnerability trapped in her dark eyes. It’s an emotion I’m not used to seeing. “Yes,” I answer for her. “I’m hers.” Truer words have never left my mouth.
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment and she exhales a slow breath. “You both need to leave.” She fights my hold but it only makes me tighten my grip on her side.
The guy behind me chuckles. The noise is irritating and makes my jaw tick. Punching the grin off his face flashes through my mind but that would mean letting go of Sydney.
“Looks like you aren’t welcome here, pal .” He crosses his arms over his chest.
I don’t reward him with a response. Instead, I focus on my girl. “Do you want me to leave?” I ask, pulling her closer until there’s barely any space left between us. Her hands instinctively find my chest to push me away if I had to guess. Yet, those slender fingers of hers dig into my pecs welcoming my touch.
Running my nose up her cheek, I whisper once I get to her ear, “Please don’t hate me even more than you already do after this.”
I don’t give her the opportunity to ask the question that has her eyebrows squished together and her eyes narrowed. My mouth hovers for a moment before I lean forward and erase the last centimeter of space between us.
Pressing my lips against hers for a moment, I test the water. It’s been too long since I felt her mouth against mine and I hate that the asshole behind me is ruining the moment. I can feel his eyes on me, drilling screws into my skull. He isn’t happy I’m the one kissing her. If I had to bet, Sydney feels the same.
The guy snarls again. He can’t take a hint. He isn’t going to leave unless I make this believable. Tilting her head back, I apply more pressure to her pillowy lips before pulling gently on her bottom one. A quiet whimper escapes her and that fuels me further.
I move my mouth over hers mapping out every contour as one of her hands slides to the back of my neck. Her body skims mine and it takes all my control to not push her up against the shelf. I’m sure she can feel how hard she’s making me.
There’s a small part of me that’s glad she knows how bad I want her. That all it takes is her being in my vicinity and I’m thinking about her in ways I have no right to be. This kiss is simple, chaste almost, but it has a trigger effect. Reminding me of the last time I held her close. The last time she let me kiss her.
The door slams behind us and that breaks the momentary hold I have on her. She pulls away, a little stunned, then pushes me off of her. This time I let her go.
Her eyes flit around my face and then the room as she fights a war in her mind. Her tongue flicks out and glides over her lower lip. I wonder if she can still taste me.
“I had him under control. You didn’t need to do that. You took it too far,” she says with a bite in her tone. She turns, giving me her back, picks up a liquor bottle with a trembling hand, and places it in a crate.
“I’m sorry you feel that way but I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
Her body tenses before she lets out a breath. “You need to leave.”
“Sydney…” Her name is a plea and filled with a raw emotion I’m not used to exposing.
“Just go,” she murmurs.
“Okay,” I say, sighing. “I’ll be waiting in my car to follow you home.”
She laughs derisively and mumbles something to herself. I am only able to catch the word unbelievable .
I crowd behind her leaving just enough distance to slide a piece of paper between us. “Believe it. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make sure you’re safe,” I say.
I pull her hair to the side and expose the expanse of her neck. She shivers as I run my thumb over the scar on the back of her shoulder. My lips connect with her skin without considering the consequences.
Before she can yell at me like I’m sure she’s itching to do, I back away, and leave the small storage room. I walk every inch of Ray’s looking for the guy who followed Sydney and do the same in the parking lot.
I catch him getting inside his white beater of a car. Once his taillights disappear into the void, I get in my car and wait.