Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
NAOMI
T he club pulses around me, all neon lights and bass beats that vibrate through my bones. I trace the rim of my vodka soda, watching condensation bead on the glass while Blake and Serena are already three shots deep, arguing about Serena’s latest conquest.
“I’m just saying,” Serena gestures with her martini, “Kevin’s different.”
Blake snorts. “That’s what you said about James. And Tyler. And what’s-his-name with the yacht.”
“At least I keep them longer than a night.” Serena’s perfectly manicured nail points at Blake. “When’s the last time you had a repeat performance?”
“Because I don’t want repeats.” Blake signals for another round. “Less drama that way.”
“Oh really?” Serena’s attention swings to Blake’s newest shadow lurking in the next booth. “So, you’re not fucking your new bodyguard?”
I tune out their bickering, pushing the ice in my drink around with my straw. The music pounds through my skull, but it’s better than being alone with my thoughts tonight. I lean back against the plush booth,check my phone, and, of course, find a message.
Brandon: Miss me yet, cupcake?
Do I miss him? The memory of his warmth, his scent, the way his arms felt around me… it’s all too fresh, too raw. But admitting that feels like surrender. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But my fingers are already moving, tapping out a response.
Naomi: You wish.
Brandon: Careful. Wishing is a dangerous game.
It’s been a week since the night at Brandon’s, and I’m starting to think maybe I fucked it all up. That last exception, the way I clung to him like a drowning woman, wasn’t just breaking the no-touching rule, it was breaking something deeper, something fragile and unspoken between us.
“Earth to NayNay.” Blake waves her hand in front of my face. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“That overthinking everything until you spiral thing.” She slides closer, her shoulder bumping mine. “Spill.”
“Nothing to spill.” I take a sip of my club soda. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit.” Serena leans forward, her dark eyes sharp despite the alcohol. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
My stomach clenches. “I’m always quiet.”
“Not that much.” Blake’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezing gently. “You know we’re here if you need to talk.”
“Or if you need to get laid,” Serena adds with a wink. “I know this guy?—”
“No.” Blake and I say it in unison.
“You two are no fun.” Serena pouts, but there’s concern behind her perfect makeup.
“Let me guess.” Blake taps her chin. “Tall, blue eyes, and douchey?”
“He’s not a douche,” I say.
“Defensive.” Serena grins. “Definitely the Milton boy. Did you fuck him yet? He’s gonna leave you if you don’t.”
Is he? Is that why?—
“Not helping, S.” Blake turns back to me. “I thought you two were on the outs. What happened?”
How do I even begin to explain what’s happening between me and Brandon? The late night conversations, him opening up about his mother, the way he makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not as broken as I thought. I fidget with my drink, the condensation cool against my palm. “We… talked.”
“Talked?” Serena snorts.
“And now we text.” Heat crawls over my neck. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, the rasp of his stubble against my thighs. I’m glad his beard is back.
Blake’s eyes narrow. “Wait. Did you two…?”
“No!” But it comes out too quick, too sharp. “I mean, not really.”
“Not really?” Serena leans forward, all eager curiosity. “Details, babe. We need details.”
I take a long sip of my drink, buying time. “We just… He…” Fuck. Why is this so hard? “He went down on me, okay?”
Silence. Then, chaos.
“Holy shit.” Blake’s jaw drops. “Brandon Milton ate you out?”
“In a bathroom at my mother’s house.” The words tumble out in a rush, as though speed might make them less real.
Serena’s cackling, head thrown back. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It wasn’t romantic. It was… I don’t know what it was.” I bury my face in my hands, mortification warring with a perverse sense of pride. “God, I don’t know why I did it. It just… happened.”
“Well, well.” A slow grin spreads across Blake’s face. “Look who finally got some action.”
My cheeks flush. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” Serena asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just… different with him.”
“Different how? His dick made of gold or something?” Blake asks. “Did you like it?”
I stare into my drink, watching the ice cubes melt. “I did.”
“Of course you did.” Serena waves a dismissive hand. “Orgasms are great. That’s like, basic biology.”
“It’s not just that.” I bite my lip, tasting the waxy hint of lipstick. “After, we… we cuddled.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Blake’s eyes are wide.
“You… cuddled?” Serena looks like I just told her I’m running off to join the circus. “Like, post-sex snuggling?”
“Like, he held me. That’s all.”
Blake studies me, her skepticism almost tactile. “And it was just holding? No other… activities?”
I nod, though the memory of Brandon’s hands, his warmth, his stupidly comforting presence, makes me want to shake my head instead. “It was nice.”
Another beat of silence as Blake and Serena exchange a look I can’t quite read.
“Let me get this straight,” Blake says slowly. “Brandon Milton, king of the one-night stands, made you come, not even touching himself… and then cuddled with you?”
I nod, miserable.
“We all know what that means, right?” Serena asks.
“He’s my friend,” I say. “That’s all.”
“Friends don’t get each other off and then cuddle,” Blake says.
“How would you know?” I ask. “You’ve never had a male friend you weren’t fucking.”
Blake’s face hardens, that perfect mask slipping for just a second.
I rub my temples. “I’m sorry. That was?—”
“Bitchy?” Blake cuts in. “Yeah, it was.”
“You know what your problem is?” Serena asks. “You overthink everything.”
My phone buzzes. Brandon again.
Brandon: Would you hate me if I suddenly appeared out of nowhere?
The familiar flutter in my stomach makes me want to throw up. Or maybe that’s the vodka. Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t eaten since… I can’t remember.
“There he goes again.” Blake tries to peek at my screen. “What’s lover boy saying now?”
I turn my phone face-down. “Nothing important.”
“Your face is doing that thing.” Blake points at me.
“What thing?”
“That thing where you try not to smile but fail miserably.” Serena mimics what I assume is supposed to be my expression, but looks more like she’s having a stroke.
“I don’t do that.”
“You’re doing it right now,” Blake says. “Face it, NayNay. You’re in deep shit.”
I drop my head onto the table, the cool surface soothing against my forehead.
Blake’s voice softens, losing its edge. “That bad, huh?”
I lift my head just enough to look at her. “I don’t know what I’m doing, B. It’s Brandon. He’s an asshole. A really hot, surprisingly sweet asshole, but still.”
The waitress appears with our shots, and I grab one, downing it in a single burning gulp. The alcohol settles warm in my belly, loosening the knot of tension between my shoulders.
“Hormones.” Serena shrugs. “He made you come. Sex fucks with our brains.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “What do I do?”
“Fuck him,” Serena says immediately. “Get him out of your system. Or keep him. As I said, they’ll stay if you do.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s just sex.” She lifts a shoulder. “Have fun, scratch that itch, and move on. Trust me, it works wonders. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? With Brandon, it already means something. Too much.
I turn to Blake, expecting her usual blunt agreement. But she’s uncharacteristically quiet.
“B?” I prompt.
“I don’t know,” Blake says. “Maybe that’s not the best idea.”
This time, Serena and I exchange shocked glances. Blake, turning down the chance to endorse casual sex? Has the world stopped spinning?
“Who are you? Where is our Queen B?” Serena demands.
Blake flips her off. “Look, I just… I’ve seen how you get around him, Nay. I’ve never seen you like this before. Not with Jason or Liam or any of the other douche canoes you’ve dated.”
I slump back in my seat, the fight draining out of me. “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t just… I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?” Serena asks.
“I need a shot.” I stand up.
Blake frowns. “Nay.”
“Just one more.” I hold up a finger. “To take the edge off.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but Serena cuts in. “I’ll go with her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Blake hesitates, then nods. “But if she comes back with a tattoo or a piercing, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“Noted.” Serena loops her arm through mine.
We weave our way through the club, bodies pressing against us from all sides.
“So, on a scale of one to ten, how good was it really?” Serena flags down the bartender and orders.
“I’m not giving you details.”
“Oh, come on.” She pouts. “I tell you everything about Kevin and me.”
“Against my will.” I shudder. “There are some things a friend should never know.”
She laughs, the sound bright and carefree. I envy her sometimes, the way she moves through life with such ease. Like nothing can touch her.
The bartender places two shots in front of us.
I eye the clear liquid warily. “What is it?”
“Tequila.” She lifts her glass. “Bottoms up, bitch.”
I clink mine against hers, then toss the shot back. It burns going down.
Serena signals for another round.
“I’m good,” I say.
“Suit yourself.”
I lean against the bar, letting the alcohol work its way through my system. Maybe this is what I need. A night of drinking and dancing and not thinking about Brandon way-to-handsome Milton.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Brandon: How’s girls’ night?
It would be so easy to ignore him, to pretend I didn’t see it.
Naomi: Good. Drunk. Thinking about you.
Oh no. The dots appear, then disappear. Appear again. Is it too late to delete that last part?
Brandon: Oh really? What about me?
This is dangerous territory, the kind that could so easily spiral out of control.
Brandon: Don’t leave me hanging, cupcake.
I want to hear his voice. Want to tell him… what? That I’m scared? That I’m falling for him? That I don’t know how to do this? Any of this?
And the worst part? The absolute worst fucking part?
I don’t want it to stop.
Because as much as it hurts, as much as it terrifies me… I’m alive. I feel something other than dread. Something real and raw.
I like him taking control. Feeding me. Holding me.
And I’m not ready to give that up. Not yet.
Blake’s right. It doesn’t have to be more. I’ll just see where this goes.
Naomi: Your mouth. Your hands. The way you make me feel.
Brandon: Fuck. You can’t say shit like that when I’m not there to do something about it.
Naomi: So come do something about it.
Did I just send that? Sober Naomi would never be so bold, so reckless.
But Drunk Naomi… she’s a different story.
The dots appear again, mocking me with their presence. I’m about to shove my phone back in my pocket to pretend this never happened when his response comes through.
Brandon: Stay where you are.
Brandon: Don’t you dare run.
My pulse thrums in my ears. Stay. Such a simple command, but it holds so much weight.
“Who ya texting?” Serena slings an arm around my shoulders, peering at my screen. “Ooh, is that lover boy again?”
I quickly lock my phone, shoving it in my pocket. “No one. It’s nothing.”
“Let’s get back to Blake.”
Serena practically drags me back to our table, where Blake’s staring at her phone, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Red flags everywhere.
“B?” I approach her.
“Let’s dance.” She shoves her phone in her purse, grabbing both our hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just need to move.” Blake throws herself into the music like she’s trying to forget something or someone. Her movements are wild, almost desperate.
Did she take something?
“Come on, NayNay.” Blake grabs my hips, forcing me to move.
She’s definitely taken something, the glazed look in her eyes is a dead giveaway. Serena bounces beside us, champagne sloshing over the rim of her glass as she sways.
I let my body follow Blake’s lead, matching her rhythm.
The strobe lights flash, painting Blake’s face in alternating shadows and neon. Is she?—
Muscular arms haul me backward into someone’s solid chest.
My body recognizes him before my brain does, and I hate how it responds, melting in his embrace like it’s muscle memory.
“Having fun, cupcake?” His hands span my hips, guiding my movements to match his. It’s intimate, possessive, and everything we’re not supposed to be.
Blake spots us. “Look who decided to crash girls’ night.”
“Couldn’t resist.” His breath tickles my ear. “After those texts.”
What was I thinking?
He turns me in his arms and grabs my chin, tilting my face up. “You’re drunk.”
“And?” I grin, swaying to the music. “That’s kind of the point of girls’ night.”
His jaw tightens, that muscle ticking in his cheek. But instead of arguing, he just shakes his head and turns to Blake. “I’ll get her home.”
Blake winks at me. “You better.”
I stumble over to Serena first, wrapping her in a hug that’s probably too tight. “Love you.”
“Text me when you’re home,” she whispers in my ear. “Or when you’re getting laid. Either works. And don’t forget the details.”
I snort, pushing her away. When I reach Blake, she pulls me close, her grip fierce.
“Be careful, NayNay.” Her words are soft enough that even I almost miss them. “With everything.”
I squeeze her back. “I will.”
“And for fuck’s sake, use protection.”
“Yes, mom.”
Brandon’s arm snakes around my waist, steady and warm as we weave through the crowd. The bass pounds through the floor, vibrating up my legs, and something settles between them.
The cool night air hits my face as we stumble out, my heel catching on something.
He catches me, spinning me into his chest. “Easy there, cupcake.”
“I can walk.” I fist his shirt, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping me steady.
“Sure you can.” His thumb traces circles on my hip. “How much did you drink?”
Not enough to forget how good his hands feel. Not enough to silence the voice in my head screaming that this is a terrible idea.
I want him.