Chapter 3 Drink me, Alice #2
Slapping myself on the forehead, I exclaim, "Yes, of course! I remember seeing you at the beginning. I'm so sorry, Dillion!" I reach out for him, but he takes a defensive step back. His emotional response completely throws me because we are not even good friends.
His brows draw tightly together. "We danced for like an hour and you were kinda... flirty. I dunno... you were sorta... sexy."
As I stare apologetically at him, my cheeks burn. "I'm so sorry. That's so unprofessional. I swear, it'll never happen again."
He glances at the ground and frowns, before turning to collect his things from the bench. "Okay."
"Dillion?"
"You have your head in the sand, Cassidy. Max and his brothers are trouble."
"You need to stop listening to rumours."
"Go onto Google. Check out some articles. Literally, I'm not kidding. Just google Butcher and you'll see."
"I'm not interested in what The District News has to say about them." That seems to annoy him even more, but before I can press him for an explanation, my studio door swings open and Flick struts in.
"Hey, my little love, how are you feeling?" She glances at Dillion. "Dillion, looking toned in those tights. Hot."
He continues to grab his things and then walks towards the door. I think he is probably feeling patronised, but I'm sure she'd only meant what she'd said as a compliment. Flick is so confident, she's often oblivious to how she can make people feel uncomfortable.
"Yeah, do they make them for men?" I hear a voice say from outside the door.
Well, that definitely wasn't a compliment.
Annoyed by the comment and how comfortable everyone is invading my studio space, I walk out onto the patio. Xander is chuckling to himself, and Max is standing staunchly behind him. I freeze.
My eyes meet Max's momentarily, and I'm again consumed by insecurities. Frick. I'm only wearing a skin-tight leotard and stockings. Nothing is left to the imagination. That might be the intent in ballet—visible and obvious lines—but in the real world, I might as well be wearing lingerie.
And I have no tits.
So now he knows I have no tits.
Flick stops Dillion in the doorway. "Come for a swim with us? Cassidy, you coming?"
Dillion halts and then turns to me. Enveloping my shoulders with his arms, he whispers in my ear. "We okay?"
I squeeze his waist. I'm not happy, but I still feel a sense of relief. "Of course. We'll talk soon."
His breath hits my ear as he says, "Don’t go there, Cassidy." He grips me tighter. "He'll destroy you."
The relief is replaced by discomfort.
My arms flop to the side and Dillion leaves, walking past the boys and straight to his car. I glare at the brick wall for a moment, confusion and irritation both wrestling for first place in my mind.
He'll destroy me? Like destroy my reputation or does he mean emotionally?
It's almost unfair. Last night was the first time that I allowed myself to make a few bad decisions.
I'm not going to be destroyed by anyone.
I'm not a delicate little flower. I'm a frickin' ballerina—I'm always working on swollen toes, bruised knees, and cramping muscles.
I'm a machine. I'm a model of self-control.
I grin at Flick and nod adamantly. "Yep. I'll come for a swim." I massage my quadriceps. "It'll be good for my muscles. I'm just gonna run to the house and grab my bathers."
I dart across the patio, taking very little notice of Max on my way.
Well, except for a few minor details, like he's wearing a casual white tee-shirt with short sleeves and navy boardshorts that display every wave of muscle on his arms and legs.
The definition of some of those bad boys can only be achieved by a rugby player or someone who does CrossFit every day.
His biceps and forearms even seem to have somehow grown since last night too.
.. Or maybe they just appear that way because they're now folded across his chest. But his eyes are definitely bluer in the daylight.
He turns his head slightly as I rush past and I inhale deeply, fighting the blush threatening to creep up my cheeks.
By the time I stroll back to the pool in my pink one-piece bathing suit, my nerves are replaced by annoyance.
Five-minutes-ago-Cassidy has some explaining to do.
What was she thinking, choosing the suit that sits high on my hips, riding up each bum cheek? She's a little tart.
But thankfully, as I unlatch the pool gate and walk in, my emotions once again shift. I'm just in time to see Max remove his shirt by pulling the back of his collar up and over his head with one arm.
Oh my gawd.
I glance away and take a big breath, wishing that I wasn't so into him.
That it wasn't so obvious. That I wasn't an asexual pigeon.
Kicking my flip-flops off, I drop my towel on the chair.
He's diving into the pool and it's then that I notice the other brother.
I've never seen him before, but I know that he's Max's brother because they look so alike.
It's hard to tell with them both submerged, but I think he's taller, maybe less built.
"Who is this then?" The other brother smiles at me as he swims a little closer. "I don’t think we have met."
Flick throws a pool noodle at Stacey, who catches it, straddles it, and jumps into the water. "That's my sister, Cassidy," Flick says.
He lifts himself out of the pool just enough to offer me his hand.
"Nice to meet you, sister Cassidy. I'm Bronson.
" And he's as annoyingly gorgeous as his brother, with clear, opal-blue eyes and a soft, infectious grin.
He even has that signature Butcher dimple on his left cheek.
The only ugly thing about him—and I'm not even sure if it's ugly or just tacky—is a terrible chopper-style moustache.
I hope he wears it ironically. I shake his hand and within a second, I'm pulled from the step and into the water.
A yelp escapes me as I'm submerged. Within another second, I'm surfacing again.
My grin is huge as Bronson playfully pushes my wet strawberry-blonde hair away from my face. "You okay, sister Cassidy? Sorry, couldn't help myself."
"Bronson ya dickhead," Xander groans from across the pool. "You don’t even know her."
"Bronson!" I hear Flick growl.
I cough a little and then laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine." I wade backwards, purposefully splashing him as I kick over to the corner. It's somewhat refreshing to not be coddled.
My hair is all over the place, so I dip my head back and smooth it down my crown. By the time I wipe water from my eyes, Xander is jumping into the pool, and Flick is splashing Stacey. Water goes everywhere as they chat and mock each other.
I stay in my own corner, a little overwhelmed by the three boys. I kick hard to stay afloat and watch everything unfold.
My gaze is suddenly snagged on blue-grey eyes just as they lock on me. And my chest is rising and falling faster to keep up with my quickening breaths. Max is swimming towards me now and I'm wading backwards, all the way backwards until I'm hitting the fibreglass boundary. Frick.
He grins. "Do I know you?"
I giggle nervously. "Funny." While I work to keep afloat, he stands with his shoulders above the surface. "Oh my God, how tall are you?" I almost moan.
"Six four." He studies my body as it moves underwater. "Want to wrap your legs around me, birthday girl?"
I burst out laughing and cup my face, nearly dunking myself in the process. "No."
"Come here." Chuckling, he reaches for me. He pulls my legs around his waist and my arms onto his shoulders, and although our torsos aren’t touching as water flows between us, his face is only inches from mine.
And instantly I'm not smiling anymore. I'm lost in the dark grey outline of his irises, and I'm sure he can identify the exact hue of every one of my freckles.
"Hands off my sister, Max!"
"Mind your own hands," he yells over to Flick, but doesn't turn his head. "Mine are wherever I want them to be."
Flick splashes us. "Just scream if you need me, Cassidy."
Electricity crackles between us. I'm not naive enough to say it's surreal or unexplainable; it's just sexual energy, I know that, but it's intense.
His eyelashes have beads of water on them, and his hands are wrapped around my waist, and come to think of it, they are big.
He has really big hands. My lips part and his eyes drop to watch me breathe.
I want more than anything to just get it over with and press my mouth to his, exploring this feeling, but I don't think that's what girls do in a situation like this.
I'm sure they seduce or act coy or say something clever like. ..
"You have big hands."
Oh my God, shut up.
He flexes his fingers around my waist. "What do you imagine they're good at?"
My cheeks burn. "Oh my gawd. Stop it."
He grins at me. "So why don't I see you around the District much?"
I try not to get sucked into the vortex of his eyes. "I'm busy."
"Busy doing what?"
"Dancing. That's kinda all I do."
"That's good. Did you take the Panadol?" His voice is even and authoritarian.
I blink at him as we float together. "Um, yes, thanks, and sorry about the whole passing out thing."
"That made my night."
My cheeks feel a pinch as I fight back a giggle. "Care to fill me in on before that?
He leans in a little closer. "Which part?"
"Um, the part where... Well, any part that involved you and me? I don’t remember talking to you much."
"You told me to stop being so hot." His lips part and his white teeth show. "It's the cutest thing I've ever heard."
"Ah..." I stammer. "Your level of, like, self-love, is like, so over-the-top."
"Like, is it?"
"Yes." I nod and lose the fight with my mouth and just let a goofy grin show. "I would have never said that... to your face."
He grins, his lips set in an amused and mischievous curve. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
The corner of his mouth draws out further until his dimple is on display. "So, you don’t think I'm, 'Oh my gawd you're too hot, just stop it' kind of hot?"
Frick.
I pull my arms from his shoulders and shield my face. "Oh no, Max. Go away. I did say that, didn't I?"
"Like I said." His hands move from my waist down to cup my backside and he pulls me into him. My chest touches his, my nipples growing so hard they hurt. "Just helping you stay afloat, Little One," he claims with a smirk.
I drape my arms over his shoulders again even though my heart is racing and my breathing becomes something I have to concentrate on.
His eyes move around my face and down my neck as his fingers draw little circles on each of my cheeks.
I suppress a moan, and he grins even further when my eyes slowly start to close.
I'm not a fricking asexual pigeon...
"You have a serious girl boner for me, hey?" Max laughs.
My eyes fly open and I glare at him. "Oh, stop it, Max. You're being a jerk."
"I am a jerk," he declares, his tone brazenly unapologetic.
"No, you're not. A jerk doesn't put Panadol out for a girl. A jerk doesn't carry a girl to her room and not even try to sleep with her."
His eyebrows are level and he fixes me with a stare. "You were unconscious. That's not a jerk; that’s a rapist. You keep saying shit like that and it's gonna worry me."
I glance away. "I know. I didn't mean..." There is this silence between us now and it's so palpable that I can't breathe. "So what if I do have a girl boner for you? It's just primal."
He moves his hands back to either side of my waist and I sink down a little. "It's a bad idea."
My forehead tightens. "What is?"
"You and me."
"Why?"
"Because you're clearly a girlfriend girl, and I can't think of anything I'd like less."
"That's a heavy statement. What about polio? Bet you'd like that less."
"Nah." He curls his lips and shakes his head. "I think I'll take the polio."
"You don't even know me. Maybe I'm only interested in one thing from you, Max Butcher."
"Is that so?"
My eyes are suddenly drawn to Bronson, who is climbing out of the pool butt naked, and I can't believe I didn't even notice that he's been naked this whole time.
He casually struts over to collect his towel.
His thick, powerful thighs are wrapped in beautiful vibrant tattoos.
An intricate family tree design runs from the base of his spine to his neck.
I struggle to look away when he turns around and begins to pat himself dry.
He starts at his lean muscular abdomen and works his way down each leg.
His penis hangs thick and long between his thighs.
There are colourful tattoos on nearly every inch of his body.
It's intense and sexy and awkward, and I really need to look away now. I glance back at Max.
He's eyeballing me. "You checking out my brother, Little One?"
My cheeks catch fire; I know I'm blushing off the charts. "Oh my God, he's completely naked, Max."
"Yeah. He does that. I really wish he wouldn’t."
Bronson calls over to Max. "Time to hit the road, Maxipad. Boss called!"
Max lets go of me and swims towards Bronson.
He lifts himself out of the water and I push back to the pool edge, where I watch the hottest man on earth stride away from me.
Max has mostly black ink on his arms and chest and the exact same family tree tattoo, but the rest of his skin is smooth, bare, and bronzed.
I stare at them as they converse. He dries himself off quickly and pulls his shirt on. He's definitely built bigger than Bronson, with large defined muscles that create visible curves beneath his shirt.
His jaw is tight as he talks to his brother, but then softens when he looks over at me. "Until next time, Little One."
I sigh, knowing that he was right—I'd want more than just one thing from him.
I'd want everything.