Chapter 18
18
DAISY
“I’ve got to head back to Toronto next month,” Garrison says after finishing the last few drops of amber liquid that were in his glass.
We’ve been at Peakside for a while now, and thankfully, everyone has moved on to topics that don’t involve me or Bryce. It was quite entertaining to watch Johnny think that for even a second, he’d be able to intimidate her, though. He deserved a chance to flex his brother status.
I already knew everyone here was welcoming and kind, but they’ve proved once again that that quality about them isn’t ever going to change. Similar to the last time I was here before the fake dating agreement, I’ve been included in conversations and given the opportunity to add my two cents to every topic.
It’s nice to feel accepted. Especially by these people.
Poppy rubs her cheek against Garrison’s bicep. She’s been dozing on and off for a few minutes, snuggling close to him while her eyes flutter shut.
Her words are slurred with sleep. “We’ll be gone for a few weeks.”
Bryce grows alert beneath me, like this is news to her. The arm that hasn’t moved from its original place around my middle stiffens, tightening slightly.
“Why?” she asks cooly.
Poppy blinks open her eyes and frowns. “Swift Edge needs him there in person for a few things.”
“Okay. Like what? Why do you have to go with him?”
“Because I’m clingy as fuck, Ice. That’s not news.”
Garrison, seeming to feel the same sharp tension growing between them that I do, adjusts his position in his seat and interrupts their discussion.
“I asked her to come with me. I don’t like to be separated from Poppy longer than absolutely necessary. If I didn’t have to leave, I wouldn’t. The reasons behind my requested presence are not negotiable.”
Bryce laughs deeply. It’s a cold, empty noise. “Don’t use your CEO tone with me.”
Unease swishes through me. Her tone is too devoid of emotion, even for her. Something’s wrong, and from the complete silence around the table, everyone else has realized that too. Including Poppy.
No longer dozing, she sits forward, forearms digging into the edge of the table and brows crinkled. “What’s going on, Bryce?”
I wince. Bryce’s arm turns into a vise around me, but it’s not a painful hold. My wince stems from the question being asked in such an open environment.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. I don’t know Bryce even a quarter of the way Poppy does, but it doesn’t seem like a question Bryce would ever answer in front of everyone. If anything, I would think being asked this way would make her more upset.
“Dance with me.”
Nobody responds to the demand spoken from behind me.
“Please,” Bryce adds, her voice dipping into a soft, desperate murmur that slips over the back of my neck like warm wax.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s speaking to me.
I turn my head and focus on her, tuning out the rest of the table as my gut cramps with uncertainty. The walls behind her eyes have lifted as they dig into mine, exposing a small flicker of . . . pain?
I’m more alert now than I’ve been in a long time. There’s not an ounce of hesitation inside of me as I hop off her lap and give the table my back. The moment I extend my hand for her to take, she smiles at me in thanks, and my pulse stutters.
It’s nothing more than a subtle tug of the corner of her mouth. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reaction from someone who makes a habit of keeping their emotions well restricted. But despite that, I think it might be the most honest smile I’ve ever witnessed.
“You’ll have to lead. I’ve got two left feet,” I confess, almost shyly.
Bryce clasps my fingers and stands, her gaze piercing. It’s almost relieving to see the intensity returning to her eyes, even if I’m the one trapped beneath it like a spider in a glass with no way out.
“I enjoy leading.”
It sounds like more than a simple statement. Like a declaration or even . . . a promise.
She steers us away from the table without a word to anyone else. I offer her friends a very fake, apologetic smile before looking forward to where we’re going.
We don’t go undetected by the tables overflowing with busybodies and drunks. Most give us quick once-overs as we pass by, and I keep waiting for someone to make a no-good comment, but either they just don’t care enough to, or Bryce’s curled lip has struck fear in them, keeping their mouths sealed shut.
I giggle to myself at the death glares she’s shooting in every direction but mine. It’s nice being around someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for not only themselves but you too. It could be presumptuous of me, but I feel very confident in thinking that for as long as I’m filling the role of Bryce’s girlfriend, she’ll keep me safe from as much as she can .
A Rottweiler girlfriend for sure.
The square dance floor is crowded when we slip between stomping bodies and find a space to stand. A line dance comes to an end as “Cadillac Ranch” by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band rolls into a slower love song. A few people take a break from dancing and head back to their tables for a drink, creating more room for us to stand.
A place like Peakside doesn’t stray from country music, mixing the old kind with the newer pop style. Bryce’s expression slips when the current song hits the chorus, revealing an annoyance that intrigues me.
Still hand in hand, I give her a tug. She stumbles toward me, free hand coming down on my shoulder and boots scuffing the floor. I look down between us at our feet before letting loose a laugh.
“You wear cowboy boots every day, but you don’t like country music?”
A muscle ticks above her brow. “How do you know I don’t like country music?”
“Lucky guess.”
We must look awkward, neither of us swaying to the music and instead standing in place. Bryce sucks her cheek and keeps her hold on my shoulder loose, unsure, before our eyes catch. In a blink, she’s dipping her hand to the inside of my waist and palming me there, the heat from her skin a shock to my system. My inhale is sharp, and she focuses on my mouth with smothering blue eyes.
“I hate country music,” she confirms in a low voice, using her chin to gesture to the hand I have lying limply at my side. “Hold my shoulder.”
“Why do you get the waist and I get the shoulder?”
Her mouth tips in a tiny, crooked smirk. “I’m leading, Sunshine. If you want to give it a try, we can swap.”
My face feels hot as she teases me. I don’t want to think about how red it is. Hopefully, the dull lights help drown it out before she notices.
“Back to the country music thing. Why don’t you like it?” I ask, shifting the spotlight to her.
She waits for me to hold her shoulder before guiding us into a gentle sway. One step to the side and then back together before doing it again and again.
Her body is fit and slim but still muscled. I noticed it before when she came home from pole in her workout clothes but also when I sat on her lap earlier tonight and felt the way her thighs contracted beneath my weight. And now, as my fingertips dig into her shoulder with an exploratory touch, her muscles bunch and strain with her movements.
It’s wrong of me, considering our fake relationship status, but touching her this freely, the way I’ve been doing over the last few days, has made it hard to keep from wondering what she feels like elsewhere.
Above the cropped hem of her band tees and the edges of her tight jean skirts. Where her tattoos disappear, hidden from the public eye.
Obviously, Bryce is ridiculously gorgeous. I’ve known it from the moment Johnny introduced us three years ago.
Back then, she was more intimidating than anything else, with her startlingly blue eyes the colour of cracked ice deep below the surface of a glacier and full, peach-shaped lips that she kept stretched thin. One minute in her presence was all it took to feel the raw power that ran below the surface. How in control of herself she was and confident in both her appearance and attitude.
There’s not a person alive, man or woman, who isn’t secretly struck stupid at the sight of her. I’m no exception to that, and I wouldn’t want to be.
Bryce is a woman that anyone would be lucky to have in their life. Stunning in the way that doesn’t seem real or possible sometimes, protective to a fault, and passionate. Her art is masterful, and I’m itching to see more of it. Not only what’s on her skin and hung on her walls, but the stuff in her mind and soul. The ideas she’s waiting to put to skin and the ones that haven’t been discovered yet.
“It feels surface level. I like deeper music. The kind that rips emotion out of you.”
I blink the glaze away from my vision and smile timidly. “What?”
“You asked why I don’t like country music.”
The humour in her tone makes my stomach swoop.
“Right. It makes sense. I think there are country songs out there that portray emotion, though. You just have to find the ones that speak to you.”
“Which speak to you, Daisy?”
“What if I write you a list?”
“Like a playlist?”
“Yeah. I can never think of my favourite songs off the top of my head, but if you think you’d actually listen to them, I can put together a playlist.”
Her thumb sweeps along the curve of my waist. “Do you listen to rock at all?”
There’s a hidden question in there that I don’t miss. No, I reach for it with desperate hands instead.
“I’d love a playlist of all your favourites, Bryce.”
“Alright,” she replies, voice hushed but pleased.
“Have you always liked that genre of music?”
“Despite how badly my mom tried to brainwash me with classical jazz when I was an infant, yeah. I think so.”
“Classical jazz?” I ask, baring my teeth in a winced smile.
Bryce huffs a laugh and turns us around the dance floor, guiding us in another direction. “It’s fitting, considering how boring she is when she’s not busy complaining about me.”
“Did you ever used to get along?”
“When I was really young and didn’t know myself or what I wanted yet. I wore the dress-up gowns and plastic heels with the pink puff balls on top. Asked Santa for tea sets and fairy-tale books and spent hours brushing my Barbie’s hair.”
“Everything a little girl is told she should want,” I say with a weighted sigh.
Bryce rolls her lips and fixes her features, closing her emotions off. The sight of her hiding herself from me is a kick to the stomach, even though I know she doesn’t owe me honesty in that way. It’s intimate being familiar with someone’s innermost thoughts and emotions, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to see them. If anything, every little look inside of her mind and heart has me craving more.
Just one more peek. Then another, until I’m as familiar with her as I’m willing to allow her to be with me.
“I grew into my own person early on and realized I didn’t like the things she wanted me to. Instead of brushing the Barbie’s hair, I chopped it off and coloured it with Sharpie. The teacups started to go missing, and I snapped the heels off my shoes. That’s the end of all those memories,” she mutters.
It’s not, but I don’t push. She’s already opened up to me more than I was expecting her to, and that’s good enough for right now.
“When do you want to break the news to your parents? Think they already know?” I ask, finding a groove with the easy swaying motion. Maybe I’ll be able to step it up next weekend.
“If they don’t already know, they will by the end of the night. But sooner is probably better than later. Otherwise, I’ll get a text telling me the time and place for my next blind date.”
“Is it bad that I’m kind of excited?”
“To stick it to my parents?”
I tip my chin.
“Fuck no. I’ve been waiting for a chance to tell them to shove it for years.”
I feel the vibration from my laughter all the way down to my toes.
“There’s no better time like the present, then. ”
She holds my excited stare and squeezes my fingers before releasing my waist and rolling me out along her arm. I squeak in surprise and nearly trip over my feet but steady myself at the last minute, choosing to trust that she knows what she’s doing with this new move.
With our arms forming one long, straight line, I come to a stop and suck in deep breaths, my chest rising rapidly. Bryce keeps her sights on me and only me. Just like that, time stalls, as if it’s as surprised by this moment as I am.
Lips parting before spreading into a tooth-flashing grin, Bryce laughs with the entire force of her being. I freeze at the happiness vibrating in the freeing sound and allow myself to be pulled back into her body.
Only this time, the strength of her tug brings me closer than I was moments prior until our breasts smoosh and mouths hover close enough for me to taste her next words.
“Yeah, I think the present is a pretty fucking good place to be right about now, Sunshine.”