Chapter 18 – “Love Is A Laserquest” - Arctic Monkeys
VICE
“LOVE IS A LASERQUEST” - ARCTIC MONKEYS
“What is it you call this garment?” my brother mutters from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. “A dress?”
“Made of what? One singular window curtain?”
I scoff, rolling my eyes as I turn back to the bar.
“How’d you even get here, Lena? You said you weren’t going to come today.” Leo’s voice breaks in next. He enters my periphery, blond hair and blue eyes burning a hole into the side of my face as he props an elbow on the bar.
“I wasn’t going to be ready before you both had to leave, so I took an Uber.”
My brother’s eyes bulge hard enough to pop a vessel, I’m sure.
Everett shoves his way between Leo and me. “You took an Uber? From Pacific Shores?”
I nod.
“How fucking much did that cost?”
“About one-fifty.”
“Jesus Christ, Lena,” Leo murmurs.
Yeah…it’s a lot of money to prove a point, but watching that glass shatter at August’s feet, watching his jaw drop and his eyes flame, was worth every cent.
I’m definitely not in a position to be throwing away that much cash, especially now that I’m paying rent, but I’m doing okay with what I make at the bakery.
“What?” I ask, turning to face them both.
“You told me you wanted me to be here for support, so that’s what I’m doing.
” I swipe a hand down my dress. “It’s a black-tie event.
I’m dressed for the occasion, and provocative has always been my style, so please stop acting so scandalized.
It’s not like I’m out here flashing my tits. ”
I grab a cocktail napkin, placing it in front of me as I wave the bartender over. Glancing at my brothers once more, I find them both staring at me slack-jawed.
“Can you give me some goddamn breathing room? I’m going to grab a drink, take a look around, and talk to Penelope about a painting she’s been doing for me.”
“How do you know Penelope?” Leo asks.
“I met her at your wedding.”
I spoke with the girl briefly when I first arrived and she was helping me find my brothers.
I don’t remember how it came up, but she mentioned she’s an artist in her free time, outside of earning her PhD in archaeology from UCLA and traveling the world.
I was blown away by her ability to maintain a hobby while being a full-time student and adjunct professor.
Especially considering I couldn’t get out of bed most days at that point.
She showed me some of her work, and I don’t know…it felt kind of like magic. Her art made me want to make something of myself again. Be someone worthy of looking at it.
I asked her if she could create a painting for me. I didn’t care what, just something I could hang up in my room and look at on days I couldn’t get out of bed. Something that might give me motivation to try.
Somehow, she understood exactly what I meant by that.
She texted me a few months ago to tell me my piece was ready, but I had fallen far too deep in my spiral to care, and I never responded.
I mostly came tonight to torment August—somehow, he’s become that motivation, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons—but I want to see Penelope too. Apologize. Check if she’d still be willing to sell me the piece she made for me.
“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Everett asks. “You’ve been sober since you moved in with August, right? Do you think maybe it would be better if you stayed that way?”
I close my eyes, jaw tightening with the urge to snap at him.
I know I’m getting defensive, and I know his concern is warranted.
He’s right—I’ve been sober since moving in with August just under two months ago.
I’ve replaced alcohol with other vices—green eyes, soft hands, and harsh words.
I know my mind seeks distraction to quell the storms raging inside my head at all times, to hold me back from slipping into that darkness that tears me limb from limb.
I’m still not convinced that I have a real drinking problem, or that I need to remain sober for my entire life, though. Alcohol is used by thousands of people every day to cope with their anxieties, their fears, their trauma. I’m no different.
“If I order a Diet Coke, will you stop treating me like a fucking child?”
My twin’s nostrils flare, agitation simmering in his eyes. “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you mature beyond the level of the eleven-year-old I have at home.”
I scoff, but he says nothing, bristling as he walks away from me.
My gaze flitters to Leo, who remains at my side.
“You two are too alike sometimes. Stubborn as fuck.” He smiles softly before kissing my cheek.
“We just love you, okay? We’re happy you’re here.
” He nods back toward Darby. “I’ll be rubbing my wife’s feet if you need me.
And don’t take another fuckin’ Uber. Get a ride from someone. ”
I snort, turning back to the counter just as the bartender steps in front of me.
He smiles, and it’s somewhat mischievous, certainly going beyond basic customer service.
I glance down—my nipples are clearly visible through the thin fabric of my dress.
The way his eyes won’t stop bouncing, I know he sees it too. Figures.
He’s cute but in a bland way. Nothing about him stands out.
He has no edge. He seems like the type of guy who goes down on a woman for all of five minutes—zero percent chance of finding her clit—and then comes up for air, asking if it’s his turn yet.
He probably grunts “Who’s fucking you like this?
” while delivering backshots so shallow you can’t help but wonder if he even has it in.
Hard pass.
“Has anyone told you that you’re the best-dressed person at this event tonight?”
I drop my chin into my hands as my elbows rest on the bar, batting my lashes at him. “No, but you’re about to.”
His brows rise, but he covers it with a laugh. “Yeah. I was.”
He licks his bottom lip, opening his mouth like he’s going to continue, but I don’t allow it. “I’ll have a vodka soda with lime and a splash of grenadine. Oh, and two cherries.”
The bartender stares. I stare back, impatiently tapping my nails against the bar top.
“Do you have a tab you’d like me to add that to?” he asks.
“Yeah, you can put it under the last name Graham.”
“That your boyfriend?”
I smirk, grabbing my glass. “Brother.”
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “Good.”
As I move to lift my drink to my lips, pressure clamps around my wrist, holding me in place, forcing my fingers to uncurl from my glass. The scent of rain and pine invades my senses, and I know it’s him before I see him. Long, olive-toned fingers push my drink back toward the bartender.
“She won’t be needing that.” His voice is gruff, raking along my bones and putting all of my molecules on alert, causing a hum beneath my skin. “I know you’re not about to start drinking, Little Vice,” he whispers low enough that only I can hear.
“I’m not sure why you’d think that’s any of your fucking concern,” I rasp, tilting my head so that our mouths nearly brush, faces close enough to share breath.
His green eyes are a panic-inducing kind of beautiful, causing my heart to thrash inside my chest as they focus on my lips.
“Everything about you is a concern to me,” he rasps but not with affection.
“That doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”
I turn back to the bar, but his breath follows, tickling my ear as he whispers, “Oh? But you like it so much.”
I shiver as his words skate down my spine, the caress of a wicked promise.
Still standing behind me, August rises to his full height, nudging my drink even closer to the bartender.
Part of me wants to continue pushing him—snatch it back and down it in one gulp.
Another part of me feels drunk enough off his touch and his skin to deem the alcohol unnecessary, and a third—my sanity, I presume—thinks it’s better to not drink at all, knows I shouldn’t have ordered it to begin with.
“Is he your boyfriend?” the bartender asks, giving August a wary assessment.
August smiles down at me, like he’s expecting an answer to the question.
I don’t.
“Look, man, she doesn’t seem to be interested in you. Why don’t you walk away?”
“Oh?” August leans an elbow on the counter, blocking my view of the bartender and cutting him out of the conversation entirely.
“Why don’t you tell him whose roof you live under, Elena?
Who you invite into your bed?” He smirks, giving me a once-over.
“Better yet, tell him who you wore that dress for tonight, and then remind us both who will be taking it off you later.”
Those words seep into my flesh, melting through my bones and settling deep in my core. Rage and lust war beneath my skin, setting me ablaze. My teeth grind, my cheeks heat, and I can only stare after him, dumbfounded.
His emerald gaze sparkles mischievously behind his glasses. “Go ahead, baby. You let him know. I’ll give you two minutes, and then I better find you in the bathroom waiting for me.”
“For what? My punishment?” I mutter, mostly to myself.
Just as I think August walked away, either not hearing or not caring about what I’d said, I’m startled by a rough hand sliding around my neck.
He sweeps my hair over my shoulder before dropping his head and whispering against my skin, “Is that what you’re hoping for, Little Vice?
Are you wet just thinking about it?” His other hand lands in my lap, gliding alarmingly close to the center of my thighs.
My heart beats wildly, and I wonder if he can feel it when his palm brushes over my collarbone.
Embers burn deep and low in my belly, erupting to flame the closer his hand gets to my center.
“Thinking about the way you’ll bite your tongue to muffle your cries from everyone in this building as I spank your ass red for being such a cock tease?
Are you making a mess all over your thighs right now as you imagine it? ”