18. “So It Goes” - Taylor Swift
“So It Goes” - Taylor Swift
Heath
They’ve written an entire novel in our group thread by the time I get back to the surf shack.
My last client was convinced they were a natural-born surfer, but they couldn’t manage to get past the break. Needless to say, I am in desperate need of a drink.
Seeley tosses me a towel as I walk through the door. I catch it in midair, eyes glued to my phone. Am I the only one who does anything with my day? It takes me several minutes to get caught up on the chat Maeve started two hours ago.
The texts keep rolling in as I grab my things. Apparently, before I can go get hammered, I still have to help carry out the revenge plot against the candle lady. I completely forgot.
I’ve spent the past three days at the Archives with Walker, trying hard as fuck to not hard-fuck her on the table. I don’t need any reminders of how stupid this is, either. I’m fully aware. It’s only my body remembering how good we were together and those fucking noises she made when—
“You good?” Seeley calls .
I glance up from my phone. With my eyes on the screen, I almost walked into a wall. I give her a sheepish smile. “Good. Just have a lot of texts to catch up on.” I lean against the counter and unwrap one of the lollipops that she keeps in a jar for customers.
Her own smile is a flash of white against bronzed skin. “I know you’re popular. No need to rub it in.” She’s pulled her blonde hair back into a high ponytail, and it sways as she shakes her head.
“Nah, just a lot of high-maintenance friends.” I stick the sucker into my mouth.
“Ahh.” She gives me a knowing look.
I return my attention to my phone. The screen keeps moving with incoming messages.
Lux : I can drive!!
Pierce : Lux, there’s hardly room for you AND your purse in your pop can of a car.
Rhett : I’d offer but mine’s in the garage because some stupid prick SIDESWIPED ME
Maeve : WE KNOW. Also, how would you fit six people in a Maserati?
Rhett : I have a very roomy boot
44 1865 88105 : My car holds four . . .
Maeve : Street parking might be a beast so ideally we’d all fit in one vehicle. x
Maeve : Has anyone heard from Heath today?
Maeve : You are still coming, aren’t you, Heath?
Rhett : YO HEATH
Me : Yes we can take my car Maeve
I stick my phone back into my pocket before she can text and remind me to top off the tank with petrol.
“Shiner’s almost gone,” Seeley says when I look up.
On instinct, my hand moves to my eye. It hardly hurts anymore, and I forgot it was there. “Yeah. ”
“Be careful walking,” she says with a grin. “Don’t want you running into any more walls.” Unlike my friends, Seeley at least pretended to buy my story about the doorjamb.
“I’ll see what I can do. Later, See.” I toss her a wave and head to my bike.
As I ride home, I try to prepare myself for the night ahead.
Seeing Walker’s number pop up on my screen did weird things to my head.
She hasn’t texted anything in our group chat yet.
The normal thing to do would be to save it in my contacts, but that feels dangerous.
It’s best to not have anything in my phone that could lead to late-night-drunk Heath doing stupid shit.
Everyone is waiting in the driveway when I get out of the shower. Maeve and Walker are both dressed in all black, as planned. What wasn’t planned was Rhett’s black one-piece and beanie.
“What are you wearing?” I say with a laugh as I step outside.
He glances down at his outfit, which is so tight I can count every muscle in his six-pack. “Why is everyone hating on it?”
“You look like the missing black Wiggle,” Pierce says.
“I thought it was a stealth mission,” Rhett says. “I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”
“We’re the ones on stealth,” Maeve says, pointing to herself and Walker. “You’re supposed to be the normal-looking guy on the street keeping watch. That outfit is going to land us all in jail.”
“You look great, mate.” I clap a hand on his shoulder. “I had no idea your balls were so small, though.”
He socks me hard in the stomach. I double over in shock and laughter.
“Let’s go!” Maeve says.
Everyone heads to my Grenadier, which I had the foresight to move out of the garage and into the driveway earlier.
“I was definitely picturing this thing with a bigger back seat.” Maeve looks into the back like it’s the living room of a crack den. “There are only three seats.”
“So sit on Pierce’s lap,” Rhett says as he hops into the passenger seat.
“I am not sitting in anyone’s lap,” she says, still standing outside the car.
Lux, Walker, and Pierce are already sitting in the back. We all stare at Maeve as we wait for her to come to the same conclusion as the rest of us.
“Fine,” she growls.
Pierce pulls her inside and onto his lap, and we leave.
Lux hacked the servers at the candle shop earlier this week to track down the woman’s purchase. From there, she found her credit card, where she was able to access her address. “That, my friends, is because I am a fucking genius,” she informs us.
“With a banging bod,” Rhett supplies.
“You’re forbidden to speak about banging while you’re wearing a catsuit,” Maeve says from her perch on Pierce’s lap.
“Have we addressed whether Candle Lady has dogs?” Walker says.
“Guys, she has a name. It’s Rhonda,” Lux says.
“She will forever be Candle Lady to me.” Rhett gives a chef’s kiss.
“If there are dogs, I’m out,” Maeve says.
“Good thing we have Walker to pick up the slack, May-Eve,” Rhett says.
Maeve smacks the back of his head. “Walker gets the honors of putting the prawns into the AC unit anyway. It’s her revenge.”
I can see Walker in the rearview mirror. I try to keep my eyes on the road, but they keep flitting back to her every few seconds. She’s quiet, but she looks peaceful and happy, like she’s actually having fun.
I think about our conversation after her mum called. If there was any doubt in my mind before, it was obliterated that day. She knows. She definitely knows. I don’t know how she found out, but it had to be a factor in driving her to Oxford that summer.
What she’s feeling or thinking now that she’s back and roped into our circle again remains a mystery.
She’s always been good at hiding her feelings.
Let’s be honest: we all are. When your lifestyle depends on fooling others into thinking you have it all together, you learn to school your emotions from a young age.
Candle Lady lives in a two-story townhouse painted black.
It sits on the corner, and all of the windows are dark like we hoped.
After circling the block, we confirm that the AC unit is behind the house, inside a small fenced-in garden.
There’s an empty spot on the side street, and I manage to squeeze the 4x4 into it without hitting anything.
“Does everyone remember their positions?” Maeve asks for the fifth time.
“Yes, Mum. We got it.” Rhett jumps out of the car and adjusts the crotch of his onesie. How many regrets does the guy have by now?
Maeve, Pierce, and Walker all climb out of the back seat. Lux hops over the console and slides into the seat Rhett has vacated. “Give me two minutes to hack the cameras,” she says through the open window. She opens her laptop and starts hammering away at the keys.
Pierce grabs the rotting prawns from the boot. They’ve been sealed inside a bucket for the past week, but they smell fucking horrible if you get too close. He ceremoniously hands the bucket to Walker, who makes a grimace as she takes it from him.
“All right, I’m in,” Lux says.
“Places, people,” Maeve whisper-yells. She and Walker scurry to the back gate with the prawns.
Pierce positions himself on the sidewalk, pretending to be on a call as he paces back and forth, hands in his pockets.
He and Rhett are meant to give us a warning if anyone returns home.
Rhett heads in the opposite direction, looking like a fucking twat in that suit.
He will be the reason we all go to prison.
I keep an eye on Walker and Maeve. The back gate is locked, so they have to scramble over the wrought iron fence. Fortunately it’s not high, and they don’t have much trouble getting over it. A giant tree hangs over the pavement running beside the house, and I lose them in the shadows.
I tap my hands on the steering wheel. This plot ranks a little higher on the risk scale than some of our schemes, but I’m confident we can pull it off. My only concern is Walker. It’s been two years since she’s done something like this, and I hope she doesn’t chicken out now.
“Would you stop that?” Lux says beside me. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
I still my fingers. She’s on an auction site filled with purses that cost as much as a used car. “I thought you were hacking the cameras.”
“I did,” she says. “And now I’m bidding on this vintage Hermes Micro Kelly Sellier.”
“I have no idea what you just said, but okay.” I return my attention to the house, but I can’t see Maeve or Walker.
I scan the street for anyone who might notice us when a light at the back of the house flips on. “Shit,” I say. “Do they have motion detectors back there?”
Lux looks up from her laptop. “I didn’t see any when I planted the bug in the camera app.”
Realization hits me as the door opens. “Someone’s coming outside. Fuck!”
Maeve and Walker are around the side of the house where the AC unit is. They’re not going to know that anyone has come out.
And then the dog shows up. A giant beast of a thing runs into the garden to do his business. As he sniffs around for a spot, he must pick up on their scent, because he starts barking and circling the garden.
Seconds later, a dark shape launches over the fence. As the streetlamp hits her face, I recognize Maeve. Walker isn’t following her.
I jump out of the car. “Where’s Walker?” I ask.
She ignores me and continues barreling toward the car like her life depends on it. I run to the back gate and am about to boost myself over it when Walker appears.
“Help me!” she says. The dog is right on her heels.
I grab her arms and drag her over the fence. Her pants catch on one of the spires. When it rips free, we tumble backward. The dog is still going ballistic, barking at us as we scramble to our feet.
The back door slams, and someone calls out for the dog. Their voice grows closer. I try to gauge the time it will take us to get back to the car, but when I glance toward the street, the Grenadier is gone.
Those fucking bastards left us here.
“I have an idea,” I say to Walker, right before I press her up against the wall. It’s more of an instinct rather than a brilliantly formed idea, the way my mouth meets hers in the shadow of the giant oak above us.
Her lips are tender and slightly cool. She parts them for me immediately, like this is a choreographed dance we’ve both memorized. She tastes like summer: citrus, basil, and peach all clamoring for attention.
I hold her against the side of the house with my body. With my hands, I cradle her face, tipping it up so I can reach it better. My fingers bury themselves in her hair. She groans and moves closer.
I’ve wanted to do this since she walked into the game room at Pierce’s flat. Every time we’re stuck in the Archives and she pulls her lip through her teeth, I want to mark her up with my own mouth.
I tilt her head back even further to give me better access. She gasps and twists her hands into my T-shirt. Her gasp opens her mouth even wider, allowing me to explore her easily. I flick my tongue over every surface I can reach, remembering what she likes .
I want more. I want her beneath me, screaming my name as I fuck her senseless. I want her over me, riding me like I’m her ride-or-die. I press into her even further. She moans as my dick digs into her stomach. I would take her right here if I thought she’d be willing. I would—
“What is going on?” Someone is yelling. “Get out of here!” A woman in an open bathrobe is standing on the other side of the back gate, hands on her hips.
I grab Walker’s hand and lead her down the pavement. The woman is still yelling after us. I flip her off over my shoulder. At least she doesn’t know what we were actually doing there. I give it about ten minutes before she’s ready to kill herself over the smell in her house.
There’s no sign of my car anywhere on the street.
Walker drops my hand, and we walk in silence for a few minutes.
I’m trying to figure out if she wants to kill me or not.
She was definitely into the kiss, but that could have been the adrenaline.
On the other hand, the sexual tension in that archive room has been next-level.
There’s no way she hasn’t felt it. There’s no way she couldn’t read in my eyes how badly I wanted to flip her over that table.
Before I can make another terrible misjudgment and open my mouth, I spot the Grenadier coming down the street ahead of us. “There they are,” I say quietly.
Pierce stops the car beside us, and I open the back door. “This is why I’m the getaway driver,” I mutter as I help Walker in.
“You abandoned your post, mate,” Pierce says with an unapologetic look back at us.
“Because I was rescuing someone.” I’m about to hop in when I remember the seating dilemma we had earlier. Lux is still up front in the passenger seat, and Rhett and Maeve are already in the back.
Like she can read my thoughts, Maeve gives me a hard look. “I am not sitting on anyone’s lap this time. ”
“You can sit on my lap,” Rhett says to Walker.
She winces at him. “Not in the catsuit, Rhett. Sorry.”
Which leaves only one option. I climb in and close the door. Walker settles herself on my lap. My dick is still eager to continue what we started, and she must feel it. She’s sitting right on top of it, for fuck’s sake.
I shift, trying to hide it a little better, but that only makes it rub against her leg. She does her best to avoid looking at me. Her breathing is a little faster than usual, though, and I’m pretty sure it’s not still from the dog.
Everyone wants a recap of what happened. I let Walker tell the story, partly because I like to listen to her and partly because I can’t focus on anything but the smell of her hair right in front of my nose and the feel of her ass on top of my dick.
She leans forward to look at something on Lux’s phone, and when she straightens again, I hold back a groan. If she’s aware of my struggle, she doesn’t let on. After twenty minutes of what feels like the most intense lap dance ever, we pull into the driveway of my house.
It’s close to ten at night, but there’s a strange energy buzzing through all of us.
Pierce tosses me the keys over the bonnet of the car.
He’s wearing a strange look on his face.
It isn’t until I’m gripping the keys in my hand, that rectangular-shaped photo digging into my palm, that I recognize it.
He looks . . . apprehensive and guarded.
He must have seen the keychain.