chapter 13
Sebastian
REMI IS FUCKING GORGEOUS. I keep glancing at her as she drives, one hand on the steering wheel, the other dangling out the driver’s side window.
All the windows are down, letting in the still-warm Vegas air, and it tosses her hair around her face as night falls over the desert.
She keeps pushing it out of her eyes, and I have to work really hard to keep my hands in my lap and not reach out to touch her hair and tuck it behind her ear.
“So, where are you taking me?” I ask as she maneuvers the Grand Cherokee flawlessly through Vegas’s bustling traffic.
It’s almost like LA, with cars and trucks and taxis zipping all over the place, cutting people off as they change lanes, horns honking.
She stays chill though, not at all bothered by the chaos.
Without taking her blue eyes off the road, she quirks her lips up on one side and says, “You’ll see.”
I settle back into my seat. She could be driving out to drop me in Death Valley, and I’d still just sit here like a lovestruck fool.
She takes lefts and rights, then guides the vehicle into a parking garage. We go up and up and up, to the very top level, where the fewest cars are. And the whole time, I just sit with the mystery, waiting for her to surprise me.
She parks the Jeep, then motions for me to climb out. Even as I follow her around to the back, I have no idea where we’re going. She opens the trunk, and I arch a brow when she pulls two skateboards out of the back.
Then she turns to face me, her black hair gleaming under the parking garage’s lights. “You said you skate, right?”
I look down at the board—it has a scuffed sticker on it that says Vegas Nights—then give her a sideways smile. “You must be pretty into me if you remember a detail like that.”
She rolls her eyes, and her cheeks get a slight pink tinge, like she was out in the sun too long. “Just shut up and take it.” She forces it into my arms, then grumbles, “And I’m just a good listener, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” A laugh rumbles up from me as I tuck the board under one arm. “Whatever you say.”
Cheeks still pink, she waves for me to follow. “Come on.”
I trail after her, thinking she’s leading us to the padlocked door at the far end of the parking garage, and I realize I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she can pick locks—and she’d probably do it with a smile and a flick of her glossy black hair.
But when she sees me looking at it, she arches a brow and says, “That’s to keep the tourists out. ”
Instead, she leads me to a narrow concrete service hallway along the outer edge of the upper parking level; if she hadn’t led me this way, I never would’ve noticed it here. The fluorescent lights overhead are dim, and a few flicker as we pass beneath them.
As I follow behind her, I ask, “Are we allowed back here?” It feels like a place where we’re definitely not supposed to be. And Ashton would be pissed if she had to bail me out of jail.
In front of me, Remi shrugs, then casts a glance over her shoulder at me. “Probably not.” Her gaze sweeps me up and down. “Especially not you, Cali boy.”
The corridor turns, and at the end is a battered metal service door propped open with a cinder block.
Remi pulls it open, then slips through it, and I follow her through the door and onto an exterior metal maintenance staircase that runs the height of the parking garage.
I pause to grip the rail and look over at the cars passing by beneath us.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” she asks from where she’s already ascending the creaky metal stairs.
“Nope,” I say. “Just spiders and clowns.”
She lets out a laugh. “Then come on. Get up here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I take the stairs two at a time, making the whole metal structure rattle. There’s one last maintenance gate at the top, barring access to the roof, but this one is locked.
Remi turns and offers me her board. “Hold this.”
I take it, not sure what her plan is. She looks up, flexes her fingers, then jumps.
It makes me want to lurch forward and grab her, to save her from falling however many stories to the pavement below.
But with one huff of breath, she yanks herself up and over the top of the gate, then drops back down to the other side, her sneakers thumping lightly against the concrete.
With a victorious smile, she opens the gate from the other side and holds out a hand. “Welcome to my abode.”
“Holy fuck,” I say as I step through the narrow gate. “I knew you were a badass, but I didn’t know you were criminal.” With a grin, I hold out her board. “That was kinda hot.”
She rolls her eyes again while taking the board from me. “I’ve been coming up here since I was in high school. It’s a good place to think. Plus, it’s one of the best views in the city.” She waves me over to the waist-high concrete barrier encircling the roof. “Check it out.”
I follow her to the barrier, eyes going wide, and whisper, “Wow.”
From here, I feel like I can see everything, all of Vegas spread out before us, a twinkling city under the desert sky.
Remi stands next to me, staring down at the city, and I steal a look at her: windblown black hair hanging around her face, lips pulled into a slight smile, the city lights glowing like a mosaic over her golden-brown skin.
Fuck, I like this girl.
She turns and catches me staring, and I look away quickly.
“So, you skate up here?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm.” She tosses her board down and hops onto it, gliding away across the empty rooftop, cutting through the warm desert air.
I turn and lean back against the barrier, watching as she rides in a big circle.
She’s wearing a thin black tank, baggy jeans, and beat-up sneakers—and I decide this version of Remi is way sexier than that version I saw on the stage.
And watching her skate toward me makes me want to snatch her off the board and crush her lips to mine.
But no. I’m not gonna do that. I’ve gotta do this right, take it slow. Because I really don’t want to fuck this up.
As she glides past me, she motions to the skateboard I’m holding and says, “Well? Show me what you’ve got.”
What “I’ve got” is not much, and I eat shit while boarding often enough that I’ve become familiar with the feel of asphalt and gravel against my skin, but I drop the board and step onto it, pushing off and sending it rolling across the rooftop.
Remi watches me, and she slows so I can catch up to her. “So, you really can board,” she says, eyebrows arching up. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. You’ll be picking my ass up off this concrete in a minute.”
Her laughter is light and soft, and it sounds easier than it did earlier this evening, when we were at the pizza joint. Like she’s letting some of her tension go, casting it out into the sand.
“I’m serious,” I say, joining her in a laugh. “I kinda suck at this.”
“So, you can’t do this?”
She pushes away from me, looking balanced but light on the board.
Her back foot presses onto the tail of the board, her front foot angling slightly across the deck.
She crouches low, then snaps the tail hard against the concrete.
The board lifts into the air, and with one flick of her toes across the edge, it spins beneath her in a fast rotation.
Remi’s knees bend as the wheels smack the concrete, and she lands clean and rides away smoothly, hair catching the warm breeze as she goes.
That was one of the most perfect kickflips I’ve ever seen.
This woman. Hot damn.
She angles around, bringing her board to a stop next to me, where I went frozen while watching her.
“Well?” She crosses her arms, her defined shoulder muscles catching the light from the city at her back. “Your turn.”
Ugh, shit.
Can’t back out now.
“If I get hurt,” I say as I push off on my board, “you’ll take care of me, right?”
Her lips pull up on one side, and she pops a hip as she watches me.
I’ve landed kickflips before, but not with consistency, and definitely not with a terrifyingly hot woman watching me. Hopefully I don’t bust my ass.
I bounce on the board a bit, softening my knees and getting my feet angled right.
Then I pop the board, like Remi did, but it spins a bit too slow, and I come down crooked, one foot landing on the board while the other nearly misses, barely catching the edge.
I windmill my arms, about to eat shit and prove just how terrible I am at this.
Then, somehow, I catch myself. It’s a goddamn miracle.
“Yes!” I pump both hands into the air, and behind me, Remi laughs, giving me a round of applause.
“Not bad, drummer boy,” she says as I coast back around to where she’s standing, one foot on her board, the other planted on the concrete. “The landing could use some work though.”
I stop next to her, close enough that I can see her long black eyelashes and the thin smudge of eyeliner under one eye. “You offering to teach me?”
“Mm, didn’t say that.” She reaches out then, slowly gripping the strings of my hoodie in one hand and giving them a gentle tug, making me take a step toward her. “But maybe you could convince me.”
She tips her head back, looking up at me, the city lights catching the hoops she wears in her ears as her hair slips over her shoulders. And I barely have time to react before she’s rising up onto her toes, pulling me in, and pressing her lips to mine.
I catch my breath. For a second, I think I must’ve fallen off my board and cracked my head, because there’s no way this is happening, that Remi is kissing me. I must be either dying or dead, right? Maybe my body is actually lying on the rooftop, unresponsive, and this is my version of heaven.
But then her other hand wraps around the back of my neck, and I taste lemon on her lips as she moves them against mine.
My dick twitches, and I realize that no, I’m not dead. And yes, Remi is fucking kissing me right now.
So I wrap my hands around her waist, and I kiss her back.