Chapter 1 – Darragh Murray #2
She smells like vodka even though she’s underage. She shouldn’t be drinking. I push the bedroom door open, walk through the doorway, and kick the door shut behind me. Using one hand, I swipe away Michelle’s hair curler and bag of makeup from the bed.
I throw Kamari onto the pile of white sheets and she lands with a thump. I can’t believe she’s acting like this. She’s nearly naked, dancing on some older guy and she’s drunk. I try to calm down and tell myself that she’s only eighteen, she’s doing what college kids do.
That doesn’t fucking work and I don’t sound calm at all when I open my mouth.
“What the hell were you doing out there? Tavarius is looking everywhere for you.”
She refuses to talk to me and glares at me like I’m the bad guy in this situation.
She’s drunk and messing with shit she doesn’t understand – shit that could really mess with her.
I’m just trying to protect her. Why the hell is she so mad?
I definitely remember her being fierce, but not like this.
Her brother was right, she’s different since she went off to college.
“Let me out of here, Darragh. It’s none of your business and it’s none of my brother’s business what I’m doing. I just want to get drunk and have a good time.”
“You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t be drinking. Let me go get your brother…”
I start for the door, even if I know I’ll have to lock her in to keep her from escaping. That should make her scream like a wildcat. Kamari lunges forward and grabs my forearm instead.
“Wait, Darragh, don’t get Tavarius.”
“Kamari, let go of me,” I say calmly, trying to peel her off me as she drags my arm and attempts to pull me away from the door with all the force she can muster. What the hell is her problem now?
“You can’t go get him.”
“What the hell do you want then?” I grunt, trying to pry Kamari’s hands off me. She ups the ante by slumping to the ground and wrapping her arms around my leg. Christ.
“Kamari, get off me,” I say sternly as I try to unwrap her from my leg. I drag my body towards the door, but I can’t move without hurting her.
“You can’t tell him I’ve been drinking again. You can’t…”
“I won’t go to him but you have to stop touching me. Get off. Now.”
My stern voice causes her to scramble away and gaze up at me with large brown eyes, set far apart on her golden-honey face.
I suppress the flash of emotion I experience when she gazes at me.
I bite my tongue to avoid my mind wandering anywhere it shouldn’t and try to focus on getting Kamari on her feet and sober within the next thirty minutes.
If we’re lucky, her brother will get too drunk to look for her.
“I promised Tavarius I wouldn’t drink tonight. You can’t tell him,” she says, slurring her words. She can barely string a sentence together but she was upstairs grinding her hips all over one of the most dangerous men in the city. I swear, I could sock the shit out of him just for looking at her.
“He’ll find you eventually even if I don’t bring him down here. What the hell were you thinking, Kamari?”
She swallows and scrambles backward so she’s sitting on the bed. She buries her head in her hands and sits there for so long I think she’s trying to hold back getting sick all over the boat. I put my hand on her back and she groans.
“No,” she says. “Don’t touch me, that’ll make it worse.”
“You gonna throw up, kid?”
“No,” she whimpers. “No… But Darragh, I love you. I can’t take it anymore, I love you.”
Fuck. Not this again…
“My girlfriend is gonna have a problem with that, just like I have a problem with it. Kamari, we’ve talked about this. You’re my best friend’s little sister, I have a girlfriend, I’m way too fucking old for you and–
Before I can finish my sentence, my girlfriend bursts through the door. Michelle struts in, towering over Kamari in black high-heels. She has legs for days and she’s skinny as a stick.
“Darragh,” she says. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you? What the hell are you doing back here?”
She stumbles as the boat moves and leans against the wall. She’s even more drunk than I am. Kamari groans and holds her head in her hands. She really is going to be sick.
“Kamari had a little too much to drink. Can you go get her brother? He’s above deck.”
“I don’t want to talk to him, D. Molly’s here. She’ll tell my dad if she sees me talking to a black guy and he’ll kick my ass.”
I’ve fucking had it with Michelle.
“Then get his attention some other way, Michelle. The kid’s gonna be sick, can you hurry?”
Kamari groans again and retches on the floor by the bed. Michelle wrinkles her nose and disappears to avoid the vomit. I push Kamari’s waist-length curls away from her face and hold them back in a large handful behind her head.
“What were you thinking?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about, Kamari. You and I are never going to happen.”
“You can’t deny our connection, Darragh.”
She’s so drunk, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s saying. The kid is eighteen and she’s clearly not experienced enough to hold her liquor if she’s acting like this. What the hell was Kamari thinking? Anything could happen to her when she’s drunk like this.
“Michelle will be back with your brother before you know it. I’ll get you some water. You lie down and settle your stomach, okay?”
“No,” she moans. “I’m not doing that until you admit that… admit that on some level you have feelings for me, Darragh…”
I don’t have feelings for her. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.
She’s black. I’m white. In Boston, that means you live in different worlds that hardly intersect outside of the world of sports.
Her brother gets it, I get it, Michelle gets it.
Kamari lives in a dream world where she can dance with white boys and get away with it.
I won’t admit to anything, especially not something like caring about Kamari, like wishing we could have been together – something which could get both of us killed because of my family and who we are…
I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk.