Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
LIAM
H arsh light pierces my sensitive eyelids, making me cringe back from the pain. The quick movement alerts me to the rhythmic pounding in my head that matches each steady beat of my heart.
Taking a moment to center myself, I open my eyes to the barest slits and find myself back in my bedroom. All the windows are wide open, which explains the plethora of sunlight wreaking havoc on my poor head. A brief glance under the covers shows I’m still fully clothed, but I reek of tequila and bad decisions.
That last thought makes something click in my brain and sudden, startling clarity washes over me as bits and pieces of last night begin to surface in the form of a messy highlight reel.
Getting absolutely wrecked by the Tilt-a-Whirl and nearly hurling all over Lark.
Walking into the Salty Siren and the drink that made the nausea go away.
A hushed whimper and a masculine groan .
The room spinning and sprinting to the bathroom.
My pretty fake girlfriend cleaning me up after I spent twenty minutes on the disgusting bathroom floor puking my guts up.
Staring at her as she walked me home after.
Fixating on how good she felt tucked into my side.
Rambling every fact I can think of about Grafted Moon cacti as she tucked me into bed, specifically how the red one is my new favorite plant.
Groaning, I scrub my hands down my face and throw the covers off my overheated body. I need pain meds, a hot shower, and a greasy breakfast. In that order. Apparently someone put me to bed last night, because there are four pills and a big glass of water on my nightstand that I gulp down quickly.
In spite of how slow I seem to be moving this morning, it only takes me fifteen minutes to shower and dress in fresh clothes for the day. It helps that I basically wear the same thing all summer, but sometimes I like to switch up the colors.
The forecast is sunny and high-70’s so in lieu of my usual hoodie, I throw on a red High Tide Ink tee and a pair of black athletic shorts that just graze mid-thigh. The color choice has absolutely nothing to do with the feisty little blonde I can hear downstairs.
It’s purely coincidence.
My heart does a strange flutter as I make my way downstairs, and I wonder if it’s a new symptom of my alcohol sensitivity since it’s not something I’ve experienced before. Unless you count the time Lark agreed to be my fake girlfriend. Or when she let me tattoo her. Or when she serenaded me in my living room.
Again, purely coincidence .
“Well look who’s alive and only a little green around the gills this morning!” Lark’s bright voice reignites the hot poker inside my head forcing my hands up to cover my ears.
“Lark!” I bark as quietly as I can through gritted teeth. “Inside. Voices.”
She snickers at my expense as I carefully perch on one of the barstools at the island, but my irritation fades when she slides a steaming plate of waffles, bacon, and hash browns in front of my face. Forgoing every manner my mom ever taught me, I immediately shove two pieces of bacon in my mouth and smile at the stunning woman in front of me.
“If you’re not careful I’ll change your nickname from Red to Angel.”
Her brows raise. “There’s an angel flower?”
The genuine interest in her voice flips a switch and I’m eager to share my knowledge with someone who actually cares. Nodding enthusiastically, I smile even wider. “It’s called the Angel’s Trumpet. It’s really pretty, but it’s also poisonous.”
Lark scowls at me, making me wonder what I’ve done now. “You would give me a nickname after a poisonous flower?”
If I didn’t know any better, I would think that was hurt that just flashed through her eyes. I shake my head carefully. It quickly becomes obvious the side-to-side motion is still a no-go after last night when the movement gives me a moment of vertigo. “There are varying levels of reactions to the flower itself. Sometimes it acts as a hallucinogenic, and sometimes it kills you. There’s a lot of grey in between, but that’s not the point. I wouldn’t call you angel because you’re deadly or poisonous, I’d call you angel because these flowers are gorgeous and remind me of your hair and your personality. Angel’s Trumpets are beautiful and totally harmless until you hurt them, or in the literal sense, ingest them. Just like you. You’re beautiful and perfectly harmless until someone crosses you. Then you threaten their manhood with your shears or fake-date a guy you just met to get revenge.” I finish my rambling and tap her on her freckled nose.
Said nose scrunches at my explanation, but after a few quiet moments, her lips quirk. “Thanks, plant boy.” She checks her watch, and her face blanches. “Shit, I’m so late. Your mom invited me out paddle boarding with you guys, so I guess I’ll see you at the cove later!”
Lark kisses me on the cheek before rushing out the door to the salon and my brain does a record scratch, because that innocent little kiss triggers the missing pieces of our night to show themselves front and center in my still-disoriented mind.
I kissed my best friend’s twin sister last night.
And I really fucking want to do it again.
“So let me get this straight,” Mom wheezes between bouts of disbelieving laughter. “In the span of an hour, you accidentally got drunk and kissed your new roommate not once but twice !” She shakes her head, focusing on unboxing the takeout containers that hold our lunch. “I’ll give it to you, son, you work surprisingly fast.”
It’s my mom’s last day here, so naturally she’s going to be tormenting me all day because, in her words, “something needs to keep me humble while she’s not around to do it herself.”
“Mom!” I groan. “It’s not like any of it was intentional. And it can’t happen again.”
The words cause a pang of disappointment in my chest, but that doesn’t make them any less true. Lark is Keelan’s twin sister and no matter how much I might like her, betraying my best friend is something I never want to do on purpose.
I look up to see Mom’s face is screwed up like she’s tasted something sour, and I steel myself for whatever asinine reasoning she’s preparing to tout like it’s gospel.
“Liam Oliver Blackwell!” she scolds, making my eyes widen in surprise. She never middle-names me unless I’ve really screwed up. “I know I taught you better than this. You’re a grown man, the time for unintentional kissing and wishy-washy intentions has long passed.”
Snorting, I give her a droll look. “Lark is Keelan’s twin sister. In what world is me pursuing her okay?”
The look she gives me is one part disbelief, two parts scathing. “The world where Keelan Monroe loves you and his sister more than life itself, and all he’ll want is for the two of you to be happy. I think you know that and are using him as an excuse because you’re scared.”
I scoff. “I’m not scared. I just don’t do the whole dating thing ever since Thalia and you know that.”
“I think you’re scared because Lark accepts you, quirks and all, and you already like her more than you ever liked Thalia. You’re afraid you’ll end up hurt if something happens between you two. And yes, there’s the Keelan factor, but I also think you underestimate just how much he loves you two.”
I take a bite of my turkey club, mostly to give myself time to think, but also because I’m starving after barely touching my breakfast this morning.
If I let myself think about Mom’s words long enough, I know she’s right. Keelan might not be happy at first, but as long as Lark was happy, he would be happy for us. But Lark is the first woman who’s ever accepted me and didn’t make fun of me for being a little… different .
I’ve always been the guy who’s kind of odd. The guy who doesn’t know how to act appropriately in social situations and fixates on my hobbies almost to a detrimental degree.
Well, detrimental to my social life, anyway.
There’s never been a time in my life when I was good with flirting or relationships, so when I met Thalia and she showed interest in me, I kind of latched on. A part of me felt like she was probably as good as I was ever going to get, which is likely why I overlooked some of her more glaring red flags. Like her over-the-top spending habits, lack of physical affection, and the excessive amount of time she spent with her stepbrother.
Sure, there are times I’ve missed being in a relationship over the last decade, but I’d find a willing body or fly out to spend a few days on tour with Keelan, and I would get over it. Only this time the loneliness didn’t start until Lark swooped in and agreed to be my friend.
The time we’ve spent together over the last few days has made me the happiest I’ve felt since before meeting Thalia, and already the thought of losing her friendship makes me feel bleak.
Realizing I’ve been quiet for too long, I shake my head at my mom and snap. “It was a one-time thing, and it’s not gonna happen again, okay? So just drop it. Please.”
She nods slowly, concern leaching into her expression as she places an understanding hand on my shoulder. “I’ll drop it, but just think about what I said, okay honey? You’re a wonderful man, and you have so much love to give. You don’t have to give it to Lark, but maybe it’s time to try giving it to someone ?”
With that, she wordlessly gathers her lunch and heads down the hall. I’m guessing she didn’t want to risk being snapped at again and is going to eat on the porch. Shame over the way I spoke to my mother darkens my mood further, but defensiveness has been my knee-jerk reaction anytime someone brings up my love life.
Mom doesn’t know my feelings on relationships have shifted since moving to Echo Cove, but why would she? I haven’t attempted to date a single person since I moved here. At first I was too busy opening up High Tide Ink , but as time went on, I found myself becoming complacent in my lonely little routine.
Coffee at Coastal each morning, alone . Spending the day in my studio, usually with Riley, but mostly alone . Coming home to my empty house to have dinner and tend to my plants, alone . My day-to-day life was spent in solitude and somewhere along the way I forgot about my desire to change that.
The weekly dinners with the Monroe’s and my mom’s monthly visits helped to curb my need for companionship, but it’s like Lark moving in reawakened a fierce ache in my chest that’s become more difficult to ignore with each hour spent in her company.
Maybe this whole fake-dating thing with my little cactus will pave the way for me to get back on the dating scene for real. My budding feelings for Lark may be inconvenient, but I can keep them locked down for the next week and a half until Keelan’s show, and then we can part ways as friends.