Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lot
A good time, for a short time.
The third tequila shot hits with that mellow high as I finish painting the last toe on my left foot a glossy candle apple red. Rayne’s gone for sparkly greenish-blue, one leg propped on a pillow while she blows on her toes like she’s cooling soup.
“You trying to seduce a sea creature?” I tease, capping the polish and setting it on her bedside table.
“Girl, I’m so hard up, even a sea creature would look good to me. That one from The Shape of Water? He’s fine.”
“Uh-uh. He’s got that li’l ol’ fishie dick. If I’m going nonhuman, I want King Kong.”
She grabs one of her many pastel pillows adorning her headboard and chucks it at me. “Bitch, you so greedy. You already got Dice the Stallion.”
“True. But you seriously going to deny yourself sex until after you win the election?”
“I’ve already gone this long. What’s another six months? And thanks, boo, for manifesting my win.”
“Always. But I don’t know why you can’t just be you. A thirsty ho running for mayor.”
She cracks up so hard she almost spills her polish, catching the bottle just in time. “Nobody makes me laugh like you. Gonna miss you when you leave.”
“Come visit again.”
“I will. But what about Dice?”
“What about him?”
“What happens when you go back?”
“Haven’t thought about it.”
“Better start. ’Cause one night apart and you’re already pining.”
“Why you being annoying?”
“I’m not wrong, though,” she sing-songs, curlers under her bonnet, wearing another one of her silk pajama sets. Coral tonight.
But I don’t argue. Not directly anyway. “This time apart is good. Space is good.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Seriously. We’ve been all wrapped up in each other. We both needed a breather.”
Rayne lifts one perfect brow. “If by ‘breather’ you mean grinning at your phone every ten minutes—and we know you don’t grin.”
Okay, so I might’ve smiled. A little. But I didn’t respond.
Booth empty tonight w/out you
Bed gonna be empty too
Hope you’re having a good time w/Rayne
Sweet dreams Web
“You’re doing it again,” she points out as I reread his texts.
I can’t deny the tug at my lips or the slow pull in my chest. Like a craving. Like I still want to be back on that couch with him, eating mac and cheese and quoting Pulp Fiction, his arm slung around me like it belonged there.
All the more reason space is good. Even if it feels like I’m holding my breath.
Queenie hops onto the bed beside me, tail twitching, scanning the room like she expects him to pop out and make her eggs.
“What’s up with Miss Thing?” Rayne asks cautiously. “Eyes looking all crazy. She better not be planning an attack.”
“I think she’s just looking around for him.”
“You’re telling me Queenie likes Dice now?”
“Maybe not like, but she’s catching some kind of feels.”
“Same as you.”
“Not gonna lie,” I say, tequila loosening my tongue. “Dice is easy to fall for. He’s sexy, funny, and has that smooth warmth down to a science. It can mess with a woman’s head.”
“Is he messing with yours?”
“Nope. But he’s wrecking my body real good.” I fill her in on last night.
She groans, fanning herself. “You two so nasty.”
“I know. My toes were curling in my boots. But then, right before he finished, he said, ‘Tell me you’re mine. Say it. Say you’re mine.’”
“Oh damn. That’s even hotter. What’d you say?”
“What do you think I said in that moment? Something like ‘I’m yours.’” Not something like. That’s exactly what I said.
“Did you mean it?”
“Of course not. He didn’t either.”
Rayne tilts her head. “That sounds like a deflection.”
“How?”
“I think you don’t want to mean it because you’re scared he doesn’t.”
“Whatever. I’m not tryna get hurt. Just tryna have fun. And that’s what Dice is. A good time, for a short time.”
My boxing workout had nothing on trying to wrangle Queenie into her crate.
Rayne was no help. “I’m not getting clawed by that hellcat,” she said, hiding on the couch.
I’d already given up when Dice knocks.
Rayne cranes her neck toward the door like she’s watching an episode of a reality dating show. “Your man’s here!”
“He’s not my man,” I mutter, feeling cute in a pair of camo pants, an oversized shrug, and one of my graphic tanks.
“You need help carrying those lies.”
I flip her off and open the door.
Dice stands there looking like something I want to mount.
Dark jeans, fitted sweater, chunky watch, fresh fade, and that scent that lives somewhere between lemons and sin.
His eyes drop to the words on my top: I’m not high-maintenance, you’re just low effort, then meet mine before he leans in and kisses me. Really kisses me.
PDA’s never been my thing, which is rich given my Friday night behavior. But that was still private. This is visible. Blatantly. I can just picture Rayne’s giddy reaction. I break the kiss and glare at him.
“Just putting in that effort.” He grins.
“Well, that was quite an entrance,” Rayne says from behind me, clearly delighted.
“Hey, Rayne,” he says. “Got distracted and forgot my manners.”
“I don’t mind. I’m living vicariously.”
Dice looks at me with a half amused, half suspicious smirk as if to say What have you told her?
I ignore him and scoop up Queenie. She hisses at him.
“Stop that,” I scold. “She’s just playing hard to get. Been looking all over for you.”
“Oh yeah? How about you?”
“I am hard to get. No playing about it.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” He laughs. “Want help distracting the queen so you can slip out?”
“She’s coming.”
“To dinner?”
“She was throwing a fit. Lexie and C said it was fine.”
“You do know she’s performing, right?”
“She has separation anxiety.”
“She has get-my-own-way-itis.”
“I know that’s right.” Rayne chuckles, giving Dice a high five. “Only Lot would have a cat with this much attitude.”
“That’s why they’re perfect together,” he agrees.
“Are you two done?” I tap my foot, side-eye locked and loaded.
Dice pecks my pout and grabs Queenie’s travel bag from the floor, addressing her like royalty. “Your chariot awaits, Your Highness.”
She growls with minor annoyance, just being dramatic.
“Bye.” Rayne waves. “Tell Lexie and C I said hi.” Then she leans in for my ears only. “Man is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over you.”
Dice could charm a nun out of her habit, but that doesn’t stop my stupid heart from skipping a tiny beat. Cool as ever, though, I step out into the mild Sunday dusk. Dice holds open the car door and I slide in with Queenie on my lap. He gets behind the wheel, throwing me a crooked grin.
“Ready, my queens?”
“You’re so extra.” But damn if my heart doesn’t start acting up again.
C’s place is the kind of home people build with intention. Warm, inviting, made with love. He’d created it for Sophia, and now he and Lexie were building on that foundation, turning it into something that’s theirs.
Throughout the evening, they’re coupley.
Affectionate smiles, casual kisses, the kind of genuine connection that can’t be faked.
I’m not jealous. Just… aware. This is the first time Dice and I are doing this.
Dinner with another couple. Double date territory.
If Dice feels any type of way about it, he doesn’t let it show.
The meal’s amazing, a whole event. C made Cochinita Pibil.
Pork marinated in citrus and spices, wrapped in banana leaves.
He served it with corn tortillas, poblano-cilantro rice, refried beans, and pickled onions.
A full spread. Lexie plated it like it belonged on the cover of Bon Appetit.
Bright, grounded, and effortlessly elegant. Just like her.
For dessert, we have Flan de cajeta, silky custard with a kiss of cinnamon and sea salt, paired with mezcal that goes down like smoke and velvet.
We eat. We reminisce. We laugh.
I’ve always been crazy about C. Met him through Dice.
I didn’t have many friends growing up. Rayne was it.
She got my quirks, got that I was social on my own terms. Dice and C didn’t seem to mind that either.
They let me tag along, bonded by our creativity: C writing music, Dice mixing beats, me sketching.
But it was Dice who secretly had my heart.
After Lexie pops open the bottle of wine we brought, C racks the pool balls.
“Rematch?” he asks, already chalking up his cue.
“Sure, if you want your asses handed to you a second time,” I tease, taking a slow sip.
“A fluke,” Dice says. “Tonight, we restore balance to the universe.”
“You talkin’ big for someone who missed that eight ball shot under pressure,” I remind him.
“Maybe we should take pity on them,” Lexie offers. “Split up so they don’t embarrass themselves.”
“I like that option.” Dice comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. “It comes with benefits.”
C and Lexie stare at us for a moment, clocking the vibe. What is wrong with this man? Practically advertising that we’re sleeping together, though C must already know. They’re tight like that. If their conversations are anything like mine and Rayne’s…
Feeling a flush creep up my face, I slip away. “Naw, I’d rather whoop your butts.”
“Game on!” Dice grins. “We got this, C.” They dap it out while Lexie and I grab our sticks.
We chalk up and break. It’s animated and competitive, the kind of trash-talking that comes wrapped in humor and affection. Dice stays all up in my space—brushing his fingers along my waist when I line up a shot, whispering dirty shit to throw off my game.
“Your fine ass in the air is making me wanna to bend you over this table and ride you hard.”
Damn. I miss the shot.
“Aw, too bad, Web,” he taunts. “Watch this. Three in the side pocket,” he calls, lining it up.
The light over the table hits the silver watch on his wrist. His sweater is pushed up his forearms, exposing the lion tattoo.
He slides the stick between his fingers with a slow back and forth motion.
The ball hits the solid red three with gentle force that sends it rolling across the table toward me and dropping clean in the pocket.
C lets out a woot and Dice’s eyes meet mine. A grin slides across his lips. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed by his cocky ass or turned on. Probably both.
He straightens in one smooth motion, looking like sex on a stick. I put an image to his words and pop my booty, letting him catch the drift.
Yes! Dice fumbles his turn, sending the ball out of control and missing the mark.
“Better luck next time,” I say with a cheeky smile when I notice him discreetly adjusting himself.
Lexie sinks the green stripe but misses the orange. C’s setting up when she tells me, “I signed the lease for that vacant shop on the boardwalk.”
“You did it. Congrats! Your own photography studio.”
“Thanks. It’s exciting. I also want to offer art and photo classes for kids and adults. What do you think?”
“That’s a great idea. Other than the rec center, there’s nothing like that around. A studio gives people a more serious option. You could even host wine and art nights.”
“I was thinking that, too. Any interest in leading a workshop?”
“I’m flattered, . Happy to help in any other way. Set up, supplies, whatever you need. But teaching’s not for me. I don’t have the patience.”
“You’re teaching me how to cook,” Dice interjects.
“You’re learning how to cook?” C asks, leaning against his stick, taking in that news with a glint in his eyes and a big grin on his face.
“Not really.” Dice suddenly walks it back. “Just some basics.”
“Oh, bro…” He claps his friend’s shoulder, laughing. “This is gonna be the easiest grail I’ve ever won.”
Later, back in the car, the wine’s warm in my chest, and Queenie’s fur is soft under my hand. She purrs sweetly, like she didn’t just try slapping C into next week.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t get adopted soon. Or at all. I can’t bring a cat to New York. I don’t want that responsibility. Dice takes care of her more than I do. He takes care of me too. Okay, we’re not going there.
“How you feeling after getting smoked?” I ask, switching my headspace.
“You were distracting me.”
“You were the one feeling me up and making it obvious we’re fucking. What’s up with that?”
“Didn’t realize it was a secret.”
“It’s not. But that doesn’t mean you have to announce it either.”
“Like C wouldn’t spot it in an instant.”
“What did he mean about the grail?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” I side-eye him. “You’ve got some bet going, and I better not be a part of it.”
He smiles, lifts my hand to his mouth, and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. “It’s all good, Web. Just guy stuff.”
“Hmph.”
A moment passes. Then quietly, he adds, “You coming home with me?”
It’s not pushy. Just open. An invitation without pressure.
I look at him. At the way his lips still hover near my skin. At the heat behind his eyes like he already knows I’ll say yes but still wants to hear me say it.
“Okay.”
“Good.” His mouth curves and he lowers my hand to rest on his leg, not letting it go.