Author: Cheryl McIntyre

The farther Lucy stays away from the better. For both of us.

I’m losing my buzz and that pisses me off. Taylor presses her leg against mine and leans into me. I can’t even lift my arm to eat. She’s getting on my nerves and I’m not sure if it’s her or if it has more to do with my waitress.

She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. “Excuse me. Server?”

Lucy scowls in my direction as if I’m the one snapping at her like an ass. “Are you actually doing that?” Annie laughs and looks at me incredulously. “Where did you find this girl?”

I rub my forehead and shake my head.

Taylor rolls her eyes. “What? It’s her job.”

“Did you need something?” Lucy asks, her voice sugary. It doesn’t match the barely contained anger in her eyes.

“A box.”

“Please,” Chase adds.

“No problem.” Lucy looks down at my full plate and frowns. “I guess you need two? Something wrong with your buffalo strips?”

“Guess I’m just not in the mood for spicy tonight,” I clip out. I don’t know why I’m being a dick to her. She really seems like a nice person. And Chase was right when he said I liked her. But therein lies the problem.

Her lips pout out for a second before she turns that fake smile on me that she used on the douche bags earlier. “Not everybody can handle the heat.”

I watch her strut her tight, round ass away with a huge grin on my face.

***

I wake up. In my own bed. Alone. Not hung over.

I feel pretty good.

This is weird.

I hear the banging of pans in the kitchen and remember it’s Saturday. I grab my cigarettes and make my way to Jessie’s room so I can grab a quick smoke on the fire escape. If I bend out over the side a little, I have a perfect view of Lucy and Bree in the kitchen.

Bree turns on music and they start dancing as they move around making breakfast. When Lucy starts swaying her hips in front of the stove I turn away. I don’t need that image in my head. I lean over the railing and blow out a puff of smoke.

I have a jolting realization. This is it. This is my life.

What the fuck?

“Here.” I glance over my shoulder as Lucy leans out the window with a cup of coffee. “Black, right?”

“Yeah.” I take it and my fingers brush over hers. Her eyes flick to mine. She ducks back in and it occurs to me belatedly to say thank you. I push my cigarette butt into the old beer bottle on the ledge and sip my coffee.

What the fuck am I doing? Who the fuck am I?

I flex my fingers. I haven’t thought about this shit in a long time. I close my eyes. A shot of panic flows through my veins as the image of a girl with multi-colored hair and a bad attitude seers itself behind my eyelids. My fingers twitch with the desire to pick up my phone and call Hope. I make a fist.

Damn it.

Why am I thinking about this? About her.

Laughter drifts out the open window and I bend until I can peer inside. Lucy’s head is tipped back and she’s cracking up over something. The muscles in my stomach go taught. Her beauty hits me like a punch in the face and pulls me inside.

I stand in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her as I sip my coffee. Bree realizes I’m here, throwing me a quick smile. I nod at her before turning all my attention to Lucy as she moves from one foot to the other, bobbing her head to Guns N’ Roses. Her braid flies from side to side as she rocks out on the air guitar.

Jessie slides past me and jumps up on a chair to serenade us. “Take me down to the paradise city,” he sings loudly. And extremely badly.

Lucy spins around and Bree bends over, laughing until tears are pouring down her face. Jessie keeps singing obnoxiously off key.

Large gray eyes meet mine and I smirk before backtracking to my room where I stay until I’m sure she’s left.

7

Lucy

“How did you talk me into this?” I ask Bree, tugging on her hand. I love live bands, but I hate crowds.

Bree laughs, tucking a strand of thick, black hair behind her ear. “I didn’t have to try too hard, Lu. You wanted to come. Admit it.”

I shrug. I did. A lot. I’ve never seen Park perform. I caught him singing once on the walkway before he went into his apartment. He has an incredible voice. I can only imagine how he’d sound with a band behind him.

“They’re really good,” she says. She’s been to two of their shows with Jessie. I passed, but when she asked me tonight, I couldn’t resist anymore.

Bree puckers her lips and nods her head to the band playing a cover of a Steve Miller Band song. This reminds me of how we met. We bonded over our unique tastes in music, back in the eighth grade, when I saw the Billy Idol patch on her messenger bag. Most people assumed because her mom’s white and her dad’s black that she must like rap and R&B. They looked at me with my free love, give peace a chance, flower power, hippie parents and assumed I must like music right out of the sixties. And although all that’s true, what they didn’t realize was that we knew and loved a hell of a lot more music than that.

Bree has a passion for old southern rock, musicals, and anything from the eighties. I get giddy over old school rap, folk, and any and all rock. So when she tells me A Fool’s Paradise is good, I take her word for it.

“When do they come on?”

“Ten, I think.” She looks at Jessie for verification and he nods.

He puts his arms around our shoulders and pulls us into his chest. “I’m getting drinks. What do you want?”

“Rum and Coke if you can get it,” I answer.

“Me too,” Bree agrees.

“Psh. I can get it, woman. Do not doubt my awesomeness.” He saunters off, running his hands through his dirty blonde hair.

“Mm. I do not know what I’m going to do with that boy,” Bree sighs.

I laugh. “Please. We both know what you’re going to do with that boy as soon as we get home.”

She smiles at me, flashing a mouth full of white teeth. “I think I love him.”

I gape at her. And then I squeal and jump up and down as tears come to my eyes. Jessie’s been in love with her pretty much from the moment I introduced them. But she’s played it so cool with him, treating their relationship more like a friends with benefits deal than actually dating. He’s never pushed her and it looks like it finally paid off.

Her hands shoot out and stop my flailing. “Shh. Stop. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“But it is a big deal,” I gush. “Are you going to tell him?”

Her brows crease. “He hasn’t told me yet.”

“So?”

“So I don’t want to be the one to say it first.” She skims her fingers over her red sundress and looks away.

“Oh, my God. You’re being stupid.”

Her head snaps back to me. She raises her brows. “You’re stupid.”

“You’re lame,” I say flatly.

“You’re mom’s lame.”

My retort is cut off by a hand on my elbow. I look back and Chase leans in. “I wasn’t sure it was you,” he says. “I’ve never seen you at a show before.”

Bree drapes her arm over my shoulder. “I hogtied her and threw her in the trunk.”

“Ah, they aren’t that bad.” And then he moves to the side and I catch sight of the blonde haired boy behind him.

“Guy,” I trill.

He leans in and hugs me. “Lucy Lu. How the hell you been?”

“Good. Not the same without your daily stick figure Kama Sutra sketches, but still good.” He laughs and I receive a cocked brow from Bree.

“You know each other?” Chase asks, his brows lifting in surprise.

“She was in my Human Sexuality class last semester,” Guy explains.

I pull Bree closer, sliding my hand around her waist. “This is my best friend, Bree, I always talked about. This is Guy.” I gesture back and forth between them and they shake hands.

Guy turns back to me and tips his head forward. “So you’re the girls from Park and Jessie’s building.”

I don’t have a chance to ask him what he means because Jess hands me my drink and draws Chase and Guy into a conversation about a trip they took in high school.

The band shouts out a thank you and clears the stage. I check the time on my phone in anticipation.

“Twenty more minutes,” Bree says.

I sip my drink, looking around at all the people here to see a college band, until Jessie shoves a shot in my face. “Cheers, ladies.” He, Bree, and I clink glasses and I swallow down the burning liquid. I chase it quickly with my rum and Coke.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, blowing out a breath.

“Wild Turkey,” he says, hissing through his teeth.

“It’s nasty,” Bree coughs. “Don’t do that to me again.” She takes my hand. “Come to the bathroom with me.”

I trail behind her, allowing her to tow me through the close bodies. She shoves me through the door and turns me toward the sink. I look at her in the mirror, a question in my gaze.

She ignores me and pulls out my rubber band, working her fingers through my hair, and untangling the braid. When it falls loosely around my waist, she grabs my shoulders and shifts me to face her. I dodge the mascara brush as she brings it to my eye.

“What are you doing?”

“Your make-up.”

“What? No. I hate make-up.”

“Lucy, I’m trying to help you,” she huffs as she places a hand on her hip and taps her foot.

“Well don’t,” I say firmly.

“He was watching you.” She moves around me and coats her own lashes, her mouth rounding into an O.

“Who?”

She looks at me in the mirror. “Who do you think?” Twisting the brush in for more, she starts on the other eye. Girls flow in and out and I have to keep moving out of the way.

“I have no idea.” But my heart starts racing in my chest and my tummy pulls tight with excitement.

“Park’s been in the back corner, surrounded by scantily clad girls, but he’s had his eyes on you since we got here. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. I even felt the heat and smelled the passion and he wasn’t eye fucking me.” The girl washing her hands glances over with a knowing smile.

“I don’t know if he wants me or hates me.”

Bree raises one shoulder as she glosses her lips. “There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“I said want or hate.”

“Okay. There’s a fine line between lust and loathing.” She pauses. “That’s pretty good. I’m going to have to patent that.” She holds her hand out, offering me the tinted lip gloss.

I take the gloss, sliding it over my lips, before rubbing them together. “Happy?”

“Yes.” Bree shoulders her purse. “So do you want or hate him?”

I shake my head. “Well I don’t hate him.”

“So you want him?”

“Don’t we all?” A girl sighs as she tosses a paper towel in the trash.

“He’s a slut,” I say matter-of-factly.

The girl shrugs. “A sexy slut.” She walks out and I look at Bree. She laughs and nudges me to the door.

“Just see where it goes,” she suggests. “By the way,” she adds, “he’s right over there.” She points and when I follow her finger, he’s looking at us. Bree wiggles her fingers and he salutes her with his glass. His eyes rest on me and I know what she means about feeling it. His gaze rakes over my body slowly. I can nearly sense my clothes pressing into me like I’m being touched by his hands as opposed to his eyes.

Turning on my heel, I follow after Bree, back to the boys.

Jessie hands us new shots—tequila this time—followed by fresh rum and Cokes. He’s straight up trying to get us drunk.