9. Memphis

CHAPTER NINE

memphis

O f course, he fucking noticed.

If anyone anywhere was going to pick up on something as tiny as the color of my toenails, it was going to be Utah.

And there were suddenly no words left in my brain to try to offer an explanation.

Because what the fuck would I say?

Oh, they’re always orange.

Nobody on Satan’s burning Earth would believe that shit.

“So, should I maybe hang up? You guys doing something naughty?” Indy chimed in to save my ass. “I can call back in like half a second, but on FaceTime?”

There was most definitely something burning in Utah’s eyes now. Something that hadn’t been that kind of crazy just a few minutes earlier.

I needed to be anywhere but in this room.

“No, Indy. I was just headed back to my own room,” I said and tried a little harder to free my ankle from Utah’s hand so he’d notice.

He did, and he let go so quickly that I almost felt bad.

I climbed off that bed and found myself standing much too close to him. It really wasn’t any closer than what was probably normal, but the look in his eyes made me feel like the weight of his entire body was on mine.

And just fucking thinking of it that way made all of my skin tingle.

Every square inch of it.

My entire mouth felt like someone had filled it with cotton balls.

And everything between my legs was wet enough again to make up for the lack of moisture elsewhere.

“Guys?” Indy asked from the phone again.

His voice jolted me back to life with the reminder of his presence. Neither of us had said anything for a hot minute.

A hot minute of unpleasant simmering.

“I—um. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow,” I said, probably not even loud enough for Indy to hear it. I slipped the rest of the way by Utah and could almost breathe again by the time I made it to the door.

Then he grabbed my wrist, and I was ruined once more.

That monster was just inches away from me when I turned to face him that time, and his other hand went right to the side of my face for the pad of his thumb to brush back and forth across my cheek.

“You don’t have to leave,” he whispered. He was intentionally being quiet enough to keep Indy from hearing him.

I couldn’t even argue with him.

There was nothing keeping me from spending the night with him.

I was the queen of single ladies. As in, spent my entire life ruling that classification of women.

And he was?—.

Well, I had no fucking clue, but he damn sure acted like he was into me, too.

Just because I didn’t know how to do a single fucking part of this didn’t mean that I didn’t want to. My brain was just perpetually in the way of what my body thought we might enjoy doing.

In that moment, despite the protests from my brain, I pushed his hand from my face so I could step all the way against his body. And I was so happy my body won that battle, because how was it even possible for another human to feel that good just by standing against them?

He chuckled before he put both arms around me to squeeze me until I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think of a time that I’d ever been that happy to have been deprived of oxygen. He felt like he’d fight the literal air if I asked him to, just to make sure I’d be able to breathe again eventually.

And that was a kind of safety I hadn’t felt since Jersey was here.

Great. Add a fresh wave of sadness to whatever all these other feelings were.

I leaned into Utah as hard as I could for another couple seconds, and his hold on me somehow tightened even further.

“Good night, Utah.”

My heart stopped again when he kissed the top of my head.

He was slowly burning me alive. I thought I died for a few seconds when he kissed my forehead earlier. This was every bit as bad.

He let go of me as soon as I tried to back away.

“Oh, no,” Indy said from the phone. “Did I just cock block you for real, hoss? That’s my bad.”

Utah laughed while my whole face turned into lava.

“Good night, angel.”

I thought I’d escape just by making it into the hallway, but the man stepped right outside his door to lean against the doorframe and watch me take the two whole steps to my own door. He was at least nice enough not to laugh while I tried to put the key card in the door the wrong way—fucking twice—before I figured it out and got the door open.

I wasn’t sure to what extent I was supposed to feel embarrassed over that entire encounter. On a scale of I hate myself a little right now to why in the absolute fuck am I the way that I fucking am , it was probably somewhere in the middle.

So, it could’ve been worse.

I forced my brain to stop thinking about it.

To stop thinking about him.

I checked all my banking information and the security cameras for the house in Tupelo, like I did every night before I went to bed. The next day would be a very different kind of new experience for me, and I needed at least a little sleep before then.

How Utah went through the next morning like the previous night hadn’t involved forehead kisses, top of the head kisses, and skin contact was fucking mind-blowing.

Until realizing that they probably weren’t mind-blowing experiences for him put me right into a depression pit, because men like him were used to actual sex. Not tiny moments of stolen intimacy with a girl who was so unsure of herself that she awkwardly ran away like a baby deer at the slightest hint of physical connection.

I waited uncomfortably in the corner of what used to be a classroom for elementary-aged kids. As far as Indy and I could tell, this school had been abandoned since the 1960s. And it showed. It smelled bad, parts of the structure were collapsing, it was no longer connected to a power source or running water, and it was most definitely haunted. Demons lived in places like this. Which probably should’ve been frightening, but when you were already familiar with the horrifying things that humans did to one another, something crawling out of the fires of hell was really the least of my worries.

I watched Utah meticulously set up a corner of this room to his liking. It was nauseatingly similar to the things I’d seen serial killers do in movies to prevent leaving evidence, to prevent too large of a mess to clean afterward. I really hadn’t put much thought into such a thing previously, but prepping a torture room didn’t seem like it was something that should’ve been so peaceful, so methodical, and calming.

But here was this man, dancing his way in between dragging old school desks and chairs around to make space for a giant sheet of plastic on the floor while music from someone named Bailey Zimmerman blared from the speaker he’d placed on the desk beside me. He sang along with every single word, like it didn’t matter at all that I was watching and listening to everything he did. I had my phone out to catch one of his absurd little spin moves while he carried a weird combination of golf clubs, baseball bats, and what looked like lawn care tools across the room.

I stared at the picture of him before I considered whether I was sending it to Indy and Triss, or just keeping it for myself.

He was—cute?

Which was a weird fucking way to imagine the guy, given the circumstances around what he was currently doing.

I ended up smiling while I typed out the message to go with the picture to my misfit corn crew friends.

Me

Torture with a side of Footloose for breakfast today.

Triss

Is he dancing?! Why did he wait until I was gone to get cool?

Indy

I think it probably has more to do with Jersey’s absence than it did your presence.

Indy

But he’s still really not that cool. He’s just high on love fumes this morning. Isn’t he, Memphis?

Triss

Somebody better explain that text right the fuck now.

I shoved my phone into my backpack so very quickly after that.

“Everything okay?” Utah asked, much to my horror when I realized he’d watched what was happening.

“Uh, yeah.”

I nodded my head as convincingly as I could muster.

He chuckled and came across the room to cage me right where I sat on this desk by placing his hands on either side of my hips.

“You know, you could just ask me beforehand? I’d probably even pose for you.”

For someone who’d always taken an awful lot of pride in the efficiency of my brain, it sure hadn’t been working well for days now.

He smirked when he seemed to grasp that I couldn’t say a fucking word while he was this close to me.

“As long as it was my good side, then,” he said and shook his head. “Come on, angel. Let’s go kidnap a crooked cop.”

He leaned down to kiss my cheek before he just walked away, like he wasn’t turning my world a little more upside down every time he welcomed himself into my personal space.