30. Sawyer

30

When the door of the dressing room opens again, there stands neither Baby Doll nor my Brin.

Yeah, my Brin, okay?

It's still her, and yet not. She has changed into her usual clothes, sure, but she's still made-up, and long earrings still dangle from her ears. A compromise, as if she was in a hurry, probably with me waiting outside, and yet…

And yet that's who she seems to be. Both Baby Doll and Brinlee, the dancer and the book lover, the sex goddess and the shy, bookish girl.

Like I said, I like both. Both sides of her.

I wonder if there are any more sides I will discover. If she lets me stay near her. If she lets me in. If she trusts me enough.

She's a pretty puzzle, but I feel like I know her. A mistake? A miscalculation? I feel I know people who read—especially people who read my kind of books. I feel we think the same way. Am I too damn na?ve to live?

Time will tell. Hell, tonight may tell. For good or bad, and brace yourself, Sawyer. You bullied your way to her side tonight, even if your reasons are valid. Your rational reasons. Making sure she gets home safe, though you're no burly alpha to beat up whoever comes near her.

But be honest: what you wanted was to be with her, get closer, take a look into those wide eyes, and taste those ruby lips.

Find out the truth about this connection you feel to her.

She has changed her high heels for sneakers, and she taps one as we wait at the bus stop. She's also chewing gum, and I get a whiff of strawberry and cream. Is it the gum, or is it her? I'm dying to find out.

She shoots me a glance and an uncertain smile as the bus arrives. I'm treading on thin ice here as I reach for her hand, but she threads her fingers with mine. We climb onto the bus hand in hand, and she sits at the window. I settle beside her and I feel like a highschooler, only in high school I didn't have a sweetheart.

Nor do you now, I remind myself. Don't let yourself forget it.

It's dark outside, the city lights flashing against her pretty face, the colors from shop signs catching on her wild hair. It's a canvas, her pale hair, her pale skin, reflecting the city.

Her eyes are dark, though, when she finally turns them on me, and in them I see myself reflected—a shadow, a naked soul.

"Sawyer…" Her voice is hushed, and now I'm staring at her mouth. It looks so soft, tempting. Inviting. "I'm sorry."

"Is this a pre-apology for kicking me in the nuts?" I whisper. "Should I get off the bus now?"

A soft laugh escapes her. "No. Please, don't."

"Is it about the library? Because you walked away from me?"

She nods.

"Why did you?"

Small white teeth bite into that plump lower lip. "I panicked."

Now that is interesting, no, more than that, it's… amazing. "You? You panicked?

"You sound surprised."

"I'm the one usually panicking," I admit, then catch myself before I spill more damning evidence about my character. "Why would you panic about me? Am I that creepy?"

This time her laughter rings out loud, crystalline and true. "Creepy? You? God, Sawyer. You're way too handsome and kind."

A warm flush works its way up my neck. "Too handsome and kind for what?"

"For me."

"The hell? Why would you ever think that?"

"I'm just… not enough," she whispers.

I open my mouth to contradict her, or maybe just to curse again, because no way is she thinking that, is she?

But she leans toward me, and I wait, speechless, my heart in my throat. "I've wondered…"

"About what?"

"What it would be like to kiss you."

"Oh, fuck. Me, too," I whisper hoarsely, and lift a hand to cup her cheek. Her skin is like satin. "Brin?"

Her mouth touches mine and I haul her closer, the shock of her lips driving all thought from my mind. I kiss her, and her mouth opens to mine. She's into it, I think, into me, holy fuck, and she tastes fruity from the gum and sweet and… girly and perfect.

"Get a room, you two," someone mutters from the seat behind us, and she jerks back with a gasp.

I want to punch that person for interrupting us.

I want to haul her back and pick up where we left off.

But she's already turning away. She says, "We're almost there."

Almost.

Almost kissed, almost found my scent-matched mates, almost understood Kyrian's problem with me, almost found happiness.

That seems to be the operative word governing my life.

I'm thinking of all the ‘almosts' and the pack I'm set to meet tomorrow, my parents, Eric, and my fucked-up anxiety habits, when the bus stops and Brinlee jumps to her feet, shoving me ahead of her.

"We're here!" She pull-shoves me out, and we stumble down the steps and onto the sidewalk right before the bus drives away. "Sorry about that. Lost track of time for a minute."

Yeah. I'd lost track of time, place, and reality, stuck on the feel of her beside me, the memory of her lips, and my own troubles.

"This way." She starts down a side street and I follow her, glancing around. It's a shabby neighborhood, but I can't decide if it's dangerous or not.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket, and I realize it's been buzzing for a while now. I take it out to find three texts and a missed call, all from an unknown number.

Frowning, I open one of the texts. It reads, ‘This is Roman. Just checking that you got her home all right.'

The other messages are variations of the same.

I type, ‘Where did you get my number?'

The reply comes instantly ‘From Bee. We're at your café. Are you staying with Brinlee tonight?'

I stare at the text. Hesitate. Then I open my stride to catch up with Brinlee who's stopped and is staring at me.

"Problem?" she asks.

"No. Just the guys checking to see we made it home all right."

Something shifts in her expression. A wistfulness. "It's right around the corner."

I nod. Take her hand again.

Let Roman stew for a while. Besides, am I staying the night? I have no answer to that myself.

She stops in front of a fa?ade so covered in graffiti I can't tell what the original paint color was. Using a key, she opens the building door, and we troop inside. She hits the switch and a light flickers overhead. It continues flickering as we go up the stairs to the second landing.

There she unlocks another door, and we enter her apartment.

I'm in a bit of a daze, hardly able to believe I'm here, with her. I step into a tiny living room, the kitchenette on one side, a ratty sofa, and threadbare curtains on the sole window. There's no TV, no paintings or photos on the walls. No decoration. It's sad and desolate, and yet she lights the place up. All the colors, that's her, all the movement, all the light.

As she moves to the sofa, plopping her bag on a plastic table in a corner, she makes the place look like Christmas.

Goddammit, I've never been so crazy about someone before.

So crazy, period. Off my rocker. Doing the exact thing I told myself I wouldn't do. Why am I still here, getting closer to her, when I need to choose one of the packs my parents selected for me?

This is an impossible situation. She's here now, she's safe.

"Brin, listen." I stop as she sits down on the sofa. "Now you're here, I?—"

"Come sit with me," she says.

And my feet lead me to her. My logic says I should leave, but my body has other ideas. I sit down beside her, and she kicks off her shoes and curls up against me.

"Tell me about yourself," she whispers.

More bad ideas. In for a penny, in for a pound. I lift an arm, and she snuggles under it. I wrap it around her. "Comfortable?" I ask. "You took off that corset, right?"

She giggles. "I did. You must hate the way I dress for the club."

"No, I… I like you."

"It, you mean. The costume."

"I don't care about costumes," I say honestly. "I like you, any and every way you are."

She's quiet for a while. A framed photo on the plastic table catches my attention. It's her with a guy.

"Who is that?"

"My brother."

"You don't look like siblings."

She huffs. "We have the same eyes."

Now I see it. "Does he live here?"

"In this apartment? No. He's in the city, though."

Her voice has lost color. It sounds strange, but that's how it feels. I'm prying, it seems, but my mouth has its own agenda. "And your parents?"

"They're gone. Know what?" She pulls away from me, turns her gaze away. "I'll make some tea."

I don't let her go. "Brin… wait. Sorry."

Her eyes are sad. "No, it's not you, it's… just complicated."

"Is it? If there's anything I can do to help…"

She gives me a faint smile. "Thanks. I don't think so. And it's not why I brought you here."

"Then what is…?"

She puts her hand on my face, and that slight pressure, the knowledge it's her doing this after all this time I've wanted her, it takes my breath away.

This time it's her who kisses me. We're kissing again and heat expands in my gut, making me so hard and slick I feel I'm about to explode.

Whoa.

Guess I'm staying the night after all, and making the mother of all bad decisions. For the first time, I'm throwing caution to the wind, forgetting all about my obligations and my decisions.

This kiss, this girl… It feels like she's about to make or break my world.