Playing, p.12
Playing, page 12
"Maybe."
He presses his lips to mine. "You'll regret that."
I shake my head. I regret a lot of things. Too many. But not whatever I did to fill his dark eyes with all that desire.
He nips at my ear. "You drive me out of my fucking mind. You know that?"
My nod is heavy.
"Fuck. You're distracting me. Already forgot why we're here."
"Something about my love of hiking and your love of watching me come."
"Not helping." He chuckles. "You did that on purpose."
Definitely. I nod.
"Bad girl." He drags his fingertips over my ass and hips. "Are you wearing panties?"
"If I'm not, will that make you crazier?"
"Yeah." His voice drops an octave. "But you're coming on my hand either way."
"Now?" Now is good. Now is great.
He traces the outline of my panties, over my shorts. "No. Not until you're so desperate you're begging for it."
Mmm. He's way too good at this.
Walker takes a half step backward. He intertwines his fingers with mine and leads me up the path.
This is more of a stroll than a hike. Not that I'm complaining. The speed is just right. My blood is pumping. My body is buzzing with endorphins. With that yes, this is what I should be doing feeling.
With desire.
God, he has a nice ass. Strong legs. Broad shoulders. He's like a magazine model. He's so fine it hurts.
Lily would be so jealous. And so happy for me.
If she was willing to talk to me.
Nope. Not going there. I'm not here to dwell on past mistakes. I'm here to enjoy the fresh air and the view. "You come here a lot."
"No. Haven't been in forever."
"You don't bring women here for a picnic and a fuck?"
His lips curl into a smile. "I don't usually leave the apartment."
"Ah."
"Ah?" He arches a brow. Copies my tone. "How does that make you feel, Ms. Avery?"
"That was not a shrink ah."
He nods.
"Maybe a little."
He holds his hands close together then pulls them apart in the a lot gesture.
"When's the last time you went on an actual date?"
"Depends on the definition."
"Like this."
"We don't do dates."
We don't. That's a rule. But we're here. And this is clearly a date. Or… Well… "You're going to make me come. That makes this a hookup."
He smiles and shakes his head whatever you want to tell yourself. "It's been a while."
"Just swiping right?"
"You know dating apps?"
"I know of them."
"You dumped your ex at Christmas?"
"Yeah."
"So, it's been four months."
"About that." Have I really been sober for almost four months? And single for longer? It's hard to believe. The last three years are one blur of shitty jobs, bad friends, and Ross, all dulled by the magic of opiates and booze.
"You squeeze in a lot of rebound sex?"
The bounciness in his voice pulls me back to the moment.
"Iris?"
"Oh. No. You… um… you were the first."
"Shit, really?"
I nod. "I was never the type to sleep around."
He laughs. "Ever?" He squeezes my hand.
"Nope." I squeeze back. "Have you ever wanted something serious?"
"A long time ago. When I was a kid. I wanted the love I saw in the movies."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My sister and I used to watch eighties movies. Every weekend. We'd take turns. She'd always pick romances. I'd always pick action. Or sci-fi."
"Star Wars?"
"Of course. Empire Strikes Back is a masterpiece. And she wouldn't complain, because she was gaga for Han and Leia."
"Who isn't?" That's another thing I know. Han and Leia are forever.
He helps me up the steep part of the path. "Was bullshit what happened to them in The Force Awakens."
"Yeah. Fuck that. They're the best part of the movies and then there's one little line about how they're divorced. The movie barely acknowledges their relationship."
He looks me in the eyes. "You fucking with me?"
"No. They're the end game couple. They're the heart of the series. They're everything."
"You—" He slides his arms around my waist and pulls my body into his—"I'm gonna fall in love with you if you say shit like that?"
"Really?"
"It's pretty hot."
I laugh. "Being into Star Wars?"
"Are you really asking me that?" He nods to the path. Leads me under a cropping of trees. "Have you seen my apartment?"
It is heavily decked in Star Wars. "But you have all kinds of Sci-Fi."
"Yeah. And Star Wars is the gateway. You're gonna be debating Kirk vs. Piccard in no time flat."
No. But I… I really do care about Han and Leia. I have that feeling in my chest, the one I used to have all the time.
It matters to me.
Something besides school matters to me.
Fuck. I'm going to be the one falling in love with him if he keeps doing this to me.
That can't happen. He's might as well have heart breaker written on his forehead.
The path veers to the left. Walker heads right. Motions follow me.
We move through a cluster of trees. Then out the other side.
The city comes into view. All of it. Downtown, the Hollywood sign, the cluster of buildings in Century City, the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica Pier, the ocean.
My lips part with a sigh. "It's so…"
"Weird to think of LA as beautiful, huh?"
"Yeah. But it is." It's like a post card. Bright blue sky, big yellow sun, rows of buildings bleeding into the coast. "The world is beautiful." I swallow hard. "Sorry. I sound like a poster."
"It suits you."
I flip him off.
He slides his arms around my waist.
"You do this kinda thing a lot?"
"Depends what you mean by this kinda thing."
"Explore the city?"
"I try to."
"Will you take me?" I press my lips together. I'm asking for too much. I want too much. He's not going to be mine. I can't have him showing me the world. But I want it.
"Yeah." He plants a kiss on my neck. "But I can't be held responsible for my actions if you keep wearing those tight shorts."
I laugh. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four."
"You're old enough to control yourself."
"Not around you."
My cheeks flush. It's dirty talk, yeah, but there's an earnestness in his voice. He means it.
But does he mean his body?
Or his heart too?
I sink into his touch as I take in the view.
It's gorgeous.
For the first time in forever, my world isn't a bundle of regrets. It's beauty. It's possibility. It's hunger. "It's weird. I never really think of this place as Hollywood. All the stuff in the movies is bullshit."
"And then some."
"But I'm close to it. My dad owns a visual effects company. He loves movies. We used to go every weekend. And then we'd still watch something after dinner."
"What type of thing?"
"Everything. Classics. Foreign films. Popcorn films. I can't tell you how many times he explained that Jaws launched the summer blockbuster."
"It did."
I hold my hands over my ears I can't hear you.
His smile spreads over his cheeks. "Did you like it?"
"Jaws? No. It scarred me for life. I get freaked out in three feet of ocean."
"Really?"
"Shut up. It's embarrassing. Especially when you're all cool, chill surfer boy."
"You can be cool, chill surfer girl. I'll teach you. This weekend."
"Maybe."
"I promise you won't get eaten by sharks."
"Can you really promise that?"
"Yeah. They'll eat me. I'll be the one in the water."
"So I'll have to watch you die?"
"Worst case scenario."
I stare back at him, trying to figure out if he's joking.
He presses his palm to my cheek. "Shit. You're really freaking."
I nod.
His voice gets soft. "There hasn't been a shark attack here in forever. It's safe. But if you're scared—"
"No. I want to." I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of the comfortable numb. I need to actually live my life instead of trying to get through every day for the sake of adding another twenty-four hours of sobriety to my calendar.
"What about movies without sharks?"
"I used to love them."
"And now?"
"Not as much."
"You get old. Lose the magic."
"Maybe."
"You want it back?"
I arch a brow. "Does this involve coming in a movie theater."
"Fuck, that's a good idea." He presses his forehead to mine. "But no."
"Really?"
He nods. "Blade Runner is playing at the Nuart at midnight Friday. Come with me."
"Blade Runner?"
"Don't tell me you haven't heard of it. Iris, it's a classic."
"No." I have. A lot. "I was just thinking that my dad would like you."
"You sure?" He motions to his full sleeve.
"Even so."
"That a good thing?"
"I don't know. He liked Ross. But Ross was an asshole. Just the kind of asshole parents like."
"Nice suit, good job?"
"Exactly."
"Why'd you stay with him so long?"
"Good body."
He laughs. "Really?"
"It didn't hurt." My gaze fixes on the cluster of buildings downtown. "He was charming. And a good time. And it was easy." He got me into drugs, but it's not like it was his fault. I made those decisions. I knew what I was doing. "But, he had a stronger presence. I lost what I liked. What I wanted. That's why I'm doing this self-help thing." Okay, it's only half of the why. But it is true.
"What do you want?"
I motion to the trees behind us. "I want to come on your hand. Like you promised."
His smile gets devious. "Oh no, sweetness. You aren't even close to desperate enough yet."
* * *
He's evil.
Really, he is.
He spends the entire afternoon leading me around the massive park, teasing me, winding me up.
The sun sinks into the horizon, streaking the sky red.
He drags me to a hidden thicket of trees, rolls my shorts and panties to my knees, and slides his hand between my legs.
I come twice.
Then two more times at his place.
I wake up in his bed, smile plastered on my face.
I like him.
I really, really like him.
And I don't even care that it's going to end in heartbreak.
Only that I get him now.
Chapter Seventeen
Iris
Walker motions to the silver sign like it's a precious gem.
I tilt my head to one side. "And…"
"You didn't like the restaurant?"
"It was amazing." Really. I had no idea ramen was supposed to taste like that and not like ten cents a pack sodium overdose.
"Trust me." He pulls the glass door open and motions after you.
I step into the tiny, crowded store. We're the oldest people here by quite a few years. It's mostly teenagers and just barely not teenagers.
The illuminated menu on the wall promises small, medium, or large teas filled with fruit and sugar. All with or without boba.
I've lived in Southern California for long enough to know that boba means fat tapioca balls soaked in sugar syrup. Boba tea slash bubble tea is sweet, vaguely fruit flavored tea with said tapioca balls.
Back in high school, Lily and I walked forever to get to the nearest boba place. (It was not nearly so trendy back then). She went through a phase where she adored grapefruit green tea. I copied her. I always did.
I take my place in line.
Walker places his body behind mine. Wraps his arms around my waist and brings his mouth to my ear. "We can skip it if you're dead set on coffee."
He's close. It's not I want to tear your clothes off. It's I want to hold you all night. I want to kiss your pain away. I want to give you everything.
But, right now, it doesn't scare me.
I want more of it. All of it.
I lean closer. "No. I'm in."
"Trying a new thing?"
"Please, Beverly Hills Boy. My sophomore year of high school, I devoured a grapefruit green tea nearly every day."
"And here I am thinking I'm rocking your world."
"You are. Just not with this."
His laugh is soft. He pulls me closer. Leans in to whisper. "You have it recently?"
"Not since high school."
"This place is the best. Uses fresh fruit."
"Thank you for the infomercial." There are oranges, limes, and grapefruits all over the store. It does suggest the use of actual fruit. "When are you drinking sugary tea?"
"When I feel like it."
"I don't buy it."
"Buy it." He brushes my hair behind my ear. "I only do shit I feel like."
"Always?"
"Yeah."
"Doesn't that get in the way of work and paying your bills and getting an oil change?"
"No."
"You never wake up and think no fucking way am I moving today?"
"Of course."
"Explain the discrepancy."
"Yeah. I'm not always psyched for leg days. But I know I want to get bigger, stronger. So, I go to the gym. It's for me."
"And the oil change?"
"I take care of my car."
"Cleaning your apartment?"
"Same thing. I want it clean. That's how I want to live. Yeah, there's shitty stuff about being an adult, but, mostly, I love it. I'm in charge of my days. I want bubble tea, I get it. I want to invite a hot grad student to watch a sci-fi classic, I do it."
"What about work?"
"I have days I can't deal with the bullshit, but mostly, I love the shop. And the guys there. Even if they're idiots."
A teenage girl with blond pigtails clears the register.
I move forward, dragging him with me. "How did you get into doing tattoos? Were you one of those kids who had a sleeve planned by middle school?"
"Kinda. I always wanted ink. Maybe it was adolescent rebellion. Maybe it was vanity. Maybe it was the thrill of marking my body. I'm not sure."
"What is it now?"
"I like it."
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
"But it's so… simple."
"Why make shit complicated?"
Because life is complicated. Things are complicated. Making them simple—that's the hard part.
The line moves. Only two customers to go. I have to make up my mind. The smell of citrus brings me back to a hundred afternoons in a similar shop, giggling about boys and complaining about homework with Lily.
Walker presses his palm into my stomach. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I move forward to break his touch. "You still haven't said how you got into tattoos."
"Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We were friends back in high school."
"You went to the same school?"
"Different ones. But we were in the same scene."
"Scene? Really?"
"People say scene."
"Name one other person."
He pulls me closer. "You like mocking me."
"Yeah. You like mocking me."
He nods. "You're cute when you're flustered. Or needy."
I swallow hard. Sex is appealing. Very appealing. It makes sense. And with Walker, it feels…
It feels like everything.
But I want to have this conversation too. I want to know more about him. "Okay, you were part of the same scene."
He shakes his head kids these days. "We bounced around all the parties… everywhere." He moves closer. "How old are you?"
"No game." I shake my head.
"All right, when did you graduate high school?"
"A long time ago. And that's the same question. You thought you could trick me?"
He laughs. "You're in grad school, so you're at least twenty-two."
Twenty-five. But close enough.
He smiles. "Older."
"Oh my God!"
"Let's say you're twenty-two."
"No. Twenty-two was a horrible year. Let's say… let's just not say."
He laughs. "You gonna be one of those women getting Botox the day she turns thirty?"
"Maybe. What's it to you?"
He laughs. "You're so fucking cute flustered." He leans in to brush his lips against my neck.
Mmm. It's sweet. Soft. Caring.
My heart melts.
My stomach flutters.
I clear my throat. "You have a point."
"You're distracting me."
"You should take responsibility."
"You too." He slides his hand over my ass, pressing my dress into my skin. "What do you call this?"
"A cute outfit."
"And this?" He traces the outline of my thong over my dress.
"Being prepared."
He laughs. "All right. My point. Fuck, what are we even talking about?"
"Your scene."
He nods. "We probably hit the same party once or twice. We'd go out to the valley if we heard the girls were hot."
I shake my head. "I went to three parties all of high school."
"Still."
It's a strange thought, high school Iris and high school Walker meeting. I wouldn't have paid him any attention back then. Even if he was ink free. I didn't go through a bad boy phase. I always liked nice guys. Clean-cut, Captain America types.
On the surface, we'd be a classic good girl bad boy pairing.
But he's a responsible business owner.
And I…
Well, I'm not that old Iris anymore.
The last customer finishes his order and moves aside. I step forward. Turn my back on my true love coffee to order my old favorite. Grapefruit green tea. Half sweet.
Walker orders a lemon black tea. With only twenty-five percent sweetness.
That explains a lot—there's no way he mainlines sugar looking the way he does.
