Never Stop Falling Page 4

  “Ha! I’m fucking with you guys. I know how much it annoys you when people link you together like that. Just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you, especially this one over here, right, Benster?” Braiden leans over the console and lays a sloppy, wet kiss on my left cheek.

  “Seriously, Braiden?” I snap, wiping the wetness away with my shoulder and shoving him back onto his seat. “And aren’t we too old for nicknames?”

  “Too old? You’re only old if you think old. So no, we’re never too old for nicknames, Benster. You don’t seem to mind it when Kelley calls you, what is it? Hot Rod?”

  “Hot Shot,” Nick and I say at the same time, yet again, his playful smile mirroring mine.

  “I don’t mind it too much,” I admit and wink at Nick, confessing my love-hate relationship with it. “You, on the other hand, make me sound like some type of car.”

  “And ready to take a ride if you’d let me!” Braiden teases, shimmying in his seat as he stretches his arms above his head.

  “Shit, Braiden, there’s hardly any room back here!” Gemma yells. “Quit squirming around! Why couldn’t you have ridden shotgun?”

  “And miss out on being sandwiched between you fine babes? Hell no. Plus, I didn’t want to deprive Tess over here of any Braiden TLC.”

  “Come on, man! Sit your ass down and buckle your seat belt,” Nick commands. Oh my. Was that not the hottest thing ever? “Are you trying to get me pulled over?”

  “Aw, dude, no one is gonna get pulled over. Lighten up, Kelley! No need to get your panties in a twist. Tess, baby, tell your brother to chill.”

  “I don’t think addressing me as baby is going to help your cause, buddy,” Tess tells Braiden. “In any case, my brother is right. The streets are crawling with police tonight, and I’m high as fuck. I’d like to start my senior year outside of juvie. Orange has never been a great color on me.”

  “You look great in everything, baby,” Braiden comments, and I hear Tess giggle in response. Nick, on the other hand, looks far from pleased but doesn’t comment.

  Lo and behold, by the time we reach the hotel, the parking lot is full. Accompanied by the honks of impatient drivers, a continuous trail of red taillights line the driveway, so Nick pulls the Jeep off to the emergency vehicle zone. He offers to drop the four of us off while he looks for parking elsewhere, but I opt to stay with him.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay and babysit the three hyenas?” he teases, his charming grin making my heart do somersaults in my chest.

  “Hey, who you calling a hyena?” Braiden shouts, imitating a gangster as he throws his shoulders forward and forms his fingers into a gang-sign, which doesn’t translate well, because he’s signing Spock’s ‘live long and prosper.’ The three of them burst into laughter, yet again, Gemma hugging her waist with her manicured hands while Tess leans on her, her green eyes watering out of control.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I answer.

  The streets are lined with cars from end to end, and swarms of people crowd the sidewalks, hustling their way toward the beach for the big light show. Santa Cruz boasts the best Fourth of July fireworks up and down the California coast. A few hours ago, I couldn’t give two shits about seeing it. Now, I wouldn’t mind seeing some fireworks, just not the kind on everyone’s mind.

  We finally manage to find an empty spot several blocks away in a secluded, residential neighborhood. Neither of us has spoken, unless you count, “Oh, oh, oh, I think that person might be leaving,” “Nah, it’s too small,” or “I think I see one over there.” How does one spark a conversation with their best friend of eighteen years, with whom they had a totally unexpected, hotter-than-hot make-out session with?

  It could go two ways: the awkward ‘what does this mean for us, and where do we go from here?’ way or the ‘we’re just a couple of friends who acted in the heat of the moment, but it doesn’t mean anything so let’s act like it never happened’ way.

  I’m ruling out the latter. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment; it didn’t not mean anything, and there’s no way we’ll be able to act like it never happened. And I don’t think either of us understands what this means for our friendship. At least I don’t, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to find out.

  So what do you do if both options are ruled out?

  Simple. You complicate the matter even further.

  Nick unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to open the driver’s side door, but his hand barely touches the handle before I’m grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him into me in a wild haste. I crush my lips against his, as if our lives depend on it, and he doesn’t resist. When I trace my hands up his shoulders to the back of his neck, he responds with urgency, his tongue growing fervent against mine as he grips my waist and digs his fingers through the fabric of my top. I swiftly maneuver my body over the Jeep’s console and straddle his lap, our lips continuing their ravenous pursuit.

  My breath hitches the second Nick’s hands find their way under my shirt, and as they crawl over my skin, I think I might pass out. I’m in a complete and utter daze, a high I don’t ever want to come down from. There isn’t anything that compares to the adrenaline coursing through my veins in this moment. Screw skydiving; that rush will eventually fizzle out when the free-fall ends.

  But here, with Nick, I will never stop falling.

  Slowly, he parts his lips from mine, his fingertips still kneading my waist. I watch him carefully, wondering why he’s decided to torture my wanting lips. His eyes dart from mine to my lips, to my nose, to my cheeks, like he’s drawing an invisible line from one point to the next. They’re filled with desire. How I can possibly know what that looks like is beyond me. But it’s there, pooling rabidly in his irises and ready to lunge at me at any second. He gently cups my face, leaving his other hand on the skin of my waist.

  “Is this really happening right now?” he asks, his gorgeous eyes studying me, eyes that I could easily get lost in and would never want to find my way out of.

  “I’m pretty sure it is.” I bite my lip and bring my hands to his chest.

  “You are so beautiful,” he professes, pressing his lips against my jawline and making a trail of kisses down my neck. A few months ago, a line like that would have sent me into a laughing fit, but there is definitely nothing funny about it now. Especially when Nick brings his mouth to the curve of my neck and gently nips me with his teeth. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before because he certainly knows what he’s doing. Not that I want to imagine him doing this with any other girl. Unfortunately, I know he made out with Gemma once, and I’d give anything to erase that image from my mind. I may not be able to forget it, but I can certainly do my best to make sure Nick does.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, run my hands through his hair, and pull the shit out of it. It doesn’t seem to bother him, because the more I pull, the more his eager mouth explores my neck. A slow, burning ache begins to build deep within me, and I blush when a soft moan escapes from under my breath. I wonder if he notices, and when his hands briskly leave my waist and make their way down to my bare thighs below my shorts, kneading and grasping at my skin, I know he does. As if the swelter in the evening air isn’t enough, the heat ricocheting between our bodies is dizzying.

  Considering how out in the open we are, our little PDA may be too risqué for the public eye, but since we parked in a pretty secluded area, I’m not worried, and Nick doesn’t seem to be either. As far as I’m concerned, only the two of us exist right now, and it isn’t until I hear the faint sound of laughter in the distance that I remember we aren’t alone. But it only makes it more exciting, adding to the thrill, the thought that anyone at any moment could see us, and we wouldn’t care one single bit.

  That is, unless the person happens to be wearing a dark blue uniform with a gold-plated badge on his chest, while a black baton and a shiny Glock 22 dangle freely from his belt, and he taps loudly on the window next to us, bring
ing us down from our high and destroying our buzz.

  Maybe then would we care just the tiniest bit.

  I’m the Queen of Bullshit. I once talked Nick and myself out of a week of detention in the seventh grade, thanks to a few crocodile tears and a sob story, saying we had skipped class because I got my period for the first time that morning and I was scared and needed my best friend—blah, blah, blah.

  Well, leave it up to the Queen of Bullshit to make an appearance when Officer Nossi—yes, that was his name, and no, it’s not pronounced like nosey—decided to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

  “I can’t believe you said that to the cop,” Nick remarks as we walk to the hotel, stopping mid-stride to catch his breath during our bout of laughter.

  “Well, I had to come up with something to distract him from the alcohol question! And that was the first thing that came to mind. It worked, didn’t it?”

  After Officer Nossi had questioned us about whether or not we’d been drinking, I quickly apologized for our rather inappropriate behavior, fabricating a story that Nick and I couldn’t help ourselves because we had recently reconciled our relationship after months of being apart.

  “Being a good Catholic, I wasn’t ready to take the next step in our relationship, if you know what I mean,” I had explained to the cop, who eyed me inquisitively. “And so of course, I couldn’t be with him knowing I would constantly have that pressure every time we were together. But then I figured I’d probably end up doing something stupid one night at college and lose my virginity to some lame frat boy at a party and totally regret it anyway. So why not just give it up to someone who actually means something and not be deemed a total slut, and hope that a few Hail Marys and a couple of trips to the confessional would erase my sins? So you see, Officer, the two of us are a little eager right now.”

  Officer Nossi didn’t press the alcohol question and let us go with a warning, telling us to keep it PG while we were out in public.

  “Well, you are the Queen of Bullshit,” Nick teases, bowing down and extending out a hand while his other rests behind his back, just like the royals would do.

  Our laughter subsides, and I happily place my hand in his, fanning the other in front of my face as I curtsy. “Eat your heart out.”

  He presses his lips to the back of my hand, shifting the mood of the moment from playful to serious just as the ocean swallows up the last glimmer of sunlight. We walk the rest of the way to the hotel in comfortable silence, hand-in-hand, stealing a glance at each other every now and then.

  We’ve held hands before, but not like this. I notice the way mine fits perfectly in his. The way he gently rubs the pad of his thumb back and forth across my skin. The way he grips on to me as we fight our way through the crowds, pulling my hand to his chest, drawing my body closer to him, protecting me from getting pushed and shoved in all of the commotion. Like he’s claimed me as his own, holding on to me forever and never letting go, and although that thought is so foreign to me, the idea of belonging to somebody, oddly enough, feels as natural as the breath in my lungs.

  I also notice how quickly Nick releases my hand the second we step inside the hotel lobby, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. When I see a floppy mop of dirty-blond hair near the elevators over the sea of people hustling by, I understand why. Not that our holding hands would be odd to Braiden, since it’s something Nick and I do often, but somehow, the motion carries a bigger weight now.

  “There you are.” Braiden spots us when we reach the elevators. “It took you long enough.”

  Everyone knows that Braiden is an affectionate guy in an unromantic way, but the moment he wraps his arm over my shoulder, Nick’s jaw grows rigid, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. I think I even hear him heave a disgruntled sigh through the excitement of the lobby. Despite the fact he’s seen Braiden do this countless times with me, everything is different now, and it could only mean one thing: Nick is jealous.

  “Hey, asshole, in case you haven’t noticed, everyone and their mother is down here with the same idea.” I lightly backhand Braiden across his chest, pulling away in an attempt to put Nick at ease.

  Braiden steps closer to Nick. “Yo, dude, relax.” He playfully socks him in the stomach, but Nick doesn’t react. “Listen, Chase has me on a mission to get some ice, so why don’t you kiddies go on up? Ninth floor, room 922.” He pushes the call button for the elevator. “You two need a drink right now. You’re all tense and shit from that drive.”

  Nick and I exchange a knowing glance.

  If the tension between us has anything to do with our sex drives, then Braiden couldn’t be more right.

  Chase Parker never fails to deliver when he boasts a party to remember. This is one party he’ll remember all right, once his parents get billed for room damages.

  The smoke in the room is so thick, I should have come prepared with a gas mask because I’m pretty sure I’ll be leaving here with a second-hand high. As Madonna and 2Pac compete for musical dominance from opposite corners, the cozy suite that’s meant to be enjoyed by a party of four is being enjoyed by a party of about thirty underage drunks. Various couples make out on the couches. A group of rowdy baseball jocks are egging each other on in a beer-chugging competition in the dining area. In one corner, a skinny brunette is yakking in a decorative vase and in the other, a guy is conked out with his mouth open.

  “Everyone knows I love a good party, but this? This isn’t a party. This is a three-ring circus on crack,” I observe, scanning the room from one end to the other.

  “We can jet if you want, go down to the beach and watch the fireworks from there.” Nick stands closely beside me with his hand resting on the small of my back. A quick shiver travels up my spine. “Or we can revert back to the original plan and…go back to my place.”

  Um, make that two shivers.

  I turn to face him, his hand never leaving my waist, yet I can tell he’s being cautious. He swallows his nerves as he adds, “I mean, if that’s what you want to do.”

  My mouth presses up into a smile. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad plan.”

  “Which one?” he asks, his smile mimicking mine. “The beach…or my place?”

  “The latter.”

  “Great minds think alike.”

  Okay, make that three shivers.

  Completely distracted by my thoughts of being alone with Nick, at his house, I almost forget that he and I didn’t come here alone. “Wait, what about Tess and Braiden?”

  “And Gemma?” Nick adds.

  Ugh. I roll my eyes. “Sure. We can’t leave them.”

  He looks over my head, probably scanning the room for them, before returning his gaze to me. “They’ll be good here for a couple of hours. We can come back later.”

  But before Nick and I can put our plan into motion, Chase calls my name from across the room as he stands on the arm of the sofa, pointing his finger at me. “Boom! I spy a hottie at twelve o’clock!”

  Great. I can hardly stand Chase Parker when he’s sober. To say that I loathe him when he’s totally tanked would be an understatement. He jumps off the sofa and stumbles across the floor, practically tripping over a guy in nothing but his tighty-whities and tube socks, passed out on the carpet. For a guy who’s considered the school’s hunky heartbreaker—and to be clear, I did not make up that designation—Chase certainly isn’t living up to the title. His dark, disheveled hair is full of white specks, so either the fool accidentally rubbed margarita rock salt through it or people were doing lines on his head. Or maybe he just has a bad case of dandruff, or lice. Either way, it certainly doesn’t complement the red rings around his emerald pupils, nor does the rank stench of cheap whiskey on his breath scream ‘Joe Stud’ in any way, shape, or form.

  Chase scans me up and down with hooded eyes while he points to the wet bar on the other side of the room. At the same time, Nick’s irritated scowl from earlier has noticeably returned. “See that bottle of tequila over there
? It has your name written all over it, baby.” He cocks a suggestive eyebrow.

  Though instinct tells me to knee Chase in the nuts, I’m more concerned about Nick and his growing agitation. I don’t blame him. If the roles were reversed and some girl was hitting on him…well, the thought alone stirs the crazy in me.

  I glance at the bar, lined mostly with empty bottles and trash. “Actually, it has Jose Cuervo’s name written on it, but you get an A for effort, Chase.”

  Eventually Chase realizes he’s barking up the wrong tree, scoffs, and joins the beer-chugging jocks, thank God. Nick looks down at me, his smile making it very difficult to stop myself from reaching out for him, and I sense that he feels it, too.

  This pull, it’s magnetic, like two opposite poles that will inevitably come together, no matter how hard you try to keep them apart. We can’t defy it any more than we can defy the laws of science. It’s impossible. I place my hand on his hip and step closer to him, lifting my head to face him.

  “Ahem,” Tess clears her throat in the most obvious way, a smirk curling deviously out of her mouth, causing Nick and I to jump apart. She takes a sip from her cup, her green eyes—mellow and not as red as they were earlier—darting back and forth between Nick and me.

  An awkward second or two passes before he excuses himself to grab us a couple of water bottles, leaving Tess and I alone together.

  Fanning my face with one hand, I pull my hair away from my neck with the other, releasing some of the heat trapped against my skin. The moment I do, Tess’s eyes grow wide. Instantly, my mind travels to Nick and what his mouth was doing to my neck in the Jeep. His mouth. It never fazed me at the time, but the stunned look on Tess’s face says it all.

  There is a hickey on my neck.

  I immediately drop my hair, and it falls back around my shoulders. I can only imagine the deep shade of tomato-red splattered across my face. There’s no talking my way out of this one. If any of this was the slightest bit foggy to Tess, well, it’s as clear as day now.