Faking It, Page 6

  weakness for kisses with a little edge.

  It was why I didn’t normally date nice guys. They were just too tame.

  This kiss, though, was a paradox. It was sweet and soft, like I would expect a kiss from Golden Boy to be. But every time I’d thought of pushing him away, there had been something—a pull on my hair, a graze of teeth, a press of his hips—that had frayed my thoughts and kept me kissing him. I don’t know how he managed to be soft and rough at the same time, but I had to hand it to him, it was kind of mind-blowing.

  It was also the worst idea since Crocs.

  I was with Mace. Or I was supposed to be.

  God, I was such a screwup.

  Mace made sense for me, and I for him. I just had to remember that.

  The slap was an overreaction, but there had been a hurricane of emotion wreaking havoc in my chest—lust and fear and guilt—and I had just snapped.

  I fumbled with the new cigarette Benny gave me. If I weren’t careful, it would end up on the ground like my last one.

  “Should I be going after that guy?” he asked. “I’m a little unclear on your feelings at the moment.”

  Join the club.

  “No, Benny. But thank you. He’s just a friend. We’re both a little drunk. Nothing to worry about.”

  Except I wasn’t drunk. Not really. I had no excuse other than stupidity for my own behavior. Well, that and how hot Cade was. Yep, we should definitely lay the blame on his hotness.

  I looked at my watch and balked, I only had about a minute left in my break. I must have kissed him for longer than I thought. Cade joined the very short list of things in life that had that kind of time-bending effect on me. Or more correctly, kissing Cade joined that list.

  Benny said, “I’m going to hit the head. You want me to walk you in?”

  I took a deep drag and shook my head. “No, I’m good Benny. I’ll go inside in about a minute. Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

  I stayed by the door, finishing my cigarette. It was a pointless exercise. The slow inhale and exhale was doing absolutely nothing to calm me down. I used my heel to dig at a weed that had sprouted up between slabs of concrete. It was amazing how even in the middle of a city—a world of hard stone and cold metal—something living could overcome the obstacles and emerge to see the light of day.

  The heavy metal door swung open again, and I was standing too close. It clipped me in the shoulder, and I dropped my second cigarette of the night as I pitched forward.

  An arm caught me around the waist before I hit pavement.

  “I gotcha, babe.”

  The guy reeked of alcohol. He pulled me up and close to his body. His head was shaved, and he had a few tattoos. He might have been my type on the surface, but his arm was tight around my waist in a way that didn’t feel at all appealing or comforting.

  I feigned a smile. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m good.”

  His eyes were dark, and they left my face to look down at my body. His hand curved around my bare waist, and his thumb traced one of the lines of my tattoo. “I bet you are.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. Blood rushed beneath my skin and roared in my ears.

  No matter how many times I felt this kind of panic, it managed to catch me by surprise. And each time, I associated it with the night of Alex’s accident. The fear from now mixed and muddled with the fear from then, and I felt the terror building in my throat. One of my arms was pinned to my side, but I maneuvered the left one between us, and pushed at his chest.

  “Let me go.”

  His breath was warm and cloying against my face. He jerked me in to him, and it bent my hand back, shooting pain through my wrist. I craned my head around, but the street was deserted, and there was no telling when Benny would be back from the bathroom.

  “No need to get upset, dolly. We’re just having a little fun.”

  “You’re drunk. And I’m not having fun.” I squirmed and bucked against him. He might have been stronger than me, but I would make it hard as hell to hold on to me. “Let me go, asshole!”

  I tried to stomp down on his foot, but I couldn’t get enough leverage to do any damage. I screamed again, and he brought a hand up to my throat.

  “Would you stop screaming?”

  His hand was big enough to wrap all the way around my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair, and his thumb pressed against my windpipe. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I choked and slid my hand up to claw at his face. He was tall enough that he managed to stay just out of my reach, and I was left scrabbling at his chest. The door to Trestle swung open, and I tried to scream, but it just came out a garbled mess.

  I blinked, and my vision went blurry. Then one black spot appeared, followed by another. My chest felt like it was caving in, crumbling.

  Then his hand was ripped off of me. Black converged until I couldn’t see anything, burning air rushed into my lungs, and for a few seconds, I felt like I was underwater. Then the air stopped burning, the black left my vision, and I saw Cade grappling with my attacker.

  Cade’s fist connected with the bald guy’s face, and a rush of relief swept through me. I coughed and swallowed down gulps of air.

  I dragged myself to my feet, and the world flipped upside down and inside out. The air sang, high pitched and off-key. I took a step, but the ground wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and then I heard sweet-nothings from the asphalt.

  “Max!”

  I opened my eyes, and the world had rearranged itself. I was on my back, and Cade was kneeling over me. I relaxed. Everything was okay if he was here.

  “Max, are you okay?”

  I swallowed, and opened my mouth to answer, but something swung and hit him on the side of the head. I gave a strangled scream as my attacker went after a distracted Cade.

  I heard a groan, and the sound sharpened my focus. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, and this time I rose slowly. The world wavered, but stayed in place.

  Cade was a pretty tall guy, but Mr. Clean had at least half a foot on him. Blood stained Cade’s mouth. That’s what pushed me into motion. My still-lit cigarette that I’d dropped when the door hit me was lying a foot or two away, so I grabbed it. I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh again, and spun around. Cade was on his feet, but I watched him shake his head and wondered if the world was spinning for him now.

  I took my chance and staggered forward. “Hey jackhole!”

  Mr. Clean turned and snarled down at me. And I pushed the lit end of my cigarette into his neck. I heard the small sizzle, and his whole body convulsed in an attempt to get away from me. He screamed and shoved me away.

  The ground rushed toward me. I knew the most important thing was to keep my head forward so it wouldn’t hit the pavement. I wrapped my arms around my head, and my back took the brunt of the fall. I hit the asphalt and went skidding. Gravel gouged into my bare lower back, and I felt the skin stretch and tear.

  “You bitch!”

  I forgot about the pain and scrambled backward when he came at me again. I hit the curb just as Cade stepped between us, looking focused once more. The guy swung his right arm toward Cade, who saw it coming and ducked. He wasn’t quite fast enough. My attacker’s knuckles grazed his forehead. Cade’s head rocked on his neck like the least funny bobble head doll ever. My attacker must have been drunk, too, because he swayed on his feet. Cade paused just for a second, shook his head, and then came up, ramming his shoulder into the guy’s midsection.

  Mr. Clean stumbled backward, and Cade got in a quick uppercut while he was off guard. I heard the smack of his teeth clacking together, but he didn’t even seem fazed by it.

  “Get inside, Max!” Cade yelled.

  I didn’t want to leave him. He was looking at me, and there was blood on his face, and my heart felt like it was going to burst wide open.

  “Go!”

  He was too busy looking at me to see the guy coming. I screamed, “Cade!” an
d he barely turned fast enough to avoid getting hit. I dragged myself up and ran for Trestle. My hands shook as I reached for the door handle. The metal door felt even heavier than normal, and it took all my strength to pry it open.

  “BENNY!”

  My throat felt like I’d swallowed burning coals, but I yelled Benny’s name again. The drunken bar-goers looked at me like I was crazy. Some didn’t even register my scream. But I saw Benny shouldering his way through the crowd.

  “Benny, hurry!”

  I ran for the door as soon as he was close to me.

  “What is it, Max?”

  I shoved open the door as hard as I could and breathed, “Fight.”

  The cold wind was like glass shards against my skin, but I didn’t care. “Cade!”

  My attacker was flat on his back, and Cade was on top of him. Both of them were bloodied, but Cade was okay. Really okay if the punch he threw was any indication. Benny charged forward and grabbed Cade by his clothing. He jerked him to his feet, and I cried, “The other one, Benny!”

  He looked at Cade for a few moments, and Golden Boy stared back, his jaw set in a grim line. Finally, Benny released him to address the guy still on the ground.

  Cade breathed out harshly, and then faltered on his feet. I rushed toward him and took him by the arm. He smiled, and I winced at the blood in his teeth. His eyes searched my face, and when he didn’t find any injuries, he rested his hand against my cheek. It might have been a side effect of being choked, but it was suddenly harder to breathe.

  “Pretty impressive, Golden Boy.”

  He coughed, and then groaned. I moved closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. His hard body pressed into mine, and the heat of him seeped into my skin. His brown eyes met mine, and there were volumes written in his expression. Those volumes contained words that terrified me, but I couldn’t look away for the life of me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes closed, and he teetered toward me. His forehead pressed into my temple in a gesture that felt sweet and familiar. He swallowed, and I could feel every imperceptible change in his body.

  I held tighter to him and asked, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

  “I’m getting blood on you.”

  I laughed. “Only you would apologize for something like that, Golden Boy.”

  His eyes were open again, and they locked on mine. He wasn’t laughing. He shook his head. “I meant I was sorry for kissing you.”

  With his forehead pressed against mine, the sight of him filled up my vision. There was nothing else in that moment, but him. And he . . . he reminded me of music. Of the way singing made me feel. Like I was falling and flying, freedom and fear.

  Without thinking it through, I said, “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  11

  Cade

  Max led me back inside the bar, and it took all of five seconds before Milo was at my side whistling. “Damn, hermano, I think you took that promise to get pissed a little too seriously.”

  I rolled my eyes and said to Max, “This is my friend Milo. Milo, this is Mackenzie.”

  That was for calling me Golden Boy.

  Her head swung around to face me and she asked, “Are you looking to get in another fight tonight?” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkling.

  “No, I just like seeing you angry.” She pressed her lips together and glared, but a smile was poking through within a few seconds. God, when she looked at me like that I forgot completely about the splitting pain in my head.

  When I turned back to Milo, he was looking between Max and me, grinning. “You bastard, did you knock out all four commitments in one go?”

  I was still leaning on Max, a little because I needed to and a lot because I wanted to. Her face angled up to mine and she asked, “What is he talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about it. He’s drunk.”

  I, on the other hand, had sobered up completely. I tried not to look disappointed as I removed my arm from around her shoulder.

  “Thanks, Max. I’m good now.”

  All I wanted to do was get home and take a long, cold shower, followed by a really hot one to ease the stiffness in my back and arms.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked. Her hands came up to rest on her hips . . . hips that I’d held in my hands before this all went down.

  “I’m just going to head home and get cleaned up.”

  Milo said, “Uh, Cade, you live at least twenty minutes away and your face is leaking. I think we should get you cleaned up here.”

  Max’s fingers found my chin, and she drew my face down toward hers. “I’m going to get a first aid kit. Don’t you dare leave.”

  I was too tired to argue, so Max disappeared, and Milo led me toward the bathroom at the back of the bar.

  “Damn, Cade. Who knew you liked the feisty ones?”

  I wasn’t sure if I liked “feisty ones,” but I liked her. A lot.

  There was an obnoxiously long line for the bathroom, and everyone was either too drunk or too rude to care that I was bleeding. I leaned against the back wall, tilted my head back against the brick, and closed my eyes. In a shocking turn of events, Milo kept his mouth shut until Max returned.

  She said, “Bad news. Our first aid kit is pretty much empty.”

  I opened my eyes and focused on her. Shoving off the wall, I swayed slightly. Max caught one arm while Milo caught the other.

  “I’ll catch a cab home,” I said. That was a lie. I didn’t have the cash for that, but it would make them happy.

  Max scoffed, “Good luck finding a cab in this neighborhood.”

  Milo offered to run to a drugstore and buy some stuff, but I insisted that it was too much trouble.

  “Really, guys, I’m fine. I’ll splash my face with some water, and then head home. It’s not a big deal. I feel fine.” I moved toward the bathroom, but Max darted around me and placed a hand on my chest.

  She was chewing on her bottom lip, wrestling with something. Her lips pulled into a straight line, and she looked up at me. “We’ll go to my place. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

  I didn’t have to see Milo to know he was grinning behind me as he said, “That sounds like a great idea!”

  I brought my hand up and covered hers that rested on my chest.

  “Max, I’m okay, really.”

  She glared at me, and I got the feeling that she was rarely told the word no. With her hand on my chest and mine on hers, I was all too aware of how much my body wanted to say yes.

  My brain knew better.

  She stepped closer to me and lowered her voice. “Listen, Golden Boy, I’m trying this new thing where I don’t act like a raging bitch all the time. That means when a guy gets his ass kicked for me, I have to show a little compassion. It doesn’t come easy to me, so help me out.”

  Huh. One day . . . we’d known each other one day, and she’d already picked up on the fact that I had difficulty saying no to people, especially people that needed my help.

  I was supposed to do something out of character, though most of the things I did tonight were a little out of character. And it wasn’t like I didn’t try to say no.

  “Okay.” I sighed. “But only if you take back that part about me getting my ass kicked.”

  She laughed. “All right, I’ll give you that. But I totally softened him up for you.”

  “Yeah, remind me not to make you mad when you’re smoking.”

  There was a moment of awkwardness where we’d both already agreed, but neither of us stepped back or stopped touching the other. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat, and her hand dropped from my chest.

  I said good-bye to Milo, and ignored the thumbs-up he gave me over Max’s head. I waited while she slipped on a coat and grabbed her things. She explained to one of the other bartenders what had happened. I thought maybe they wouldn’t let her leave, but after a short conversation, she was back at my side and ready to go.

  She smiled up at me, and I was ne
rvous. With all the pain and fatigue, who would have thought I’d have room for something like nerves?

  “Come on,” she said. “You’re covered in blood.”

  “Too gross for you?”

  “Either really gross or really hot. I’m not sure which.”

  She didn’t wait for a response before turning and pushing her way through the crowd toward the door. I followed at a slower pace, sure again that this was a dangerous idea.

  Her attacker and Benny were gone when we returned outside, and someone else had taken up the bouncer’s post at the door. That was probably for the best, because if I’d seen the guy who attacked her, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. I kept seeing her face, pale and in pain, and his hand on her throat. Just the memory had me ready to fight him all over again.

  She linked her arm with mine and asked, “You okay?”

  I nodded. I didn’t need her for balance anymore, but I wasn’t about to deny the chance to touch her. It felt natural, like we were any other couple returning home.

  We were silent for the first block or so, but when I looked over, I could see the glazed look in her eye, and knew she was replaying the event in her mind. I doubted she wanted to relive it any more than I did.

  “So you’re a musician?” I asked.

  She nodded but didn’t reply. Her gaze was fixed on the sidewalk, and from this angle I could see red marks on her neck from his hands. I wanted nothing more than to stop and hold her in my arms, but I knew that wasn’t her style. I doubt she’d ever been the type for hugs and comfort.

  So I settled for distracting her.

  “I’ve written a couple of songs, you know. Not because I want to be a musician, but just because the music helps organize my thoughts.”

  I followed her around a corner, and though she kept her face down, I could see a small smile form on her face. “Will you sing me one?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Oh, come on!” She wrapped both hands around my arm, and pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. It was so damn convincing I actually considered it for a moment, but the only song I knew by heart cut a little too close to said organ.

  Tonight was the night for forgetting about Bliss, and it had been going remarkably well until now. Singing a song I wrote about her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Maybe another time,” I said.

  “I’m going to get it out of you,” she said.

  I had no doubt that if anyone could, it would be her.

  The silence of the street swallowed up my thoughts, and that was fine by me. I was happy to just walk with her, no thoughts or troubles to get in the way.

  We passed a twenty-four-hour Laundromat, and she slowed to a stop in front of a glass door with a set of buzzers. A staircase trailed upward on the other side of the door, and she pulled the door open without a key.

  “No lock?”

  She shrugged. “It’s broken. I’ve been asking the landlord to fix it for weeks.”

  I looked at the door while she started up the stairs.

  “You know, I could probably fix it. My grandfather was a locksmith.”

  She called back from the middle of the staircase, “Is there anything you can’t do, Golden Boy?” I could think of one thing. I seemed to be incapable of finding a girl who wasn’t taken.

  I let the door swing shut behind me, and climbed up the stairs. We went up two flights and down a hallway before stopping at the last door on the left. She pulled her keys out of her coat pocket, and hesitated for a moment.

  She took a deep breath and slid the key in, turning until it clicked. Her