Declaration (19 page)

“Oh!” She clapped with a sarcastic gasp. “Lucky me!”

“No need to be smart about it, damn. Come dance with me.”

“Can you not see that I’m with a date? Back off, Ruben. It’s never going to happen, so get it through your thick skull, will you?”

“You’re not seriously here with
Carter
,” he scoffed, like I wasn’t even there.

“You do realize I’m standing right in front of you,” I said dryly.

“Oh, I see you, alright. Hard to miss with that dumbass costume of yours.”

“This, from a man dressed like a bat.” I flicked his black cape.

Smoke emanated from Whitney’s ears. She stepped forward to stand between me and Ruben. “When will you learn, huh?” She poked his muscled chest. “If sleeping with anything that walks isn’t a way to win a girl over, insulting her
date
behaving like a general macho douchebag certainly won’t work, either.”

“Fine,” Ruben said cockily, raising his hands and backing away. “Have it your way. I just figured you’d want a man who could love you back, that’s all. Don’t plan on finding that with this dude, here. He’s still in love with his girl back home. Tell her all about Kate Parker, bro.” He nudged my shoulder and started to stroll away. “I bet she’d love to hear it.”

All the warm, pulsing energy that had just flowed between me and Whitney fizzled from the atmosphere. The room was stark cold now.

Before I even knew what to say, I was defending myself. “Whitney, everything he just said—”

“Kate Parker?” she asked, going still. “The girl back home you told me about?”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, grazing my lip ring with my tongue. “Yeah, that’s her. Look, I already told you about her. Please, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to start trouble.”

She thoughtfully watched Ruben’s back as he retreated across the room and into the mass of partiers. “Yeah, that’s Ruben for you. So…you’re not still in love with her, are you?”

I stopped chewing at my lip, afraid I’d draw blood. Where was Jackson when I needed his questionable yet somehow justifiable wisdom? That’s right, he was pinning Emma to the living room wall with his out-of-control testosterone at the moment.

Shit.

“You know what?” Whitney stuttered before I could respond. “Just forget it.” She swished her hands in the air and shook her head. “Just…forget it, really. I mean, that’s none of my business. We’re just dating,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “so, no big deal. We’re nowhere near dropping the L word, right?” She gave a nervous laugh and cleared her throat, her movements antsy. “Of course we’re not! Anyway, don’t worry about Ruben. I know he can be a real jackass.”

“Uh…Whit, it is your business. That’s not what I meant—”

“Hey,” she cut me off again, reaching to take my hands, “no need to explain. No pressure, remember? It’s just me, you, and some casual fun.” Her bright green eyes studied mine, imploring me to drop the subject. “So let’s go dance like fools! Come on, I wanna blow off some steam.”

She pulled me away from the sliding door and back into the thick of the living room crowd, downing whatever was left in her skeleton cup. She grabbed another from a nearby table and started jumping around to the music, screaming at the top of her lungs and hollering at the DJ to turn the music up. I did my best to bob my head to the music and keep up with her, but after about 20 minutes, I was in desperate need of a smoke. People were smoking all over the house, but I needed to get outside, needed to see the sky and feel the fresh air.

Leaning in to Whitney’s ear to yell over the music, I let her know I was stepping out. The gulf air hit me as I slipped out the sliding back door onto the back deck and made my way down to the beach. Decorative spider webs drizzled over the short, tailored bushes leading down the little path to the darkened sand. My phone began to buzz in my pocket as I lit up and I ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the light crashing of the waves. The Gulf of Mexico was nothing like the Pacific. The waves were tame, each one soothing and welcoming. They made the Pacific’s waves look like monsters, like they could chew you up and spit you out.

I started to walk absently along the beach, with no destination, watching the sand kick up on my black boots. I needed to finish what I was trying to say to Whitney earlier. The problem was, I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to say. I only knew I was trying to cover my ass and spare her feelings. I didn’t love Kate anymore. I didn’t.

Even thinking it seemed strange.

Because of course I did. A part of me always would. But how do you explain that to someone else? That the love will always be there, but that it’s nothing to be threatened by because it wasn’t returned in the first place. Maybe Jackson was right. Maybe I never really loved her to begin with. Maybe I only loved a version of her—one I created in my own mind. The one who loved me back. If that were the case, then that Kate didn’t really exist. That would mean the Kate I’d been in love with was completely fabricated. Could you even love something imaginary? Something fake?

Shit, this was complicated.

But I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want any of it anymore. I didn’t want to be that guy from Seattle, the one who didn’t know who he was. The one who was so hung up on a girl he couldn’t have that he fled the state because of her. The longer I was away from home, I was realizing it really wasn’t just Kate I was running from, even though it might have felt that way a lot of the time.

I was running from me.

The old me. The guy who had been drifting, looking for something. A way to reinvent himself or to just feel alive again. Since I’d met Whitney, I felt like I was finally on to something, like I was on my way there. There was fire there again, a desire I hadn’t felt in a long time.

All the more reason I had to clear this Kate thing up with Whitney.

I had to elaborate, tell her more than just the bare details. I had to be completely honest, no matter what Jackson said. Sure, he had a point, and he’d made me think about my feelings for Kate in a whole new light, but none of that did any good unless I shared all of that with Whitney, too. Keeping it from her would get me nowhere, and I didn’t know where I was headed with her or what our relationship meant, but whatever it meant, I knew it was good and I wasn’t about to ruin that.

She needed to know the truth—not just about my complicated feelings for Kate, but why I really moved here. All of it. She needed to know me. She
deserved
to know me. She deserved someone who would open up to her, someone who wouldn’t hold back.

My phone buzzed again and I cursed it to hell for breaking my train of thought. I finished off my smoke and started back for the beach house, pulling the phone from my pocket to tell whoever was calling to give it a rest. I needed to get back inside to Whitney, needed to pull her aside and talk, needed to convince her to listen to what I had to say. The caller ID screen glowed at me in the dark, bringing me to a full stop before I reached the back deck.

“Kate?” I answered, not wanting to blow off another one of her calls. “Kate, can you hear me?” She said something, her voice muffled, and then her words became scrambled. I spun around, trying to walk in another direction. “Hey, I can’t hear you, the call’s breaking up or something. Kate?”

Nothing.

I hung up and shoved the phone back in my pocket, deciding I’d call her back in the morning. I jogged back up to the deck and let myself in through the sliding door, scanning the room for Whitney. Jackson and Emma danced by me, laughing and stumbling. “Hey guys, have you seen Whit?”

“I sure haaave,” Emma giggled, leaning on Jackson’s arm to hold herself up. “She went that-a-way.” She pointed to the staircase and Jackson hoisted her up in his arms.

“I think someone’s had a bit too much. Time for a stroll to walk it off, Em.” He grinned at me and nodded toward the back door. “We’ll be out on the beach if you need us, man.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” I started for the staircase, keeping my eyes peeled for the only Posh Spice in the room. “Whitney?” I called out, swinging around the cob-webbed staircase to search the hallway. “Whit?”

Still no luck.

I started up the stairs and slowed as I approached the next floor, spotting one of the bedroom doors cracked open. I froze when I heard her.

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Ruben. I’m done.”

“You’re not done. You wouldn’t have asked me up to this bedroom if you were done.”

“Don’t do that,” she demanded. I pushed myself up against the hallway wall and craned my neck to keep myself from view. “You don’t get to play with my emotions for God knows how long, and then finally decide you want me. Who do you think you are?”

“What am I supposed to do, Whitney? I can’t take back what I’ve done, alright? I’m a new man and I’m just asking for a chance. You can’t keep going out with that Carter dude. He’s all wrong for you. He’s a complete pansy and he’s in love with someone else anyway, you just refuse to hear the truth.”

“I don’t need to hear the truth from you! He’s already told me about her. She’s engaged, and it’s our business, anyway. You have no right to get involved in this.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Well, do you?”

“That’s none of your business, Ruben! God, you really have some nerve.”

“Whitney, he’s going to hurt you.”

Whitney laughed darkly. “You’ve hurt me plenty.”

“Give me another chance. You’re wasting your time with that dude.”

“No. Just forget it, Ruben. I don’t know why I bothered talking to you.”

“You wanted to know about Kate Parker, that’s why. And I told you what you didn’t want to hear, what you already know deep down, and you’re running. Typical.”

“Go to hell, Ruben. You leave Carter the hell alone, do you hear me? From here on out, just stay away from him. He never did a damn thing to you, so just back the hell off.”

I could hear her feet begin to move. That was my cue. I snuck back down the stairs, taking two at a time, and swung around the side of the staircase, busying myself with the drinks on the hallway table.

“Carter?” she said when she reached me, glancing discreetly up the stairway. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

“Yeah, just grabbing another beer. I didn’t see you out there; I figured you were hanging with Jack and Emma or something.”

“Oh, I was.” She cleared her throat, adjusting her wig. “Sorry, you know me and Jack. He starts sparring with me and there’s no shutting me up, then.” She grinned sheepishly toward the stairwell. “Emma finally dragged him upstairs, thank God. I got out of there before I saw things I’d have nightmares about.”

I watched her coolly as she lied to my face, but truthfully, I didn’t blame her. Not one bit. Whatever had happened up there with Ruben, she’d defended me.

“Yeah, I’m shocked those two haven’t been arrested for public indecency yet.”

“Right?” She laughed and hurriedly took my hand to guide me away from the stairway. “You wanna dance some more?”

“Sure.” I let her lead me back to the party and we lost ourselves to some crazy techno remix of “The Phantom of the Opera.” I cut myself off after that last beer, and by 2 a.m., we’d danced ourselves out and I was sober and ready to drive us home. I went on as if I hadn’t heard a thing upstairs. All I could think about was getting her home and into my bed and arms.

We pulled up to the shop and walked hand-in-hand up to my flat, falling through the door in a jumble of legs and arms, Whitney peeling my costume jacket over my head and pulling my glasses off, while I reached for her wig and the zipper of her dress. We crashed onto the bed, our trail of clothing stopping just at the edge.

“You taste so damn good,” I breathed into her mouth, letting her climb on top of me. “Ride me, sweetheart.” She tore open the condom wrapper and slid onto me without a word, so wet and hot that I almost lost control right then and there, with the very first pressure of her hips. “Damn it, baby, I love feeling you like this.” She bent down to moan against my lips, pumping her hips as she did, intent on driving me crazy.

It was working.

“Carter,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible as she arched her back to take me deeper.

The apartment was so dim, with only the moonlight illuminating the sliver of space over the bed through the blinds, but I could make out each contour of her body: the soft curves of her breasts, the firm, round little dips of her hips, and those supple shoulders, moving as she rolled back and forth above me.

“Oh, God, Carter…please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me, sweetheart. Feel me. I’m here.” I thrust my hips up slightly, bumping into her, my hands falling onto her thighs. Running my fingers up and down her legs, my fingertips glided over the moisture of her skin, absorbing every part of her. She arched her back further and rolled her waist harder, leaning back on her hands. I couldn’t keep myself from cupping her breasts, groping the delicate curves and hardened peaks. She was falling apart beneath my hands, and I was falling apart beneath her. My power was her power, and together, we sent each other soaring.

Everything in me wanted to take charge and roll her over. I wanted to pound my way home and show her exactly what she did to me, riding me just like that. But seeing her like this, catching a glimpse of her hazy eyes in the moonlight, rooted my back to the mattress. She needed the control right now, needed to be seen and heard, and holy fuck, did I want to be the one to give that to her. I wanted to give all of it and then some.