Part 2 (1/2)
”Are you sure?” I object, feeling bad that he came here just to turn around and leave again.
”Of course,” he rea.s.sures me. ”I have a few things I need to take care of. Call me when you get back.” He winks, leaning down to lay another light kiss to my mouth.
”Take care of my girl, Kimber.” He nods in her direction.
”Always do.” Her smile widens as she watches him cross the room and disappear into the hallway moments later.
”Oh my G.o.d. He totally wors.h.i.+ps you,” she whisper screams, doing a weird little victory dance in the middle of the room.
”He does, doesn't he?” I let out a slow exhale.
”Why do I get the feeling that isn't a good thing?” Kimber immediately falls serious, sliding down onto the edge of her bed to sit directly across from me.
”It is. It really is. He's amazing. It's just... I don't know. Something's missing,” I admit, hoping she understands.
”What do you mean?”
”I don't know. How do you feel when you're with Decklan?” I ask, hoping to explain it another way.
”Amazing. Electrified. Alive,” she rambles off.
”Exactly. That's how it should feel. At least I feel like that's how it should feel.”
”And you don't feel that way?” She gestures to the door where Bryan just exited.
”I like him,” I admit. ”It's just mild and comfortable. There's no real spark.”
”Give it some more time. Maybe it'll come.” She hits me with a rea.s.suring smile.
”Yeah, maybe.” I shrug. ”So where are you wanting to go?” I ask, desperately wanting to get away from this topic of conversation and focus on something else.
”Madrins?” Kimber smiles, knowing there is no way I will ever say no to their incredible crab cakes.
”You're on.” I push off of the bed and head for the bathroom. ”Give me ten minutes,” I call back over my shoulder.
”I'll give you five,” she challenges, laughing when I stick my tongue out at her before playfully slamming the bathroom door behind me.
Chapter Three.
Gavin ”Well if it isn't my p.u.s.s.y-whipped best friend. He's alive.” I torment Decklan the moment he emerges from his apartment above the bar.
His wrinkled white s.h.i.+rt and faded jeans are a clear indication to how little of a f.u.c.k he gives about his appearance at the moment. If I had to guess, I'd say this is the first time he's been out of bed in the last two days.
”What the f.u.c.k are you doing here already?” He arches a brow when he sees the beer sitting on the bar in front of me. ”Little early isn't it?”
”Since when do you give a f.u.c.k how early it is?” I bite, watching a slow smile spread across his face.
”Good f.u.c.king point,” he agrees, sliding behind the bar to retrieve a beer for himself.
He pops the top off the bottle and takes a long swig before crossing around the counter and sliding into the bar stool next to me.
”Kimber gone?” I ask, lifting the bottle to my lips.
”Yeah, she took off yesterday afternoon. She had a few things to take care of. She'll be back soon.” He runs a hand through his messy dark blond hair.
”You ever gonna cut that s.h.i.+t?” I gesture to where a large chunk of hair is now hanging directly in front of his eye.
”No,” he answers dryly, pus.h.i.+ng the hair aside.
”We need to make a decision about Paxton.” I slide the beer bottle back and forth between my hands, the gla.s.s making a scratching noise across the surface of the bar.
Paxton is an old friend of mine and Decklan's. His mom s.h.i.+pped him to Oregon to live with his dad after he got himself in a bit of a mess in California. He couldn't have been but thirteen at the time. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that these two f.u.c.kers have been around for literally half of my life.
”Yeah,” Deck agrees, pulling me back to the conversation. ”What nights does he want to play again?”
”I told him Sunday through Thursday would work, but I'm not sure he wants to play every night. I was thinking we would give him maybe Sunday and Wednesday and then he can pick up extra s.h.i.+fts as he wants. This place is dead as f.u.c.k Monday and Tuesday nights anyway. It doesn't make much sense for us to pay a live act.”
Paxton is the musician of our group and one h.e.l.l of one at that. Considering he's been cras.h.i.+ng on my couch since he arrived back in Oregon a few weeks ago, I'm eager to give him something to do.
He's been living in California for the past several months, taking care of his mom who just recently pa.s.sed from cancer. Given the size of his inheritance, I know money isn't the issue. It's more about being around people and having something to do.
”Might bring in more business, though,” Decklan adds, taking a long drink of his beer, draining half the bottle in one gulp. ”But yeah, Sunday and Wednesday works for me. Did you nail down the specifics for the New Year's party?”
”Yeah, I'm gonna have Paxton start off the night with an acoustic set and then Technolights will go on at ten and play til close,” I say, referring to one of the hottest cover bands in the Portland area.
”Perfect,” he says, turning toward the door the moment it swings open.
Sunlight filters into the dimly lit bar shrouding Kimber in a sea of yellow as she steps through the doorway. I remember the first time I laid eyes on this girl. Such an innocent, quiet thing. Beautiful of course, almost angelic in a way. But I have learned over the course of the past couple of months that she is so much more than the little good girl I had her pegged for.
For starters, she can handle Decklan. She's on a very short list in that department. Anyone that can handle my moody, a.s.shole of a best friend deserves a medal. I've also got a h.e.l.l of a lot of respect for her, especially after everything she's done for him. She's changing him in a way I never dreamed possible.
She's given him a spark and brought a bit of life back to him that I haven't seen since before his brother Conner died in a car accident a few years back.
The moment the door closes behind her on a loud thud, her eyes immediately bounce between me and Decklan and then to the beers on the counter.
”Really, guys?” She shakes her head, making her way toward us.
”Decklan did it.” I point jokingly at Deck who lets out a full belly laugh.
”What is she your mother?” He shakes his head. ”Decklan did it.” He mimics my statement.
”f.u.c.k you, dude.” I shove at his shoulder, effectively pus.h.i.+ng him out of the bar stool.
He slides onto his feet and flips me off seconds before dropping an arm around Kimber's shoulder and pulling her into him.
”You get everything taken care of?” he asks, kissing the side of her head.