Living on the edge, so fully, so recklessly, willing to take the fall.
I swallowed, my heart beating so fast I thought it was going to spill all over the floor. Excitement filled my chest, nauseating and addicting. I'd always stayed away from the Dean Coles of the world. I was the Red Riding Hood who took one look at the wolf, said 'screw it, it's not worth the pain', turned around and ran for her life.
Come to think about it, Dean was the very guy who taught me that lesson.
Darren was more my type. Handsome in a shy, reserved way. A med student I'd met when he ordered herbal tea at The Black Hole. Now, I didn't know what to do with myself with Dean being so close. My hands felt like they'd been artificially glued to my body. Heavy and alien. I knew what would make the feeling stop. Touching him. But that wasn't an option.
"Pack. A. Fucking. Bag." His voice was hard, and if I'm not mistaken, it wasn't the only thing that was hard about him. "If Vicious comes to New York to take you, he'll give me shit. See, Baby LeBlanc, I like to keep my life simple. Trouble-free." He twirled another piece of my hair around his finger, glints of lust flashing through his pupils. The light touch sent frissons all the way to my skull and spine, spinning through the rest of my body like electric shock.
What the hell is happening, and why am I letting it happen?
"That means no girlfriends, no fishy business partners, and no un-neighborly neighbors," he stressed. "You're a complication right now, and I hate to do this, but if it's between pissing you off and pissing that motherfucker off, you know my pick."
"I hate you so much," I exhaled, and my lungs wheezed, reminding me that my heart needed to slow down. Being so close to Dean felt like that tumble you get in your stomach when you're on a rollercoaster. He pressed his body to mine, and I sensed his smile on my skin, just below my ear. In that sensual place between your libido and your soul.
"Vicious claims hate-fucks are the best. Care to test his theory?"
Taking a side step and breaking the physical contact, I retorted, "Care to drop dead?"
There was no point in resisting him, though. He was going to follow through on his threat, and the worst part was, I couldn't stop him. I knew I was in the wrong. Knew I should just accept the goddamn ticket. Something dark flashed across his face. Something that was always there, but only I seemed to notice.
"Pin this conversation." He pointed at me with the hand that held his phone and swiped the screen. Finally. It was the third time that person called. "Be back in a sec."
Dean disappeared into my hallway. I stood there, not sure what to do.
"Hello, Miss Golddigger, how may I be of help? Last time I checked, I told you not to fucking call me. Has that changed somehow?" He paused for just a moment before continuing. "But that's the thing, Nina, my dear. You don't get to snap your fingers and have me crawling back to save you. You made your fucking bed. Now lie in it. Not my war. Not my battle. None. Of. My. Fucking. Business." His voice was exceptionally bitter.
In fact, he sounded so pissed, so angry, so not himself, that I visibly winced when I heard him. It ignited a foreign emotion in me I'd never associated with Ruckus before. Fear. Dean never got angry or flustered. He was the least hotheaded out of the four HotHoles. Rare were the times his feathers were ruffled-that he was truly upset-and I don't think I'd ever heard him raise his voice outside the football field. Even earlier, when he yelled at Colton, he was scornful of the whole situation. Amused.
I pressed my ear to the wall, blatantly eavesdropping.
"I'm not coming to Birmingham." Birmingham? As in Birmingham, Alabama? I always thought I knew Dean's life pretty well. Clearly, he had more skeletons in his closet than Jeffrey Dahmer.
"There is something seriously fucked-up about the fact that I'm even listening to you right now. Your proposal is offensive at best and downright fucking insane at worst. You've had years to make this right. Years to let me see him. It's too late now. I'm not interested. Seriously, Nina, erase my number from your contact list. Save us both time and money."
Inhaling like his lungs were bottomless, he finished the call. A sudden punch straight to the wall dividing us awarded me with a white noise that rang in my ear. No doubt deserving that, it was my cue and I turned around, launching to the opposite side of the island.
Busying myself in the kitchen was hard, especially when I could still feel his anger floating from the other room. I opened the fridge and took out some vegetables, then a knife. Out of breath, I pretended to make myself a salad. I saw Dean's tall figure emerging from my periphery, his phone grasped in a death grip between his fingers. He looked a little startled to see me, like he forgot I was there, but then relaxed and fixed his cocky smile back on his face, like he was rearranging a wonky picture on a wall. Loosening his tie even more, he made his way to me.