The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(11)

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing the aloe in. “Falling asleep on the deck is easy to do. I’ve done it a time or two,” he says, rubbing the jelly upward. My eyes catch his in the mirror; his blue eyes are staring back at me. My breath catches when his fingers graze the soft tissue of the side of my breast. I look over my shoulder, gaze at Bobby, his eyes daring, and hooded. My stomach flips at the thought that Bobby might find me attractive, that he may want me, but with the mess I’m in, I can’t pull him down with me, and as messed-up as it seems, I still love Shadow. As if Bobby could read my thoughts, he pulls away the same time I do.

Bobby clears his throat as he wipes his hands on his jeans. “I got us some grub, you hungry?”

“Yeah, starving, actually,” I respond. The situation feeling awkward, I make my way out of the bathroom.

I walk into the living room and sit on the floor as Bobby hands me a container of Chinese food. He sits next to me on the floor, crossing his long legs at the ankles while he plunges his fork into his own container.

“I grabbed us a few movies. This one is supposed to be funny,” he says, grabbing the remote off the couch.

“I could go for a laugh,” I say, looking into my plastic container and finding Lo Mein noodles, my favorite.

We sit in silence, watching TV and eating dinner. Every now and then, one of us will laugh when something silly happens in the movie.

“Need a drink or anything, Firefly?” Bobby asks, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, slurping a noodle in my mouth.

Bobby hands me a beer and sits on the floor. “Thanks, Bobby,” I say. “Bobby, is that your real name?” I inquire, taking another bite.

“No,” he replies smiling. “Not a fan of my first name. That’s the reason why everyone calls me Bobby,” he explains while taking a huge swig from his beer.

“Ah, come on, tell me.” I nudge his shoulder, trying to urge him to open up.

Bobby chuckles. “Robert,” he says, taking a mouth full of noodles.

“Robert?” I question with a raised brow.

Bobby nods with pursed lips. I observe his features, his blond, wavy, surfer-like hair and blue eyes; his big, beefy arms with tattoos; I even notice his big, plush lips.

“Yeah, you don’t look like a Robert,” I laugh with a scrunched face.

“Yeah, my whole name is Robert Zane Whitfield,” he says with distaste.

“I like the Zane, but not a fan of the Robert,” I say smiling.

“I’ve been called worse things,” he jokes.

Sitting quietly, I notice I haven’t seen Doc around, or heard much about her from Bobby, either.

“Where’s Doc?

Bobby shakes his head. “She’s complicated.”

“More complicated than Shadow and me?” I ask with a grin.

Bobby laughs. “Possibly.”

He sets his empty container next to the couch behind him as he wipes his mouth with his hand, the sound of the scruff rubbing against his palm.

“We start getting along great, but she always pulls back.” Bobby’s tone sounds defeated, like he can’t figure it out.

“What happened?” I ask, setting my empty container down.

“I told her I wanted to meet her daughter one day.” He looks up at me with a whimsical look. “She froze, told me it wasn’t in her best interest to allow me to get involved with her daughter or for us to go that far in whatever we have.” He cracks his knuckles, the sound of it making my body shiver.

“That sucks.” I try to offer something more empathetic, but really I can understand her decision. Bobby is involved in a club, which is criminal and makes enemies left and right.

“Think I’m just a f*ck buddy to her,” he says, running his hands through his golden hair. “Fine with me, though,” Bobby laughs, gaining an eye roll from me. Sneaking a look at him, I notice his eyes squint at the corner with concern. I wonder what their story is.

We finish our beers while continuing small chitchat. I learned Bobby hates surfing, loves football, but hates baseball. He loves animals and will eat just about anything. His whole attitude is different from Shadow; Bobby is carefree and light, where Shadow is dark and complicated.

After the third movie, I can barely keep my eyes open and start to nod off.

I wake up to large arms under my legs and neck, lifting me from the floor.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask half-asleep.

“Taking you to bed, Firefly,” Bobby says, his voice awake and alert. I feel my body shift with every step. His body is hard and lean against mine, making me feel small. I can’t help but notice the smell of exhaust and coconuts in the crook of his neck.

I feel my body placed on the bed and the blanket pulled over me.

“I enjoyed tonight, Bobby. Thanks,” I mumble. It was nice having some kind of human interaction. As much as I wish it was Shadow, I think it’s time to realize that Shadow and I wouldn’t be anything less than carnage.

“Yeah, we should do it again,” Bobby says, his tone sincere. He heads toward the door and begins to close it.

“Night, Firefly.”





SHADOW


I sit in my usual seat in the back, away from other customers and the action. The leather is cracked in my chair and it smells like cheap perfume, but it’s not as loud back here. It doesn’t really matter where I sit, though; the girls always seem to flock toward me. The lighting is dimmed to a seductive glow, the air filled with fog and the room littered with half-naked girls, horny men, and loud music.