Loving Me, Trusting You(13)

“If you want to talk to me, you'll play with me first.”

“Like hell I will,” he growls back at me, but as soon as his hand comes up and his fingers brush the bare skin of my shoulder, he pauses and leans into me. He doesn't mean to do it; it just happens. “What do you want from me, Sawyer?” I suck in a cloud of cigarette smoke and the heady scent of booze, breathing out against Gaine's neck and watching as the hair on the back of his hand stands on end. And I'm sure it's not the only part of his body that's standing at attention.

“A night of fun, a frozen slice of reality where pain doesn't exist and pleasure reigns king. Can you do that for me?” A part of me realizes I'm not playing fair, that I'm stretching Gaine to his limit. He's not Austin or Beck; Gaine doesn't pick up random f*cks. I love that about him. I admire him even though I don't understand him, yet I just keep doing what I'm doing and I don't know why. Do I want him to hurt as much as I do? No. I just don't know how to stop. “Play with me tonight and I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“And you'll listen?” he asks, voice gruff and kind of breathy, like he doesn't know what to do with the air in his lungs if he isn't kissing me. I pull back and look him in the face, lean forward and breathe in the scent of oil and dirt and masculine spice. I press a kiss to the spot below his lip where he used to wear a piercing. He hardly wears it anymore, but I think it's hot. I wonder if I can convince him to put it in again?

“I'll hear you out,” I promise as Gaine pulls back a bit and then tangles his fingers in my hair, kissing my mouth so hard it hurts. I can taste his desire and his need on his lips, hot and spicy, so bright it burns my tongue and brings a drip of sweat rolling down my chest and between my breasts. There's a flash of jealousy inside of me and for an instant, I think maybe that I don't want to share. Ridiculous, Mireya. You know booze makes you sentimental. I ignore that blip of thought and pull back, turning around and touching my fingers to the side of Trench Girl's face.

“What's your name, butterfly?” I ask her, watching as her friends stare in open fascination, drinking me in like I'm an exotic spice, something flavorful and forbidden.

“Crystal,” she says, her lips parting like a flower, half in surprise and half in desire. I can see the way she's staring at Gaine, eyes catching on his rounded biceps, his flat chest, the square lines of his pecs beneath the tight cotton of his T-shirt. The fabric's stretched over his body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. I can even make out his belly button from here. I follow Crystal's gaze and then touch her mouth with a single finger, bringing her eyes back to mine. They're pale and colorless, like glass, with tiny flecks of green, a nice match to that headful of red hair.

“Do you like Gaine, Crystal?” I ask her as I move my hands down and unbutton the clasps on her jacket. She reaches up her fingers to stop me, but then pauses when she sees him start backing away towards the door.

“He's cute,” she says which nearly pulls a scowl from my mouth. I almost want to shove her back and pick somebody else. Cute? Gaine isn't cute. He's young and cut and muscular, one of those guys that's got that nice, gritty edge on the outside, but who cleans up real nice and always smells good. Cute doesn't really work for me. But then I open Crystal's jacket and find out what she's hiding underneath. It's a black lace dress stretched tight over her tanned body, almost tasteless but classy enough that it works. I can see why she kept the coat on. She looks like she's ready for a night out in the city, not a boring slump at a dive bar with tearful soft rock and cheap drinks.

I look over my shoulder and watch as Gaine tosses a wad of bills on the counter and gives me a look that's part hunger and part melancholy. I ignore it and turn my attention back to Crystal, listening to the sound of the doors swinging open and shuttering closed.

While her friends laugh and heckle her behind us, goaded on by Beck's ridiculous one-liners, I lean in and whisper in her ear.

“Do you want to f*ck him?” I ask. I'm not shy about it. Tonight isn't about being shy. I don't need to bring a shy girl up to my room and walk her through the delicacies of sex. I need somebody that's going to give and take equally, who I think will leave that room tonight or tomorrow without any fantasies about what might or could be.

“Yes,” she whispers, completely enraptured. She doesn't seem drunk though, just wild, a bit of untamed spirit back home for the summer, a small town girl with big town dreams. They're a dime a dozen, but at least I know how to handle them. Austin and I used to … play around sometimes. But Gaine's not like that. And I'm forcing him to be. I keep the why off the tip of my tongue and smile at Crystal.

“Then come with me.”

I turn away and start towards the door with catcalls and whistles abounding behind me. Either the girl will follow or she won't. This is the perfect way to test her, see if she's really up to it. My feeling here is that little Miss Crystal wants Gaine, that I'm inconsequential. Sometimes, they come for me. Mostly they come for the guys, but that's alright. That's what we're both there for anyway. I just like to watch.

I make it halfway across the street before I hear her heels behind me, clacking across the cement in hurried steps. When she finally catches up to me, her arms are crossed over her chest, keeping the jacket closed.