Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (50 page)

“Stepbrother,” I corrected automatically and both Theo and Yuu laughed at me again. Patrick, at least, had the decency to look mortified for me. “And yes, he is a royal dick. But I'm not thinking about him.”
Lie.

“No worries,” Yuu said as the lights dimmed and the crowd began to quiet. “If I had a stepbrother that looked like that, I'd probably be obsessed, too.”

I rolled my eyes and decided to let the comment go. After all, there was some truth to that.
But I'd have loved Flor no matter what he looked like. The fact that he's attractive is only part of the
problem – a very vexing part, but still only a fraction.

I shook my head to clear it, but my mind felt slippery, like staying on one subject for too long was impossible. I nibbled at my lower lip and tried to concentrate on the stage, but my feelings and thoughts were still all over the place.
And where the hell is Max?
I found myself looking around for him in his red T-shirt and tight jeans, but he was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance at my phone showed no messages, and when I texted him to tell him the show was starting, he replied that he was still in the bar and would be up soon. Of course he was. I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and scooted around Addi and Patrick for a better view.

I could see shadows moving across the small stage, getting into place for the show.

“Ladies and gentleman of Eugene, Oregon,” the voice whispered, skittering across the back of my neck like a heated breath. The crowd went completely silent, but I wouldn't say the room was quiet. Oh, no, it was like the silence itself was a sound, one so loud that it was drowning out even my erratic thoughts. I felt my own breath hitch and uncrossed my arms, leaning up on tiptoe to get a better look. Fingers strummed across a guitar and the lights flickered back into place, revealing a grinning face onstage, lips poised against the microphone. “I want to hear you make some
NOISE
!” the man growled, clutching the mic with his fingers and pulling it from the stand.

The crowd responded like a living creature, flowing around me like water, pushing me forward with the current and crushing me between sweaty, gyrating bodies while screams and shouts punctuated the silence and bled it across all our shoulders, coating us with this … energy that finally,
finally
managed to find some sort of hold in me.

I tried to take some of Theo's advice and found myself starting to move with the crowd, cheering and jumping even though I had no idea what the song was about, what the growling screams coming from the stage meant. The bass shook the building, crawling through the wood floor and into my toes, making its way into my bloodstream until I was sweating and screaming almost as much as the man onstage. My breath was crushed from my lungs by the press of people behind me and the resistance of those in front as slowly, oh so slowly, we melded even closer together, pushing towards the stage like flowers reaching towards the sun.

“
A taste of forbidden love, like honey on the back of my tongue,
” the lead singer oozed, his voice bright and sharp, like the gleam of light off the end of a blade, right before it imbeds itself into your back. From the sultry tones of his singing to the wild rhythm of his growls, I could tell this guy was bad news, but in the best possible way.
Like Flor.
I ignored that thought, let more screaming vocals wash over me, tasted the bite of the guitars, the clamoring frenzy of the drums.

Theo was right: the songs really were angry. But he was also right in that I needed that right now. I jumped and screamed and kicked and spun, letting my frustration with my stepbrother leak out into the crowd. If Flor wouldn't let me confess to get the feelings off my chest, then I'd just have to find another outlet.

I got so caught up, in fact, that by the time the set was over, my head was spinning and my heart was pounding a mile a minute. Addi, Patrick, Theo, and Yuu had all disappeared in the frenzy and Max was still nowhere to be seen, so I moved towards the steps to the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of him coming up. I couldn't get down as the bouncer was carding people on their way by and I'd long since ditched my fake IDs (not that they'd often worked anyway).

I pursed my lips for a second, but then shook the feelings of irritation away. The next set was starting and I was too pumped up too care. If Max would rather be down there than up here with me, so be it.

I moved away, towards the exit, thinking of grabbing a breath of fresh air before I rejoined the crowd. Theo was so, so, so
right.
I felt better, much better, and all I'd done was bounce around to a dozen songs I didn't know. Maybe I
was
too uptight? Maybe I really was thinking too hard about everything?

I moved down the steps after collecting a stamp from the bouncer and crossed my arms over my chest, sucking in some of the smoky air outside the WOW Hall.

It took me about three seconds to find Max, leaning over a smiling girl to the right of the entrance. He wasn't doing anything with her per se, but his posture, the expression on his face, the nearness of their bodies, those things told me all I needed to know.

What. The. Hell.

I stared in openmouthed shock as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned that stupid, sexy grin of his. This was so
not
what I needed right now. I squeezed my upper arms with my fingers to ward off the sudden chill, the excitement from the show fading as fast as it had come on.
And just when I was starting to see a speck of light at the end of the tunnel.

I watched Max for a few moments, wondering when or if he'd even notice me. I could only stand the sight so long as it took the girl to press her palms against his chest and whisper something in his ear, lips brushing his skin while his eyes went dark and half-lidded.

I scoffed and turned away without saying a word, throwing out a quick text to Addi to let her know that I was walking home. We lived – quite literally – around the corner, so it was no big deal. I kept my head down and stayed hunched over until I turned left onto Lincoln Street, feeling ten times worse than I had when I'd first left my apartment. While I'd been inside jumping around and flailing my arms like an idiot, Max was outside scamming on girls.

That … cocksucker,
I thought to myself, thinking of Flor's words about Max.
He's no good for you. He won't admit it, and he keeps it pretty well hidden, but I know he cheats on you.
Of course Flor was right, but it was like knowing something and seeing it firsthand were completely different things. I shook my head and kept moving, around to Broadway and my apartment, situated above a shoe store with clever sayings painted onto the glass of the windows.

Leaning against that very same window, the words
be
and
truth
on either side of his head like horns, was Flor. I paused on the sidewalk and tried to make out the saying behind his dark hair.
Be the truth you want to see,
it read.

I felt bold, so I moved up to him before he could spot me first and turn the tables like he always did.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, moving up to the front door and sticking my key in the lock before he'd even really registered what was happening. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Flor startled and stood up, running his right hand through his dark hair and watching me out of those eyes, the ones that were just too rich, too deep, for a guy that refused to reveal any of the depth that they must be hiding.

“Where have you been?” he asked me as I pushed the door open and started up the stairs. It occurred to me that if I went up, he'd come too and that maybe having him in my apartment wasn't such a good idea, but I did it anyway. The music had infected me. That, or I was using it as an excuse to say and do things that I wouldn't under normal circumstances.

“Out,” I said, continuing into the darkened apartment and leaving the lights off. Somehow, after the intimacy of the show, the crush of bodies, the darkness of the singer's voice, recessed lighting didn't seem appropriate. I let Addi's white Christmas lights guide my way. “But that doesn't answer your question, does it?” I threw my keys on the counter and realized that my hands were shaking.
Fucking Max, that asshole.
I was taking some of my frustration out on Flor and it wasn't fair, even if he had essentially denied me my confession. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you even know what today is?” he asked me, frowning. I noticed he kept his left hand in the pocket of his jeans, like he was clutching onto something. I refused to look at the way the lights bathed his face, turned his cheeks to shadow, gave his lips color. I set my purse down and stared at the small scar on his chin to avoid looking at his eyes. “I tried texting and calling, but you didn't answer, so I decided to stop by.” Flor shrugged like that was no big deal, but I felt my lips pursing in irritation. I hadn't answered because I'd blocked his number, not forever, just for now. Just until I could get a hold of myself.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to talk to you?” I asked, turning away and moving towards the fridge. I pulled the door open and rummaged around for a beer, curling my fingers around a bottle of Total Domination. I found my right hand suddenly at my hip, pressing against that pesky bit of space between my top and my jeans.

I heard Florian sigh, but he didn't say anything as I popped the top and kept my attention pointedly focused on everything
but
him. A moment later my phone buzzed, giving me a good excuse to pay even less attention to my stepbrother.

What's going on now? Better not be Flor again.

I frowned and texted Addison back.

No. Max.

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and turned around to find Flor way too close for comfort. I stumbled back as he watched me, bumping into the counter and coming up short.

“What's wrong with Max?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. I swallowed and took another sip of my beer, hating the way the darkness seemed to enhance the pigment in his irises. They seemed even
greener
than usual, although I knew that was probably just my mind playing tricks on me.

“Nothing,” I said, not wanting to have this conversation, not wanting to have any conversation really. “Can you just go home, Flor? I can't do this with you.”

“Can't do what, Abi?” he asked, moving closer, too close. His fingers found mine, still, somehow, splayed open over my tattoo and as he peeled them away, I felt my breath hitch. His hand was too warm, his body close enough to touch. If I leaned forward, I could meld my form against his, sink into him, let him hold me the way I'd always wanted to, the way I'd experienced for the briefest of seconds that one, fateful night. “I've never tried to be anything but good to you. I've … tried to be a brother to you.” My breath caught again and I found my eyes squeezing shut as he curled his fingers through mine, taking my right hand and pulling it close to his mouth. I thought for a second that he might kiss me, press his lips to my knuckles and breathe hot breath against my skin; my knees went weak and I slumped even harder against the countertop. “I've tried, but I'm no good at it,” he told me, his voice husky and rough, not at all the smooth, practiced perfection that usually characterized Florian. He leaned in even closer, leaving me with nowhere to go and put his forehead up against mine.

I kept my eyes closed, the fingers of my left hand curling around the countertop as I tried to stay standing.
No good. This is no good. Shit.
I tried to turn my head away, but Florian brought his hand up and ran his fingers through my hair.

“Stop it,” I whispered as my heart hammered against my ribcage and my breathing came in fits and gasps. Tears tried desperately to squeeze out from under my eyelids, but I held them back. “Flor, stop.”

“The smell of your skin, your hair, your breath,” he whispered, “it undoes me.”

And then he kissed me.

The heat of his lips seared against mine as his right hand found my face and cupped my chin, drawing me forward and into his arms. And oh, it felt good. So good. We unhooked the fingers of our right and left hands, his finding the top of my jeans, curving beneath the denim and drawing me forward while his knuckles teased my tattoo. Mine found the strong muscles of his back and dug into the fabric of his tight T-shirt, latching onto the cotton fabric like it was a lifeline and I was drowning. It really felt like I was there for a moment, like Flor was my only source of life and breath, like if I let go of him, I would lose myself.

When he pulled back abruptly, running his hand through his hair and leaving me a panting, melting, stuttering mess, he seemed almost angry.

“Goddamn it, Abigail,” he snarled, marching across the kitchen floor and pausing with his gaze focused on the windows, on the faint sounds of shouting that echoed around outside. I wondered how long it might be before Addi or Max got it in their heads to come back and check on me. “I can't do this!”

“Can't do what, Flor?” I asked, half of me broken and shattered, the other half almost … ecstatic. Because if Flor's actions, if his words, were anything to go on, then he might, just might, feel the same way about me as I felt about him. “Flor, I – ”

“Don't say it, Abi,” he whispered, reaching back into his pocket. He withdrew something I couldn't see in the dark half-light and placed it on the countertop.

“Why?” I asked, standing up straight, feeling those sobs I'd fought so hard against rise to the surface. “Why won't you let me say what I want to say, Florian? Why not let me get it out there, so we can talk about it.”

“I don't want to hear it, Abi,” he said, and I found my sudden sadness turning into anger. I clenched my fists tight and moved forward, grabbing at the back of his shirt and trying to get him to turn towards me. He refused to budge.

“You don't even know what I'm going to say,” I growled at him, proud of myself for keeping my voice strong and even. “If you'd just let me speak – ”