Jesse Read online

  “Right. Of course.” Ev shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Have you seen Jesse? Can’t seem to find him anywhere, and I thought he came with you.”

  He takes a swig from his bottle and then frowns as if in thought. “Chicks.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Shane waves his bottle at the room and the hot, grinding bodies. “Plenty of chicks here. He must’ve caught one.”

  I gape at him. Is he seriously talking about girls as if they’re fish on a line?

  “I see. Have fun, then.” Ev drags me away as I try to decipher Shane’s expression, to detect any glimmer of humor in his eyes, but his face is still, as if carved in stone.

  “Is he always that witty and entertaining?”

  “Always.” Ev giggles and then squeals. “Joey! Oh my God, you made it. Over here!”

  And she ditches me between a couple humping against the wall and another writhing on the couch.

  She ditches me in order to wrap herself around a hottie with dark hair and sparkling eyes.

  What in the world?

  He laughs and returns the hug easily.

  “Evie, you dork,” I hear him say as I approach them. He pulls back and ruffles her hair. “You look real pretty, you little shit. Look at you, all dolled up. How’s it hanging?”

  Okay, who’s this guy, and what’s going on? I glance around for Micah, expecting him to come punch this asshole off his feet, but Micah is grinning from ear to ear, heading our way.

  “Joel, man, what’s up?” Micah and this Joel guy shake hands and clap each other on the back. “You here alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ellen couldn’t make it?” Ev blinks innocently at Joel, her eyes a tad too wide.

  “Nope.”

  “You didn’t ask her out, did you? Be honest.”

  He scowls, and I seriously consider turning on my heel and going to look for a beer, because I have no clue what’s going on and what they’re talking about.

  “Amber.” Ev comes after me before I take two steps. “Come meet my brother, Joey.”

  Blinking, feeling a bit stupid and a whole lot annoyed that I didn’t guess as much, I do my best to grin at Ev’s handsome brother and assure him it’s a pleasure to meet him.

  They don’t look one bit alike, but oh, Lord, I’m so glad I didn’t open my mouth earlier. So glad I didn’t immediately think he was insulting Ev and didn’t attempt to kick him in the nuts or slap his handsome face.

  Crap.

  Stammering an excuse, I make my escape and go look for that beer. I’d leave, but this is my apartment now. Nowhere else to run and hide.

  So beer it is. Or wine, or whatever such buffer I can place between myself and the real world. A door with a lock would have been preferable, all things said and done.

  And why the hell not? This is my apartment, my bedroom. If I want to lock myself inside, if I want to be antisocial and stand-offish, that’s my right, isn’t it?

  I’m actually heading that way, the pull of peace and quiet too strong to withstand—when the bathroom door is thrown open in my face, missing me by an inch. As I jerk back, it bangs against the wall, and someone stumbles out into the dim hallway.

  I back away, but the hallway is three feet wide, tops, and the guy, because it is a guy, tall and broad-shouldered, bends toward me from the waist, his lips curling into a grin like the sin of the angels. Lazy. Sexy. Beautiful.

  Dangerous.

  “What have we here?” he whispers, his eyes going half-lidded, bright against his tanned skin, a startling blue-green in the shaft of light falling through the open bathroom door. “A girl.”

  Holy crap.

  My throat clicks. My lips move. No sound comes out. Could be because he chooses that moment to straighten, and I finally notice he’s bare-chested, flaunting the most perfect abs and washboard stomach I’ve seen outside of magazines.

  Silver hoops decorate his small, brown nipples. Black lines and colorful shapes wrap around his thick biceps and corded forearm. Tattoos, I realize, curling on his smooth skin. A worn leather bracelet encircles his strong wrist.

  I can’t breathe. Oh, God. It’s as if someone has sucked all the oxygen from the room.

  Oblivious, he leans on the doorjamb and folds his arms over his chest. “Know what? You remind me of someone. Have we met before?”

  Of all come-ons… Not that I can speak. Not when he’s looking at me with interest sparking in his gaze.

  “What’s your name?” he asks. When I don’t answer, those startling eyes narrow, and vaguely I think they must have been many a girl’s downfall. Then he thumps his chest with his fist and drawls, “Jesse.” He points at me and lifts a brow. “Jane?”

  A choked sound leaves my throat. Is he for real?

  “You’re drunk,” I say breathlessly, and why the heck am I breathless? Just because this guy is too beautiful to be real doesn’t mean I’ll pant after him, like, like…

  “Jesse?” A woman appears at the bathroom door, right behind him, adjusting the straps of her blouse. “Come back here and finish what you started.”

  “I’m quite finished,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving me.

  My face turns to stone. Panting after him like this woman. Like a bitch in heat. Yeah, not in this lifetime.

  “We weren’t done yet.” She drapes her arms around him, and I notice she’s wearing shorts that are just glorified panties and that her cleavage is so deep one of her nipples is winking at me. Her long blond hair is tangled, her lipstick smeared.

  Jesus on a pogo stick.

  “Yes, in fact, we were,” he counters, his voice so low and throaty it lifts the fine hairs on my arms. “Very, very done, Natasha.”

  “It’s Veronica,” she mutters and pushes off him, glaring at his back. “Asshole.”

  “Whatever.” He waves a hand at her, his gaze still on me.

  He’s a dick. The most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on, and he’s an arrogant douche.

  Figures.

  Maybe all the beautiful ones are like that. God knows Nick was pretty, and he was a monster inside. The shinier the package, the dirtier the soul, it seems.

  I step away from this Jesse guy and the disgruntled girl he obviously just fucked and forgot about, turning to go.

  So with my luck, it makes perfect sense that Ev blocks my path right in that moment and points a finger at Mr. Beautiful, smiling brightly.

  “Jesse Lee. I see you’ve already met. He’s the third apprentice at the tattoo shop.”

  Yup, makes perfect sense that the asshole I never want to meet again is best friends and colleagues with my best and only friend’s boyfriend. Which means I’ll probably get to see him all the time.

  Awesome. And I’ve only just returned to town.

  ***

  Jesse Lee, according to Ev, is a good guy and a hell of a friend. When her psycho ex attacked Seth and then Micah, beating them up badly, Jesse stood watch over them at the hospital and offered to go hunt the son of a bitch down and drag him to the police station, after bashing his face in.

  Sounds violent. But also fair.

  Watching him talk to the other guys, waving his bottle of beer in the air, those stunning eyes crinkling in the corners when he grins, is addictive. The way his long mouth curves, the way muscles ripple in his arms with his every move, the way his green T-shirt stretches over his chest, molding over perfect pecs... Oh dear God.

  Too bad I don’t lust after men. I don’t chase after them. I don’t need them. They can’t be trusted. In fact, few people can.

  I desperately force my attention back to a story Micah is telling us about this customer who walked into the tattoo shop—Damage Control is the shop’s name, and talk about weird, as names go—who first refused to take a seat and then folded down into a dead faint when he saw the needle of the tattoo gun, before it even touched him.

  “A fucking mess.” Micah rolls his eyes. “I have this guy sprawled on the floor, and customers peeking into the cubicle, all
pale and stuff, preparing to run before I get my hands on them, too. Zane had to go lock himself up in the bathroom because he couldn’t stop laughing, and Tyler was left to block the exit and calm everyone down.”

  Kayla, my new roommate, throws back her head of blond-streaked hair and laughs. The sound has a nervous edge to it, and she keeps glancing in Jesse’s direction. I wonder if he’s the reason she’s acting all giggly, flaunting her shiny earrings and long legs, or if she’s always like that.

  Not sure which of the two is worse.

  When I turn toward Ev, who’s telling the story of how she met Micah on the street one winter day, I find Jesse has switched from the blue-haired guy he’d been talking to, Ocean, to another busty blonde. He has her cornered with a hand braced on the wall next to her head, his dark head dipped forward.

  She says something that makes Jesse crack up, and for some reason he turns and looks straight at me. Caught in his sparkling gaze, I fight a wave of panic.

  Are they talking about me? Laughing about me?

  Old fears rush back with a flutter of black wings, and I retreat a step, my breath frozen in my lungs. I think every set of eyes is turned on me, every smile twisting into a mocking grin, a grimace of malice.

  I think I feel hard hands pushing me, shoulders shoving into me, and I’m back at school with voices calling my name, calling me an idiot, a dimwit, a retard for having difficulties reading and writing. Nick, the leader of the bully gang, calling me an ugly, stupid bitch.

  Crap. If I don’t get out of here right now, I’m going to lose it, curl up in a ball and bawl. Not something I’d want anyone to witness, much less during this party, on my first night in town.

  So I spin around and push past Micah, stumbling through the hump and grind of bodies, trying to find a way out.

  It’s this place, I tell myself again as I push against sweaty backs and squeeze between couples to reach the door. It holds my fears, crystallized in time. That’s why I’m unsettled, uneasy in my skin. It’s a time capsule, unaffected by the passage of years, keeping me prisoner while outside the Earth turns and the world changes.

  Coming here I took a step back, right into my past. I’m not in high school anymore, not a teenager, unsure of myself, of my looks, of my worth. I know how bullying works, and I know this isn’t it. Everything’s okay. I’m okay.

  It’s over, it’s in the past, and this is the present.

  Doesn’t help much with the cold ball of dread in my stomach, or the sweat running down my back. My heart is thumping at the base of my throat, making swallowing difficult, and my mouth is dry like the desert.

  I finally reach the apartment door, wrench it open and step outside, onto the landing. It’s cooler out here, and quieter once I half-close the door behind me. We’re on the second floor. On one side, there’s a narrow window, and I crack it open, sucking in greedily the crisp night air that’s laced with car fumes and the oily scent of burgers and fries.

  I draw a steadying breath, close my eyes, and feel my center of balance. Feel my weight on the floor, let my shoulders fall back, my back straighten.

  My pendant is heavy around my neck. I touch it, feel its smooth contours, the tiny glass beads threaded on copper wire forming whorls and triangles. Forming a white rose, symbol of new beginnings.

  I’ll be fine. I have my art to keep me sane, and if I was mocked for working on it in the past, I won’t let anyone mock me now. This is my town. It was taken from me. I was chased away, made to feel like nothing.

  But I’m back, here to make new memories, find my place. I’m certainly not letting a man, no matter how jaw-dropping gorgeous, make me doubt and hate myself like I used to, not so long ago.

  I have a plan, a path leading to my future, and nobody can stop me.

  Chapter two

  Jesse

  The blonde chick is pulling on my hand, trying to drag me closer, nattering about how she’d like to decorate my dick with cherries, take a photo and put it up in her art class exhibition. Never heard anything so dumb in my life.

  But hey, it’s her class, what the fuck do I care? I laugh, alcohol making everything easier for a while, and I crane my neck to see where the brunette Ev introduced as Amber has gone to. I swear I was looking at her one second and the next she just vanished.

  Poof. Gone.

  Fuck it, am I seeing things? My alcohol hallucinations normally don’t involve pretty, wide-eyed girls who glare at me, then vanish in smoke.

  This is new, and well, sort of exciting. Because it’s new, idiot, I tell myself, but that’s not all. That girl… She reminds me of someone, and it exerts a strange pull on me, like an old, half-faded memory I need to chase after.

  So I do, pushing the insistent blonde’s hands off me, ignoring her whiny voice asking me what’s wrong and where I’m going, and start after a certain dark-haired sliver of a dream.

  Seth puts a hand on my arm and says something as I pass him by, but his words get lost in the music blasting from the stereo. Another familiar face appears before me—Dylan, my mind informs me, friend of Zane’s—and I sidestep him, so intent on my hazy mission that I almost plow into another blonde.

  “Jesse, have a drink with me?” She gives me a hopeful look, and damn, it’s the girl who went down on me in the bathroom. I remember her pouring tequila on my cock and sucking it like she was dying of thirst.

  Sadly, that’s all I recall—not her name, or anything else about her.

  “Sorry, gotta go.” I send a strained smile her way and brush by. She grabs me from behind, snagging the hem of my T-shirt, and I curse out loud, twisting to shake her off. She’s strong, holding on tight, and I wonder what she thinks will happen if she doesn’t let go, and how much drunker she is than me—when luckily for me someone stumbles into us, and she is forced to let go.

  Freedom.

  Knocking into the mass of blurry people who are dancing and shifting around the room, I hurry away, not sure where I’m heading. Why the fuck am I going after the brunette anyway? Can’t remember.

  The room goes kinda fuzzy and I blink my eyes to clear them. Whoa. Tequila shots sure hit hard, especially on an empty stomach. Maybe I should head to the kitchen instead, see if I can scrounge up something. I could’ve bet I saw tortilla chips and dips at some point, before I got distracted by the chicks of the party.

  Chicks.

  The brunette.

  Where did she go? And why the hell am I still looking for her? My stomach roils dangerously. Dammit, I need some fresh air.

  It was the look on her face, I think fuzzily as I stagger toward the main door that seems half open. When the blonde and I had laughed at the image of my dick decorated with cherries, the girl got a look of panic on her fine features. Her eyes had gone wide with fear.

  Why would laughter scare her? Ah, a riddle. A question I want an answer to. A game.

  I know all about games. I snort to myself as I push the door open and stumble outside, onto the staircase landing. And that feeling of déjà vu lingers, like an itch under my skin.

  Especially when I see her there, with her back to me, leaning beside a narrow window. The night outside is lit up with neon from the huge sign atop a bar next door, and it turns her face a ghostly blue. Her eyes flick to me as the noise from the party spills out, and she frowns.

  God, she’s damn pretty with her dark hair and pale skin, wide blue eyes and soft lips—and man, those curves… The girl has curves to die for.

  I pull the door closed behind me, pause for a moment, and then walk over to her. She doesn’t looked very pleased to see me. Scratch that, she doesn’t look pleased at all. I fight a wince under the gale of her scowl.

  “There you are,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Why did you run away?”

  Her lips purse, and damn if it’s not a pretty mouth in an even prettier face. “Run from what?”

  “Me.” I waggle my brows at her. “I know I look intimidating,” waggle-waggle, “but I don’t bite, not unless asked.”


  She groans. “Christ. If there isn’t anything you want, could you please shut the hell up?”

  Ow. She doesn’t mean what she said. Nah. “I want to know your name.”

  “It’s Amber.”

  See? “Hi, Embers.”

  She gives me a look that could freeze hell and repeats the name slowly, dragging every sound out. “It’s Am-ber.”

  Guess I deserved that. Score, though. Definitely score. Got under her skin a little there. “It’s just a pet name.”

  “I’m not your pet,” she snaps. “I don’t want a pet name. My name is fine, and you can call me that.”

  Whoa. “So…” I clear my throat, try to salvage the situation. “Nice party, huh?”

  “The party sucks. And you suck, too.”

  “No, I don’t. Though there was definitely some sucking going down tonight.” I grin, showing her all my teeth. I fiddle with the leather band around my wrist and wait for her reaction.

  She doesn’t disappoint. She clucks her tongue, a noise of disgust. “God, don’t you have anywhere else you need to be?” Her hand goes to her pendant, an interesting tangle of wire and white beads in the shape of a rose that catches the light from the window.

  “Nah. Nobody’s looking for me. You can have me for a while longer.”

  “I don’t want to have you. Go away.”

  Damn. She’s a tough nut to crack. Worse still, earlier she’d looked at me like I was candy, and now she looks at me like I’m dogshit under her shoe.

  Can’t remember stepping on her fucking toes. Then again, what’s new? I annoy people. That’s why they don’t keep me around for long.

  See, Helen? Told you.

  Keeping the smile on, I lean on the other side of the window, sucking in the cool night air. I fumble in my pocket for my pack of smokes and my lighter. I feel unaccountably nervous, which is annoying me. What the hell do I have to be nervous about?

  Let her glare. I’m immune to others’ opinions of me.

  I pull out a cigarette and stick it in my mouth, then lift the lighter and draw my first lungful of toxic smoke, grinning again when she turns her gaze away.

  Ah. Score.

  It’s strangely satisfying to get people even more riled up with me than they were to start with. I guess it touches a dark place inside of me where my anger at the world festers—at its pettiness, its ugliness, its unfairness.