Ephemeral

  Cooper looks over to me with a razor sharp accusation as if I had somehow landed him in front of a flesh buffet, and now he’s lost his appetite because of me.

  “What do I think of what?” He never loses our gaze. Cooper glides into an easy smile that asks me to stay, to abandon my love for Wesley and give it all to him. He gives a long blink and a solemn nod as if I had hit the nail on the head, as if he read my mind from three feet away.

  Grayson steps in and cascades her long slender finger down his neck. “How about you and me figure things out, together—alone.” She purrs while biting down on his ear, and my stomach turns.

  I don’t stick around for the show. Instead, I bolt for the exit.

  I find Wes on the porch taking a drink from Fletcher’s cup before passing it back. He spits out the contents in an arched stream into the bushes.

  “You just missed Jen.” Wes sucks in a hard breath. “What the hell was in that?” he barks at Fletch.

  “Love tonic.” Fletcher glowers at the two of us.

  “Good luck with that,” Wes shouts as we take off in the direction of Henderson Hall. He presses his lips to the back of my hand. I’ve already got all the love tonic I need—and I’m about to drink her down.

  Blaine sits at the front desk with his dick-nose buried in a laptop, doesn’t even look up when we burst through the door. A part of me wants to leap across the lacquered desk and strangle him for Jen. But I don’t. I let his philandering ways live to see another day, giving Jen some time to nurture her lethal intentions.

  Henderson Hall is quiet as a cemetery unlike the first time I was here. It was the night Casper brought me to the big party and I saw Fletch and Wes—the night I shared a kiss that up until that moment was only able to play out in my dreams.

  Wes leads us through the entry, stealthy, as if he were breaking a thousand different laws just housing me within these walls.

  The air holds the slight scent of old socks and minty toothpaste. The entire facility has a boys’ locker room appeal, and this doesn’t really surprise me considering this is where Fletch resides. It’s completely filthy, unlike Austen House which could double as a fancy hotel. You could host the president or the Queen at Austen and not feel ashamed.

  The commons area at Henderson is littered with soda cans and empty wrappers are strewn all over the floor. Two giant pizza boxes are opened out on the floor in the form of the letter A. The scattering of tiny white balls in the vicinity is proof positive they’re not above creating their own miniature golf course. It’s nice to see a resourceful use of litter. At Austen House they’d bury you in a landfill should a gum wrapper stray from your purse. Anal doesn’t begin to describe the fascist-like offenses.

  “Fletch is my roommate,” Wes says it like an apology as he leads me to the room farthest down the hall. “Most of the mess is Fletcher’s fault.”

  I completely believe him. Wesley’s old room was neat as a pin save for his art supplies—and Fletch lived in an overgrown laundry bin.

  Wes pulls me inside and shuts the door.

  Wes, in all his dark glory, takes me in with his hungry eyes. His shadowed dimples tremble in my presence.

  He indulges in a series of wild kisses before examining me at arm’s length.

  Why in the hell am I waiting for her to get her memory back? I should ravage her, sink my teeth into her skin—run my tongue along every single inch. The impression of a lewd smile plays on his lips.

  “You know what I was thinking?” I bat my lashes.

  He shakes his head, vocally paralyzed by his sudden need to ingest me.

  “You should show me your artwork.” I lick the tip of my finger before running it up his sweater and tracing a heart over his bare chest. “You know—before we share a few things together.” Instinctively, I pull away. My stomach does a hot revolution, and suddenly I’m horrified at the thought of making good on my proposition. Cooper singes through my mind, etches his self-portrait over my heart as indelible as that picture back in my closet.

  Wesley’s face livens with color. A fire burns behind those green lenses he sees the world through, and he lands a simple a kiss over my lips.

  “As you wish,” he whispers.

  He disappears into the closet momentarily, so I go over and lie on his bed, kick off my cheer-bot tennis shoes and take a deep breath into his pillow. I know for a fact this is Wesley’s bed because, for one, it’s been made, and second, there’s not a snake of balled-up socks slithering over the surface.

  “Try not to be too disappointed.” Wes comes out with an armful of canvases, a stack of notebooks on top of that. It’s hard to believe he could be hiding anything from me. This looks like years of work.

  He snatches the pillow off Fletcher’s bed and sits next to me with the pile of notebooks amassed on his legs.

  He opens a sketchbook, and the first thing I see is my profile, gentle and flowing, the soft grey of the pencil capturing every nuance with staggering accuracy.

  “This is you at the Anderson employee picnic. Your uncle insists we go every year, makes it look more like a family business rather than the Wall Street sensation it really is.” He turns page after page of me by a window, me by the pool, in the meadow bathed in sunlight with a wreath of flowers in my hair.

  “So…” Wes wraps an arm around my waist. “Have I managed to freak you out completely?”

  “No.” I scoot in close. “God, no. I’m honored to be in so many of your pictures.” Let alone all.

  “Here,” he says, pushing the sketches off to the side and holding a canvas up to the light, “I thought you might like this one.”

  It’s a russet-colored building set against a sepia countryside.

  “Wes!” Everything in me ignites with adrenaline as I snatch it from him. “It’s the old barn. This is your farm back home. I swear it. You have to believe me!”

  “Hey—” His brows swoop together like a bat in flight. He carefully places the canvas down and picks up my hands. “In no way do I want to upset you.” or exacerbate the situation. Geez—I thought I’d be helping, not making things worse. Of course she thinks she’s from a farm in Kansas. I made her drive out to the country with me days before she fell two stories with nothing but a pile of rocks to break her fall.

  “Wait, wait…” I try to mask the pain with a smile. “That barn…” I give several hard blinks.

  Come on, you can do it. He gives an intense stare prodding me to the finish line.

  “I was there with you.” I look up as though I were remembering the event in detail. “You took me there, you made me go.” I bite down on my lip and watch him writhe with pleasure.

  “You scared me for a second.” He lets out a breath. “I thought you were back on the first flight to Kansas.” He pulls me in like reeling a fish. “I love you, Laken Anderson, you know that?” He gives a heartbreaking kiss that lets me know how close to the emotional brink I had driven him. You could feel his heart pulsate through his lips as they quiver over mine.

  I pull back and take in his kissed-by-God features. “And I love you, Wesley Paxton.” It slices through me, tearing my heart in jagged pieces when I say his last name. I could be anyone he wanted tonight, and I just might have to.

  He lets out a hint of a laugh as though he were onto me. Wes takes off his sweater, revealing his perfectly chisel body.

  I try to attempt the same, but he catches me by the wrist.

  “I won’t be able to stop,” he whispers, “and you need time to heal.”

  “What about me? What about what I want?” There may not be any other way to heal except through Wesley’s body. No better way to take my mind off things and people.

  He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you waking up one day and hating me for taking advantage of you.” He presses out a dry grin, igniting the commas on either side of his cheeks.

  “That’s ridiculous.” I pull off my cheer sweater with the speed and finesse of a magician, exposing my black lace bra unde
rneath. “Besides,” I whisper, running my fingers inside the lip of his jeans, “Wesley Paxton—what if I feel like taking advantage of you?”

  “Oh really?” His chest thunders with a laugh. “I double dog dare you,” he whispers it hot across my neck. Wes lingers a trail of warm kisses down to the middle of my chest before rising.

  I hold back a solid laugh. “It’s on.”

  Wes turns off the light and appears back at my side with an accelerated speed. I pull him down over me and feel the heft of his body as it settles over mine. My insides ripple with pleasure as his skin melts over me, searing me with his craving. Wes starts in on a montage of kisses that span from my ear to my lips and back again. I grab him by the shoulders and gently maneuver until I roll him onto his back. I press my lips against his neck and drag a line down his chest with my tongue, causing his stomach to flinch. Wes lets out a soft groan that lets me know my presence is more than welcome.

  I drop my lips below his stomach, never leaving his scorching flesh. My hand rides over the enormous bulge in his jeans. It looks like Wes is reconsidering his plan of action and nature is about to take over in an intimate way.

  Wes is in the market for building new memories tonight, ones that we’ll cherish long after this identity crisis has unspooled itself. We’re about to open the door to happily ever after through the porthole of our affection, and there’s not a person or creature on earth that has the power to stop it.

  I lash little circles over his belly button with my tongue, tracking down lower, hedging the horizon of his boxers with my thirsty lips. His breathing grows erratic. His thoughts morph into all-out erotica. Wes has already had me twelve different ways in this short span of time. I peer into his thoughts and watch the theater of Wesley’s mind as my legs glide up over his chest, my feet crest the top of his shoulders. Wes, on top, Wes, below—it’s all possible in his fantasy, all happening at once.

  I tug at his waistband and press a kiss just above the final frontier.

  The door swings open and the lights explode overhead.

  Fletcher stands at the entry with his eyes sprung wide, his face bleached of all color before he roars to life.

  Unfortunately, it seems the only memory we’ll be making tonight involves my brother.

  49

  The Good Fight

  On Saturday the sky glares down over Ephemeral. The clouds taunt us with their dark curved bellies—mist over us with a fog so thick that your hand disappears in front of your face. It’s on this morning that Cooper offers to take Marky and me to the mall.

  I need it like this—with a dark mysterious haze to comfort me from what almost happened last night with Wes. I worked his superhuman conjugal restraint— eroded it to nothing. I can still feel the heat of his chest against mine—his heart jumping like a two-ton bull at the gate. Wes and I could have reduced the world to cinders, for sure, reduced Henderson to ash if it weren’t for Fletch.

  The grey world lingers in a ceaseless slumber. It resonates my feelings from last night so well that I half expect to see an image of Wes and me in the clouds with an air bubble above my head—Coop looking down in disapproval.

  I couldn’t get Cooper Flanders off my mind. It was exhausting trying to hide my thoughts from Wesley. Thank God Wes has some serious moral issues when it comes to sleeping with his all but brain-dead girlfriend. Although, he was more than ready to abandon those issues in the heat of the moment.

  Wesley’s convictions aside, I can’t in good conscience give myself to him with Cooper haunting me like a poltergeist. I’m more than a little thankful for my brother’s ill timing. I was way out of control.

  Fletch accused the two of us of doing more than kissing. I believe his exact words were fucking like beasts, which led him to try and beat the shit out of Wes who, in turn, walked me home with a swollen bottom lip. I guess Wes hasn’t really squared away our arrangement with Fletch, and who knew Fletch would pull the big brother card?

  I blink all thoughts of my near discretion away as I take up Marky’s hand.

  Marky, Coop, and I stride down the long corridors of the shopping mall where, as the sign reads, “Every Deal is a Little Bit o’ Heaven.”

  “What colors do you think look good on me?” Marky holds her face to the sky, and I picture her clothed in a rainbow.

  “All of them,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You’re one of those people.” I roll my eyes with all of the drama I can afford.

  She squeals as we head into a store catering to preteens. The entire front of the establishment is lined with glittering holiday outfits.

  Marky fingers a white satin dress with a full tulle skirt and squared off sequins peppered at random.

  I had to borrow clothes from Carter this morning who graciously and permanently opened her closet to me. We’re about the same size in general, so everything fits, but still, my own bra and underwear would be nice. I seriously doubt I’ll be raiding the panty aisles with Cooper in tow.

  “This is pretty,” she says it measured, slow. “I could wear this to a wedding.” She looks over at Coop and me as if we were the couple in question. “I could be the flower girl. I’m dying to be a flower girl.”

  Flower girl? I feel horrible, like I’m setting Marky up for some big emotional fall. “It looks great.” I give a nervous glance to Coop. “You wanna start in the back?” I ask, ushering her toward the rear of the store to get her mind off all things wedding. “I think maybe bright blue or purple. You’d look really great in purple.”

  I sneak another glimpse at Coop who looks every bit the golden boy of Ephemeral—hell, the planet. I’m sure he’ll find a bride sooner than later and make all of his sister’s flower girl dreams come true. My stomach sours at the thought.

  Marky loses herself, plowing through the racks of clothes. She holds up shirts for me to periodically inspect, then replaces them obediently if I even hint that it’s just okay.

  “You’re quiet today,” I say it low, pretending to riffle through a stack of lime green sweaters. Cooper hasn’t said two words this entire morning with the exception of a brief hello.

  “Just tired.” He pulls his ball cap down an inch over his forehead. Coop is insanely gorgeous with his baseball hat and jeans, his Ephemeral sweatshirt with the coat of arms on the front. Really, he doesn’t have to wait around for Marky and me. I could call him to pick us up, but then, I don’t want him to leave so, I would never suggest it.

  “You hang out at Melville all night?” I try to seem indifferent when I ask. Grayson runs through my mind with her well-curved bottom, her pouty pink lips. I’m sick just thinking about what may or may not have transpired last night. I don’t dare tell Coop she once threatened to love him like a woman, that she called me a girl.

  “I stayed pretty late,” he says it soft, his eyes locking onto mine.

  “So I guess you had lots of company.” An image of Grayson spasming over his flesh corrupts my thoughts.

  “I did.” He gives a reluctant nod and moves in closer. “It provided for an interesting evening.” A fire brews between us as he shoulders up to me. He doesn’t waver his penetrating stare. “I thought maybe you’d come back.” He sweeps the carpet with his gaze. “I guess you were having a good time.”

  I take a breath and seal it in my lungs.

  Cooper waited.

  It kills me on the inside. Cooper is aching and I want to offer myself to him as a balm, but I can’t.

  There’s something defining itself here, something humble and right. I try to shake the thought away and deny any idea of Coop ever steering me away from Wes.

  “Any leads on the nutcase in hot pursuit of my love life?” I pretend to interest myself in a display of cable-knit scarves, long and strong like the noose I’d like to hang Grayson with.

  The depressing image of Coop and me at the football game magically disappeared by the time I got back to my room last night.

  “Am I a part of your love life?” He says it sarcastic as though I had implied somet
hing that wasn’t there—something that I was wishing for. Before I can answer, he lets me off the hook. “I have some information coming to me. Answers might be involved.”

  It doesn’t sound very promising.

  “What about Kettles?” I ask.

  The thought of a dark beach with Coop quenches me like a cool glass of water. Being with Wes is like wearing seven-inch heels on concrete, uphill. And spending time with Cooper is like kicking them off, running barefoot through a field of spring grass, alive and carefree. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to try to be someone I’m not.

  “I’d rather we work on those lit reports in my room,” he whispers it like a lure. “You know—if you needed the help. My bed misses you, by the way.”

  “You’re changing the subject.” I catch the smile before it has a chance to fully form on his lips.

  “Kettles.” His cheek slides up on one side. “Should I bring a date?”

  “I thought I was your date. If you don’t show, how ever will we propagate our love life?” I tease. He smolders into me with a knowing look. I can feel the temperature rise as a bite of heat sweeps through me. “Guess you had a goodtime last night since you stayed so long.”

  “Rumor has it you did, too.”

  “I wasn’t the one hanging out with girls in their underwear.” I shrug off his accusation.

  Cooper steps in front of me. His eyes bear into mine with a mix of agony and ecstasy. “Maybe you were hanging out with boys in theirs.” He leaves it out there to see if I’ll bite. Beneath it all, he loves this careless banter, indulges in it just to see me squirm.

  “Not I.” Wes may have unbuttoned his jeans, but it went no further. I smirk into the scarf I’m holding. “So you hang out with anyone of the male persuasion last night?”

  “You mean, how long was I around blond bikini models?” His lids hang heavy. “Did they touch me?” His face inches toward mine like a dare. “Take me upstairs and tie me to a bedpost with what little clothing they had left?” The hard line of his jaw glints in the light, annunciating his chiseled good looks. His warm breath sears my flesh, and for one weak moment I push my lips close to his.