“I wouldn’t consider us a we or anything, just two friends.” I started the car and ignored the way she was watching me close.

  “I was there last night. I think everyone was able to see and feel the attraction between the two of you.”

  To say I was shocked at my actions from the night before was an understatement. I’m not a prude by any means, but making out with a guy I’d just officially met in front of a room full of people wasn’t something I’d normally do.

  “I got duped into this because Clayton decided it would be fun to throw me to the dragon.” Turning onto the main highway, I looked over at Morgan and found her watching me with confusion. “Last night Clayton asked me to help him; I had no idea it was helping him load hundreds of balloons into Eli’s room.”

  “By the way, I think it is cute that you call him Eli.”

  “That’s his name.”

  “Yeah, but everyone calls him Red.”

  “I don’t get that.” I didn’t see the connection.

  “I’m still a little curious about it myself but his hair used to be shorter and red.”

  I still couldn’t see it.

  “Anyway, I followed Clayton upstairs and when Eli opened the door, I saw his face. I could tell he didn’t really like that I had but it was too late to change it.” I can still picture his shocked expression when he found me standing in the hall next to Clayton. “That twin has a big mouth and proceeded to tell Eli that I’d helped, so now I’m being recruited to help clean up the mess.”

  “Doesn’t he think after what he did to you, he deserved just a little bit of payback?” This dick in the face thing I think would follow me forever with this group. “But I do have one question.”

  “What’s that?” I shouldn’t have asked. But it was too late.

  “Did you see the Prince?”

  It was my turn to be confused. I pulled into the parking lot of Walgreens and took the first available spot. With the car in park and the keys pulled from the ignition I finally looked over at Morgan.

  “Prince?”

  “Don’t know if you heard about the video yet, but apparently after Red passed out they were able to rouse him enough to convince him to wax.” My eyes grew wide and she laughed. “Yep, they videoed it and everything. But what surprised them all was that Red has a piercing.”

  “As in…” I pointed downward.

  “Yes,” with a nod she continued. “Of course Xavier covered my eyes and led me from the room but I heard enough to know what the guys were referring to. So I was wondering if you saw it up close and personal.”

  “I was turned to the side,” I replied, but I did remember feeling something hard and unfleshlike against my cheek.

  I climbed out of my car and moved toward the store quickly. It was embarrassing enough that every person in the house and probably out of it were talking about my mishap. I didn’t want to relive it with Morgan too.

  “He’s had an interest in you since he first saw you at Pete’s.” I looked over at her while standing in front of the exfoliator sponges. “That day they all came in and he openly flirted with you—he doesn’t normally do that. Red is a private guy and rarely do the guys see him act as he did that day.”

  I looked away from her, not really knowing what to say.

  “I just thought you should know that he isn’t one of the guys from the house that makes his rounds. He’s hard to follow, hard to figure out, but he’s not a player.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know these things. Had I thought of him? Yes. I’d thought of him every single minute since our time together the previous night but my life was already complicated enough. Adding a guy like Eli would only make things harder.

  ***

  Morgan and I entered the house and froze in the entryway. There was a mixture of hands and feet, arms and legs bound around one another, mixed with a lot of vulgarities.

  “You challenged me,” somebody from the bottom of the pile said. Actually it came out in more of a grunt. “You said I couldn’t out do you.”

  “You fucking tattooed me.” It was Elijah, he was hard to miss with his brown head. “With a dude’s name, you dick.”

  “It’s universal.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” Eli hooked his arm around the other guy’s neck and at that point I saw it was Clayton.

  “It means it can be for a guy or a girl.”

  Clayton wiggled free and Eli rolled over onto his back, noticing that Morgan and I are standing there. His arms are out at his sides, wrists up, and I see it. In big bold letters…

  Blake.

  My throat feels tight and I know I’m staring but I can’t stop myself.

  “All you talked about last night was Catherine this and Cat that. So I branded you.” Clayton stood back attempting to right his shirt.

  “Then why the fuck tattoo me with the name Blake?”

  “That’s my name,” I mumbled as I stared.

  The room grew quiet and suddenly I felt stupid for even opening my mouth. I nervously twisted the plastic bag from the store in my hand.

  “Is that the stuff?” The topic of the tattoo quickly forgotten, Eli pushed up off the floor and stopped only a few feet away from me. I nodded in reply, looking up at him. It was almost impossible not to smile when he looked so hilarious.

  “You look ridiculous.” He grinned at my words. “Let’s go get to work so that when I look at you the first reaction won’t be for me to laugh.”

  I knew the tattoo would come up again. Right then I needed a distraction.

  Chapter Nine

  Elijah

  “Hold still.” Cat continued to scrub my forehead. It felt like my skin was being ripped off as she rubbed some type of exfoliating sponge back and forth. The entire time I was internally cursing Clayton and planning his demise. A slow torturous death seemed like it wasn’t enough. “I’ve almost got it.”

  “You said that ten minutes ago.”

  Catherine laughed, yet didn’t pause. “That was not ten minutes ago, it was more like two. Are you always this cranky?”

  “Yes.” I looked up as she her bit her lip, trying not to laugh again. “Okay not always, but this shit hurts. Is there going to be any skin left when you’re done?”

  “Not making any promises.”

  It would seem she was a bit of a smart ass too.

  “Why do you all do this to yourselves anyway?”

  “Do what?”

  “Set yourselves up for punishment. I mean you get drunk with a group of guys you already know are going to torment you, yet you do it anyway.”

  “I normally don’t do it, but last night I made the dumb ass mistake of thinking even Clayton couldn’t outdo me. I blame this on you.”

  “Me?” Her voice squeaked with surprise when she leaned back looking down at me. The fact that she had finally taken a break from scrubbing was the biggest relief. “Yes, I helped with the balloons, but other than that I did nothing.” She paused and wrinkled her nose up in the cutest way. “Okay, so I did help you get dressed after you got your ass glued to a chair, and I did allow you to pass out on me, but that was it.

  I noticed she left out the part where I apparently shoved my dick in her face.

  Smooth move, Eli.

  “You allowed me to use you for body shots.”

  “It was either that or stand back and watch Holly McHooters crawl up on the counter and take my place.”

  The moment she finished the sentence her cheeks reddened in that familiar way they had a time or two before when I’d hit on her at Porter’s. I found it exciting that the idea of me with another girl sparked jealousy in her.

  “What about that makes you irritated?”

  “It doesn’t,” she lied. I knew this because she was still unable to look me in the eyes. “I was just—”

  “Showing your jealousy.”

  “I barely know you, what is there to be jealous about?” Still holding the sponge in her hand she attempted to move closer and go back to scrubbing my face. I lifted my hand and wrapped it around her wrist, holding the exfoliator only a few inches from my face.

  “You could get to know me. We’ve already moved past the first kiss, so that awkwardness is gone.”

  “It was far from awkward.”

  I found it funny how whenever she spoke she quickly looked around and appeared embarrassed, as if her mouth got away from her and said things without fully thinking them through.

  “No, it wasn’t awkward at all. Which is why I think we should do it again.”

  “Now?”

  This time I chuckled as I watched her eyes grow wide with curiosity, or maybe fear.

  “I was thinking we should go out, talk, hang out a bit. After that we could definitely do some more body shots.” She closed her eyes and I could already tell she was thinking about that part of our night as the smallest trace of a smile tugged at her lips. I’d thought of it so many times myself since. Drunk or not, I dreamed of that part of my night. It was before I was drunk and everything grew hazy.

  “I have to work tonight.”

  “Then tomorrow.” I wasn’t going to let her out of this that easily. “You know you like me.”

  “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?” I nod. “Sunday.”

  I’d felt like I’d just won the lottery. I wanted to reach out and pull her closer but instead lifted her hand and placed the sponge to my forehead. “Now let’s get this shit off, otherwise you’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

  Cat slowly began to move it back and forth, fitting her smile. “I’m not embarrassed, I still think you’re handsome.”

  I could have said so many things right then. I could have told her that from the moment I first saw her that sweet innocence about her made my knees weak. I could have told her that though I’d barely met her I felt like I’d known her for years.

  I was a quarterback for the University of Florida. A full scholarship, a free ride. With that came the girls, the expectations, but I didn’t want them. I never had, I just wanted to play the game I loved; I didn’t want the fame that went with it.

  I was a private guy; most of my brothers didn’t even know about the life I’d lived. They didn’t know that Aunt Meg and Uncle Miles weren’t my parents. They didn’t know that my mother loved her drugs and men more than she loved me. I was dispensable.

  Cat wasn’t like the girls who came in and out of this house. She wasn’t like the cheerleaders and groupies; she didn’t care who I was. She was fun and I looked forward to getting to know her.

  “So Blake?” I said with my eyes closed as she continues to work on my face. “I thought your name was Catherine.”

  She was silent for a moment and I noticed the way she paused, the sponge pressed to my cheek.

  “My first name is Blake.” She began to move the sponge again only much softer this time. “It was my father’s name.”

  “Was?”

  “He died when I was twelve.” I opened my eyes when she removed the sponge from my face. “My parents were never together, though he’d always tried to convince her they should try. My mother was…” she paused as if trying her best to come up with an explanation, “…is difficult. She’s always been that way.”

  Cat took a seat next to me on the bed and held the sponge in her hand as she looked down at it.

  “She’s only ever truly cared about herself; he’d fight her for me all the time. But there was a time they got along, even if it was only the first few months of my life. She cared enough to give me his name, but after that she never wanted to hear it again.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at me. With a shrug she forced a smile. “So instead, I’ve always gone by Catherine. The only person that’s ever called me Blake was my father. I don’t even know why I told Clayton the other night. It was just one of those times my mouth got carried away before I could decide if it was what I wanted to say or not.”

  “I like when you do that.”

  She laughs, “Why?”

  “It’s when I get to know you, the real you. Because those are the times you say the things you would normally censor.”

  “You are so weird.”

  Chuckling, I bumped my shoulder to hers softly. “It’s the truth, think about it. Would you have been so bold as to say the things you said last night while I was licking salt from your body if you had analyzed your words first?”

  “How would you know what I said? You were drunk.”

  “I wasn’t drunk yet, I remember what you said like it’s playing on repeat in my head. ‘Can we just skip the salt, drink, and lime then go straight for the kissing?’ I’m sure that’s how it went.”

  “Something like that.” Cat lifted her gaze to meet mine. “In my defense though it was a really great kiss.” Her smirk told me she was taunting me. There was something Catherine would learn fast—I never shied away. Ever.

  Within seconds I had her back to the bed and hovered above her. “One of five very amazing kisses.” Something I wanted to repeat, something I needed to repeat. “I don’t have any salt, or limes, and even though I’m sure there’s tequila downstairs, I’d rather just have your kisses.”

  The way she was watching me, her eyes locked on mine, shifting to my lips and then back again made my heart pound so fucking hard it felt as if it would beat right out of my chest.

  Just when I thought she would deny me, she began to lift her head from the mattress beneath and her lips touched mine. Softly at first, and I allowed her to lead. The intensity began to grow and she lifted her hand to cup the back of my neck. The moment her tongue swiped out to touch my lips I fucking melted. My ability to hold back ended the moment a soft moan escaped her.

  “Better each time.” She whispered this as our lips parted for only a few seconds and I couldn’t agree more. It did get better, like something I’d never felt before.

  I could have gone on kissing her all day, but when she looked to her left I could sense that she felt as if it should come to an end.

  “We should get back to cleaning you up.” Though I wanted to push for more, I gave in and lifted my body from hers. In that moment our connection was lost.

  Chapter Ten

  Catherine

  Sometimes I would sneak off just for a drive or a long walk alone and think of my father. I only had a few memories of him that lingered but they were mine and I held them dear.

  I guess I held a huge grudge toward my mother for fighting him so much when all he wanted was to be a father to me. He may have traveled often for his job, but when he was home he’d always tried to see me. He’d call, but she wouldn’t answer; he’d write but she’d never let me read his letters. Eventually he realized he should just save them and give them to me directly whenever he got home.

  Most of our time together was simply going out to dinner or even just for ice cream. What I loved most about my father were the talks we would have. He loved me; he just picked the wrong woman to start a family with. She was conniving and deceitful, always using me against him.

  When he got sick I felt like a part of me faded with him. It was then she’d allow me to see him. Not because she felt bad, or even wanted me to see him as often as I could until the inevitable. It was just her cruel way of reminding both him and me that our life would go on without him, just as it had before. She liked mentioning things that she planned to do with me, places she wanted to take me, knowing that he’d never be able to share those experiences with me.

  Like I’ve said, my mother was heartless because in the end she never did even one of those things with me. She’d hang them as bait, taunting him with the idea of it all, yet she knew all along it was nothing more than talk.

  I hated her for that. Hated her for making my dad feel even the slightest amount of guilt. There he was dying, attempting to hold on to every little memory he could and she was filling his mind with such hateful things.

  I know if he were here, he would have taken me to every single place she’d mentioned. Disneyland, Sea World, even the Grand Canyon, just to name a few.

  Before he got sick we used to talk about when I got old enough we would travel and he’d show me all the places he was able to see during his road trips. My father may not have been rich or had the most luxurious job, but he did what he could. He worked for a trucking company and sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time. But it was a steady job, which was more than I could say for my mother. He provided for me the best he could. I honestly think my mother was jealous of our closeness. He didn’t want a relationship with her so she felt that he shouldn’t have a relationship with me.

  Ridiculous, I know.

  During his travel though he’d started collecting small trinkets during his road trips, one for each state he’d visit each time he visited it. He always brought them back and it made me feel wanted, because that meant even though he was away, he still thought of me.

  Hell, I was in the same small home as my mother, saw her every day, and on most days I thought she forgot I even existed.

  Life is cruel and at times I felt terrible for asking God why he’d taken my father instead of my mother.

  Awful, right?

  Cancer sucks and I would never wish that on anyone. So maybe she’d fall asleep and pass peacefully instead and no one would get cancer. There…that was better.

  After my dad passed I felt lost. I’d sit in my room for hours, sifting through all the letters, postcards, and trinkets he’d given me over the first twelve years of my life. It was a way for me to reconnect to him, feel as if he was still here with me, making me smile and laugh.

  My dad was a clown, always looking for the humor in everything. He was happy.

  I came home from school one day to find all those things I’d treasured gone. After searching everywhere, I found them. Or what was left of them.

  There was a fresh burnt spot in the grass out back and small remnants of the things that had fully burned were peeking out beneath the blackened ashes.