Chelsey
I wonder if he knows how he looks at me.
I wonder if he’s ever stopped to think just how penetrating his gorgeous blue gaze is. I wonder if he’s ever realized how much emotion he can pack into the most fleeting of glances.
He must know. Otherwise how can he truly recognize the want in mine?
I know how badly I wanted that nutcracker when I saw it. I recognized the spark of jealousy that came to life when I saw he was buying Leila one. I felt the desire swarm into a tight ball in my belly as I watched the German woman handle the nutcracker as if it were made of glass.
Obviously, he saw it, too. I would have been happy with a key ring–size nutcracker if that’s all there was. But the big one? The really big, expensive one with all the detail?
He saw. He noticed. The price and size is irrelevant.
He saw how much I wanted it, so he got it for me. That simple. That easy. Just because he knew it’d make me happy.
It has. The Nutcracker was, and still is, my all-time favorite thing to watch at Christmas. Even Barbie in the Nutcracker. I’m not ashamed to say I have the DVD of that in a box under my bed.
Kye Burke is the most observant man I have ever met in my life. He doesn’t miss a thing.
I wrap my hands around the giant mug of hot chocolate and cast my gaze out over the seafront. Charleston pier stretches out into the Atlantic, its amusements undoubtedly full of excited children. A couple of crazy people are sitting on the edge of the pier holding fishing rods. I have no idea what they’re hoping to catch right now—possibly an old boot or a faded, crushed can of soda?
I sip the rich, hot drink and keep watching. Storm clouds are gathering in the distance, blocking out the sun’s weak winter rays. The dark clouds make the sea look dangerous as the waves roll forward under the shadows. It makes me nervous. I’m not sure how many more storms Shelton Bay can deal with, and this one seems to be forming right along the coastline.
Air fills my lungs as I inhale deeply. After hours of walking around the markets and making a trip back to the parking lot to put bags away—yes, I totally bought the whole candy stall—hot drinks seemed like a good idea. I didn’t consider that we’d be packed into a bustling café with tons of other people, all of whom had the same idea.
But mostly I didn’t realize how comfortable silence would be with Kye. We’ve never really experienced it this way. We’ve always joked or laughed or teased, but we haven’t said a word to each other for fifteen minutes.
Actually, there have been a lot of these moments today. Just walking around together, enjoying the peace. I’ve never been this comfortable around anyone, and it’s opened up a whole new way of thinking for me.
The clearest lesson I’ve had today is that he is nothing like the picture I painted in my mind.
Kye Burke is sweet and thoughtful and considerate. He’s sharp and cocky and takes advantage of the versatility of the word “fuck.” His dirty mouth is offset by his pure heart, and those two things are, without a doubt, my favorite parts of him.
I love how he can make me red hot on the outside but melt on the inside within seconds.
I love the way he looks at me. He has this amazing way of making me seem like I’m the only thing in his world, like everything else is nothing more than a blur. I love how he makes my life seem that much brighter and more vivid.
I know I’ve laughed more since he started this cat-and-mouse game with me. I know I’ve smiled for no reason while standing in front of the fridge because I remembered something dumb he said that made me laugh.
I know my skin tingles in anticipation every time he reaches for me. My mouth dries whenever his face dips down to mine, and all he has to do is walk into a room and my heart picks up an erratic, thundering beat.
I know that I am undeniably, completely, totally, utterly fucking screwed.
Falling in love with Kye Burke was never part of the plan. It was a laughable occurrence, so ridiculously out there that it was never even worth ruling out. My five-year plan didn’t involve falling into bed with this sinfully hot man, and it sure as hell didn’t have any time for love penciled in anywhere.
That was planned for year six. When I figured I’d have all my shit together and be ready to deal with the pain and issues that love carries with it but never tells you about.
I guess that’s the thing about love. Love doesn’t give a crap if you’re on a schedule or have your whole life planned out. If love wants to happen, it’ll happen. Love will always find a way, even if your heart is surrounded by a tall, thick steel wall.
I’ve also learned that I’ve been lying to myself. I don’t really have an issue with his job. Rock star, schmock star. A job doesn’t make someone behave a certain way. Just because he makes music for a living and travels the world and has millions of females falling at his feet like snowflakes in a blizzard doesn’t mean he’d be an unfaithful asshole.
My reservations come solely from the fear of a long-distance relationship. It comes from differing time zones. It comes from the sting of loneliness and the sweet scent of temptation that can soothe that sting.
My fear has always been of getting my heart broken. Of giving someone my everything and having it ripped into pieces because my everything wasn’t enough to keep them. Just like my mom and I weren’t enough to keep my dad.
I’m still terrified of that. Oh God, I am. I can feel the paralyzing squirm of fear now. The thought that you could love someone so fiercely and they’d betray that is the worst thought I’ve ever had, yet I can’t stop thinking it.
Yet if I had to, I would put my life in the palm of Kye’s hand. I trust him to protect me and keep me safe and look after me. I trust him to put a smile on my face and make me laugh and always show up with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a trick.
In the end, that’s all we come down to. It was a slow burn of emotion that happened quicker than it should have, and it all started with a bottle of Jack and a trick.
So simple.
I smile into my mug. That’s it. Just simple. No frills or fancy dates or grand gestures. Just a bottle of Jack, a power outage, and a trick. Totally ridiculous.
“What are you smilin’ at?”
I face him, my smile still in place. “Isn’t it crazy that this started with a bottle of Jack and one of your little tricks?”
The blue in his eyes seems to pop as the amusement that curves his lips flashes in his gaze. “You call it crazy,” he answers. “I call it fate.”
“Sounds like you just pulled that right out of a song.”
He raises his mug to his lips, still smiling. “No, but I think it should be one.”
“Depends. Are you gonna call it ‘Jack and a Trick’?”
“You bet.” He finishes his coffee and grins. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, then we’ll head back, yeah?”
“Sounds good.” I’ve barely touched my hot chocolate, so I drink half the cup before putting it down on the table in front of me.
My eyes catch my reflection in the window. The stupid black wig frames my face, the shoulder-length locks much coarser than my own long blond hair. The bangs are too sharp for my features, and mostly, the dark color washes me out. I’m not as tan as my friends. Any one of them could pull off this shade, but I’m better off light.
I take a deep breath and pull the pins from my hairline. I put them on the arm of the chair and pull the wig off. Then I remove the pins holding my light hair up. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, so I tuck the pins into my pocket, shake my real hair out, and run out of the coffee shop with the wig in my hand.
I don’t want to hide anymore. It’s that simple. I don’t want to creep around and pretend to be something else. He isn’t my dad, I’m not my mom, and history doesn’t always have to repeat itself.
I text Kye and tell him to meet me outside, then walk a few feet down the street and tuck myself into an alleyway. I bite down on my lower lip as I wait for him to emerge. He’s caught by a group of girls almost as soon as he does, and I watch with a smile as he’s wrangled into some autographs and a whole host of selfies.
I bet if I search his name on Instagram later I’ll see these exact images.
The girls leave him after a minute or two and he pulls out his phone. Mine buzzes a second later.
I can’t see you.
Turn left down the street. My teeth sink right into my lip now, the sting of pain taking away some of the nerves. He looks around a lot as he walks, and he actually walks right past me. I guess he’s looking for my black hair.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” I call, half-smiling.
He turns and his eyes scan the area. Finally, they come to rest on me, and recognition flashes in them. He walks to me without a word and takes a piece of my hair between his finger and thumb. “You took it off. Why?”
“Black isn’t my color.”
He lifts his eyebrows, still holding a strand of my hair. “I did tell you that you look stupid.”
“Stupidly beautiful were the exact words, actually.” I lift the wig and hold it out to him. “So, here.”
He takes it from me. “Uh, babe, black ain’t my color either.”
I laugh and snatch it back from him then put it on his head. He looks totally fucking ridiculous, and he pouts, duck-face style.
“How do I look?”
“Like you’re crazy,” I giggle, covering my mouth.
“That’s because you make me crazy, you little pain in the ass,” he murmurs through a smirk. He pulls me close and looks down. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
“Right here? On the sidewalk? Right now?”
“Nah, I’m askin’ if I can kiss you next fuckin’ week under the mistletoe.”
“I don’t know. That’s a big ask,” I tease him.
“Chelsey, I swear, I’m tryin’ to be considerate of the fact you just whipped this dumb wig off your head and that there’s already someone snapping pictures of your beautiful face, but you’re makin’ it real hard for me not to push you against the wall and kiss the hell out of you.”
“That escalated incredibly quickly, you know that, right? You went from asking to threatening. Did you have a little short in your brain-to-mouth filter? Some words get lost?”
“Chelsey.” He growls it. He actually growls it. A deep, primitive sound that rumbles through me until my whole body is buzzing.
“That’s my name,” I breathe, my mouth dry.
The glimmer in his eye makes my stomach flip. I know it’s coming. I know he hasn’t realized I’m teasing him and that there’s only one thing on his mind right now.
I reach up before he can and whip the stupid wig off his head. It falls to the floor, and I wrap my arms around Kye’s neck, pull myself onto my tiptoes, and press my lips to his.
His shock lasts all of a second before his grip tightens on me and he turns the kiss into something I feel in every cell of my body. “You’re a fuckin’ ping-pong ball, you know that?” he says quietly, his eyes searching my face. “One minute you’re in disguise, the next you’re kissin’ me in the middle of Charleston and the disguise is crumpled on the ground. Help me out here, babe, because I don’t get it.”
Neither do I, I want to say. I want to whisper, No, I don’t understand where the random bursts of courage come from except that I’m pretty sure they originate from the part of my soul that wants yours.
Instead, I fall back on my heels and touch his cheek. His stubble is rough against my hand, but his skin is so soft. “No more tricks,” I say quietly, looking into his eyes.
He searches my gaze before nodding the tiniest nod and bending down to kiss me. This one is short, but the sweetest few seconds of my life. After everything, if I had to pick one moment to bottle up and keep forever, it would be this kiss. Because this kiss is the first honest kiss we’ve had.
And that just makes it pretty damn fantastic.
Kye bends down and grabs the wig from the ground, takes my hand, and pulls me onto the busy sidewalk. A trash can is only feet from us, and he throws the wig into it.
“I thought that was your mom’s.”
“Nah.” He looks at me with a sly grin. “Ten bucks at Walmart this morning.”
I shove his arm, but all he does is pull me close and kiss the top of my head. And he calls me the pain in the ass.
Jessie looks up from the tablet. A Burke family meeting was called by Tate for nine a.m., and since it turns out I’m the reason for it, I was unceremoniously dragged from my bed and forced here. No one seems to have considered that I headed straight to work after we returned from Charleston around four and I didn’t get home until two.
But sure. Let’s drag the cranky bitch out of bed. I’m also pretty sure my period is coming, and if that isn’t the biggest mood killer, I don’t know what is. It also means I’m cranky times one hundred. Until the cramps start—then nobody is safe.
“Has the abuse started yet?” my best friend asks.
“Don’t do it!” Sofie warns, waving her hands at me. “Surrender your social media to Ella and she’ll change your passwords.”
Ella smiles sweetly. “It works.”
“Who blocks yours?” I ask her.
“Leila. Tate made her sign an agreement not to tell them to fuck off.”
“He seriously did that? More to the point, Leila signed it?” Leila will never give up the opportunity to tell someone to fuck themselves.
A hand collides with the back of my head, and the girl in question comes strolling in wearing nothing but an oversize Blake Shelton tour T-shirt. “Fuck you.”
I point at her with an I told you look to Ella.
“Why is there a fucking circus in there?” Leila points over her shoulder. “They’re doing some crazy hushed whispering bullshit, and Tate threatened to punch me if I didn’t get the heck away from them.”
Sofie sighs. “You punched him, didn’t you?”
Leila spins and holds her hands up. “Hey, I know how to get the first jab in, all right?”
“You punched your brother?” Mr. Burke asks warily, coming into the kitchen. “Leila . . .”
“No offense, Dad, but I’m twenty-two and he’s twenty-six. He shouldn’t be threatening me. Have you seen the size of him? He weighs three times what I do!”
Mr. Burke rubs his hand across his face. “Go back to bed, Lei. I fail to see how helpful you’re gonna be here.”
“Helpful with what, Mr. Burke?” Jessie asks. “We got dragged here and dumped in the kitchen.”
“They’re up to something,” Ella says, propping her chin on her hands. “Tate locked me out of his personal email and is changing the password on a regular basis. Like, daily. And he always signs out when he’s done. He never does that.”
“Conner keeps taking calls and leaving the room,” Sofie says.
“Ugh! So does Aidan!” Jessie hits the table. “What are they up to?”
“Circus,” Leila mutters, taking her coffee and shuffling past us.
I’m inclined to agree with her.
I unlock my phone and hit the Twitter app. Probably not the smartest idea, but I’ve always had the thickest skin out of all of us. I bring up the trends, and unsurprisingly, Kye’s name is on it, but so is mine. I tap on my name and my eyebrows shoot up at the onslaught of abuse.
Wow.
“ ‘I hope you die.’ Wow that’s intense.” I read out loud, “ ‘She only got him because her dad is famous. Such an opportunist.’ ”
Ella tilts her head to the side. “Haven’t you known each other for years?”
“Not according to Twitter.” I snort. “Oh, look! Y’all are mentioned on this one. ‘Why did they go for a bunch of nobodies?’ The reply is great, too. ‘I know right, they’ll never love them like we do KYE PLEASE THINK ABOUT THIS!’ ” I hold up my phone, face the screen to them, and point at the tweet. “What. The. Fuck?”
“Welcome to Divaville,” Mr. Burke mutters. “Population: twenty million or so. Mental status: run away now.”
We all stop and turn to him. The tall, graying man wearing the checkered shirt, head of the Burke household, just totally out-sassed us all.
Sofie is the first to burst into laughter, and she slumps forward onto the table. Jessie snorts and slaps her hand over her mouth, and I bite my tongue to stop the giggles from escaping. Ella sits in stunned silence, staring at him.
As if he never said a thing, Mr. Burke grabs his steaming mug of coffee, turns, and winks at us. Then he walks out of the kitchen without a care in the world.
“Did he just—” Ella stutters, pointing after him.
“Yes,” Sofie wheezes, sitting up and wiping tears from under her eyes.
“You all right, Sof? You need a tissue?” I ask, smirking.
“I just . . .” She hisses out a breath and collapses again. Her laughter could be mistaken for a sob, but it’s so contagious, and within a minute we’re all laughing.
It feels good to laugh this way. To let go of everything until my stomach burns and my eyes sting with tears of laughter.
“What the fuck happened here?” Tate asks, gripping the back of Ella’s chair.
Just when I thought I could stop laughing, I bury my face in my arms and a whole new round of giggles erupts.
“You have—you have—oh God,” Ella laughs, fanning herself. “Nope. Nope. Not today.”
“Did someone set off a laughing-gas bomb in here?” Aidan asks from beside me.
I shake my head frantically, take a deep breath, and wave my hand in front of my face. I can feel the warmth of my giggle-tears as they slide down my cheeks, and I have to look at the ceiling until I’m calm enough to speak. “Your dad. Sass.” I cover my mouth like that’ll stop the bubble of amusement inside. “Wins. Life. Best. Ever.”
Kye rests his hand on my upper back. “I’m so confused.”
Sofie pants as she tries to regain control of herself.
“Women,” Conner mutters. “Never gonna understand them.”
“Divaville,” she giggles, losing it once again.
This could take a while.