WINTER

"What happened to the twins?" I asked Adam, who was eying me speculatively. Finn had left to get us something to drink. He said he was thirsty, and I tried not to tense when he mentioned a beer to Adam, but I think he still noticed.

"They thought I was playing tonight, and when I told them no, they wandered off to find someone who was in a band."

"You don't sound broken up about it."

"That's the nature of these types of hookups. They don't involve feelings, so no one's nose gets out of joint if there's a better offer out there." He looked up at the darkening sky, his hands tucked behind his head. "Of course, there's no better offer than me, but I can't be casting my pearls before swine."

"Definitely not."

"Is Adam telling you his relationship philosophy?" Bo asked. I noticed he'd pulled his blanket closer to us, but as I looked around, I saw it was a necessity. The park was filling up.

"It's not a philosophy. That would assume I put thought into it. It's a lifestyle choice. Each day I live, I choose," Adam replied.

AnnMarie looked at him, her expression mixed with fondness, amusement, and a little pity. "Finn says you design tattoos for a living. Have you done any of Adam's?"

There was a tingle of excitement at the idea of Finn talking with his friends about me. "No, not yet. Adam's artwork is done mostly out of town. He's too good for us."

"Hey, if you'd been working when I started getting my ink, it would have all been done by you," Adam replied, still not moving from his cloud-watching position. "But I've still got a blank space. What would you design for me?"

I looked over his skin, at least the part I could see. He had several designs on his upper arms, although none on his forearms. There weren't any on his neck, but his left brow was pierced at the corner, and I saw the flash of metal when he spoke sometimes so I knew he had a tongue bar too. "Where would you want it?"

"Isn't the first question ‘What do I want?’"

"Not necessarily. Where you want a design often determines the type. What looks good on your arm isn't going to look the same on your shoulder, back, or leg."

"What would you draw for me?" AnnMarie asked.

"I've some ideas," Bo muttered.

Laughing, I said, "Property of?"

Bo raised his eyebrows in question to AnnMarie, who pushed him playfully. "No, I'm not getting ‘Property of Bo Randolph’ stamped on my body."

"Why not?" he protested. "We could get matching ones. I'll have ‘Property of AnnMarie West' tattooed on my arm right here." He pointed to his big biceps. He'd be able to fit a couple of names in that space.

“We tattooed a girl’s butt once. Well, not her butt exactly, more lower and private.”

“Her ass hole?” AnnMarie made it into two words in her horrified delight.

I nodded. “‘Property of’ in a circle. It was the nicest bleached hole I’d ever seen.”

Bo looked intrigued, but AnnMarie shook her head no.

"What about a picture of Thor's hammer. It would be more discreet," she suggested.

"I see the resemblance, now that you say it," I said.

AnnMarie wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Nice, isn't he?" She petted his hair like he was her tame lion, and maybe he was because he leaned into her hand, clearly enjoying her touch. And no matter how many cute girls walked by, he never looked away from her once. It was clear he was smitten.

"What would you do for Finn? An angel?"

"Like in Buffy?" I asked. "Isn't he the blond one?"

"No, that's Spike. Angel was David Boreanaz. He's now on Bones." This contribution was from another girl—a brown-haired one who was nicely plump and towing a very good-looking tall male behind her. The girl sat down breathlessly next to AnnMarie. "Sorry we're late. Had to shower."

"I thought Noah was the one working out." Bo smirked. "But it's nice to see you both showered even though only one of you got sweaty."

When the girl blushed, I realized that their lateness had likely been caused by a shared shower.

"I'm Grace, and this is Noah." The new girl reached her hand around.

I shook it. "Winter Donovan. I'm a friend of Finn's, and David Boreanaz doesn't look anything like Finn," I said to cover for her. Grace threw me a grateful look. "He's more…Jensen Ackles, only with paler skin."

"Oh, love him," she said. AnnMarie nodded her approval.

"Jensen who?" Bo looked confused.

"Supernatural. Demon hunting brothers," Noah explained. At our looks of surprise, he responded defensively. "What? I practically live in a sorority house. That's the only show they watch. That and Vampire Diaries."

"Not true," his girlfriend protested. "We watch The Bachelor and Bachelorette too, and we can't start the show without you being a hundred kinds of grumpy."

This caused Adam to roll to one knee. "Oh, Noah," he said in a high-pitched falsetto, "I'm sorry I can't offer you this rose, but I just can't imagine spending my life with you."

"Good, because I wouldn't want the rose. I already live with you. What would be the point of marrying?" Noah was red-faced but still responded with humor instead of outrage. These guys were clearly all very good friends. I was glad Finn had that in his life. It reminded me of my Atra co-workers.

"Because you want to claim me as your own instead of sharing me with four other nubile men," Adam answered, still in his fake girlish voice.

"Then we're putting ‘Property of Noah Jackson’ on your ass," Noah said.

"Is it always like this?" I asked.

"Always," AnnMarie answered with a roll of her eyes. "Too much testosterone. They all live with Finn, and I can only handle being in that house in short dosages."

"It seems like it's all good-natured," I commented.

"Yeah, they'd die for each other," Grace said. "It's sweet how devoted they are to each other."

"What happened here?" Finn had arrived. He bent down and offered me a cup. The bubbles on top of the dark liquid marked it as soda instead of alcohol. I threw him a grateful smile and took a sip. He settled next to me, one arm behind me and the other propped on his knee, holding a red cup which also appeared to be soda. We watched as Noah and Adam wrestled on the ground.

"Foreplay," Grace said with a laugh and then got up to separate the two overgrown puppies.

"You can drink alcohol." I dipped my head at his cup. "I don't mind."

"I know, but I'm driving." He shrugged. "A night without a beer isn't going to kill me."

I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I was grateful he didn't ask me what that was for. I wouldn't be able to give a complete answer, only that I felt content and happy. I settled for scooting my body closer to him, erasing the distance. He gave me a surprised look and then kissed me on the forehead, moving his palm slightly so it rested just on the edge of my hip.

The band Adam wanted Finn to hear came on, and they both listened intently. I wasn't sure what they listened for, but even I could tell the singer had something special. The crowd rose to their feet in front of us as he wailed on a cover of a 70’s rock ballad.

"What do you think?" Adam murmured to Finn.

"He's good. Kind of raw. Might need some lessons, but charismatic and different. His vocals are smoky and a little hoarse. Think he drinks too much? Smokes too much?"

"I don't know. If you'd just come back and sing with me, this wouldn't be an issue."

"Not for me, man. Never was. You have to be passionate about this shit."

"You can sing?" I asked, no longer willing to be quiet through this fascinating exchange. This was so strange. I felt like I knew everything there was to know about Finn O’Malley, but maybe he was right. We were different people in our twenties than in our teens. Life had changed us and would keep changing us. I wanted to know this new Finn.

"Dude's got the voice of a fucking angel," Adam groused.

"I can sing, but I have no power."

"How did I not know this?" I marveled.

They both ignored me.

"You could develop it through lessons and shit," Adam argued.

"Maybe, but I never wanted to," Finn said. I could tell by the tired way they delivered their lines that this was an argument they'd had in the past. "You need someone who wants this as bad as you. The problem with all the people you've picked in the past is they weren't hungry enough. You've got to have people who are willing to eat rocks if it means getting signed. He's good though. Real good. What do you know about him?"

"Recently moved here from St. Louis. Lives with a cousin or something and got a job at one of the new data farms."

"So like a tech guy."

"Actually I'm not sure. The person I talked to was kind of cagey about it. I'm going to talk to him after the set."

"Go easy."

"I know. I know." Adam shoved his hand through his hair, making the already disheveled ends even messier. "I'm going to talk to him. Later, bro. Winter, I'll see you around."

"Good luck." I waited a few more moments and then turned to Finn. "You have to sing for me now."

"Oh, I will?" His lips curved up, slowly heating my insides. They'd been at a slow burn since he kissed me, and his sexy smile was like a soft curl of wind shooting the flames higher. "What do you want me to sing to you, Winter?" He pressed his lips against my temple. His lips moved against my skin, the words of The Lumineers’ “Hey Ho” barely more than a whisper, but I heard them loud and clear. It was the only thing I could hear. I crumpled against him, glad I was seated. I didn't need beer or shots. Just being with Finn made me drunk.

And then I needed it to be the two of us, just as he promised.

"I'm ready to go," I said.

His eyes were dark and full of wicked delight. He pushed to his feet, set aside the two nearly full cups carefully and picked up the blanket. "We're going." The others nodded. He tucked the blanket under his arm and tossed the two cups in a nearby trashcan. I followed him out. The crowd moved around us, hands waving in the air, their bodies in motion. We walked, our hands brushing each other, and I swore sparks lit up the dusk.

Finn's stride was stilted as if he was trying not to run, but I couldn't wait either. "Race you," I murmured and took off. He ran behind me, and I knew he could catch me, but he never did. The thrill of being almost caught heightened my excitement, and I was breathless with want by the time I got to the truck.

He yanked the rear door open and heaved me in. "I'm not taking you here, I promise," he panted, "but if I don't have my mouth on you in the next five seconds, I'll go crazy."

"Five seconds." I pulled his head down. "Why so long?"

He released a crazy smile and then his mouth was on me. We both groaned, the vibrations shooting down my body. Underneath my shirt, his large hand engulfed my bare breast. "I need to see these. I need to see every part of you."

He moved down my torso to my stomach, pushing the shirt higher. His hot lips on my stomach made me cry out in pleasurable surprise, and when he placed his mouth over what felt like my entire breast, I had to reach up to grab at the door behind me.

His fingertips danced down my body and paused at the fastening of my jeans. "Okay?"

"Yes, please." Yes, please do what you will to me because that one night you made me see stars with just your hand. The vision of your head between my legs, licking me clean has made me come every night since. I couldn't say these things out loud, but it seemed I didn't need to. He understood. He undid my button and then pulled down my zipper. He tugged my jeans off, sliding out of the open truck door to do so. I pushed up on my forearms and looked at him. Dusk had rapidly turned to night. It was dark in this parking lot, and I could see no one else but the solid outline of Finn.

"Still okay?" he asked and tossed the jeans over the seat into the front.

"Yes."

"Good, because Jesus Christ, look at you." He bit his lip and ran a hand down the front of my panties. They were navy blue with black lace trim. Not my sexiest pair of panties, but definitely special. He clearly liked the look of them, what little he could see.

"I'm going to drag my tongue over every inch of smooth flesh." He rubbed both his hands from my knees to my inner thighs. His thumbs were between my legs but not quite touching me. It was a perfect kind of torture. Against his hands, my body looked fragile and delicate. His fingers inched upward, and I tried not to be embarrassed by what he must feel there. The wet cloth, the heat.

"You're soaked, baby, and I love it." His fingers dipped underneath the cotton, and the slow drag of his thumbs over my clit and down my outer sex had me falling backward, unable to support myself. Unconsciously, I dug my heels into the leather of his back bench seat, pushing toward him, and his two thumbs slid inside me.