Derrick

She’s going to kill me dead.

Right here.

Right now.

Rubbing up against me.

In a hotel room in Vegas.

With her hot body and dirty talk.

I pry her sexy little self off me and kick myself for asking her to wait. I’d be more than happy to fuck the night away. But that’s not the memory I want her to have of our time together. Well, I do want that, but in addition, I also want to romance her and make this weekend the most unforgettable time of her life.

With the life I’ve been leading the last couple years, I forget she’s still leading one I left in the past.

Her first flight.

Her first time out of LA.

Her first time to leave California.

Her first trip to Las Vegas.

Shit.

So many firsts. In my life, cities blur together without a second thought. I’m barely aware of where I am these days, much less appreciating where I’ve been.

Walking across the room, she lies on the bed and asks, “Do I get to sleep in here?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“Funny girl with all the jokes.” She’s laughing, completely amused. Me too. I sit at the end of the bed and take one of her shoes off and then the other. Rubbing her feet, I lean back on my elbow.

Her moan goes straight to my cock. Fuck. I get up and walk into the bathroom. While I readjust, she comes in. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were so easily turned on.”

“I think you knew.”

“Maybe.” She laughs just as our gazes catch in the reflection of the mirror The way she leans with her hip kicked out and a look on her face, that come-hither smirk, that used to have me begging, I see the girl I fell in love with the moment I laid eyes on her . . .

Reggie pulls a pack of cigs out of his jacket pocket and pops one up in offering.

Instead of taking one, I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees atop the picnic table. “You’ve got balls as big as San Francisco, dude.”

We just got busted by Coach Thorne smoking behind the gym, scored one week of detention, and here this fucker is smoking on school property not even five minutes later. With an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, he says, “San Francisco isn’t that big.”

“And your point is?”

“Fuck you . . .”

I’m too busy laughing at my own joke to hear what he says next, but when he hits me in the chest, I take notice. “What the fuck?”

“There she is.”

“Who?” I ask. When I follow his stare, I sit up.

Oh.

Dark hair. Almost black on this cloudy day.

Wow.

The wide eyes of innocence shining.

Shit.

Tits. Not huge, but enough to satisfy a tit guy. I guess that’s what I am. I wasn’t just knocked on my ass. I was knocked completely out of my orbit and straight off my axis. I didn’t know her name, but Reggie did. “Jamie Grenier.”

My throat felt dry and my chest hurt from the sight of her. Fuck. Am I having a heart attack at fifteen? “Give me a cigarette.”

“Now you want one?”

“Yeah.”

I light up—fire to the flame. My nerves settle, but my chest still aches. Then she looks my way. Reggie catcalled her and got flipped off in return. I try a different approach. “Hey.”

When she realizes I’m talking to her, she replies, “What?”

“Did I see you at the mall the other day?” I never go to the mall.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe over at Ernie’s?” The best sandwich shop in LA.

There it is. She smiles. “Maybe. They’ve got the best sandwiches in the city.”

Damn, I knew I liked her. And then Fate played her hand—Reggie hits me from behind. “Call her over here. I want to meet her.”

It’s not just an ache I feel but more in that moment, something bigger, stronger, something I’ve never felt before. There’s no way I’m walking away from this girl. And less chance I’m giving Reggie a shot at her. No, that’s not gonna happen. “Hey Jamie, c’mere.”

Reggie is so excited his hands are shaking. Or it might be from the drugs he took after we were busted. Who knows? The dude is fucked up. I’ve known him since I was ten and he was the only kid I was told to stay away from. Naturally he was the most fascinating. Five years later, I’m almost as deep into this gang shit as him. I’ve learned to protect myself and my home. No one else will do it for you. We’re the small-time lackeys right now, but we’re moving up the ranks fast. In two years, I’ll get my tat. That will be the beginning of the end of all those dreams my mom once had, but I’ll own these streets. Nothing’s gonna change that course now.

She walks with purpose, not afraid of us like some of the chicks at this school. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stops right in front of me—all badass attitude wrapped in a bombshell body. “What’s your name?” she asks.

“Rebel.”

Reaching forward, she pushes some of the hair fallen over my forehead to the side, and takes my cigarette. Dropping it to the ground, she says, “You can call me Jaymes.”

I realize right then that I’m not just a tit guy. I’m a Jaymes Grenier guy. She stole my cigarette and my heart that day.

. . . And she’s never given it back. Our eyes are still locked, both of us caught up in memories that feel more real than this life sometimes. “You changed my course.”

Sadness befalls her. “You changed mine.” The doorway is vacated and I’m left with the damage I’ve done. While she gave me her best, I gave her my worst.

Walking back into the bedroom, I find her standing at the window staring out. Her arms are still crossed and her dark hair covers half her face. I join her, our arms pressed together as we both look out over Vegas. “He liked you,” I say.

When her green eyes look into mine, she asks, “Who?”

“Reggie.”

I see the change. It’s instant. The softness in her body hardens. The kindness in her eyes turns to hate. The patience of her usual tone is gone. “I don’t want to talk about him. Not tonight.”

“I know, but I think we should.”

“Why? Why ruin this?”

“I’m not trying to ruin it, Jaymes. I’m trying to make it better. We all have secrets and I know that mine did more damage than I ever realized.”

“So this is a confessional now?” Walking to the bed, she sits at the end, her body closed off with arms wrapped around her and knees crossed. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything about him ever again.”

“Please.”

The plea pulls her gaze back to mine. Her breathing has changed—harshness taking over. “Fine. Whatever makes you feel better, Derrick. Go for it.”

“It’s not that I’ll feel better. I will never feel better because of how he hurt you.”

Moving higher on the bed, she grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest. Her back is to the headboard and her knees protecting her. I can’t see her face and it’s killing me that she won’t look up. “Just say it.”

“The day I met you, he told me to call you over so he could talk to you.” We can’t be more than what we’ve been without honesty and the purest of truths, even if it hurts to reveal them. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t what?” she asks.

“I didn’t call you over for him. I betrayed him and called you over for me.”

“Oh Derrick.” Her words are trapped in the palm of her hands as she covers her face.

Moving to the bed, I sit down next to her and roll her to the side so she’s cradled to me. “I couldn’t stop myself. I never knew what love was until I saw you that day. I didn’t know what a heart felt like until it started beating for the first time for you. I know now that it wasn’t my chest aching. The moment I saw you, it was my soul trying to escape to be with you.” I see her struggling emotionally and hold her.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because he may have liked you, but I loved you. I loved you before I knew you.” With tears building in the corner of her eyes, she sits up and angles her body. As soon as one falls, I wipe it away. “I’m sorry. What happened to you was because I fucked him over. I’m sorry, Jaymes.” Her arms are around me as I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Quiet murmurs and warm breath cover my neck. “You’re not to blame. I would have never been with him.” She stalls and then corrects herself, “Not by choice.” God, what have I done to this woman? She raises my head up until I’m looking at the face of the angel I destroyed. She adds, “The day I saw you, my heart knew I’d never survive you.” Releasing a long breath, her face changes back to the one I know, the one I recognize so well—beauty and strength. “But I will survive him.” She kisses me.

I don’t deserve forgiveness or sweetness, but I receive, crave it, and am given it anyway. Rolling to the side, she manages to smile. “God, it’s such a weight off, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Since we’re confessing, I kind of already told you, but thank you for being so gentle the other night. It was the first time since . . . Anyway, it meant a lot to me that you treated me with such care.”

“It’s how I feel about you.”

“I know and I feel the same about you. One day, the horrors of our past won’t haunt us any longer, but until that day, I’m glad we can be so open. It’s the only way we can forgive ourselves and each other and move on.”

I hadn’t realized how much guilt I’ve carried until I saw her tears. Jaymes has always been so strong, so amazing. Knowing she was broken because of me hasn’t sat well since we talked that night. Now it’s her forgiveness I need. I don’t deserve it. I left her and a monster took her. “Do you forgive me?”

“Silly man, there’s nothing to forgive. Our love story was already set in motion. Our destiny was just waiting for us to meet.” Thank God.

“I never sat at the picnic tables at lunch. We were usually behind the gym.”

“I heard some guys got busted behind the gym by Coach Thorne.”

My eyebrows rise in surprise. “You came to see me get in trouble?”

“Yeah, but we were too late.”

“I’d say you were right on time.”