I don’t care at this point, not when I'm so close to losing everything I ever wanted. I drink her in, watching as she pats the napkin on her neck down her sternum. I swallow hard. My blood is rushing to places it shouldn’t. Alexa runs her hand down my thigh, only to be stopped by my grip. Alexa’s eyes narrow dangerously as she pulls her hand from my thigh. Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t care, not right now. Max talks with the waitress, his annoying smirk still plastered on his face as he orders another round of drinks. My girl stays silent,her fingers playing absently with the delicate chain around her neck, her brow furrowed as if she were lost in thought. I take a deep breath, trying to distract myself from the sight of her and the desire that keeps gnawing at me. The music starts to change to something slower, more sensual than the thumping bass from before.
“Are you getting that martini?” Alexa asks, whispering into my ear.
“He just ordered it,” I mutter, tearing my gaze from Ronnie to give Alexa a half-hearted smile. Alexa takes a swig of my beer and, once again, her hand lands on my thigh. Slowly, her fingers begin to climb and land on my cock. “I need to feel you,” she says.
I stop her hand abruptly. “No.”
Her blue eyes widen, anger flashing through them. “What’s crawled up your ass?” she hisses, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. My ears begin to ring. “Calm down, Lex,” I say through gritted teeth, trying not to make a scene.
She jolts up, slamming her hands on the table. “Fuck you, Iz. Max, take me home,” she says, surprising us all. Max gives her a puzzled look, then to Ronnie. To which she smiles, giving him the okay.
“Hope you have a great night, Isaac,” Alexa seethes before shimmying out of the booth and storming into the crowd. I don’t bother to follow. Instead, I sit back and finish off my beer. Max stands up and turns to Ronnie. “I guess I’ll see you back at the house?” he asks, his earlier smugness now gone as he lovingly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and kisses her. It’s not just a brief peck on the lips but a deep kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth. Ronnie pulls away from the kiss, her cheeks flushed as she clears her throat with a smile. Max looks at me with a warning glance and nods his head slightly. “Make sure she gets home safely,” he says.
I smirk. “Always.”
In silence, we watch him disappear into the crowd. I take this opportunity to close the distance between us. My girl wastes no time, as she leans in. “Wanna ditch this place and smoke a joint?” Ronnie says, taking me by surprise. My girlwants to be alone with me. I don’t argue, not with this. Not when I want nothing more than to spend time with her, smoking a joint while we talk about life.
“I’m okay with that.”
Veronica nods her head as I place the drink on the table.
“Max paid, so we can just go,” she says. I nod and follow her lead. We walk outside, and I slip into my all-black Camaro and watch as she talks to Max on the phone. Reassuring him that she won’t be long before opening the passenger door and sliding in with a grace that makes my breath hitch in my throat.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“No, I was just filling him in on the plans.” She shrugs. “ I have no more pot and you… umm, have pot,” she sighs as she leans her head into the leather seat. “He doesn’t like you,” she adds, smacking her phone against her hand. “And you don’t make it any easier.”
And he shouldn’t; if she allowed me to, I would take her from him in a heartbeat. “I don’t care if he likes me,” I say, giving her a devilish smirk.
She smacks my shoulder. “Seriously, Iz, you can try to be nice. I hate having to constantly defend your actions to Max.”
I roll my eyes and shrug. “Then don’t. I can smoke you out, but you have to do something for me.” She looks at me with a raised eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What exactly would I be doing?”
I place my hand on the gear shift and meet her gaze. “Just talk to me… about anything, really.” I don’t know why I said it, but it’s the truth. “An hour of your time, just us.” She studies me for a moment before she shrugs casually, slipping off her heels and pulling her feet up onto the seat beneath her, curling up like some exotic cat.
“Alright,” she says, a hint of amusement in her warm gray eyes. “But we can only smoke and do that. I have work in the morning and have to get Nixie to school.”
“In that case,” I say, starting the engine and pulling out onto the street. “Let’s get going.”
Chapter Thirteen
Isaac
The street lights blur as I drive through the quiet night. It feels perfect. Stars are bright in the sky, with the brightest one being the one beside me. My Ronnie. Through the corner of my eye, I watch as she curls the red wave around her index finger and stares out the window. Fidgeting from nerves, the same that runs rampant through my body. I make a right, the street leading us towards the mountain roads, and the familiarity of the streets has her sitting up in her seat. A small chuckle works up my throat. I was wondering when she would notice. After a couple of minutes in comfortable silence, she asks a question that she already knows the answer to. “Where are we going?”
“Our spot.”
I turn to face her, and immediately her features light up, her breath hitches, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Our first time.Herfirst time. The overlook of the city where we would go and smoke. The spot where I took her virginity. Both drunk off each other, and if it wasn’t for cops pulling in and busting us…
It’s been a while since we’ve both been here, together. That is. I tend to visit whenever I can. It helps soothe the ache in my chest, smoking a joint while looking over the city—it’s a sight to admire. Serene and beautiful. Just what the doctor prescribed, my own form of therapy besides fighting. Over the soft hum of the music, I hear her breath grow uneven when I pull into the lot and park the car. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
The weather is nice and cool, the perfect time to be here alone, smoking and vibing with the woman of my dreams.
“Mhm,” she muses, not turning to look at me, though our gaze clashes through the glass of the passenger window. Ronnie opens the door first, already trying to escape our tension. True to her nickname, my precious little butterfly is ready to fly away. Always so ready to run from me. She steps out of the car in a hurry, almost tripping.
“You good?” I ask, trying to hide the amusement in my tone as I watch her fail to compose herself.
“I’m fine,” she mutters, closing the door in one go.
