Keira “T ruthfriend’sor gaze. dare?” Arianne’s mischievous brown eyes hold her best “Truth.” Phoebe answers before drinking a gulp of her cocktail. Arianne sits a little straighter. “How was your first time?” “Awful.” Phoebe says before brushing her shoulder-length dark-brown hair behind her ears. “He was my age, and he had no idea what he was doing. He fumbled a bit with my lady parts and then rammed into me like a missile. It hurt so much, I cried. Two minutes later, he was calling out God’s name, and I was praying for it to be over. Not that I could guide him, but even I knew, I had been shortchanged.” “Ditto,” I say before taking a sip of my drink. “Mine didn’t fumble his way around because he was older... but now I know, he knew shit about sex,” Arianne says, disgust painted all over her pretty face. Phoebe lifts a hand up and waves it over her head. They high-five each other. There’s something I’m missing, but I’m a little too buzzed to bother asking. We’ve long lost count of how many drinks we’ve had, but since we’re partying at Phoebe’s house after a long day of shopping, it’s all good. It’s just us girls. Her boyfriend didn’t want to be in the way, so he’s crashing at his brother’s house. Last night, over pizza, Arianne and Phoebe drilled me with questions about my former career. I answered all their questions. They were total fan girls. They oohed and aahed, wide-eyed and amazed. Secretly, it was adorable. Tonight was barbecue night. With our bellies full, we’ve moved on to the entertainment part of the evening––the mortifying embarrassment of playing truth or dare. We’re sitting on the floor, circling the oversized coffee table weighed down with unfinished drinks and too many desserts for three people. We’ve exhausted the list of fun and safe questions. As the evening progressed––and Phoebe k ept the cocktails flowing––the questions became a lot more interesting. “Your turn, Ari,” Phoebe says. “Keira, you ask the question.” She hands me the i Pad. I scroll through the list of questions until I find a more risqué one. I meet Arianne’s gaze. “Ready?” “I’m an open book. Flip the pages till you get to the good parts,” she says, giggling. We laugh. We’re a bunch of happy drunks. “Truth or dare, Arianne?” “Truth,” she says. “I didn’t like the last dare.” “Have you ever watched another couple have sex? Porn doesn’t count.” I just threw that last part in there to add a little spice to the evening. “Oh, that’s an explosive one.” Phoebe’s eyes widen. “No,” Arianne says. “But...” She leans in and motions for us to mimic her. “This doesn’t leave this room.” He circles her finger between us. “My lips are sealed,” I say, even though I have no idea what’s about to come out of her mouth. “I’ll go to my grave with your secret,” Phoebe says. Arianne looks left, then right. Maybe she’s a little too tipsy to remember no one else is in the house. “Beckett says there’s a room dedicated to exactly that at Dark Compulsion. You can watch couples get down and dirty all night long...” Her cheeks flush. I furrow my brows. “What’s Dark Compulsion?” “An exclusive high-end adult club hidden behind the Quintus Hotel, where the crème de la crème goes to play,” Arianne says. “Beckett is a member... so are all the guys in his entourage.”
Whoa. Phoebe’s brown eyes are huge. “A kinky club?” My cheeks flush as my mind conjures some pretty X-rated scenarios in volving a strapping, tall roommate with gorgeous blue eyes and sexy body art. “Is Rhys a member?” Shit. I blame the alcohol for that lapse in judgment. Talk about outing yourself. Arianne cocks an eyebrow. “Are you two...?” “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that as well since yesterday,” Phoebe says. “Are you banging the one-hit wonder turned COO?” Arianne’s eyes bulge out of her skull. So do mine. “What?” Phoebe says. “Just because I have the courage to ask the question you’re too chicken to ask, doesn’t mean you should r eprimand me.” “I did it with a lot more tact,” Arianne says. “My question is legit,” Phoebe says. “Why else would Rhys finance Keira’s shopping trip?” “That’s none of your business, Phoebe Pedersen.” Arianne frowns her discontentment. They’re talking as if I’m not in the room. “He’s like a big brother,” I say. “And remember, I landed in LA without much.” Phoebe shoots me a suspicious side gaze. “I can assure you, my brothers would never finance a shopping spree to the dollar store, let alone high-end designer shops. Had I landed somewhere in the world with nothing more than a backpack and the clothes on my back, my brothers would’ve recommended I hit thrift stores.” I can’t help my laugh. Phoebe is hilarious, and she has zero filters. “You just don’t know when to quit, Phoebe.” Arianne moves her attention to me. “To answer the question that started this inappropriate line of questioning...” She glares at Phoebe. Her best friend shrugs. “I didn’t ask Beckett if Rhys was a member or not. I assumed he was since all the guys hang out together.” That’s where he finds his uncomplicated hookups. Noted. “I was curious.” I shrug, doing my best not to look affected. “If I’m not allowed to ask about her relationship status with the billionaire mogul, can I at least ask about something intriguing I read online about him?” Phoebe narrows her eyes at Arianne. “As long as it’s not a personal question,” Arianne says. “Thank you, Mom.” Phoebe’s mocking tone and facial expression crack me up. She shifts her focus to me. “Is it true Rhys started rapping, and I quote, As a personal challenge to prove I was more than my dyslexia. It was a middle finger to the condition that robbed me of my confidence?” “Oh yeah, I read about that as well,” Arianne says, a glint of curiosity shining in her eyes. “Rap music was Rhys’s metaphorical fuck you to his neurodivergent disorder,” I say. “He struggled with words. Rap music is a flurry of words coming at you in rapid succession. Mastering rap was his way of taking control.” “Interesting perspective,” Arianne says. “Unlike a book, he could memorize words of a rap song,” I say. “He’s still dyslexic—he’ll always be. It’s not a disorder he can ever change or get rid of, unlike his stuttering––”
“He used to stutter?” Arianne brings a hand up to cover her mouth. “Sorry I interrupted you.” “My earliest memories of Rhys don’t include his stuttering, but according to my brother, it was pretty bad,” I say. “That’s how they became friends. Noah came to his rescue when two bullies were using Rhys’s face as a punching bag. Noah fought them off and then swore he’d look after a scrawny Rhys. Thanks to his mom’s crusade, Rhys gained control over the stuttering, but dyslexia is something he’ll have to deal with for life. Reading was always a challenge for him, something he hated because it reminded him he wasn’t like everyone else. To cope, he became a master at memorizing what he heard––from other people, the television, the radio, or music. When he discovered rap, it was like a whole new world opened up to him. He’d listen to the lyrics over and over and over again. When he discovered he shined at it, he started seeing himself in a new light. Noah said rap music changed him from an awkward shy guy to a bold, cocksure, and confident man. Even his stage name—Hijinks—reflected that cocky side of him that was hidden behind his insecurities.” “What a story,” Phoebe says. “Is Noah the same age as Rhys?” “Yes, Arianne, they’re both thirty-one. They were ten years old when Noah became Rhys’s defender.” “Ten?” Arianne’s eyes widen. “Isn’t that young to have the ability to fight off two bullies?” “Noah was a beast-in-the-making from the womb. My big brother is six-seven.” “That’s tall,” Arianne says. “That’s a venti cup of goodness,” Phoebe says. “Rhys’s stuttering and dyslexia made him an easy target. Noah taught him how to fight and defend himself for the times he wouldn’t be around. Thanks to my brother, he was able to go from a weak defenseless kid to a fearless warrior” “That’s true friendship,” Arianne says. “Is your brother in the music industry as well?” I shake my head. “Along with being my big brother, Noah became my guardian at a young age—” “What?” Arianne stares at me, incredulous. “When our mom died, our maternal grandmother became next of kin. When she died, Noah was forced to give up his NFL dreams. He had everything to make it pro, but I was a kid when we lost our last living relative.” “What about your dad?” “Our mom was a single mom.” I give her a sanitized version of the truth. Phoebe nods. “Got it.” “Had Noah not being of age, we would’ve ended up in foster care. He wasn’t even old enough to buy liquor, but he became a parent. My big brother hung his cleats and took on odd jobs to put food on the table and ke ep a roof over our heads. I was only thirteen, so I couldn’t contribute. Not that he would’ve let me if I could. He wanted me to focus on school.” “He carried a lot on his shoulders,” Arianne says. I nod. “I liked to tease him and say that God gave him broad shoulders for a reason.” Arianne and Phoebe offer a warm smile. “What kind of work did he have to do to get by? He didn’t have much experience at the time. It must’ve been grunt work,” Phoebe says. “My big brother worked in the movie and TV industry because the hours were flexible. Since he was below the line, aka he was part of the crew of people that moved stuff around on a set, the work didn’t require overtime. Over the years, he collected a bunch of online degrees and worked his way up the
food chain. Now, he’s a special effects supervisor for UTV. com.” “Both Noah and Rhys are resilient,” Phoebe says. “Yes, they are.” “Your brother will never know what kind of football career he could’ve had, but in terms of second career, he landed in a pretty good spot. Same for Rhys.” “You’re right, Arianne. When Rhys lost his fame status, he thought it was over for him. Nothing would ever measure up to that defining one-hit. The massive success of SCORE proved him wrong.” I try hard not to gush. “Hence, why he can now afford a membership at an exclusive sex club.” Arianne and I laugh. Leave it to Phoebe to come to that conclusion. “I guess so,” I say. “Speaking of kinky hangouts, I’m totally adding Dark Compulsion to my bucket list.” Phoebe claps. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’ll need a black American Express card to pay for the membership,” Arianne says. “We can always use hers?” Phoebe points at me. My head whips in her direction. “Hell no. Rhys would kill me.” When Rhys handed me the card on Friday, I nearly passed out. “I’m okay with him killing you as long as I get the membership,” Phoebe says. I play-punch her arm. “Hey, I thought we were friends?” “We are, but I’m dying to know what happens at that club,” she says. “If you have to be a casualty, so be it.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s ke ep the game going.” “Well, it so happens your head is on the chopping block next,” Phoebe says, grinning from ear to ear. I hand her the i Pad. Phoebe scrolls through the list of questions from a quirky article she found on the internet. “Truth or dare?” “Hold on, I need liquid courage for this.” I take a quick sip of my drink. It’s a lot more fun to drink piña coladas amongst friends. I drop my glass on the table and ready myself. “Okay, hit me.” “I already asked you a question,” Phoebe says. “Oh yeah. Hit me again.” “What’s the sexiest thing someone has ever said to you?” Phoebe meets my gaze. You’re fucking perfect to me. I don’t have to give it a second thought, but I never get to voice it because my phone rings. If it isn’t the sweet talker... “It’s Rhys.” My gaze bounces from Phoebe to Arianne. “I’ll take it. After all, I should thank him for allowing me to spend all his money.” They laugh. “While you’re at it, can you talk to him about my membership at Dark Compulsion?” Phoebe points an animated finger over her head. “You’re crazy.” “No, persistent.” “That, too.” I answer Rhys’s call. “Hey.” “Hey.” I get up and gesture to my new friends I’ll be outside. They nod. “Am I calling at a bad time?” “No.” I st ep in the backyard and close the side door behind me. “This is good.” I got a text from him last night, but this is the first time we’ve talked since yesterday afternoon. When he suggested a sle epover at Phoebe’s, I jumped at the chance—anything to avoid the uncomfortable
vibe that’s settled between us. “How was day two of shopping?” “You mean, my ten-hour whirlwind cash-spending extravaganza?” “That answer scares the shit out of me.” I laugh. “Don’t worry. If I reach the limit on your American Express Black, I’ll be forced to stop.” “There is no limit.” “Oops.” He groans. “Kidding.” “You had me worried there.” “Just ke eping you on your toes,” I say. He chuckles. “No one pestered you?” That was my big concern. “No. No one recognized me. I went incognito today. I used a baseball cap to hide my face, and I asked Phoebe and Arianne to call me by my middle name, Eve, instead of Keira. Small things that make a big difference.” “Good,” he says. “Funny, there was a time, that’s all I wanted—to be recognized—now, I want the complete opposite.” “You just need time to ease back into it.” “I’ll be skittish for a while.” “There’s no rush. You’re back at Phoebe’s?” He changes the subject. “I am.” “What are you girls up to?” “We were going to go out to a salsa club, but we’re pooped from running around,” I say. “We decided to stay in. We’ve been drinking and playing truth or dare.” “God save us all.” I ponder for a fraction of a second before diving right in... liquid courage and all. “Have you been avoiding me all week, Rhys?” Silence. I answer for him. “You have been avoiding me.” “Let’s get on a video call.” My stomach twists in a knot at his suggestion. Shit. I should’ve k ept my big mouth shut. “Okay,” I say. A second later, his handsome face fills the screen. “Your hair hasn’t changed.” “Tomorrow is spa and hair day.” “Got it.” We stare at each other for a beat. “Aren’t you going to answer my question?” His lips twist. “I was avoiding you.” I hang my head in defeat. “You did nothing wrong. It’s all on me,” he says. “There’s something between us.” He’s going to let me down gently. “Okay,” I say. “Okay?” He looks offended. “What do you expect me to say? I don’t know where this conversation is going.” “Fair enough. I’m the one who called.” He pauses. “Last Sunday, after the bike ride––” “I shouldn’t have flashed you. I’m sorry.” I hide my face in my hand. Another rejection. “I’m not sorry.” I lift my eyes up to the screen. “You’re not?” “I’m not,” he says. “My only regret is not manning up.” “Huh?” “I’m not going to rehash the past, because we’re in the here and now.” That was German to me. “I was thinking we should go out for dinner tomorrow night.” Dinner? That’s not what I expected. The flicker of hope dies, and my heart sinks again. “That sounds good,” I say, in capable of mustering an ounce of enthusiasm. “Since we live together, it’s easy to do things backwards...” I frown my confusion. “I don’t follow.” “I want to take you out on a proper date before we explore what’s been playing out between us since you arrived.” I’m pretty sure I misheard him. “A date?” “A date.” “As in a date-date?”
“Yes. As in a man taking out a woman he’s unreasonably attracted to for a nice meal at a fancy restaurant.” My heart climbs into my throat. “Are you shitting me right now?” “Okay, that’s not the reaction I was expecting,” he says. “Perhaps I was reading into things––” “Don’t you dare back out, Rhys Hartford. You know exactly how I feel about you.” I pause to catch my breath. My heart is beating so fast. “But this is–– I mean–– Holy shit–– Just, wow.” He bursts out laughing. “I’ve been thinking––” “And for the record, I like how you think.” His glacier-blue eyes meet mine, and I swear my pussy flutters. “What am I going to do with you, dimples?” Ke ep me. “I can ke ep avoiding you or we can dive in with both feet.” “I vote for the latter.” I’m so elated, I could fly. His grin is epic. “We’re on the same page.” I worry my bottom lip, debating if I should ask the question burning my tongue. I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth when it comes to this man, and I don’t want to ruin this perfect moment. He narrows his gaze. “What is it?” “What about Noah? He’s still my big brother, and that’s always been a deterrent for you.” “Not anymore.” “It’s not?” “This isn’t about Noah and me... this is about us.” The lust radiating from his eyes is so searing hot, it could set my body ablaze. “If you want to go out on a date with me, that’s all that matters—” “I want to go out on a date with you. I’ve been waiting my whole life to go out on a date with you. I’m fucking excited to go out on a date with you.” He laughs his head off. “Seriously though, should we tell my brother?” “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” “Okay.” I can finally put years of r epressed emotion behind me. He flashes me an arresting smile. “What?” “You’ve always had this strange effect on me, Keira. On one hand, I want to fuck you senseless. On the other, I want to protect you from guys... even me. I no longer have to be torn or feel guilty for having inappropriate fantasies about you.” I’m paralyzed in a stupor. “You fantasize about me?” I croak when my brain kicks into gear again. He nods. Holy. Fucking. Shit. A hot flush of heat crawls up my neck and my cheeks burst into flames. My pulse hammers in my neck and I squeeze my thighs together, trying hard to suppress the sweet ache growing between my legs. “There’s nothing stopping me now. I gave myself permission to have what I want... and that’s you, dimples.” His confession is so enormous it wrings the air from my lungs. I stare at him as my lips part in an O. I’ll never forget this defining moment for as long as I live.