Line Change, page 11
Finally, he finishes serving his customer and places both hands on the bar, head bent, and takes a deep breath before looking up at me and then walks over.
“What are you doing here, Thea?” he asks, his voice low and measured and not very welcoming.
“Ordering drinks, of course.” I tell him, even though it should be obvious given I’m standing at the bar.
“You’re underage.”
“Not according to this, I’m not,” I tell him as I show him my fake ID.
“Fuck!” he swears under his breath as he quickly swipes the card from my hand and stuffs it in his pocket. “Where the fuck did you get this?”
I’m a little pissed he’s taken my ID and not given it back. “It’s none of your concern so can you please give it back?” I tell him, batting my eyelashes at him. I might as well be polite as possible in order to get served.
“The hell I will. This piece-of-shit ID can get you in trouble and us closed down. You need to leave. I’m not serving you and no one else here will either.”
And now I’m furious. What’s a girl gotta do to get a goddamn drink around here? And who is he to tell me I need to leave? He doesn’t own me; he’s not my father and I can do the hell I want. I’m completely fed up with people telling me what I can and can’t do. First, it’s Adam with his bullshit about where I should live; and now it’s Kyler, telling me how to spend my free time. If I want to have a drink then I will. If I want to buy a drink in the bar he happens to work in, then I will, and he has no right to tell me otherwise.
“Are you being serious right now? Who do you think you are telling me what I can do? You’ve no right, you don’t own me! Give me my goddamn card back and serve me my drinks. Or I’ll complain to the manager and get you fired!”
“No, Thea. Get your stuff and go home,” Kyler says. His jaw pulsates with tension, and he flexes his fingers against the bar, hinting at the anger building up inside of him. He turns his back, and I’ll be damned if he thinks he can walk away from this conversation without serving me.
“Fuck you, Kyler!” I screech at him, not caring who can hear our conversation. Maybe his co-workers need to know he’s refusing to serve a paying customer, and if it means causing a scene then so be it. I’m tired and pissed at people—no boys—thinking they can tell me what to do. I’m old enough to make up my own mind and make my own decisions and I’m not taking this kind of crap from any of them.
Unfortunately, Kyler doesn’t seem to get the message. Instead of taking my order, he glowers at me for a little longer, his eyes alight with anger. There’s a fire burning with rage within them and I’m sure it’s exactly what he sees in my eyes, because the fury coursing through my body is creating a nervous pent-up energy that’s about to be unleashed at any given moment. He mutters something to one of the other servers and before I can comprehend what’s happening, Kyler walks around the bar, grabs me by the arm and promptly walks me through a door to the back.
I instantly know this conversation is not over.
fourteen
Kyler
I need to find something new to say because “What can I get you?” or “What are you having tonight?” are so mundane I’m boring myself each time I open my mouth. Yet, my brain comes up with nothing. Literally the two most tedious things a server or bartender can say are on constant repeat. Believe me, there are times when some college frat boy is standing at my bar and I want to say, “What the fuck do you want?” but my job is far too important to lose it over how I approach the customers.
Someone decides it’s mellow-dramatic-night and has power ballads playing from the jukebox. When my boss installed the thing, I begged him to keep it unplugged. He’s not here every weekend to hear the nauseating love songs play on repeat or watch drunkards group together to sing and hold their beer bottles as if this is their last night together. I get it, people are sentimental, and I’m not. I blame my mother. It seems I’ve been doing that a lot lately and should probably stop. My life doesn’t need to revolve around her, although it’ll likely never stop. I swear, I’m the adult in this relationship and she’s the child who doesn’t listen. I can’t change her, which is unfortunate.
The night is going well. Tips are flowing and the customers seem happy, except for the group in the back, who are currently rocking out to Meat Loaf’s “I’d Do Anything For Love” and emphasizing “that” each time Meat Loaf belts it out. I bet half the people singing right now don’t even know what they’re agreeing to since most never understand the lyrics. They’re plain as day to me if you actually listen to the song. He’s never going to lie, he’ll be there until the end, and he’s never going to cheat. Words to live by if you ask me.
The Crease is filling up nicely for a Friday night. Everyone congratulates me on the win from Wednesday night. While I didn’t score, I had three assists, which count just as much in the stat box. If it’s not me pushing the puck across the goal line, I’m more than happy to be the one who passed to a teammate. Jude finished the night with a shutout. Another one to add to his growing list. His goal for the season is to have the longest shutout streak in the division—something the team is fully behind. Our defense is top notch right now and will only get better once the freshmen find their flow. To say I’m excited about this season would be an understatement.
I’m elbow-deep in a round of shots when I glance up and see Devon and Nolan heading to the table where Brad and Saul have taken up residence. My eyes widen when I see Millie and Thea trailing behind them. I can’t take my eyes off Thea, and it’s because of the way she’s dressed. The green number she has on barely covers her body is only causing my imagination to run wild. I fucking hate knowing what she sounds like when she’s having sex and those little noises are playing rather loudly in my mind right now. Meat Loaf be damned. I look toward the door, waiting for her douchebag boyfriend to walk in, but he doesn’t. He’s probably parking his Lambo with the valet down the street, afraid us townies might touch his precious. Fuck, I hate him. I wanted to beat the shit out of him when I saw him but knew Thea would never look at me the same. Not that I need her to look at me at all. I fucking want her to look at me.
And she just did.
I don’t know who breaks eye contact first, me or her. But when I see her stand, I go back to the task at hand with the shots and add the cost to the tab. I can feel Thea staring at me, throwing daggers into my back. I haven’t been home in weeks and the last thing I said to her was fairly snotty, but her text caught me off guard and I tend to fire off whatever kneejerk reaction I can in the heat of the moment. Instead of helping her, I head to the end of the bar and proceed to take care of the customers there, in hopes one of the servers will come tend bar for a minute. They won’t, unless I ask, and I’m not going to ask, so I have no choice. Plus, I don’t want anyone serving Thea anything.
I place both my hands on the edge of the bar and step back, putting all my weight into the palms of my hands. “What are you doing here, Thea?” I make sure she knows she’s not welcome.
“Ordering drinks, of course.”
Duh, and here I thought she was here to get her hair done. Which looks fucking fantastic by the way.
“You’re underage.” I feel like I have to point this out, even though we both know the truth. I’ve seen her drink, but only at home and only where no one is going to rat her out or take advantage of her. In here, unless she’s glued to Nolan and Devon’s sides, guys are going to be on her like flies on shit, and I can’t have that happening. Not while I’m working.
“Not according to this, I’m not.”
Thea flashes her fake ID for everyone to see. “Fuck,” I mutter and quickly swipe the card from her hand, slipping into my back pocket. “Where the fuck did you get this?”
“It’s none of your concern so can you please give it back?” Her tone starts off angrily but changes to sweet by the end. Coupled with the fact her hand is sticking out and she’s batting her eyelashes, I almost give in. But no. Not here.
“The hell I will. This piece of shit ID can get you in trouble and us closed down. You need to leave. I’m not serving you and no one else here will either.”
Thea carries on about how I can’t tell her what to do and how I don’t own her. She’s right because, while it’s illegal to own a human, if she were mine, I’d be the one stuck to her like glue. I’d be the one at the bar, getting her drinks, watching over her at night while she had fun with her friend, dancing with her, and making sure she was safe. Thea threatens to tell my boss, which is comical. What is she going to say, “I’m sorry but I brought a fake ID in, and Kyler the asshole wouldn’t serve me?” I’d get a fucking raise.
“No, Thea,” I say through gritted teeth, to show her I’m serious. “Get your stuff and go home.” I start to walk away when I hear the unthinkable come out of her mouth.
“Fuck you, Kyler!”
She just doesn’t say this but yells it at the top of her lungs. I turn and face Thea. My eyes bore into hers as I work to maintain composure. When one of the server’s brushes by me, I tell them I’ll be right back. I walk around the bar, grab Thea’s arm, and drag her to the back where we can have an adult conversation without everyone listening. The entire time, she’s trying to get out of my grip. I only ease up enough so I can slip my hand into hers. I don’t want people to think I’m hurting her because I never would. Her hand melds perfectly with mine, something I didn’t expect. I thought she’d continue to fight me, but she’s not.
When we get to the back, I continue until we’re in the office. I pull her in and slam the door behind us. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming into my work and acting like some snot-nosed brat.”
“Clearly, if I knew you worked here, Millie and I would’ve stayed the hell away. The last thing I want is to have to deal with you.”
“Then why not leave when I fucking told you to?” Our voices are elevated, but thankfully no one can hear us over the music. “All you had to do was walk out the second you saw me, but you sat your pretty ass down thinking you could pull one over on me because we share the same house. It’s not happening.”
“Share the same house? Are you kidding me? I’m not even sure why you have a room there. You should move your stuff out and give it to someone who actually wants to be there.”
“I do want to be there—”
“Right, except when you’re with your baby mama. She must keep you on a short leash, huh?” Thea crosses her arms over her chest, only they’re not over anything, but tucked under her plump breasts. Inside, rage builds. Her assumptions of me are so off base I want to correct her and tell her how she has me all wrong, but I don’t have the energy. She spews the same vitriolic tone as her boyfriend. Two peas in a pod, thinking they’re better than everyone else.
“You don’t know jack shit about me.” I head to the door, determined to put as much distance between us as possible. Tomorrow, I’ll move out and she’ll never have to wonder if I’m ever coming home.
“Stop. Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Thea yells at my back. “Why don’t you like me?”
I stare at the peeling paint and run through every scenario I can, looking for the moment when she assumed I didn’t like her. “Thea—”
“No,” she barks out. Thea moves until she’s standing between me and the door. She looks at me with her brown eyes, pleading to be let in. Her hand rests on chest and my heart thumps wildly, which I’m certain she can feel. “Ky,” she says my name softly and it weakens my knees and tears at my soul.
“Fuck it.” I bend slightly and cup my hands around the back of her legs to lift her. Our mouths collide before I have her pressed against the door. Thea opens her mouth, inviting me in. It’s an invitation I’m going to take. The instant my tongue touches her, I’m done for. The way I feel when she’s around, increases tenfold. I want her. All of her.
Our mouths and hands move in sync. There’s no question we both wanted this moment to happen. Her fingers push into my hair, gripping a handful when I start to kiss her neck. With one hand still on her thigh, my fingers dig into her flesh. She moans, and the sound goes straight to my dick. Without hesitation, I push into her, showing her what she does to me.
Thea tightens her legs around my waist and bucks. Her hand moves from my hair, down my shoulder and up under my shirt. Her touch burns my skin. I suck in a gulp of air, relishing in the way her hand feels around my stomach. I hoist her a bit higher, to give her access to where she wants to go. To where I need her to be. Thea moans, and it’s not like the fake-ass shit I’ve convinced myself she does with her boyfriend . . .
I stop and pull her legs away from me. I hold her until I figure she’s steady on her feet and then turn from her and take a deep breath. “You should go,” I say to her.
“What if I don’t want to?” she challenges me.
“Thea, please.”
She quiet, probably contemplating my demise. “I’ll go if you promise me one thing.”
I hate making promises. “What?” Right now, I’ll promise her anything if she leaves this room and the bar.
“Come home tonight, Ky.” I can hear her moving about in the room. She presses into my back and her hands snake around my waist. “Just come home so we can talk.”
I nod without any hesitation and say nothing. I stand there, staring at the wall until I hear the door shut.
After I close the bar, I sit in my car for a bit, wondering how I got myself into the situation I am in now. I’m supposed to go to a fight. I’m supposed to be in some makeshift ring, in some hidden warehouse, fighting for money. After Thea left the bar, I texted my friend and said I couldn’t make it. Of course, this didn’t make anyone involved very happy, except for the guy I planned to beat the shit out of tonight and I promised to make it up to them.
There’s that word again, promise. It’s not a word I ever use unless it’s with Lacey. For her, I’ll never go back on my word, but for anyone else, I never want to say it. Thea made me do so tonight and because of her, I had to make another promise, one I can’t break no matter how badly I want to.
You would think Thea held a gun to my head, but all she did was ask me to come home and I couldn’t tell her no. Her voice . . . it’s been my weakness from the get-go. It’s the way she asks me for things or how she says my name. More so, it’s when she calls me Ky that I can’t say no. I wish I could. I wish I was strong enough to push her away, to keep her out of my thoughts. I’m weak when it comes to her, and I hate it. Not because of how she makes me feel, but because of my life, and hers. She’s my friend’s little sister. She’s forbidden.
Not to mention she has a boyfriend.
“Yep, there’s that,” I say to myself.
I finally start my car and pull out onto the traffic-free road, and within ten minutes, I’m climbing the stairs to the house. When I get inside, the hallway light illuminates the figure sitting on the stairs.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hi.”
“Where’s Jude?”
“He’s not home,” Thea says. “Some hook-up or something.”
I nod but expect she can’t see me. When I get to the steps, she stands. “Are you hungry?”
“Did you cook?” I ask her.
“No, but I could make you something.”
“No, that’s okay.” We stand there for a second, neither of us knowing what we should do. She wants to talk, and I said I would. We never said where or when, although the when is implied by her waiting up for me. “I need to change.” I climb the stairs and get to my room, only to find her hot on my heels. When I turn the light on in my bedroom, it’s exactly the way I left it weeks ago . . . a mess. “Fuck,” I mutter.
“We can go to my room,” she says.
“No!” I say a bit too loudly and with too much force. I scramble to pick up the crap on the floor and throw my blankets back. It’s doable, but not great. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her. I grab a pair of sweats from my dresser, knowing they’re at least clean and then toss a shirt in her direction. She’s wearing some skimpy tank top thing which causes her breasts to invite too much attention from me. “Put this on if we’re going to talk.” Because that’s what we’re going to do—talk.
When I come back into my room, Thea is sitting on my bed, wearing the shirt I gave her. I never bothered to look at what it was and now she’s has it on, my dick is ready for some action. She’s wearing a T-shirt replica of my hockey jersey. The one and only time I wore this shirt was for a charity event last year.
Thea giggles and I look at her oddly until I follow her gaze. Fuck my life. She can see I’m sporting a hard-on through my sweats. “I’m glad you think this is funny for me.”
“I’m giggling because you put on gray sweats. Those are magnets for attention.”
“Is that so?”
Thea nods. “Yes, the female population loves men in gray sweatpants. The thinner the material, the better.”
“Duly noted. I’ll buy some black ones tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Please don’t.” Her giggly voice is now soft and sweet. “Can you sit by me?”
I go over to my bed and sit on the edge. Only, I’m fucking tired and want to lie down. It’s my hope that Thea takes the hint and will say we can talk tomorrow, but she doesn’t. She lies down next to me. When she rolls to her side, I do the same. We mirror each other, one hand under our head and the other on the side.
“I didn’t know you worked at The Crease.”
