"Do you think it could be Damion trying to be funny," I ask, my eyes digging into his muscled back. Strange how he doesn't seem to care what happened to Chloe, the love of his life.
"Nah, he's crazy but not one to do something like this." She seems sure of it, but I'm still not convinced it's not him.
"You look like you need some serious girl time." She nods her head eagerly. "Let's blow this party."
"What about Ren?" She looks at the crowd where he's standing next to Damion.
"Oh, I'm sure he can find the door by himself." I get the feeling that Kiara is not very fond of Ren too. "And his stupid school buddies can help him."
"I think Jackson might have gotten rid of them," I say. They never came back.
"Well, good for him. I like that brother's style." I love my brothers … all of them. Very very VERY much. But Jackson's got an extra special place in my heart. And for good reason … he saved my life. It happened very long ago … I was about 4 or 5 … and he never talked about it again. And yeah, I still can't recall all the details, but I know it happened. There's a lesion on my knee and a scar on his arm, covered by his tattoo, that proves I'm right. I'm also sure that's how my fear of guns originated.
Kiara calls the guard acting as barman and speaks softly in his ear. He hands her some bottles - one pink Tequila Rose, a salted caramel Irish creme, and Kahlua. She takes my hand and pulls me after her. We make a stop in the kitchen and grab a tub of double fudge and two spoons, giggling all the way to my room.
My bed is still struggling underneath the pile of HER clothes that came from MY cupboard.
"Okay." She drops the bottles on the sofa and opens my cupboard. A hoody flies through the air and hits me against my head where it gets stuck. I put the ice cream down before removing it.
"Put that on."
"Yes, bitch sir." I salute her with a chuckle, slip off my pants and shirt, and climb into the hoody. I watch her doing the same. She's much taller than me, roughly a head, slim, and voluptuous with the most exquisite caramel skin and curly black hair.
She sweeps the garment stack to the ground like a bulldozer. I slide in, underneath the colorful quilt, my mom stitched for me when I was little, and I place the tub between us on the mattress. I grab Pan and lay him on my tummy.
Kiara hands me the black bottle with strawberry cream. I take a big gulp and feel the liquid burning my throat. I pass the bottle to her and dig into the ice cream.
"You would not believe what Ren told me," I start between bites while swinging the spoon around. I tell her that Damion is the one behind the curse.
"That's … eh … unexpected," she says handing back the bottle. "But also not so much."
"All my inexperience is due to his menaces … and then he dares to tell me I don't know what I'm doing," I go off. I need to get it out.
"But why did he want them to stay away from you?"
I sip and swallow. This Tequila Rose stuff is going down rather smoothly with the double fudge desert.
"Ug, I don't know. To mess up my freaking life; to torture me; because he could; he's an asshole. Pick one."
She looks at me with a wry smile and I don't even want to guess what's going on in that little head of hers. But I know she's going to tell me.
"I can think of another reason," she pauses for effect, "He's into you!"
"Nope, you can scratch that … he loves Chloe," I continue to tell her what I overheard. Tears suddenly prick my eyes again and I take another big sip of strawberry liqueur, swallowing down the snot with the alcohol.
"Oh," Kiara pulls big eyes. "Now I know what this menopause mood is all about. You're jealous."
"Gmf. Of that bitch … PLEEEEAAASSSEE." But she's right. I am jealous. But not of Chloe herself … but of what she has … Damion Grimm's heart.
"I can't believe he's in love, full stop. Wow, the biker lost his heart. Never thought I'd see the day. Are you sure you heard right?" I nod. I'm sure. "Maybe he was talking about another girl or someone else that fell in love," she tries again. "You know you sometimes get it wrong."
"It was ONE time …"
"TWO," she holds up two fingers "It was two times … the bomb and the assassination … three if you count the bodies in the garden." Yeah, she's right … it was more than once. But to my defense, I was young and dumb and stupid with a slightly overactive imagination.
I was certain I heard our math teacher discussing the football coach's assassination with the science teacher. And I definitely heard the principal telling his secretary that the bomb was gonna explode as soon as his wife arrived.
As for the bodies in the garden … it turned out our neighbor's beloved cat died … the reason he was digging a grave.
Now I'm not that young anymore. And hopefully not that dumb and stupid.
"I was young and dumb. But this time I'm right. His mom clearly said … Chloe …" I sigh. "And Ren wants ME to be her bestest best friend. It's so frickin screwed up."
"Hey, what about me?" she protests. "I'm your bestest best friend."
"Don't worry … that is NEVER going to happen." If I ever saw that girl again it would be too soon. I really really don't like the bitch.
"Good. I won't like sharing you with the likes of her. I'm not very impressed with the company your new lover keeps," she says with a scrunched-up nose. I give her the bottle. I'm not fond of his friends either. Maybe it's time to break things off with my new boyfriend. Is it too soon? It feels as if I haven't tried giving him a chance.
"So," she hands me the salted caramel creme bottle. "Do you think you have a stalker now?" I'm thankful for the change of subject.
I shrug my shoulders. Who would stalk me? I'm not famous or anything. I still think it might be Damion.
"Please let him be hot and not an idiot like all the guys in our lives," Kiara giggles.
"I can drink to that." And I do. My head is getting slightly dull. We silently finish the second bottle. I can honestly say I'm not that sober anymore.
Kiara falls from the bed as she reaches for the Kahlua. I start laughing … hard.
"Sniff pixie dust and soar," I snort, wiping tears from my face.
"Ho … that's Damion's shit," Kiara crows while crawling back onto the bed in the most unflattering way I've ever seen a human getting on a bed. I grab the bottle from her and throw the contents into the ice cream tub. She watches me with what looks like utter concentration, a stripe of something gooey dried on the skin of her cheek … alcohol, ice cream, snot, spit … or a combination of it all.
"Yes, it's Damion's Peter Pan crap." He said it to me that day at the haunted house when the pain in my arm started kicking in. Claimed that some special girl always said it to him when he was down.
And it actually works … trust me. I've been using it ever since and whenever I say it to myself, I immediately feel better. Like magic. Like Mom's Bolognese.
I tap Pan on his soft squishy head. "That's where you got your name," I say to the toy and laugh out loud again. "From Damion's thingy." Get it … Peter Pan shit … Pan?