The Story Of Us Part 6

"Wait," I holler so he can hear me over the DJ. I take off my sandals. The sand is warm and soft under my feet, and already I feel my hesitancy begin to slip away. "Shoes are overrated."

I have them in my grip as I jog the short distance separating us. He doesn't move when I reach him. He's just staring at me, smiling.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I have the perfect name for you-Jellysnack."

"No!" I cry, half-laughing. "That's a ridiculous name."

"Maybe, but it's perfect."

I shake my head adamantly. "How is that perfect?"

Maverick quirks a brow, then points to my calf. "You got stung. I rescued you. Here we are."

"Rescue might be a bit exaggerated. Your urine had the opposite effect, remember?"

He chuckles. "I'm not sure that's true."

I'm about to tell him that it is and repeat what the medic said, but Maverick moves closer and smoothes a thumb over my cheek and across my lips. Just like that, the lightness of the moment morphs into something warmer. Something deeper that makes my heart quicken as Maverick leans down. I close my eyes, recalling the last time his mouth connected with mine.

He kisses me, and in the moment it's like the gray hues are washed away and replaced with a clean canvas. It's pure white and beautiful and has endless possibilities.

Tomorrow might be different, but tonight, I won't let the grays remind me of who I am. I'll be the girl Maverick thinks I am.

Maverick's hand slides into my hair, bringing me against him. He separates my lips with his tongue, and the first splash of color hits. It's red for desire. Deep, dark red, a color I haven't known like that in years. My body responds, and I kiss him back. I move to his rhythm, growing more needy as we embrace in our own corner of the party.

Maverick finally slows the kiss, but the new color doesn't dull. My gaze meets his, our noses still touching. Chocolate irises hold me in place, and I commit them to memory. The small specks of darker brown, the way the outer edge seems to glow a full shade lighter. I need to draw them.

The corner of his mouth creeps upward. "Come on, Jellysnack. I want to dance with you."

I don't even mind the nickname now. After that kiss, he can call me whatever he wants.

He takes my hand and leads me toward the giant speakers. We're not alone here, but I don't mind that either. Christmas lights are strung in a square overhead, marking out the perimeter of the dance floor. Maverick ignores the lines, and I don't care where we end up as long as it's together.

We dance close enough to the water's edge that our feet get wet. Maverick's smile, I decide, I want to see every day while we're in Mexico. It's brighter than the moon tonight. And his gaze is only on me.

The rhythm is upbeat, but our movements aren't. We're dancing to our own music.

I catch sight of Finley from the corner of my eye. She must've forgotten to come find me when she arrived. Figures. She's grinding with someone, and when he turns, I'm surprised to see it's Jake from the night before. Finley gives me a hard time about guys, but really, she's not much better. Whereas I don't date them, she's never had a relations.h.i.+p last longer than two months, and most are gone by end of the first. The last I heard, she planned on a different guy each day of this trip.

She hones in on me, points, and grabs Jake's arm to tug him toward us.

"Incoming," I warn Maverick.

Jokingly, he grabs my shoulders and moves me in front him. I fake protest, though I like him having me so close.

Finley squeals in delight, not caring that Maverick has a hold of me. She throws her arms around my neck, pulling me away from him. "You're glowing," she murmurs into my ear. "Did you finally get laid? Tell me later."

She lets go before I have a chance to respond. "I'm ready for a drink. How about you?"

Again, my best friend doesn't wait for an answer. She takes my hand and hauls me toward the bar hut. I glance over my shoulder. Maverick and Jake are a few steps behind us, Maverick watching me and grinning.

"Oh, a table!" Finley drags me faster. I don't even have time to put my sandals back on once we hit hard flooring.

We get to the table at the same time as someone else, but Finley shoves her b.u.t.t into the booth, claiming it.

"First," she says to the stunned girl. Finley flashes her a fake apologetic smirk.

I sit beside Finn, giving her a look I give her often.

"Pfft. She'll find something else," Finn says.

Jake and Maverick slide into the booth across from us. Jake high fives Finley in congratulations for securing us a table, and it's my first indication as to why she's kept him around for another night.

"What do you want?" Maverick asks me, nodding toward the bar counter.

"I can get it," I insist.

"Jake and I are going up."

"Okay, um, Corona with lime."

He winks. "Gotcha."

As soon as Maverick and Jake are out of earshot, Finley pounces. "Tell me everything!"

"What makes you think there's anything to tell?" I ask.

"That stupid-happy look on your face. I want all the juicy details." Her eyes are wide, and she's biting her lip. My life is Keeping Up with the Kardas.h.i.+ans to her.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but there's nothing juicy to report. He kissed me is all."

Her face falls. Like, seriously, falls the way it did when I told her there was no Santa Claus. "d.a.m.n it, Ali."

"It was a pretty amazing second kiss," I admit, easily recalling it to memory.

"Whoa, hold up. Did you say 'second kiss'?" She pouts. "What the f.u.c.k? When were you going to tell me about the first kiss?"

"When do you tell me about your first kisses?"

"Just a.s.sume if there's a guy, there's a first kiss."

"Followed quickly by a last." I grin.

She ignores me. "Do you know what happens after a second kiss? A third kiss. And what happens after a third kiss?" She lifts her b.o.o.bs to reveal twice as much cleavage. "Bedtime."

"Nope. I'm not rus.h.i.+ng into anything, Finn."

Finley's eyes roll in annoyance. "Don't worry. I can speed things up if need be."

Judging by her expression, my quick-to-the-trigger best friend already has a plan, and chances are good that my cheeks will be beet red when she's finished. Then I'll hate her for an hour. "No need be," I say quickly.

Maverick and Jake return, and as Jake takes the seat across from Finn, I notice her stick her finger in her mouth and pull it out slowly. Subtle is not her thing.

"So, Maverick. Did you know that Ali can tie one of these with her tongue?" Finn holds up her cherry stem to me. I look at her. If this is her game plan to move things along, she's slipping. I expected better, like the time she told some guy that I was a contortionist and could get myself in positions no one else could. She'd gone into detail. A lot of untrue detail.

Tying a cherry stem with my tongue is hardly a real talent, but Maverick's eyes light up when I pop it into my mouth. I twirl it around, pus.h.i.+ng the end through the loop I made. Then I bite down and pull the tied stem out.

Beside me, Finn beams like I just won Olympic gold.

Jake's snickering, and Maverick leans forward on his elbows, a seductive glint in his eye. He takes the knotted stem from my fingers and examines it.

"You'd make a good lesbian," he says.

"What?" I ask, confused.

Finley laughs. "Because you're good with your tongue."

"I thought tying a cherry stem meant you're a good kisser."

Maverick smirks. "Among other things."

"I'd make a horrible lesbian," I inform him. Thinking about his bare chest against my skin does things to my body that I have trouble ignoring. I cross my arms to conceal the most obvious signs.

"I'd make a great lesbian," Jake pipes up. "I like b.o.o.bies."

Finn sticks her out chest and s.h.i.+mmies. Jake whistles, and I wonder how these two didn't find each other sooner.

After too many drinks, Finn gives me a four-finger girly wave as Jake tugs her in the direction of his hotel. Maverick and I decide on a walk along the beach. Again I regret not bringing my sketchbook along. Tonight is just as beautiful as the night before.

"Final year at Chicago Law." Maverick sighs. "I technically shouldn't be here. I have so much s.h.i.+t due next week." He c.o.c.ks his head toward me, a half-grin accenting the moonlit glint in his eye. "But what the h.e.l.l, right? Gotta cut loose sometime."

"Do you like it? Law, I mean?"

"I like it better than anything else." He stares in front of him, his jaw clenching. "My dad's a prosecutor in Chicago. My grandfather is the Cook County State's Attorney. My little brother Gavin is studying pre-law. Guess it's in my blood."

"Is your mom a lawyer too?"

"Nah. She's better than the rest of us. First grade teacher at Bell Elementary."

"You don't seem all that bad." I feel a smile grow on my face, because he's the opposite of bad. Which, in a way, makes him dangerous. But I like it too much to end it.

"Don't be fooled; I'm ruthless when I need to be."

"Yeah? Like when?"

"When my dad wants to throw around his weight."

"I bet you can hold your own." I realize too late that I just turned the corner to personal, and I hope he doesn't reciprocate. Maybe he won't answer.

"My dad-he, uh-he's intense. I attend his alma mater. He's got clout there, and he uses it. He thinks that because I chose his profession, he's ent.i.tled to be my fairy G.o.dmother." He shrugs. "I want to make my own way in the world, you know? I don't want him carving out my path."

I nod. Part of me wants to ask a follow-up, but I've already gotten too deep. Third dates are for discussing movies, being silly, and finding out how much alcohol the other person can put away before they pa.s.s out. What we're doing now is like three months going on four.

"I a.s.sume art?" he asks.

"What?"

"For you. Art major?"

I shake my head. "Um, actually no. Making a living with art is d.a.m.n-near impossible."

"Okay. So what are you studying?"

I scrunch up my nose. "Computer science."

"You said that like it's a career set in h.e.l.l."

"Because it is."

"Then do something else. Something you love."

"I can't. In order to do what I love and have a roof over my head, I have to do something I hate."

"Who says?"

"Everyone. Life."

"Finley?"

"No, not Finley. Everyone except Finley. Finley's all about me submitting work to Yale's M.F.A. program. But if you haven't noticed, Finley's nuts."

Maverick turns to me. "Alieya, do you know how lucky you are to have found something you love? Don't throw that away just because you don't think you can make a living off it."

"My family isn't like yours, Maverick. I can't depend on them to help me financially. My dad is a deadbeat I haven't seen since I was seven. My mom raised me and my baby sister alone on a social worker's income. Yes, I love drawing, and I'll keep doing it, but it won't be my career."

Maverick tucks hair behind my ear. "I get that. But you don't have to study something you hate. The possibilities are endless. What about graphic design or an art curator? Don't settle."

"You sound like Finn."

"Finn's a smart girl."

We walk until my hotel comes into view. I'm not ready to say goodnight and spend the rest of the night in an empty room. I have good judgment right now, but if Maverick kisses me like he did earlier, that good judgment will vanish with a twist of his tongue. Heat settles in my abdomen at the thought.

When we reach the double gla.s.s doors, Maverick touches my face, his index finger settling on my lip. "My hotel is just down the street. I have a room to myself."

My breath hitches. I understand the implications of his words, and believe me I want to go with him. It's just...