Crazy Stupid Obsession Part 2

"Are you sure?" I object, feeling bad that he came here just to turn around and leave again.

"Of course," he rea.s.sures me. "I have a few things I need to take care of. Call me when you get back." He winks, leaning down to lay another light kiss to my mouth.

"Take care of my girl, Kimber." He nods in her direction.

"Always do." Her smile widens as she watches him cross the room and disappear into the hallway moments later.

"Oh my G.o.d. He totally wors.h.i.+ps you," she whisper screams, doing a weird little victory dance in the middle of the room.

"He does, doesn't he?" I let out a slow exhale.

"Why do I get the feeling that isn't a good thing?" Kimber immediately falls serious, sliding down onto the edge of her bed to sit directly across from me.

"It is. It really is. He's amazing. It's just... I don't know. Something's missing," I admit, hoping she understands.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. How do you feel when you're with Decklan?" I ask, hoping to explain it another way.

"Amazing. Electrified. Alive," she rambles off.

"Exactly. That's how it should feel. At least I feel like that's how it should feel."

"And you don't feel that way?" She gestures to the door where Bryan just exited.

"I like him," I admit. "It's just mild and comfortable. There's no real spark."

"Give it some more time. Maybe it'll come." She hits me with a rea.s.suring smile.

"Yeah, maybe." I shrug. "So where are you wanting to go?" I ask, desperately wanting to get away from this topic of conversation and focus on something else.

"Madrins?" Kimber smiles, knowing there is no way I will ever say no to their incredible crab cakes.

"You're on." I push off of the bed and head for the bathroom. "Give me ten minutes," I call back over my shoulder.

"I'll give you five," she challenges, laughing when I stick my tongue out at her before playfully slamming the bathroom door behind me.

Chapter Three.

Gavin "Well if it isn't my p.u.s.s.y-whipped best friend. He's alive." I torment Decklan the moment he emerges from his apartment above the bar.

His wrinkled white s.h.i.+rt and faded jeans are a clear indication to how little of a f.u.c.k he gives about his appearance at the moment. If I had to guess, I'd say this is the first time he's been out of bed in the last two days.

"What the f.u.c.k are you doing here already?" He arches a brow when he sees the beer sitting on the bar in front of me. "Little early isn't it?"

"Since when do you give a f.u.c.k how early it is?" I bite, watching a slow smile spread across his face.

"Good f.u.c.king point," he agrees, sliding behind the bar to retrieve a beer for himself.

He pops the top off the bottle and takes a long swig before crossing around the counter and sliding into the bar stool next to me.

"Kimber gone?" I ask, lifting the bottle to my lips.

"Yeah, she took off yesterday afternoon. She had a few things to take care of. She'll be back soon." He runs a hand through his messy dark blond hair.

"You ever gonna cut that s.h.i.+t?" I gesture to where a large chunk of hair is now hanging directly in front of his eye.

"No," he answers dryly, pus.h.i.+ng the hair aside.

"We need to make a decision about Paxton." I slide the beer bottle back and forth between my hands, the gla.s.s making a scratching noise across the surface of the bar.

Paxton is an old friend of mine and Decklan's. His mom s.h.i.+pped him to Oregon to live with his dad after he got himself in a bit of a mess in California. He couldn't have been but thirteen at the time. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that these two f.u.c.kers have been around for literally half of my life.

"Yeah," Deck agrees, pulling me back to the conversation. "What nights does he want to play again?"

"I told him Sunday through Thursday would work, but I'm not sure he wants to play every night. I was thinking we would give him maybe Sunday and Wednesday and then he can pick up extra s.h.i.+fts as he wants. This place is dead as f.u.c.k Monday and Tuesday nights anyway. It doesn't make much sense for us to pay a live act."

Paxton is the musician of our group and one h.e.l.l of one at that. Considering he's been cras.h.i.+ng on my couch since he arrived back in Oregon a few weeks ago, I'm eager to give him something to do.

He's been living in California for the past several months, taking care of his mom who just recently pa.s.sed from cancer. Given the size of his inheritance, I know money isn't the issue. It's more about being around people and having something to do.

"Might bring in more business, though," Decklan adds, taking a long drink of his beer, draining half the bottle in one gulp. "But yeah, Sunday and Wednesday works for me. Did you nail down the specifics for the New Year's party?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have Paxton start off the night with an acoustic set and then Technolights will go on at ten and play til close," I say, referring to one of the hottest cover bands in the Portland area.

"Perfect," he says, turning toward the door the moment it swings open.

Sunlight filters into the dimly lit bar shrouding Kimber in a sea of yellow as she steps through the doorway. I remember the first time I laid eyes on this girl. Such an innocent, quiet thing. Beautiful of course, almost angelic in a way. But I have learned over the course of the past couple of months that she is so much more than the little good girl I had her pegged for.

For starters, she can handle Decklan. She's on a very short list in that department. Anyone that can handle my moody, a.s.shole of a best friend deserves a medal. I've also got a h.e.l.l of a lot of respect for her, especially after everything she's done for him. She's changing him in a way I never dreamed possible.

She's given him a spark and brought a bit of life back to him that I haven't seen since before his brother Conner died in a car accident a few years back.

The moment the door closes behind her on a loud thud, her eyes immediately bounce between me and Decklan and then to the beers on the counter.

"Really, guys?" She shakes her head, making her way toward us.

"Decklan did it." I point jokingly at Deck who lets out a full belly laugh.

"What is she your mother?" He shakes his head. "Decklan did it." He mimics my statement.

"f.u.c.k you, dude." I shove at his shoulder, effectively pus.h.i.+ng him out of the bar stool.

He slides onto his feet and flips me off seconds before dropping an arm around Kimber's shoulder and pulling her into him.

"You get everything taken care of?" he asks, kissing the side of her head.

I don't know why but the action makes my stomach turn a bit. It's clear to see how crazy they are about each other and while I couldn't be happier for Decklan, that doesn't mean I want to sit here and watch them give each other googly eyes.

"Yeah. I was able to work out picking up a couple extra s.h.i.+fts at the restaurant, thank G.o.d." She sighs.

"Getting tired of me already are you?" he teases.

"Shut up." She giggles, laying a light smack on his stomach. "If I want to be able to eat next semester, I need to work."

"Yeah because I would let you starve." He pins serious eyes on her.

"It's not your job to take care of me. I pay my own way, end of discussion."

"I'll show you end of discussion," he growls playfully.

"Oh and I also invited Harlee and Angel to the party Thursday night." She ignores his comment, turning her gaze on me. "I hope that's okay," she adds. "I'm pretty sure Bryan and Angel's new... Well, I'm not sure what you would call him," she laughs, "are going to come, too." Her eyes study my face for a long moment before turning back up to Decklan.

"Fine by me." Decklan smiles down at her, tucking a blonde wave of hair behind her ear.

Not f.u.c.king fine by me I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. I finish off the remainder of my beer in one swift drink.

"Is that okay with you, Gavin?" She settles her soft smile in my direction, lifting her eyebrows slightly in question.

"I don't give a f.u.c.k," I answer casually on a shrug, pus.h.i.+ng out of the bar stool. I cross to the trash can and drop my empty beer bottle inside. "I'm gonna party and f.u.c.k my way into the new year no matter who is here."

"Okay then." Her smile widens.

I don't know why but I get the sinking feeling there is something behind that smile of hers. What's in my reaction that clearly has her amused?

I slide behind the bar, grabbing a few near empty bottles of liquor. Setting them on the back counter, I grab a pen and paper and start jotting down what we're getting low on so I can make sure to get it ordered in time for Thursday.

Deviants is mine and Decklan's baby. We bought this bar a few years back. Sunk every penny we owned into fixing it up and turning it into the successful business it is now. We still handle the everyday operations, both of us too big on control to hire a manager to handle anything for us.

"Don't forget to order extra champagne." Decklan's voice sounds from behind me.

"Got it." I nod without turning. "Oh s.h.i.+t, I almost forgot." I spin toward them just as they are about to head upstairs. "Mom wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night."

"What's the occasion?" Decklan asks, clearly not missing the fact that it's only been a week and a half since our monthly Tuesday night Spaghetti dinner. Which is a tradition in the Porter household and one Decklan has attended for years.

h.e.l.l, he's practically family. No, he is part of the family.

"Charlie's coming home," I say, referring to my younger sister who has been living with my aunt Pam in New York for the past three years while attending NYU.

"Seriously?" Decklan seems as surprised as I did when Mom told me the news. "Is she just visiting?" he adds.

"No, apparently she's home for the foreseeable future."

"Really? I thought she had another year?" he questions.

"Charlie, as in your younger sister?" Kimber interrupts, clearly a little bit out of the loop.

"Yeah," I confirm. "She left after finis.h.i.+ng high school." I don't mention that I have only seen her once the entire time she's been gone.

"How long has that been?" she asks.

I have to remind myself that Kimber is new to this whole family circle. Decklan, of course, already knows the details where Charlie is concerned.

"Three years now." I look to Deck for confirmation.

He nods in agreement before speaking again. "s.h.i.+t. Has it really been that long?"

"She's twenty-one now," I say.

It seems crazy to think of her being that old.

Being four years younger than me, I've always been extremely protective of her, as has Deck. I think in a lot of ways she resented that about me and that's why she's made herself so scarce over the past couple of years. Of course, deep down, I think the main reason she hasn't been coming home to visit is because it's not the same here without Dad.

"f.u.c.k." Decklan pulls me back to the present. He runs another hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. "Twenty-one."

"Hard to believe." I nod in agreement. "So you think you can make it?"

"Yeah man, you know you can count me in," he answers.

"What about you, Kimber? You wanna join us?" I ask, knowing my mom would love to see her again.

Kimber has a love of art that my father had. It makes my mom so happy to have someone to talk Art with again. I think it reminds her of when my dad was still alive.

"Are you sure that's okay?" she questions. "I don't want to intrude."

"Are you kidding? You're part of the family now." I gesture between her and Decklan.

"Whether you want to be or not," Decklan teases, tucking her into his side.

"Then yes, of course." Her smile spreads from ear to ear.

"Six thirty," I confirm, waiting until Deck gives me a nod before turning back to finish my inventory.

Him and Kimber disappear upstairs moments later causing the silence of the room to settle around me. My mind immediately whirls back to what Kimber said earlier about Harlee coming Thursday night.

My fists clench involuntarily at the thought of having to watch her and that douche bag of a boyfriend hang all over each other all night. Then again, why the f.u.c.k do I care? I shake my head, trying to rid myself of whatever the f.u.c.k is causing my mind to focus on Harlee.

I need a distraction...

Dropping the pad of paper onto the counter, I slide my cell phone from my back pocket and scroll through the contacts. I click on Jenny's number the moment I see it, letting out a loud exhale as I place the phone to my ear.