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Chapter Seven

LIE

If someone had asked me if I ever thought Laiken would kiss me when I began flirting with him years ago, I’d have laughed. I still can’t believe he did. I can’t believe he agreed when I gave him a choice.

Let’s be real here; I was going to continue flirting with him and teasing him with the sight of my ass even if he said no.

And I’m not actually hard up to find someone, romantic or otherwise.

My options are vast here on Kala. Between the residents and the guests, my options for hoeing it up are endless.

I think that’s why I never gave much thought to finding someone. There was always someone around.

But there’s no one like Laiken. He’s just… mmm.

I pull my shirt up to look at myself in these new shorts that Cash gave me.

He’s not as comfortable in tight shorts as I am, and these were too tight for him.

I tried to convince him to keep them because damn.

The way they cup my ass is superb. Anything that shows off my ass is good in my book, since that seemed to be the thing that broke Laiken’s walls.

Turning to the side, I check my profile.

In reality, it’s not that big. Maybe it’s in the shape.

I’ve had comments on my ass for years, so I guess I’ve done something right, though what that is, I don’t know.

My workout habits are slim. There are weeks here and there that have motivated me to build some muscle, but those weeks don’t last long.

A knock on my door has me looking up as it opens. I drop my shirt, letting it fall just past the crest of my ass. My mom looks up and stops.

“Oh. Sorry. I thought you were with Cash. I’m just dropping off your laundry, baby.” She comes in and sets the basket on my bed.

“Thanks. I was going to take it out.”

She waves me off. “It’s okay. I need the dryer, and I thought you’d already left for the day. Laundry is kind of relaxing, anyway.”

I nod. Not sure I agree that doing laundry is relaxing, but that’s fine. Mom and I look at each other, and I wait for the comment. Since I’m wearing short shorts and a large pink tee, I imagine it’ll be concerning what I’m wearing.

“So… how are you enjoying working at the bar?”

Interesting. “It’s all right,” I answer. “No one’s been rude yet, so as contradictory as it might sound, I think the bar attracts less rude and entitled people than coffee shops and restaurants.”

Mom laughs. “It’s a different audience, so you’re not far off. You learning all the fun things like bottle acrobatics?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. Just basic mixes right now, like rum and Coke. Things I can’t really mess up.”

“You’ll get there, baby.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles. A moment passes before she tells me she’s going back to the laundry.

I watch as she walks out of my room, closing my door behind her.

Talking to Mom is always a little awkward, though I’m impressed there wasn’t a single, even accidental comment about my perfume or painted nails, feminine clothes, my hair…

I turn back to the mirror and lift my shirt again.

This time I’m constructively looking at the shorts.

I’m not sure I like the way the part at my thighs ball up and curl until they settle into the crevice where my leg meets my crotch.

It’s a little uncomfortable. How is it going to be walking around in them?

Is the irritation at how they rub my legs worth my ass looking cute?

They might just end up being bed shorts. I don’t think they’re comfortable enough to spend a seven-hour shift at the bar.

Do I like working at the bar? Mom’s question makes me smile.

What I like is that Laiken is always right there.

Getting so close, I can feel his body heat.

The accidentally on purpose brush of his hand against my ass.

His jealousy when patrons flirt with me.

More than anything, the way he kisses me when we get home.

The trees between our houses have become our spot. It’s not a thick cluster of trees, but during the night, it’s a black mass you can’t see into.

We kiss for a very long time. Time that’s gotten longer each night. Laiken has become more confident in kissing me. His hesitation to do so is now gone. It’s hungry and passionate, and makes me completely weak.

He just touched my bare skin for the first time last night. His hand slipped under the back of my shirt and traced up my spine. I can still feel the phantom brush of his fingers now.

I sigh. God, I want more.

Another knock and I drop my tee again and look at the door expectantly. It doesn’t open this time, which makes me frown. My parents knock and then open without necessarily waiting for a response. A beat passes and it still doesn’t open.

Okay…

I cross the room to answer the door, and my breath catches. Well, damn. Here is my wet dream now. “Hi,” I say and glance down the hall.

“Hi,” he responds. “Miranda said you can come out and play.”

I narrow my eyes, earning me a grin.

“I know we have the day off, but if you’re interested, I thought we could use my bar and practice mixing some drinks.”

A million questions rush through my mind. Is this an excuse to spend time with me? Is that why he’s here? Can he not stop thinking about me like I can’t stop thinking about him?

“Yes.”

Laiken inclines his head. “One rule. You have to wear hard-soled shoes.”

I frown. “Why?” I ask as I turn for my socks.

“I’ve broken glass behind the bar in the past, and while I’m relatively certain the glass is long gone, I don’t want to take any chances. And it could happen again.”

“Your confidence in me is loud,” I deadpan. Socks on, I slip my feet into my sneakers and then bend over, giving Laiken a clear view of my ass in these new shorts.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

Upside down and practically through my legs, I can see the heat in his eyes as he stares. I take my time tying my sneakers so he can ogle the goods for a bit. After a minute, he shakes his head.

“I’ll meet you outside,” he says and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I’m not sure there’s a better feeling than seeing how much someone is attracted to you. Talk about a confidence boost.

Before leaving my room, I tie the bottom of the oversized shirt at my side in a 1980s style throwback so Laiken gets a clear shot of my ass. I flick my light off on my way out of my bedroom.

Laiken’s outdoor bar is at the end of his house, so it’s not blocking the view out of his windows. However, that means it’s in clear view of our house—every window on the side and from our backyard and deck.

So no sneaking kisses or groping.

The positive is that it’s far enough away that you can’t overhear anyone at the bar. I know. When I was younger, I’d tried to listen to the adults talk through my bedroom window, which just so happens to be facing Laiken’s house.

Have I mentioned that this man is rarely with a shirt on? There’s seriously no wonder I’ve been enthralled with him for years. What guy my own age has his sophistication and distinguished air?

“Are you going to teach me your secret of making magic drinks based on three facts?” I ask as I step behind the bar with him.

Laiken has made a name for himself on Kala as being able to make the perfect drink for you based on three facts about yourself that you give him. Any three facts. I’ve even heard someone give Laiken their shoe size.

The drinks are amazing. Everyone raves about them.

I was sitting at the bar once when someone told Laiken their three facts, and when the guy took his sip, he looked at Laiken with shock, telling him that he’d been to Kala five years ago and this was the exact drink that Laiken had made him based on his facts.

He gave the guy shots of everyone’s three-fact drinks for the rest of the night, proving that no one’s drinks were ever the same. It was probably one of the most fascinating moments of my life. I’m partially convinced that Laiken truly does make magic drinks.

“No. That goes with me to the grave.”

“So dramatic. You have to pass down your secret to someone when you retire. That way, your legacy lives on.”

“I’d rather take it with me.”

I step close to him, and his eyes flicker over my head toward my house. “What’s first?”

Laiken licks his lips. His eyes lock with mine, and the air between us heats. I swear, there’s a tingling in my fingers, desperate to touch him.

“Screwdriver,” he says.

“What about a sex on the beach?”

“Lie—”

“Isn’t there a drink called a hairy nipple? I like hairy nipples.”

“Come inside. We need a restock.”

Laiken turns and heads for his glass doors. I follow with a skip in my step. I barely cross the threshold when he has me pinned against the wall around the corner, his mouth on mine. It’s such a rush of intense heat that I groan into his mouth, bucking my hips against his.

Tight shorts do nothing to conceal an erection. They show every vein, every line, every detail.

Fuck, I’m horny. When did that even happen? I thought I was just enjoying some kissing here.

I love touching him. His skin is soft, not the leathery kind of feeling you’d expect from someone who always has his skin baking in the sun. I touch him everywhere I can reach. All over his back, his chest, his stomach.

I’m surprised when he takes both my hands and presses them to the wall above my head, keeping me locked in place with a single hand. I’m about to complain when his free hand drops to grip my ass.

For as much as he’s stared at my ass and brushed his hand against me behind the bar at work, he’s never outright grabbed me. I moan, wrapping my leg around his so I can grind my cock against him.

He’s hard, too. Feeling him hard makes me desperate to touch him, but his grip is solid. I can’t pull my hands free. I try to whine about it, but he won’t let my mouth go either. His fingers dig into my ass cheek, kneading me like a cat.

My hips don’t stop rubbing against him. Laiken’s weight presses me tightly, especially where our dicks are rubbing. It makes me frantically grind, desperate. I need to feel him. I need him to touch me more. Put his hand on my bare ass under my shorts. I need?—

“Laiken?”

Laiken’s mouth pulls off mine, and he takes a breath. Eyes wide.

“Lie?”

“Fuck,” Laiken hisses, jerking away from me.

We hear my dad’s footsteps on the deck now. Panic fills me, keeping me frozen to the spot. Laiken nudges me a little. “Bathroom,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

I stumble away, gripping my throbbing dick in my hand as I shut myself in the bathroom on the other side of the kitchen.

“In here,” Laiken calls.

“Miranda said you were teaching Lie to mix drinks,” my dad says as he steps inside.

“Yep. The bourbon is low, and I think I drained the vodka the last time I used it. Need a quick restock.”

“Ah. Where’s Lie?”

“Bathroom.”

My heart rages in my chest as I listen to them through the bathroom door. I admire the way Laiken’s voice is steady. My entire body is shivering with need after having a cold splash of reality dumped over it.

I close my eyes and take a breath. We can’t get caught. If we tell my dad, then it has to be intentional. Not him walking in on us fucking against the wall of his kitchen.

Not that we were.

You know, yet .

Flushing the toilet, I turn the sink on and look at myself in the mirror. Okay, dick on display is not okay in the presence of my father. I untie my shirt and let it fall. That’s better. Not sure I can do anything about my puffy lips.

I splash water on my face a few times and turn the faucet off. After a lazy dry job, I take a breath and step into the kitchen with water still dripping. Hopefully, now I just look convincingly hot from the sun.

Not from being pressed against Laiken’s wall with his tongue down my throat and his dick grinding against mine. I don’t at all feel like maybe I have little fingertip bruises on my right ass cheek.

This is fine. Everything is absolutely perfect. Nothing happened.

I grab the lemons on the counter since they’re sitting there as if they should be brought outside, and step through the doors.

My father smiles. “There you are. You okay?”

I nod and set the handful of lemons on the bartop. “Yep. Got a little overheated. It’s hot today.”

“Make sure you’re drinking water,” Dad reminds me. “Alcohol is not hydrating.”

I nod as I come around the side to give him a hug. I’ve always been very close to my dad. Even when I was younger, before my relationship with my mother became awkward, I was always closest to my dad. He’s my best friend.

“What do you want us to make you?” I ask and join Laiken behind the bar again. “He’s being stubborn about his three-things drinks but says he’ll teach me all the lame ones.”

Dad laughs.

“Always start with the basics,” Laiken says. “You don’t jump off a high dive before you know how to swim.”

It’s not just my crush on him that has me believing he’s a good teacher.

Laiken is patient with a combination of show, tell, and hands-on.

I make a handful, listening to Laiken tell me how he slightly adjusts each drink when someone requests it strong or light.

How to make it taste strong when an overly drunk person asks for another.

For a while, I forget that I’m crushing hard on Laiken as I listen to him teach me to mix drinks. With my father as our only audience, I have the confidence to try a few. It’s fun. I learn far more about alcohol than I ever thought there was to know.

By the time I remember where I am and who I’m with, I think my crush on Laiken has only increased.

Everything about Laiken has fascinated me for years.

But seeing the side of him that’s a teacher, intelligent about the way different alcohols react, and how to make something taste good when you might not appreciate all the notes in the drink, has me completely mesmerized.