Page 11 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

Probably too many romantasy novels

I’ve always loved this house. Not because it’s a place for unchaperoned high school parties and hook ups, but because of its unique beauty.

I have a thing for antiques and secondhand items. This house is just another prime example of how something old and used can still have the potential to be beautiful and useful again.

With a little elbow grease and paint, I’m sure new life could be breathed back into it.

Owen leads us all in, ducking under the wood planks nailed across the door frame. The cone of light from the flashlight illuminates the darkening interior.

Years of adolescents making their mark are layered in paint on the walls and floors. A mosaic of spray-painted dicks and names, declarations of love and hate. Generations of history left to age in the dark dusty house.

Even with the new art addition, the house remains beautiful and intriguing.

I’m probably the only one who ever took the time to admire the architecture and attention to detail the original builder took.

High ceilings, crown molding, wooden floors, ornate door frames and stained glass.

Thankfully no one around here is cruel enough to smash the glass and the colorful panels remain in arches over doors and on ceiling mounted light fixtures.

The foyer leads into a wide central hallway, rooms branching off on each side. A den, family room, office, or so I’m guessing. The only furniture in the house was brought in by kids. Folding chairs and crates all plastic and completely out of place in the house.

On our left halfway down the hall is the main staircase, a wooden marvel that over the years has gained its own renovation.

Names and dates are carved in the banister and steps.

Nothing as vulgar as the wall cocks and curse words.

Initials with hearts around them and a few carvings of simple images and shapes.

Flowers, a dear, a fish or two. This is Homer after all, fishing is a way of life around here.

The stairs make a one eighty U-turn halfway up and there on the banister, is where we all carved our names the first time we ever came here.

I was fourteen and it was my only occurrence of vandalization.

My name looks like it was written by a toddler but in my defense, carving on wood is far more difficult than it looks.

The light shines back and forth from room to room as we pass and approach the staircase. It’s darker down here since the windows are all boarded up.

“Looks like a few new artistic renderings of the male genitalia have been added to the collection,” Izzy comments as she shines her cell phone light on the wall, revealing the rather detailed drawing.

“Someone’s been peeking through my window. That looks just like mine,” Owen smirks and Izzy mock gags as if she really were looking at her brother’s dick.

“They must have been looking through a very powerful microscope then for it to look that large.”

“How would you know? Have you been watching me? That’s gross. I’m not into incest.”

Izzy punches her brother in the arm, and he laughs while rubbing his bicep.

“That’s disgusting and if you mention incest again, I’m going to tell mom what really happened to her curtains.”

Owen instantly stops laughing, his smile falling into an open-mouthed gape.

The infamous story of their parents’ bedroom curtains and their untimely demise has been a well-guarded secret between the siblings that not even I or Warren know.

Apparently, it’s so embarrassing that Owen will never tell us and too juicy for Izzy to give up the ability to blackmail Owen with.

“Fine. But one day that threat won’t work anymore, so use it wisely.”

Owen points a finger at her and squints manically while backing away. Izzy sticks her tongue out at him and smiles in triumph. It’s always some sort of competition between them, no matter what it’s about one always has to outdo the other. Those two really are weird.

Warren follows silently behind me as we reach the stairs. We all stop on the landing and find our carved names. They’re worn smooth now, unlike when we first carved them and the edges were so jagged splinters were imminent.

I run my fingers across my name, all blocky and crooked, while Warren’s next to mine is practically perfect. His fingers graze mine as we both caress the smooth wood. I hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten. Practically spooning me while standing, his arm wrapping around me to reach the banister.

“I can’t believe it’s been twelve years since we carved these,” Izzy ponders out loud.

“I can.”

My soft admission is met with still silence. If there’s one thing Alaska has an abundance o f _ besides moos e _ it’s silence. It never felt so heavy before. Knowing this is probably the last time in, either forever or at least years, that we’ll all be together like this.

I thought living in a small town meant everyone would always be around. I guess some people’s wanderlust is greater than others.

“I wonder if anyone stole my stash of porn.” Owen breaks the silence in a way only he can, and we all laugh at him.

You can always count on Owen to keep everything light and playful.

He doesn’t like silence or crying or anything serious for that matter.

I know the smiles and glee he’s been exuding at Warren’s departure is mostly a front to conceal his sadness at losing his best friend.

Izzy and I still have each other, and we’ll always be there for Owen, but we’re no replacement for Warren.

His closest, most trusted male friend. It won’t be the same, but I know he’s doing his best to make sure Warren doesn’t feel guilty for leaving. I have too…sort of.

“What? I’m serious. That was primo porn and a bitch to keep hidden from my parents.”

Owen climbs the remaining stairs and wanders off to one of the upstairs rooms, Izzy trailing behind the ever-present peanut gallery to her brother. Which leaves Warren and I alone on the stairs, standing far too close together and our hands still resting on the railing, fingers barely touching.

He doesn’t move away when they leave, if anything I think he leans closer. The heat of his breath brushing the loose strands of hair around my ear. He doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure how I would reply if he did. Instead, I stand there in the circle of his body and enjoy the closeness.

He said we couldn’t be anything more than friends and I don’t expect a second night with him but…he’s so close. Like he doesn’t want to move away, like he wants more but isn’t willing to admit it.

I give in to my desire and lean back against him. His body is hard but inviting, everything I’ve ever wanted. His arm wraps around my middle from behind and he lets out a soft moan on an exhale. As if finally holding me again soothed something inside him. I know it’s soothed something inside me.

The hand on the railing slides over, covering mine, and his fingers thread between mine, gripping the wood beneath and holding me in place. As if I was going anywhere.

“I know I was a bit of an ass the other morning. I’m sorry about that. Don’t think for one second it makes what happened between us less significant.”

My heart races in my chest at his words. Maybe there is hope for him to stay after all? My stupid heart is far too optimistic and even that tiniest bit of hope spreads like frost on still water.

“Could I maybe come over tonight?”

For a moment I don’t fully process his question.

My initial thought is he wants to come hang out and have dinner and watch a movie or something like we’ve always done, but then I realize what he’s really asking.

He wants to come over , come over. Like stay the night and be naked again.

I would very much like that. But I need to sound cool, casual, not eager and desperate.

“Sure.”

Nailed it.

“I’ll come over after we get back to the diner and drop off Owen and Izzy. We should probably arrive separately…”

His words trail off and I unfortunately know what he’s trying to say without speaking. The growing hope in my chest fizzles out a little but not completely. I nod in agreement. I’ll take him anyway I can get him.

Warren bends down and nuzzles into the crook of my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw, my knit sweater obstructing access to anywhere else. He groans against my skin.

“You always smell so good.”

My fingers tighten around his on the railing. I want to turn, to press my lips to his and live in his embrace. I know I can’t though. I can still hear Izzy and Owen bickering and banging around upstairs.

“Found it!” I hear Owen exclaim loudly and it’s the only warning before he comes stomping back to the stairs.

Warren disentangles our hands and steps away from me, shoving his hands in his pockets. While I stand dizzy and recovering from the loss of him.

Waving an ancient magazine with a naked woman on the cover, Owen jumps the last few steps to the landing, Izzy close on his heels. Triumphant in his recovery of ancient porn.

“Was that really valuable enough to dig out of whatever hole you hid it in?” I ask, trying to recenter myself and act like nothing is different from any other day.

“Hell yeah.”

He flips the glossy pages open with a flourish, revealing the editions centerfold.

“Miss July was the star of all my adolescent fantasies.”

“And adult dreams. Weren’t you just talking about her last week?” Warren asks, ignoring the naked busty beauty on the paper.

“Oh yeah, she’s still got it after all these years.”

Both Izzy and I shake our heads at him. Izzy gives him a smack on the back of the head for good measure.

“Grow up,” she scolds.

He ignores her and admires his prize, gently folding it back together and tucking it under his arm.