Broken (The Addictive Trilogy Book 2) Page 5

  "Uh oh! Lex got moves!"

  His blue eyes shine at me and his smile lights up his face as his head nods to the beat and his back curves, dropping his shoulders lower as his hips roll a little and he answers confidently, "I've got moves you've never fucking seen."

  I quirk an eyebrow at him and start to call him out but before I can, I hear a few cheers and shouts from around him and my mouth falls open and I freeze as I watch him. Is he...

  Yes, he's fucking pop locking. He's pop locking like the L.A. gangster that he thinks he is and it makes me laugh and turns me on in a sick, sick way.

  He stops dead when he sees me staring and we both pause for a moment before throwing our heads back in laughter. The crowd erupts into cheers for the band as the song ends and we're still laughing. I'm laughing so hard my eyes start to tear up and I stumble over to him, clutching his arm. He pulls me close and I fall into him a bit, both of us still giggling as the lead singer announces he's gonna slow things down.

  It isn't until the music starts that we stifle our chuckles and I stand up, pulling away from him with a lighthearted sigh. "Let's go, Lex." I turn to walk away but stop when I don't feel him follow me, curiously peering over my shoulder at him.

  "You said you wanted to dance..." He's got that charming grin plastered on his face, and he cannot do this to me right now. Slow dances are for dates, for weddings, for prom, for other cheesy things like that. What in the hell are we doing?

  "Let's just go, please. It's getting dark." I take a few steps closer to him but not close enough to suggest that I'm going to oblige to his request and he sighs, cocking his head to the side in that non-verbal request for me to sympathize with him.

  "C'mon, Leala. When was the last time we danced together?"

  "We never danced together, Lex," I say it almost just to hurt him, because we both know it isn't true. It's just...it was such a long time ago. We're different now.

  I turn my back to him. Really I'm the one who's hurt. I'm hurt because we started something stupid like this and now he's doing it, trying to charm me, and I know it's not real. I want it to be, I want it so badly which makes it hurt worse when I know that after tonight it's over. For a second I regret coming down here, I regret trying to pretend, trying to pretend we have this life that we don't really have. That's he's this sweet guy with no issues and I'm a girl, his girl, who's getting her life back together and we're happy and worry-free. We shouldn't have done this. I regret it. I regret it...until...

  "Well then it's been too long."

  I turn. I turn and he's standing there, looking sincere. He's not mad, he's not upset at my words. He just stands there, and holds his hand out to me, doing one of those things with his eyes where he says so much without a fucking word and I hate that I can understand him so well. He's a step away. Just a step away.

  I take one step forward. It's as simple as that. I take one step and he pulls me into the crowd and we have one of those awkward moments where we both reach to put our hands on each other in the same path, and we stutter to move but we don't really know what the fuck we're doing, and this is why I hate slow dancing. I say I hate it, and I hate him for making me do it, but I really don't. God, I don't hate it. I don't hate it at all when his hands are on my waist and my arms are draped around his neck and it feels right.

  His body is pressed to mine and we're swaying to the music and I didn't want to do this because I knew it would feel this way. I knew it would feel good and feel right and what's more is that everyone can see it. Anyone that wanted to watch could see me wrapped in his arms right now, him holding me like I belong to him and neither of us trying to hide it. I don't want to hide it. I want to be with him, but I know I can't, and it's funny that anyone watching us would never know that. They would never know what we've been through, and that I'm clean and he's an addict, and I want to be with him but I can't, and my head starts to spin and this is why I didn't want to do this...

  But when I look up at him and he's looking down at me, I don't know how it happens, I've never understood it, but everything else goes away.

  5

  "This place is nice, Lex," I say kind of quietly as I slip my jacket off and hang it on the back of my chair once the hostess shows us to our table. Looking around, I take it all in, the vibrant colors on the walls, the seascape art hanging around the room, and I smile to myself because I've really missed this so much. I've missed southern California and the people and the culture and tonight has just been amazing so far. I can't describe it any other way.

  The dining area we're seated in is mostly quiet, the sounds of silverware touching plates tempered with a low din of conversation, and this is definitely no McDonalds. It reminds me of the Mexican beach town cantinas where we would eat the few meals we actually managed to stomach that one summer so long ago, and I'm a little surprised at how many times that summer has come into my mind tonight. That time when things were so simple and it was just me and Lex and everything was new and exciting. I never expected to feel like this tonight, and it's a welcomed surprise.

  "Eh, I figured we'd go for something different. I've kinda always wanted to come here. Tonight's as good a night as ever, I guess." He shrugs to play it off, but I know he was nervous to bring me here, to a real restaurant, which means sitting across from each other and having real conversation or suffering in silence. He fumbles with his jacket before taking a seat and I smile across the table at him.

  "I think you're just trying to impress me."

  He gives me a sly grin. "Maybe..." I giggle a little.

  A waiter comes to take our drink orders and then it gets quiet, me reading the menu and him...staring. I can feel him staring at me and I try to pretend that I don't notice, weighing my decision between tacos or fajitas but I can't think with him staring like that.

  I look up quickly before he can look away. "What?"

  "What?" He smirks at me innocently and cocks his head to the side.

  "Don't play innocent with me. You're staring at me." I giggle a little and feel my cheeks redden and his smirk melts into a smile.

  "Maybe it's just the lights in here." He shrugs, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes drop down to his menu.

  "What are you talking about?" I can't stop grinning, and we're doing it again...flirting. Smiling, teasing, blushing. Again and again, and I don't know what is up with us tonight.

  He looks up at me, looking into my eyes for a long second before sinking back into his chair with a smile, his eyes carrying some emotion that I can't place but it's absolutely beautiful and it makes his entire face soften. "You know what you look like right now?"

  I sigh and roll my eyes, thinking of all the sarcastic things he could say about my appearance tonight, trying not to get too lost in this moment we're having, because I'm sure it's fleeting, at best.

  "If you're gonna say something mean just don't even say it." My eyes drop back to the menu and he leans forward against the table again, lowering his voice a bit.

  "Thanks, Leala. What, you think I'm just a big asshole or something?"

  I lay my menu down on the table, meeting his gaze with mine. "Most of the time."

  He narrows his eyes at me. "I'll pretend you didn't say that shit." He quirks an eyebrow and I give him a charming grin.

  I sigh, looking at him, really studying him for the first time in a long time, waiting for him to tell me whatever it is he wants to say. I really can't get over how much he's just...Alex tonight. Maybe it's the absence of all his stupid business phones, maybe it's the Mexican restaurant and the memories, maybe it was the dancing in the street, but something about this is so much easier than it was before. And I would be a liar if I said I didn't want it to always be this way.

  His lips spread into a slow easy grin and his eyes are doing that soft thing again. "You look like that first night we met."

  My chest tightens and my heart races a little at his confession, and I can place that way he's looking at
me now. He's reminiscing. He's remembering back before all of this shit got so fucked up and I feel tears threatening my eyes because what if he wants to get back to that just as badly as I do?

  "Drunk in the bar?" I tease him a little, just testing him, my voice wavering from the shock still partially registered in my gut, but I smirk at him to cover it up, trying to take the edge off of what he just said. I know that's not how he meant it, but I can't just take it and run, I can't get too deep into this, because how I feel right now...with him saying these things, and doing these things...this whole night is shaping up to be more dangerous than I had thought. I can't fall for him again, not this quickly, not deeper than I've already fallen for him. Because it's going to hurt too bad when he isn't there to catch me.

  I see the blush rise in his cheeks as he chuckles. "You know that's not what I mean."

  "Well what do you mean?" My voice is soft and I lower my eyes to him and goddamn if I'm not trying to make him say it. I want him to give me something. I can't always be the one running around telling him how I feel about him. And if he's gonna make any sort of confession, at the rate we're going tonight is looking like the night.

  His eyebrows raise and I know he's a little surprised at the ease with which I'm coming on to him, shamelessly flirting, and I see his posture stiffen a bit. He clears his throat, his eyes flitting away from mine, and I go back to my menu, deciding on tacos, convinced that I've shocked him into silence, chalking the conversation up as finished.

  "I mean, you're beautiful. Just like when I first saw you..." It takes him a second, but he says it. He really fucking says it, and when I look up at him I'm sure his expression of shock matches my own. Him being shocked that the words actually escaped his mouth, and me being shocked that my ears actually heard them.

  We stare at each other for a long moment and I open my mouth to say something and the fucking waiter walks up. Lex spits out his order so fast that my head spins and I know it's a welcomed interruption to a conversation that could've gotten too deep too fast. And once I find the words to tell the waiter what I want to eat, food is the last thing on my mind, and when he walks away the awkward silence falls on us again.

  Lex pushes his silverware around on the table and takes a sip of his Corona and his eyes don't leave the tablecloth. I wonder if he regrets saying what he said, because sometimes even if you don't really regret saying things, you think you do when it makes conversation awkward, and I hope this isn't one of those moments for him. I hope he doesn't regret it because I've never loved hearing anything more than I loved hearing him say those words to me.

  "Thank you."

  "What?" He finally looks up at me.

  "For what you said."

  "Oh." His cheeks redden a little and his eyes flit from mine, looking around absently, and I reach across the table for his hand, covering it with mine.

  "Don't get all shy on me."

  He looks down at our hands and then up at me, smiling across the table and the tension dissolves. "Shut up." He chuckles a bit, turning his hand over and letting mine fall into his large palm, and I like it there. I look down at it and then back at him and I smile and he's still smiling, and I don't know why in the hell things can't always be this way.

  I don't know, so I ask. "Why can't it always be like this?"

  He swallows hard and it's silent for a minute, and he looks down at our hands, thumb stroking over the backs of my fingers. I know he's trying to think of something to say and that makes me a little nervous. But I wouldn't know what to say either. I mean, I could think of a few things. Because you're sober and I'm not would probably be one of my first choices if I were him, but he knows as well as I do that neither of us wants to hear that right now, so he just looks up at me and shrugs.

  "Maybe it could be..."

  I like hearing those words, even if I'm not sure how true they are. But I like to think he's right. I like to think that someday things can be this way without us having to make this huge effort. But I know a lot has to happen between now and that time, whenever it may be.

  The table shakes just barely as his knee bounces underneath and his hand that isn't holding mine starts to get restless, moving his Corona bottle around the table, pushing his silverware around, rubbing over his face. I try to push it down. I just try to be in this moment, holding his hand, having a nice conversation, but I can't ignore his jitters and his clammy skin against my palm. Fuck, I can't ignore it as badly as I want to.

  I know. And when his eyes meet mine, he knows I know. He slips his hand out from under mine. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." And I know.

  When he comes back he seems at ease, not so much fidgety, but more nervous because he knows I know. I sit there trying to avoid his gaze for a moment, trying to push it down. Just push down how I feel about what's really going on behind all of the smoke and mirrors that I know tonight is made up of, because if I let it get to me, I'll break. I'll break and I'll snap and the night will be over, and I don't want it to be.

  I sit and try to clear my head and I see him quickly reach across the table for my hand again, making the effort. The salt shaker is tall and it's loud when his hand bumps it on the path toward mine and it falls against the table with a clap and people look at us. Lex fumbles to stand it up and only succeeds in toppling it over again along with his empty Corona bottle and it's turning into a comedy of errors and more people are staring.

  "I'm like a fucking bull in a china shop in here," he breathes when he finally gets the items arranged and settled. I see the flush creep up his neck and he shrinks back into his chair in embarrassment.

  "Lex, it's fine." I shake my head, trying to blow off the incident, but he's pouting. He fucking pouts when he gets embarrassed and when he gets pissed. He shuts down and he doesn't even listen.

  "Whatever," he grumbles and I huff out a frustrated sigh.

  "Stop," I say with a stern voice, locking eyes with him across the table with intention. "It happens. Nothing is gonna be perfect, okay?"

  And it's true. Nothing will be perfect between us, not now, and maybe not ever. And nothing will be even close to perfect until we get our shit together. As much as I want to pretend tonight is real, it's not, because after this we go back to L.A.

  And I'm wondering if getting away is the key to getting on the right track.

  6

  After dinner we took a walk around the pier, not particularly fast or slow, just kind of observing, people watching and small talk. Just enjoying each other for once, taking everything in.

  "I could live here for-fucking-ever.” He sighs, gripping the railing of the pier as we finally make our way to the side, looking out over the sand on the beach, the dark waves washing up softly and pushing back.

  "Eh, I dunno. I kinda wanna make it out of Cali someday. I might need something different after a while." I look down the beach absently, and then out over the water. I try to imagine myself anywhere but here, and it's hard to, it really is, but something inside just won't stop nagging me to get away, even if it's just for a while.

  He turns his back to the railing and leans on it with his elbows, looking over at me with a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, where should we go?"

  "We? Who said you were coming?" I quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

  "C'mon, you're just gonna take off without me?" he asks, furrowing his brow a bit and I giggle.

  "Nah," I shake my head. "Wherever I go, you go."

  He smiles at me. "Good."

  We stay that way for a while, him leaning back on his elbows, me looking out and him looking at me. I wonder what he's thinking but I don't have much room for it in my brain because it's full of my own thoughts. Will he really be wherever I go? Can he be? Sure I want him to be, but wanting something has never made it so. Is it worth it? Questions and doubts replay the events of tonight and I know it's not even over yet. But so much has happened that I want to think about, want to try and take apart in my mind and make sense of
, but there's only one thing that I keep thinking about...

  "Freedom," I say it kind of absently, just looking out to nowhere really.

  "What?" he asks.

  "That's what it was about. I used to do it to feel free." I feel tears sting my eyes and I can't believe I'm telling him this. I grab the railing tight, arching my back with my face up to the sky, and I breathe in deep, closing my eyes because I don't want to cry. But it's just so liberating, being out here, feeling this way. It's almost too much for me to take and a huge smile lights up my face when I think that he's here with me. I look over at him and he's really here and I never expected him to be. But I want him to stay. "This...this is free. Now I'm free."

  He smiles at me and I smile back, and I feel good. It feels good to be open and honest with him and have him listen. He turns around and scoots closer to me, mimicking my position, leaning against the railing, pressing his shoulder against mine, and he smirks playfully at me.

  "What?" I giggle, giving him a curious look and he just shakes his head.

  "Nothing," he answers quietly, looking down at his hands. I lean against his shoulder a little, brushing the back of my hand against his as it hangs over the railing. He looks back at me, his eyes softening, and my heart turns. He's so damn attractive, and when he looks at me like that...

  God, I've wanted to kiss him all night and now would be as good a time as ever. But I know I shouldn't. I don't want to blur that line, wherever it is.

  We've been staring at each other for a while now and I have to do something. I'm itching to touch him any way I can, so I reach up with one hand and push his beanie back, pressing my lips to his forehead right at his hairline. I pull the thick fabric back down, smiling at him, and lean my arm back against the railing. He dips his head, pressing his forehead to mine, and then his nose to my nose and then—

  SQUAAAAAAAAK!

  "What the fuck!" He jumps back and a huge fucking bird is flapping around his feet. It jumps up onto the railing and I take a step back, squealing a little.