Deeper. Megan Hart
go throwing our money all over the place, rich girl.”
The way she said it was more insulting than being called bitch, but Bess did her best not to react. “I said I was sorry.”
Missy appeared soothed, or more likely couldn’t be bothered to care. She sucked suggestively on her straw, hollowing her cheeks and sliding her mouth up and down the plastic tube. “Mmmm. Nick, sure you don’t want any?”
Nick hadn’t been watching her display. He’d been watching Bess. “No, thanks. Can I get a soft pretzel with extra salt, though?”
He dug in his pocket while Bess reached into the hot case for an extra salty pretzel. She handed it to him wrapped in the tissue paper she’d used to grab it, took his money and made change. Sucking on her slushy, Missy watched the transaction closely. Her gaze weighed on Bess’s shoulders and they hunched until Bess forced herself to stand up straight and stare her sometime friend in the face.
Missy smirked. Bess’s answering smile seemed to surprise her. Bess turned to Nick. “So, Nick. I heard the Pink Porpoise is closing.”
The Porpoise was the most popular local gay bar. Bess had been to it once or twice because it was one of the few bars that let underage kids in to dance. It wasn’t the sort of place most straight guys went by themselves, even when they got a good band to play.
“Yeah?” He tore off a bite of mustard-smeared pretzel with sharp, white teeth.
“You didn’t hear that?” Bess wiped at the counter, forcing Missy to move. “I’d have thought you would have.”
Missy tugged on his sleeve. “C’mon, Nick. Let’s get out of here.”
Bess looked up. Nick’s brow had furrowed, but he was stepping backward as Missy pulled him. Missy waved her slushy toward Bess.
“See you later!”
Nick raised the hand clutching the pretzel and followed her out of the shop. The bell jangled as the door closed. Bess slapped the counter with the damp cloth she’d been using to wipe it, and muttered a curse.
“Did you just say…pissflaps?” Tammy cracked her gum and leaned on the counter next to Bess.
“Yes, I did.”
“Gross!” She made a face and angled her head to follow Bess’s gaze out the door. “He’s cute.”
“Apparently, my friend thinks so, too.” Bess dumped the rag in the sink and viciously washed her hands. Without waiting for them to dry, she pointed at the door. “Watch the counter. I’m going in the back.”
Before Tammy had time to protest, Bess went to the tiny back room where they prepped food and stored extra supplies. Eddie, elbow-deep in a box of slushy mix packages, looked up when she came in. His face flushed deep crimson, making the bright red scars of his pimples stand out even more. Normally Bess tried not to look right at Eddie, because it made him blush, but at the moment she was too pissed off to care.
She grabbed up her oversize cup of ice water with the lid and sucked angrily at the straw. The cubes rattled inside the plastic. Eddie blushed harder when she stared at him. “What?”
“N-nothing.” He went back to unpacking the box.
Bess had nothing to do back there, really, except get in his way, but she wanted to fume. She wanted to kick something, or break it. She wanted to slap Missy across the face and call the bitch out. Which, of course, she’d never do, because she really had no reason to.
Bess, after all, had a boyfriend.
Sort of. Or maybe she didn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter, because Nick wasn’t the sort of guy who went for girls like her. He obviously went for girls like Missy.
“Pissflaps,” Bess muttered, and wished she smoked or did something raw like that. She wanted something to do outside the back door, something that made her look cool, while she pretended she wasn’t angry and aching inside at a betrayal she had no reason to feel.
From behind her, Eddie chuckled. After a second, so did Bess. It sounded a little like breaking glass, and it hurt her chest right below her heart, but she laughed just the same. She caught his eye, and the sight of his grin forced another from her, and more giggling, until after a minute they were both guffawing.
“Your friend Missy’s…interesting,” Eddie said when their giggles had faded. “I’ve never seen Nick Hamilton come into the store before.”
“You know him?”
“Everyone knows Nick,” Eddie said, his laughter fading. He wouldn’t look at her. The pink of his cheeks had disappeared, but now crept back.
“I don’t.”
Eddie looked her in the eyes, a rare occasion. “M-maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
“Must be nice,” Tammy interrupted, sticking her head through the door. “Having time to fool around. But I’m getting slammed out here!”
Bess stood and dusted her hands on the seat of her shorts. “I’ll be right there.”
Tammy rolled her eyes. “You’d better. I’ve got three sundae cones and a jumbo tub to fill!”
As night manager, Bess could have told Tammy to suck it up and deal with it, but Tammy would take twice as long to do the same tasks Bess could do in a couple minutes. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
She didn’t have time to think of much of anything after that because the store was swamped with hungry, grubby children and sunburned, cranky grown-ups begging for sweets. The last few hours before closing flew past, and by the time she was ready to close up, her mood had changed. She glanced at the clock as she shooed Tammy and Eddie out the back and locked the door, then made her way to the front to lock it, too. With any luck she’d have the bathroom to herself when she got home, and maybe a message from Andy. She’d left half a dozen for him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up as the bell jangled. “We’re—”
“Closed?” asked Nick with a smile that turned her legs to jelly. “I hope so. I came to see if I could walk you home.”
Chapter
05
Now
The sheet beneath her cheek was smooth and cool. The skin beneath her hand, warm. Nick’s chest didn’t rise or fall. He wasn’t breathing. Was he? Could he? She spread her fingers over his nipple, but nothing pulsed beneath it. No heartbeat.
Yet he was alive. There. Solid and real, not transparent. She could touch him. God, she tasted him.
“Tell me what happened,” Bess whispered. She kissed him just above his ribs and let her mouth linger on skin still tasting so much of salt.
He said nothing for so long she became certain he wasn’t going to speak. His hand stroked down her hair over and over, hypnotizing her, and then stayed still. Bess pushed her fingers through the line of curls just below his belly button. The hairs tickled her palm. His body beneath her hand tensed.
“I don’t think I know.” He shifted and his hand took up its stroke, stroke, stroke again.
There were a hundred questions roaming in her brain, but not one to which she could put voice. If he didn’t breathe, if his heart didn’t beat, how could he be warm? If he was a spirit, how could he touch her? How could he fuck her?
Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears and her breath caught in her throat. A chill swept her and she turned to him, pushing closer, grateful for the warmth she couldn’t seem to explain.
And really, how important was it for her to know the details of this magnificent thing, this miracle? Would the knowing of it somehow change it? Make it better?
Or make it worse?
“You don’t have to