This is so fucked. If I let this happen it’s going to fuck him up. I just know it. I don’t even know him, but I choose to believe he really is a good guy. I have to believe it. He’s got a beautifully unrefined New York accent. Totally blue-collar with rough hardworking hands and a confidence about him that I don’t often find on the Upper West Side. He’s one of the city’s bravest, and his girlfriend is probably all kinds of awesome and sweet, and she takes care of her man so he can take care of the city, so I’ll settle for just this dance.
His lips ghost over mine when I pull back and push him off me. He stops and stares at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation on his face. He’s not a guy who fucks around, from what I can tell. He made the choice to dance with me, and he made the choice to kiss me. He wanted to be a bad guy, and I’m not a big enough bitch for this to be cool. I want to be a good person, so I have to act like it, and that means not leading hot heroes into temptation.
“You don’t want to do that,” I whisper. “You’re the good guy, right?”
“I used to be,” he says. He brings one of his hands up to my face and ghosts his fingers along my jaw from my ear, curving around the tip and sliding down my throat and across my collarbone.
“No, you still are.” I don’t really know if he’s a good guy or not, but the temptation isn’t worth the repercussions. “And if you’re not, then you’re not the guy I want anyway, and I so badly want you to be that guy because there’s so many out there who aren’t that guy, and I kind of need to believe that you can be that guy even if you don’t want to be.”
“So this ends here,” he says. It’s not a question.
“It ends here,” I say. “For now.”
He rights his shoulders before nodding and walking out of the room. He pauses at the door and turns, giving me a smirk over his shoulder.
“You’re a real heartbreaker, Lulu.”
I’m left alone and wondering what the hell just happened.
Lulu.
Holy shit. He called me Lulu.
I’d like to pretend that I have no clue how I got here—alone and disappointed in myself—but I don’t. I give it a minute before I compose myself and head for the door. Across the landing near the stairs is Royal. Her hands are on hips, and she’s giving me a curious look.
Chapter 3
Jameson
“What the hell?” Royal asks. Her eyes are narrowed. She’s judging me. Hard. She pushes off the railing and strides toward me with determination. When she’s close enough for me to hear she whisper shouts. “You have a girlfriend—a kind of controlling, snobby, pain-in-my-freaking-ass-who-Mom-doesn’t-even-like girlfriend. Stop hitting on my new bestie.”
My jaw ticks in response. If there’s one thing I can say about my sister, it’s that she’s fucking opinionated as all get out. She doesn’t like Lydia and just made that perfectly clear, as if I was confused beforehand, but far be it for me to point that out. I’m a big enough asshole without trying to find ways to justify my behavior.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, okay,” I snap. If I don’t say something, she won’t ever shut up. I run my hand through my hair and curse when it gets stuck in all the fucking dried gel I let Royal put in it earlier. Because apparently you do shit like that when you go to a black-tie event. Don’t know where she learned about this crap. “Girlfriend, got it.”
“I like her,” she says. She shifts from one foot to the other and lets out a heavy sigh. Royal’s never made friends easily, especially not female friends. With three older brothers, Royal has always tried to fit in with the boys. Our older sister, Bailey tried to have an influence on the baby of the family, but they’re very different people. Bailey wanted to teach Royal about nail polish and eyeliner, while Royal was more interested in learning how to block a shot in the basketball court than she ever was in makeup. Works for me. At least we have stuff in common. And we’re about to have a lot more in common soon since she’s just graduated from the fire academy. She’ll have to spend some time serving as a proby on Engine before she can be transferred to Ladder, which means she won’t be at the house with us, but it’s a start. We’re all proud of our badass baby sister.
“So do I.”
“Jay.” She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. She doesn’t ask for much, so I guess I can give her this and back off. “Mel and I are besties now.”
How the fuck are they besties? They can’t have spent more than half an hour together.
“Seriously. We’ve bonded and I kind of love her, so don’t pull a Hennessey and screw her over.”
Bonded? Just when I think she’s enough of a dude for me to understand her, she pulls this kind of shit on me and I don’t understand her any more than I understand Bailey or Lydia.
“One, I’m not H,” I say. “And two, Lydia may be difficult at times, but I wouldn’t cheat on her.” If Melanie hadn’t stopped me, I might have cheated. I don’t want to cheat, and I wouldn’t forgive myself for doing it, but Melanie’s sparked something in me that I thought was total bullshit.