I’m the guy. The guy who’d lay his tongue on the 9V battery. The dude who’d stick his tongue to the metal flagpole during recess when it was twenty degrees out. The idiot who’d take the dare to grab on to an electric fence because how bad could it be? Oh, and that puddle I stood in while doing it? That just made me more of a badass when I pulled it off.
I’m a drowning man and this asshole sidles on up next to me to help hold my head under water.
“Yeah, but usually the team rotates and she was here just last week. They all volunteer over at the youth center. Actually, they do time at the food pantry and created a mobile library too with the help of Marty’s cousin London who came up for a visit from New York and helped with the logistics.”
“What’s the deal with the boys sitting with Wes?”
“They said skating is for girls.”
Not my problem.
Don’t do it, Bishop. Don’t you fucking do it.
I pushed away from the locker and turned to him. “And you didn’t set them straight?”
“They didn’t seem to care what I had to say. Too bad they weren’t here fifteen minutes earlier.” Jackson glanced at the orange cones he’d put around the edge of the wall I’d crushed. “Maybe half an hour earlier,” he said, barking out a laugh. “You were a bad example fifteen minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m a bad influence all the time,” I muttered.
“That’s Lana’s parents talking. What do you say? You up to setting the boys straight after the hit you took, old man?”
“Old man? I could kick your ass right now.”
“You could, but unfortunately I know for a fact your sense of honor won’t let you.”
“Half the people in this town want to skin me alive; the other half of you want to pin some sort of saint medal to my chest.” I glanced over at the boys one more time and knew I was screwed. Absolutely fucking screwed.
“That’s a small town for ya.”
“You up for one more round out there? Maybe we can reprogram the little guys.” My legs and lower back ached like a son of a bitch, my own body even trying to tell me this was a shitty idea, but my listening skills were hibernating for the winter apparently.
“Sure, let’s do it.”
The song that had Mayhem’s hips swaying faded away and for the life of me I couldn’t decide if I was relieved about that or not. Didn’t matter, I was going to be seeing her body every time I closed my eyes now.
The beat kicked up and I grasped for the freedom and oblivion on the rink. The lights flashed in time with the remix, a decent blend of hip-hop and funk, and Jackson and I fell into a casual shuffle. Nothing too fancy, just a good dose of speed and a few slick moves of our feet that looked a whole lot more complicated than they actually were, but would entice kids to strap on some wheels.
The best part, all moves these kids could be doing in short order if Mayhem managed to get them all out there at one time.
I took the lead and added a few turns and dance moves, knowing Jackson would follow along and then take the lead himself as we switched off.
Mayhem ushered her crew to the side wall and lifted each of them onto the edge, while the boys scrambled over from their seats, smiles on their faces. Hell, even Wes got some pepper in his ass and joined them.
Three laps in, all the kids had smiles and one of the boys had started tugging on Mayhem’s sweater to snag her attention.
And in another hit to my pride, just like that I was jealous of a kid who hadn’t even reached the double digits.
She nodded down at him and pointed to Jackson and me on the floor before turning back to us, that smile on her face once again, but this time, aimed at me.
I wanted her on the floor with us.
I wanted my hands on her.
Skating had a way of liberating something inside of me. The freedom in the speed, in the movements, the way my heart and soul aligned acted as a balm on my turbulent past. A temporary fix, a sliver of relief for old wounds, and a euphoric moment of absolution prompting me to do something incredibly stupid.
I crooked my finger in her direction from the straightaway across from her.
She turned to Wes, said something that had him nodding, and the minute we turned the corner and headed for her she was ready.
Dangerous territory and still I couldn't muster up a bit of common sense.
She slid between Jackson and I, gliding seamlessly into our rhythm, leaving me in the best and worst position.
Behind her.
Perfect for my hands that itched to touch, absolute nightmare for my voracious eyes and the part of me wanting to satisfy a recent hunger I couldn’t shake.
Backwards, to frontwards, toe jams into snake walks, she followed along, never missing a switch, her arms swinging, her fingers snapping along with the beat, and a goddamned laugh bubbling from her that branded itself inside me.
With an extra push, I launched myself closer and curled my fingers around her hips.
Her fucking hips.
Remembering her fall from the week before, I made sure not to dig my fingertips in and hurt her, but damn the effort it took to resist.
My hands, the treacherous little bastards, memorized her on contact. My fingertips flexed until they brushed over her waistband and found warm skin.
I wanted her by her hips. I wanted her pinned to a wall all panting breaths as I devoured her. I wanted my name on an oath from her lips.
Not Priest.
Cain.
Just Cain.
I pulled her back and took her hand. Raising my arm, she ducked under and slid right into the spin.
This.
If we didn’t have to
