“My girlfriend’s band is playing at a local venue. She’s really good, and last time she had ten people show up. Tonight, we’re hoping for fifteen. Come on. We need all the help we can get.”
“What kind of band?” I asked.
“It’s kind of a crossover between polka and alternative screamo.”
My face twisted up in horror. “That sounds terrible.”
Hamilton tossed his head back and laughed. “That’s what I said!” he called out.
Jess picked up something and tossed it at his head. “Please! I’m trying to support my girl here, guys!”
I chewed on my lip before responding. “I’m not sure if I should. I had some paparazzi follow me to the grocery store, and I don’t want to give them any more ammunition…”
“I’ve been dodging journalists for years. You’re yesterday’s news, Petal,” Hamilton said, his voice a lazy drawl. “They won’t find you there. And if they do, I’ll do something scandalous so they’ll focus on me and not on you.”
“Are you sure? This is all new to me, and I just don’t want to—”
“It’ll be fine! Promise,” Hamilton assured me.
“Are you going to interrogate me more?” I asked Jess, brow arched.
“I solemnly swear not to ask you a million questions again,” she promised while holding up her pinky finger for me to see.
“Fine,” I began. “Send over the address. What time does it start?”
“I knew I liked you,” Jess replied. Liar. “It starts at ten.”
“I’ll meet you there. I’m still trying to figure out the public transit situation, so I might be a little late.”
“I’ll come get you,” Hamilton called over his shoulder.
“That’s okay—”
He marched up to the phone and grabbed it out of Jess’s hands. Once he was fully in the frame, I swallowed at the sight of him. God, why did he have to be so hot? Up close, I could see every detail of his perfect face. “I’ll come pick you up. See you in thirty minutes. Text Jess your address.”
I nodded, unable to say anything because my fucking traitorous throat closed up.
“Do I make you nervous, Petal?” he asked, picking up on my mood.
“No.” I straightened my spine to echo my words. I didn’t know how to respond. My conversation with Jack had cut deeper than I thought. He was all about his image, and for reasons I was still learning, Hamilton was already an outcast. How would it look if I had a foolish crush on my…uncle? Saint would have a field day with that knowledge. The title made me want to gag. Not that it really mattered. Hamilton wasn’t interested in me. I just felt like I was navigating a chessboard and didn’t know the rules.
“You feel it, don’t you?” He licked his lips, his eyes dark as he cocked his head to the side. “The chemistry between us.”
I swallowed; my eyes widened in shock at his assessment. “Do you think we have chemistry, Hamilton?” I asked, unsure why I was hanging onto his answer like it was air and I’d been sitting under water for hours.
“I’m choking on the tension between us, Petal. My cock’s been perpetually hard for the last three days just thinking about you,” Hamilton mocked with a smile before pulling away. “See you soon. Wear something slutty.”
I shook my head. Hamilton gave me whiplash with his mood swings. “What are you, my pervy uncle?”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “I’m the uncle that’s going to help you get laid and loosen up a bit. You need your pussy licked. Fuck the rose analogy. Petals are meant to be picked, Watcher.”
My throat went dry. Something was different about Hamilton. He was more brazen today.
“I’ll wear what I want.”
“You tell him, girl,” Jess called.
Hamilton hung up the phone.
I was smoothing the threadbare fabric of my favorite band shirt when a knock on the door made me pause. I decided to wear a black denim miniskirt with combat boots and my tee tied up at the waist. The outfit showed off a sliver of my tanned, toned stomach, and my long hair fell in waves over my shoulders and down my back. Every bit of my outfit was picked with Hamilton in mind.
I couldn’t help but obsess over his words…
Petals are meant to be picked.
I reached up and pressed my index finger to my bottom lip, imagining the feel of his full mouth on mine. Attraction was such a fickle thing. How could something so out of reach—so forbidden—feel so necessary? Ever since Hamilton’s gaze clashed with mine, I felt this dirty, filthy need for him. It wasn’t right, and I knew that it was risky to spend more time with him. Wanting Hamilton Beauregard was like standing outside in the middle of a lightning storm while holding a tall metal rod in your fist. There was a thrill in the risk of getting struck by lightning. Self-preservation had me wearing rubber boots but still wanting to dance through the storm.
Mom would be disappointed in me. Something told me she wouldn’t want me fantasizing about her new husband’s younger brother. It was too scandalous. Too taboo. Then, of course, there was the issue of these feelings being unrequited. Hamilton ran hot and cold. Anything between us would be raw, passionate, and fucking temporary. I wasn’t sure the risk was worth it.
I could do one-night stands, but I knew in my gut that Hamilton would be different. I’d had sex before, but I still allowed my mother’s words to dictate the shame I felt about doing it. Every time I fucked, I was so in my own head that I rarely came. I craved physical intimacy. Maybe it was time to stop letting my mother’s hang-ups and trauma dictate my own sexual exploration.
But like lightning, Hamilton would ruin me.
He knocked again, and I cleared my throat before moving to answer it.
A light dusting of
