Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

I almost laugh at the thought.

Christ, I love this life.

Sulli isn’t hurrying to shower, and she doesn’t seem to care that salsa is crusted on her cheek. Still, I pick some off for her while she wipes away sour cream I missed on my neck.

For the big meeting, Akara takes front and center near the edge of the pool. He’s on his phone for a hot second.

Sulli whispers to me, “Are you okay with distancing ourselves from the pack? I just don’t really want to congregate at one table. God, look, they’re looking at us.”

Sure enough, Quinn, Donnelly, Jane, Maximoff, Luna, and my brother are eagle-eyeing us to fucking death. At least Farrow doesn’t seem to care, and Oscar is up in New York, on-duty.

“Pack of vultures,” I say lightly, putting a toothpick between my lips. A slow thump beats at my temple, the start of a (hopefully) dull migraine.

Sulli notices me shutting one eye.

“I’m alright.”

“Is it the sun?” She blocks the setting sun with her hands, shielding the orange rays from bludgeoning my brain.

My lips curve. “Thanks, mermaid.”

She smiles. “Are they still looking?”

I check in my peripheral. “Affirmative.” After I pluck out my toothpick, I notice how her eyes descend to my lips. “You wanna give them something to talk about?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

I clasp a strong arm around her shoulders and dip her down to the lounge chair like a dance move. Her breath hitches as I hover over her, our feet stay on the ground, but her ankles rub against me like she wants to lie fully beneath my body.

I feel the thump thump thump of her heart racing against my chest.

“Banks,” she rasps, and I fall into the depths of Sulli. Of how she’s staring into me. Like she never wants me to drop her. Like she never wants me to leave, and I want to promise, forever, that even if it’s hard, even if I shouldn’t—I’m staying and holding her against me.

In another breath, she says, “Kiss me.”

I bridge the space. No air left between her soft lips and mine. I kiss her gently, sweetly. She might be the crudest American princess, but I remember my manners.

And I’m not ravaging her in front of her family and my brother.

She smiles against my lips, kisses me back, then I whip her upward to a sitting position. Her hair flings forward, and she laughs and lightly slugs my arm. The sound abruptly dies when she sees her cousins and SFO staring. Their eyes are detonating on us.

She scoots a little, almost hiding behind my back. “Fuck,” she mutters to me. “I go from being stick it to them to being a scared fucking turtle.” She exhales a strained breath. “I need to stop turtling.”

“We can help with that.”

“We?”

“Akara,” I call out and wave to the red Studio 9 ballcap he’s wearing.

In front of everyone, he tosses me the hat.

I fit it on her. Oversized for her head, the brim falls down to her brows. “Now you can come out, Sulli.”

She smiles, sitting more against my side and not behind me. I keep an arm around her shoulders.

Sulli is the first girl I get to call a girlfriend. The only one I’ve ever really wanted.

SFO always thought Akara would be with her. Hell, so did I.

I’m the interloper to some.

To my brother and Jane, I’m just the fool who’ll get his heart smashed to smithereens.

With flushed cheeks, Sulli doubles-down on our PDA and clasps my hand. “You could use the hat more than me,” Sulli whispers. “The sun—”

“It’s not a bad migraine.” I try to speak as quietly as possible.

“You promise?”

I hold her gaze. “I promise. Cross my heart—”

“Hope to never die,” she finishes for me.

I crack a smile. “Ooh rah.”

She focuses in on my dog tags.

I’ve told Sulli a little about my deployments. How there were sleepless, hyper-vigilant nights. How when I came back to Philly, I didn’t have nightmares or traumatic stress. I had back pains and knee pains and body aches that made me feel a hundred fucking years old.

And my head pounded like I bought a marching band overseas and they decided to camp inside me.

But I know my strengths and limitations. Beat me down until I’m crawling, I’ll still crawl. Being stuck in quicksand, being motionless, horrifies me.

“Hey, everyone,” Akara addresses SFO and our clients. “Before I get into it, Sulli wanted to say something.”

Sulli clears her throat, rotating mostly to Jane, Luna, and Maximoff, who share an iron table together with plates of tacos. Bodyguards are seated at the other one.

“So the three of us had a food fight earlier and all the food is fucking gone, and if you all are still hungry, I can order from a local place or pizza. And I’m really fucking sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Akara chimes in.

“Same,” I add.