The Revenge Games Duet

“Huh?”

“My place.” I chuckle, opening the door to Flynn sitting on the couch with some friends. It’s the first time I have seen these guys—possibly band members—lounging all over the apartment with empty bottles of beer sitting on the coffee table. Two of them have guitars in their hands, one singing a tune, and Flynn tapping his drumsticks against the table.

“Liam?” Flynn is equally surprised, standing up and grinning as he shakes Liam’s hand followed by that weird hug men do. “Milly didn’t say you were coming into town.”

Liam grabs my hand, clutching it with pride. “Kinda surprised her. You know, when you miss your girl, you just gotta do what you just gotta do.”

I’d never heard him refer to me as his girl, and I don’t mind it. Both of them, in this room, makes it feel like home. I can feel myself getting emotional, that same homesick feeling that took over my life the first two weeks here, reappears.

The last two weeks have been different, though. Guess I was distracted.

Flynn and Liam talk a little while longer, allowing me to slip into the bathroom and wash the sand off me and also to make an outfit change—my choice, nothing fancy—a coral-colored blouse that falls off my shoulders and some white shorts. Then, I realize how burned I am, and that color does nothing to hide it. I end up changing into something subtler.

My hair—irritatingly long in this sticky heat—is whisked up into a bun and away from my face. I wear makeup most

of the time but decide on some lip gloss since my face is bright pink and no amount of foundation will cover this.

Back in the living room, the boys are still chatting away. I motion silently for Liam to follow me to my room, a gesture he notices, quickly wrapping up the conversation. Luckily, Flynn is distracted by his bandmates, allowing us some privacy.

“Nice digs you’ve got here.”

“Really?”

“Okay, no. It’s nothing like back home. It actually makes back home look like a palace. I think I interrupted a drug deal downstairs,” he tells me, worried.

“Oh, Frank? Yeah, he likes to smoke weed.”

“Weed, huh?”

“Oh, c’mon, Liam, people do this kinda stuff back home. We were just oblivious to it. It’s more in your face here.” I sit down on the edge of my bed, gazing as he stands against my door. “So, you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“But you hate flying.”

“You can’t hate something you’ve never done. It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, you’re alive.” I smile, playing nervously with my bedspread. “That’s a start.”

“You’re burned.”

“Really? I thought the tomato look was so in. I went to the beach today with Emerson and Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“Emerson’s friend and lawyer. Remember, she’s one of the women on the panel who interviewed me. Not the bitchy one.”

“Oh,” he breathes, almost a sigh of relief. “Charlie is a woman.”

I laugh, scrunching my face. “Yes, she is. Would it have been different if she weren’t?”

He shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too. There’s this awesome Chinese restaurant around the corner. They make the fortune cookies themselves, and I swear they print them out while they watch your every move.”

“Sounds like a plan, but first…” He shuffles closer to me, standing in front, lowering his face so our noses touch. “Just one more kiss.”

I pull his shirt, bridging the gap between us. I miss his scent—the way his skin smells like man sweat, how warm his lips feel against mine, and how my senses are heightened as he explores my body, hands moving into my blouse and against my breast.