Redemption (Sempre 2)

She shrugged slowly. “Kelsey already invited you.”

“But I didn’t come here for Kelsey, so I’m not going in unless you invite me.”

Haven considered that, unsure of how to respond. It had been a long day and she really wanted to take a bath and maybe read a book, but when the music started upstairs, so loud it rattled the windows, Haven knew she wouldn’t be getting any peace anyway.

“Fine.” Go with the flow, she told herself. Live a little. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“What kind of invitation is that?”

“The only kind you’re getting.”

Gavin laughed, holding open the front door politely and pressing his hand gently against her back. Bypassing her apartment, she headed up the stairs, acutely aware of Gavin’s eyes on her as he walked behind her. It made her skin prickle as her stomach churned from nerves.

Kelsey’s apartment, identical to the one below it when stripped down to its core, looked like an entirely different world. Everything was brand-new and bright, expensive furniture filling every room while elaborate artwork hung on the walls. Haven gingerly took a seat in the first spot she came across, a tan leather chair with wide, plush arms. She kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet under her, protectively holding the sleeping kitten in her lap, while Gavin casually positioned himself on the arm of her chair.

It took only seconds before Kelsey thrust drinks at the two of them. Haven took the spiked lemonade with a polite smile while Gavin eyed the bottle of bright yellow alcohol with aversion. “Yeah, I can’t drink this shit,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’m sure she has other stuff,” Haven said, pointing across the room. “The kitchen’s over there. You can help yourself. Kelsey won’t mind.”

He stood up, looking down at her. “Are you going to drink it?”

“I guess,” she said. “I might as well.”

Gavin strolled away, stealthily handing the bottle back to Kelsey as he made his way to her kitchen. Haven watched him curiously, taking a moment to admire the way he seamlessly infused himself into a group. Poised and confident, he spoke to strangers as if they were friends.

Envy pecked at her, sudden and unexpected. Was it jealousy that he was sharing himself with others, or jealousy at the way he seemed to effortlessly fit in? She thought it was the latter, but the sheer possibility that she might yearn to keep him to herself filled her with uneasiness.

Gavin returned with a red plastic cup and retook his spot on the arm of her chair. He took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Better.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously, peeking into his cup. “Beer?”

“Mountain Dew.”

Haven took a sip of hers, puckering her lips. “You don’t drink?”

“Yes.” He smiled playfully. “I drink water, milk, and pop.”

“But not alcohol?”

“I don’t make a habit of it,” he replied.

“I don’t drink, either,” she said, elaborating when his brow furrowed. “Well, not usually. I’m not old enough.”

“Well, I am old enough, but I prefer to keep my wits about me.”

Haven surveyed him as he sipped from his cup. His smooth skin showed no sign of age, his eyes bright and encouraging, his smile genuine. He had had a good life—that much was clear—but small scars on his hands told her he had fought for it.

Gavin looked at her as if he could sense her gaze. “What?”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Twenty-six.”

“Wow, that’s—”

“Old?” he guessed.

She laughed. “No, I was going to say that’s kind of young to be a manager.”