When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

I coughed. “Um…no.”

“See? NC-17.”

“I’ll take another beer.”

Holden mixed another martini and then filled a silver flask from his coat pocket with more vodka.

“For backup,” he said.

I wrinkled my brow, watching him pocket the flask. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen in February. But I’m an over-achiever in the booze department. Ahead of my class. Vodka Valedictorian…”

“I’m eighteen in February too,” I said. “The fifth. You?”

“The twenty-ninth.”

“No shit? Leap year.”

Holden nodded. “Three years out of four, my birthday doesn’t exist.” He gave me a pointed look. “Make of that what you will.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.”

“I think it’s the universe trying to remedy a cosmic mistake.” His voice lowered. “God knows my parents would agree.”

I started to ask what he meant by that, but he’d been poking at the state-of-the-art sound system next to the minibar. Cage the Elephant’s “Night Running” filled the space, and instead of heading back out to the patio, Holden beckoned me into the dark of the house.

“What…” I cleared my throat. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time to go exploring.”

“At least turn a light on.”

“No lights,” he said with a wicked grin. “Everything’s more fun in the dark.”

We made our way slowly past chairs and couches with only moonlight from the h

uge windows to guide us.

I bumped an end table and Holden shot me a look over his shoulder.

“Try not to tackle anything out of habit.”

I smirked. “I’m a quarterback. I throw things.”

We passed through a formal living room and dining room for entertaining and into a game room with a pool table. A half dozen balls of an abandoned game were still on the green felt.

“Besides,” I said, “if I chuck a vase out the window, won’t you just replace it like you did the Blaylock’s dining room table?”

Holden drained his martini and set the empty glass on a bookshelf. “Does that offend your noble sensibilities?”

“No. I just don’t like to throw money around.”

“I do.” He picked up a cue stick and bent over the table to line up a shot. The song coming in from hidden speakers sang of secrets and demons.

“Why?” I asked. “Because you have so much of it?”

“That, and because it’s my parents’ money until I graduate. When it’s mine, I’ll take better care of it.”