Page 4 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“They were pretty pissed about the tattoos,” I note, fighting back a smile. I have good parents. They were great growing up, but I was a rebel despite their best attempts to make me into the perfect, clean-cut son they wanted me to be.

They wanted me to play soccer, so I chose football. They said I should go to school for finance; I went to college for marketing. They expected me to take over the family business; I opted for going into the draft and using my first rookie check to invest in my college roommate’s start-up. The tattoos were just icing on the cake for going against exactly who they wanted me to be and becoming who I desired to be.

Plus, there was no reason for me to try and be the perfect child. The moment P was born when I was eleven, I knew she’d be the favorite. I was okay with that because as soon as my parents brought her home, I knew she was perfect.

“Peyton, dear, come mingle with our guests!” Jackson shouts across the crowded space, holding his arm out for her.

She looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Turns out I’m supposed to go mingle.” She emphasizes the last word playfully. “Try not to look too bored tonight, okay? It’s the off-season. I’ve given strict orders to Ryan to leave you alone until next week, so live a little.” She winks before backing up and heading to her fiancé.

I fight the urge to grab my phone from my pocket and see if I’ve heard anything from Ryan, who’s been my agent since I was a rookie. He’s been hounding me on signing an extension with the Manhattan Mambas, and since I’m at the peak of my career, they’re offering me a stupid amount of money for five more years.

Problem is, I don’t want to sign it. I want the upcoming season to be my last one, and I fear my agent might have a heart attack when I tell him that.

With a loud sigh, I drink the rest of my beer and set it on the bar. I push off the counter, wanting to find water and get some fresh air. People in the crowd try to stop me to talk, but I pretend I don’t hear them as I squeeze through the bodies. I’ll come back and talk to people because I know that’s what P and my parents want, but first, I need ten minutes of calm.

I finally find the back door of the space, and the moment the salty beach air hits my face, I’m able to take a deep breath. I grew up frequenting the Hamptons with my family, and there really is nothing like the air here.

I walk around the building, trying to hide from view if someone were to open the back door. No one should come looking for me, at least if I don’t stay out here too long, but I want to make sure I’m allowed at least a few minutes of peace.

But it only lasts a couple of minutes before a heel comes flying over the large metal gate, almost hitting me in the face.

“What the fuck.” I take a step back, trying to see into the dark to find out where it came from.

“Is someone there?” a voice hesitantly asks from above.

Before I can answer, another heel comes flying at me.

“Yes!” I yell, rubbing my chest where a particularly pointy heel just hit me. “Someone is definitely here.”

“Shit,” the voice on the other side of the fence says under their breath. “Could you maybe just…go away for a minute?” they ask, their voice louder this time.

My lips twitch. Her voice is sweet but sultry, going up a little bit in pitch at the end as if she’s nervous.

“Why? So you can stop assaulting me with heels?”

The woman nervously laughs. “No. So I can climb this fence without someone watching me undoubtedly land on my ass.”

“You want me to walk away from you breaking into a private party?” I ask, taking a step closer to the direction of her voice.

There’s nothing but silence for a few minutes until she finally speaks again. “Basically. You can go back inside and pretend I was never here—and I’m spared the embarrassment of you watching me land on my ass. When I walk in, we’ll both pretend I belong at this party. Sound good?”

“Or,” I begin, stopping at the gate and looking up. It’s so dark I still can’t see her, but she’s piqued my interest. There’s no way I’m going inside until my eyes land on the little trespasser. “You can climb the fence, and I can help you down so there’s no injuries involved.”

“You promise you won’t rat me out?” she asks cautiously. She’s so close, close enough that if the trees weren’t so thick and if the moon were full, I might actually be able to get a glimpse of the face behind the voice.

“It depends,” I answer, tucking my hands into the pockets of my pants. “Do you promise not to cause any trouble at the event?”

“Are you security?” she asks, her voice tight with unease.

I laugh, the sound vibrating my chest. “Not quite.”

It’s silent for long enough I begin to wonder if she decided to leave. For some reason, my stomach sinks slightly at the idea of never seeing the face that goes with the voice. I clear my throat. “You comin’ down now?”

She groans, and relief floods my body with the knowledge she didn’t go. “I guess I have no choice. Those shoes cost me an entire paycheck.”

My eyes flick to the shoes for a moment before my attention returns to the top of the fence.

A few grunts and curses come from the other side before finally, a tan thigh and a bare foot appear at the top.

---