Page 1 of Heartless Pucker in Love

1

JULIAN

Small town Oakland. It felt good to be back. I left because I wanted to experience the world. I did, but in the end, I missed the hell out of the charming town. There was no one to be seen on the street or the sidewalks. It was just me, my motorcycle, and the night. I could only hear the hum of my machine mingling with the wind. I loved it. Finally, I got to experience a little peace. There was nothing like moving around unseen. I didn’t get much of that in my life. I was used to the limelight, the paparazzi, and waking up to my face on gossip blogs. One year shy of thirty and I realized that lifestyle was getting old. I wanted more. I just wasn’t sure what more was yet, but I knew I wanted it.

Hunkering down, I revved my motorcycle and decided not to think about what more I wanted out of life. It was just too exhausting to contemplate sometimes. Whizzing past familiar houses, I smiled. Riding through the streets of my hometown was like cruising down memory lane. I saw a younger me running along the sidewalk with my friends, creating mischief and pure havoc.

My chuckle was lost in the purr of my ride. I was a little shit back then and all my friends were too. We were all a bunch of assholes. No one knew I was back, and I hoped to keep it that way. I arrived yesterday incognito. Knowing the townsfolk, they’d likely throw a goddamn parade. One of their own left and became a national star...well, international. I was the face of quite a few brands. The last thing I wanted was to be thrown into the spotlight here. I planned to keep my head down while visiting my mother and nephew and leave before word could spread of my presence.

A few blocks down, I neared West Oak High, and more memories flickered through my mind like a silent film. Like freshman year when I made out with Regina Sanders at the back of the bleachers. Regina sure rocked my world that day. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Many people said high school wasn’t their best years, but hell, mine were awesome. It was all motorcycles, hot chicks, smoking weed, and getting into dumb shit with my idiot friends.

As I passed the parking lot that led to the back doors of the gymnasium, my smile vanished. One particular memory attacked me. It was one that I’d tried futilely to get rid of, but every now and then, it’d surface to haunt me. That memory really put into perspective what an asshole I was as a teenager. Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I thought I was the shit, until that evening.

I took a glance at the parking lot and I saw her standing in a flowing white dress decorated with flower prints. Roses, daisies, lilies. Of course, she’d incorporate flowers into her outfit. There was even a crown made of red, pink, and yellow roses around her head. Flower Child. That’s what I used to call her. Her golden-brown hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. Her slanted forest green eyes were wide as they fixed on me. There was excitement gleaming in them, and that caused guilt to slam through me, nearly knocking me off my feet. She was happy to see me. That was a first. We’d never been on the best of terms since...the playground.

Her full lips, painted pink, curved into a shy smile. She looked beautiful, like some virginal, ethereal being. I was too busy gawking at her to remember what I’d run outside to tell her until it was too late. My asshole friends emerged from their corners to torment her. Our stupid, elaborate plan started to play out. The excitement vanished from her pretty eyes as she stared at me with a look of confusion, shock, and betrayal. They then filled with tears and that’s when I knew my friends and I were the worst.

Coming back to the present, I tried to shake off the memory of those eyes and that face that I’ve had several dreams about. By the time her face disappeared from my mind, I spotted something in the road. Something running on four legs. I swerved to avoid hitting whatever it was and my front wheel hit the rise of the sidewalk.

“Fuck!”

I was hurled from the motorcycle, and I tried to break my fall with my hands. My left hand touched the ground and pain laced through my wrist. I was going so fast that my hand couldn’t stop me from crashing and rolling to the ground. The jarring impact sent even more pain stabbing through my chest.

“Son of a bitch,” I groaned. I was feeling a hell lot of pain. That was a good sign. It meant I wasn’t dead...yet. Taking my next breath made me groan. This was just what I deserved. I can't believe the memory of her was so distracting that it knocked me on my ass. I never should have done what I did. Teenage me was so stupid.

“Shit.” I heard a man hiss as his footsteps hurried towards me. “Hey, can you hear me?”

I groaned in response.

“Don’t move,” the man said.

I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t in so much pain. I could barely breathe let alone move. I wiggled my toes in my boots, then my fingers. They moved. Thank God. If I fucked up and could no longer walk, my coach, my teammates, and my crazy manager would likely take turns killing me. Mom was going to be pissed. She lectured me nonstop about speeding on my “death machine.”

I heard him calling an ambulance as he neared. A face appeared in my line of vision. In the semi-dark, I could make out sharp features and black hair. He wore a police uniform. I knew that face.

“An ambulance is on the way,” he announced.

“Awesome,” I grumbled. “Thanks…”

“Chief Wilder.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

The chief stooped down to study me. “Can’t see your face underneath that helmet. We can’t risk you moving to take it off. Do I know you?”

My lips twisted wryly. I knew Nicholas Wilder, but even if he could see my face, I’d only be vaguely familiar to him. He graduated from West Oak High before I started. So the high school football star was now the town’s chief. I would have never thought the former popular jock, with a bad boy reputation, would transform into a man of the law. I guess people do change. I’d changed, but no one knew just how much. I still presented who I was to the world, not who I really am now.

“Nah, you wouldn’t remember me. Julian Grayson.”

He cocked a brow, his gaze still roving over my helmeted head, leather riding jacket, gloves, and boots. “Grayson? As in Faye Grayson’s kid?”

My brows shot up. “Faye Grayson’s kid” not “Grayson, the famous hockey player?” What a relief. I hated when people I knew fanned out. It was so weird. I risked a chuckle. Big mistake. My chest hurt like a motherfucker. I bet I had a broken rib or few. “Not so much a kid anymore, Chief.”

Nic grunted. “Should I call your mom?”

“Christ, I’m not twelve.” The last thing I wanted was for Mom to find out about my little accident. After losing one son, she was super paranoid about losing another. My adrenaline-junkie nature was terrible for her blood pressure.

There was a teasing curve to the chief’s lips and I could see the laughter in his eyes, even in the dark.

---