Page 16 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Conversations like that must be hard for you.”

“It’s fine.” He set his plate down and then grabbed mine to scrape mine off for me. He’d never outright claimed he wanted to leave again, not after the guys found out, but sometimes I felt like he was still hanging on by a thread.Maybe that was just his personality, but I didn’t want to take a chance.

I took a step closer to him and set a hand on his lower back. Being comforting wasn’t something I had much practice with, but I wanted to try.

Deacon set my plate on top of his, slow to turn toward me, his green eyes heavy. His six foot tall frame was a little hunched over, and it made him appear downtrodden and a little sad.

“It just makes me think about Pope. I… I haven’t talked to him in months. I don’t even know if he’s still in the city. I don’t know what he’s doing, if he got another job, or if he went home. Ramona didn’t want me talking to him after… after everything. I was supposed to cut contact cold turkey back when we kicked him out. I couldn’t do it. But then he kept trying to weasel his way back in, so I had to ignore him. Eventually he stopped messaging.”

Everyone had it hard; Pope had been their friend too, but Deacon had it worse, I’d say. Pope was his brother. They were near in age, only separated by a year. They had to have been close. I couldn’t imagine it myself, since Cleo and I had seven years in between us, but severing ties so suddenly had to hurt, and clearly that hurt hadn’t healed with time.

He shook his head. “It just makes me wonder if I could’ve done more for him, if I could’ve had his back better, then maybe he’d still be here—but then I realize if he was here, you wouldn’t be, and I feel shitty for not beinggrateful for you.” He sighed, leaning his back against the counter.

I stepped in front of him and rested into him, giving him a sort-of hug. I leaned my face against his chest, the fabric of his black shirt soft on my skin. “You can’t change the past. All we can do now is make the most of things.”

His chest rose and fell evenly, and I swore I could hear his heart beating. He wrapped an arm around my lower back, and we stood there for a while. “When I first met you, I had no idea this was where we’d end up,” he whispered, and when I tilted my head back to meet his stare, he used his other arm to tuck some of my hair behind an ear. “I thought you were so annoying, and I really wanted to hate you.”

“But,” I said, starting to smile, because I knew this tune already.

“But,” he acknowledged what we both already knew, “it’s impossible to hate you.” A warmth replaced the sorrow in his eyes, and the hand that had swept back my hair dropped to my neck as his tall frame bent over. His lips pressed against mine in what I’d consider a chaste kiss.

Because, yes, I now knew the difference between a chaste kiss and a kiss no one else should see. I never knew all the different ways a kiss could set a fire inside you, but boy, once that flame caught, the rest was history.

And Deacon had a habit of holding onto my neck in one way or another as he kissed me. I melted every single time.

I was so lost in the kiss and the feeling of his hand on my neck and his arm locked around my lower back that I neglected to hear the others get up and venture into the kitchen to get rid of their plates.

“Whoa,” Priest’s smooth, lush voice filled my ears, “my turn next?”

Deacon begrudgingly pulled his mouth off mine to glare at the intrusion, and I merely gave the flirt an unimpressed look.

“What? I’m just saying,” Priest went on, either oblivious or choosing not to address the looks he received from us, “I’m next. Speaking of, Angel, I’ve been dying to know—” He leaned on the island opposite us as Bishop snuck through with his plate. “—who’s the best kisser? I don’t want to pat myself on the back, but, well, if the shoe fits.”

Deacon’s arm was slow to drop from my back, and his hand fell away from my neck, allowing me to turn to fully glare at Priest. “What makes you assume you’re the best?” I questioned, mocking tilting my head at him. “Just because you’ve kissed a lot of girls before?”

“Uh, and a few guys,” Priest admitted. “So, yeah, I think I have more experience than all three of you combined. And that’s not even getting into sex. When it comes to skill, love, you’ll find I’m the best suited for your pleasure.” He bowed, as if finished presenting his case.

“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I admitted, mostly because it was true. Priest had kissed guys before? I had no idea. Did that mean he was bi?

It didn’t matter, of course, because you liked who you liked and you wanted to kiss whoever you wanted to kiss. I couldn’t judge anybody. I mean, look at the situation I was in now with these three. I was one of the last people on earth who could ever judge someone for who they wanted to kiss.

Bishop said as he loaded our plates into the dishwasher, “I think it’s best if you ignore him completely. Giving attention to him will only make him keep going. Think of him like a puppy you’re trying to train.”

I chuckled at that, but Priest wasn’t amused. “A puppy, eh? Can a puppy do this?” Without a word of warning, he grabbed me, picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder, like I weighed nothing to him. Like I was light as a feather.

After I’d giggled at the suddenness and randomness of what he’d done, I swatted at his back and said, “Put me down.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said. “I have to prove to you I’m not a puppy.” Priest turned his head, “I’m going to need some alone time with our girl, thanks.” Holding onto my butt with one hand so I didn’t slip off, he saluted the others as he marched us out of the kitchen.

Priest brought me all the way down the hall, to his bedroom, where he kicked the door shut and promptly deposited me onto his bed, and my body bounced once before I managed to prop myself up on my elbows and say, “Okay, you’re not a puppy.”

He pounced on me, not like a puppy, but more like a cat. His tall, strong body pinned mine down in a way only a man’s could, not a cat and definitely not a puppy—and he knew it, because as his face hovered over mine, he grinned that lopsided smile, his sense of satisfaction evident.

Oh, he was so full of himself, but I was too head over heels to be annoyed about it. Maybe that would change with time, but right now I just found it endearing.

His hands held my arms down, and I struggled a little. “Let me go.”

Priest’s nose grazed mine as he whispered, “Do you really want me to let you go, Angel?” Angel might’ve been my fake name, but the way he said it made it sound like a pet name, something that rolled so easily off his tongue and yet held such deep meaning it was a prayer.

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