Page 82 of The Rowdy Ones
“Claudia, this is my brother Rowdy,” I say to her. Then I gesture in her direction. “Rowdy, this is my friend from school.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he says, voice deep and gravelly, tickling me in all the right spots.
“Oooh,” Claudia replies with a whistle. “You sound hot. Wanna fuck?”
I choke on my liquor. Rowdy rubs my hip as if to calm me.
“I’m good.” He steps closer until his body warms mine from behind. “I’m actually seeing someone.”
“Boo,” Claudia says with a pout. “I’m not seeing anyone. Not literally or figuratively. Blind in all aspects of life. Got any cute friends?”
“New here,” Rowdy grunts. “Sorry.”
“Claud,” a young woman says close by. “I found someone for you to talk to. He’s single. You can leave these people alone now.”
Claudia laughs. “Duty calls. Gotta find me a man. My sister is my wingman.”
They leave and Rowdy chuckles.
“She’s an odd duck,” he mutters. “You sure know how to pick them.”
I playfully elbow him in the gut. “I picked you, you know.”
“Nah, you had no choice. We were born into the same family. You got lucky.”
My skin warms at our teasing. It’s so easy to lose myself when I’m around Rowdy. Nothing and no one around us seems to matter. It’s as if we’re all alone.
This could be dangerous.
“Can you show me to the restroom?” I ask, needing to get away from the stifling crowd.
“Don’t know where it’s at, but we’ll find it.”
He steps away and then takes hold of my wrist of the hand holding the drink, careful not to touch the healing part of my self-inflicted wound. I allow him to guide me, not even bothering to use my cane since I trust him implicitly not to allow me to trip over or bump into anything. The sounds soften a bit and I get the sense we’re in a hallway. Then I hear the sound of a knob jiggling.
“Gonna be a while,” a guy calls out. “Got the shits, man.”
“Maybe Talia has a bathroom in her room,” Rowdy suggests.
“I don’t have to pee. Just need some quiet. Can we go to her room?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
He guides me down the hall and then through a door. When he closes it behind us, the noise is abruptly snuffed out aside from the occasional laughter that carries through the walls. Much better.
“We can sit on the bed over here,” Rowdy says, leading me to it.
Once we’re sitting, so close our thighs are touching, he leans toward me and kisses my cheek.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
“Good. Want me to put your drink down for you?”
I pass him the drink, eager to have my hand free to touch him. He stretches away from me to put them on the table and when he’s sitting upright again, I climb into his lap, straddling him.
“Dez.” His voice is rough and filled with need. “What are you doing?”
