Page 102 of Cherry Beats

“I’m going to choose to not be offended by that question.”

“Of course you know how.” He smirked, grabbing a handful of my arse and stepping closer to me. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Survive this life.

Remain sane.

Hold my shit together.

Not slap Rhett.

“Not a damn thing,” I answered quietly.

* * *

The night wore on into the early hours of the morning and, once again, I’d joined in with the drinking and the games, unable to stop myself from falling down the hole of alcohol and sarcasm when the beers were flowing and Presley was staring at me the way he was. He didn’t have to say anything to get my body tingling. The way I caught him looking my way from the corner of his eyes was enough. He was hungry, and he knew he had me to feast on tonight.

I lost at poker.

I lost at holding my tongue whenever Rhett got sarcastic with me, too.

“Ignore him,” Coops had whispered next to me at one point, making sure no one else could hear. “It’s not you. Rhett just lashes out sometimes. He tries too hard to play the cool rock god when, deep down, he’s an insecure little fuck.”

“He doesn’t need to be insecure about me being around here.”

“You’re getting the attention he thinks he deserves for himself. He’ll get over it by tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”

Once the game of poker came to an end, and the arguments had broken up after Presley accused Rhett of cheating, I was getting closer to needing my bed.

“Tired?” Presley asked on the end of me finishing a yawn.

“Nope,” I lied, falling back into the sofa and letting my head roll his way.

“It’s been a long few days. Nobody will think bad of you if you hit the sack.”

“Won’t you be coming with me?”

Presley glanced out at the still-dark night, his eyes glazing over again as he pushed his hair back from his face and let out a sigh. “I don’t sleep well at night.”

“Why not?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “I seem to sleep better when its light.”

“Or when he’s annihilated,” Coops offered.

“The guy’s a fucking vampire,” Big D grunted from across the coffee table.

“Count Elvis. That’s what we call him,” Hawk told me.

I frowned as I looked at Presley, going through the memories in my mind of the two of us together. The only time I’d seen him sleep in the night had been when he was completely wasted and probably unable to tell the night from the day. We hadn’t slept at his apartment all those years ago. We hadn’t slept at my place when he showed up after his fight with a fan. We hadn’t slept after the night at VINYL! either. Every time we had drifted off in each other’s arms, it had been in the early hours of the morning when the sun had come up.

I’d just packed a bag to spend time with a man I barely knew, and it was there, as I stared at him looking out over our capital, that I knew I needed to get to know him so much more. No part of me wanted to run. I wanted to stay, roll around in his demons and rummage around in his soul to find out the worst parts about him because I knew, even with dirty marks on his perfection, I’d still want Presley in my life.

He turned to look at me, a subtle sadness taking over his gaze.

“These fuckers always have something to say,” Presley said with a shake of his head.

“All the more reason for you to escape with me.” I smiled back at him. “We don’t have to sleep.”

---