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Authors: Jacinta Howard

Better Than Okay (6 page)

BOOK: Better Than Okay
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“I’m so sorry,” she apologized.

The one whose foot she’d stepped on waved a hand at her, smiling
as they walked on.

“Destiny,” Brian repeated trying to get her attention. “What do
you see?”

Concern filled his voice.

“Um…” she looked around again. “I see a café. And I think my hotel
on the right, no the left. A little further down. Not that far down, but a
little bit further down.”

She knew she was rambling but she couldn’t help it. She always
rambled when she was really buzzed. Brian said something but the noise on the
street was overwhelming and she was having trouble hearing him.

“I can’t hear you, Brian,” she said a little louder. She paused
near a light-post and put a finger in her ear, straining to listen.

“Does the café say Avor Du Pot?” he asked again.

She peered down the street, frowning.

“Av…Pore…huh?”

“Avor Du Pot,” he patiently repeated.

She squinted at the sign again.

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, go stand in front of it, I’m just a couple of blocks down.
I’m gonna come meet you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, peering down the street again. She started
heading quickly in that direction and nearly tripped, righting herself just
before she fell. Damn deceptive daiquiri.

Bistro tables and chairs lined the front of the café and she sat
down at one, holding her bag in her lap. The street was buzzing with activity
and the excitement of finally being in New Orleans had her practically bouncing
in her seat. Or maybe that was the damn deceptive daiquiri. She watched a young
couple walking down the street, practically tripping over one another’s feet as
they weaved their way through the crowd. His hand was in her back pocket and
she was looking at him like he was the most fascinating individual on earth.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her
back. She whipped her head around to see Brian frowning at her.

“It’s just me,” he said, unnecessarily. He’d changed again into a
black t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans.

“Brian!” she jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck. “I was
so sad because I didn’t think I was going to be able to see you ever again
until you moved to Miami.”

He chuckled and shook his head at her, placing his hands on her
waist.
 

“I really wish you would’ve been there tonight,” she said, her
tilting her head back to look at him. “You would’ve loved it and you’re
definitely the only person who really would’ve gotten the experience.”

He grinned, studying her face. “You’re drunk.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Just a little bit. Like a little, lot
bit.”

He laughed, and she smiled up at him, her arms still around his
neck.

“You’re also cute as hell.”

His face was inches from hers and she inhaled.

“You think I'm cute as hell?” she asked. Her breath had increased
and she suddenly felt warm.

He nodded. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. Her
heart was racing and she knew her cheeks were flushed.

“So, what do you want to do, Destiny?” he asked, his voice
low.
 
His eyes were doing that super
intense thing again and she bit her lip, shifting her weight.

It didn’t seem like he was just referring to tonight and she
dropped her arms, backing away from him. She stared at him, confused, her heart
pounding in her chest. He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking
back on his heels. He was watching her with amusement. She inhaled and shook
her head. She was clearly really intoxicated. Damn deceptive daiquiri.

“Let’s go listen to some music,” he suggested, still grinning.

“Are you sure? Don’t you have an early flight?” she asked, finding
her voice.

“Yeah, but I’ll be alright,” he shrugged. “Besides we’ve never
hung out in New Orleans together before. We can’t waste the opportunity,
especially during Jazz Fest, right?”

He held out his hand for her and she hesitated for just a second
before grinning and reaching for it.

 

* * *

 

“So, how was your dinner?”
 
Destiny asked.

 
They were seated in a
bar on St. Charles. The place was crowded and the jazz band that was on stage
looked like they were fresh out of college, but they were fluid and precise.
Brian shrugged.

“It was good. Seems like it’s gonna be a cool place to work. All
we really did the whole time was drink.”

She nodded as the bartender sauntered up to them.

“What’ll be?” he asked, glancing between the two of them.

“I’ll just have water,” she said. She was still really buzzed and
knew she couldn’t handle another drink if she wanted to be able to walk out of
the bar tonight.

“Ah, come on, pretty girl,” the bartender chastised her. “You
can’t come to a bar in New Orleans and order a water.”

He grinned and winked at her, nodding his head toward Brian.

“You gotta convince her to drink with you, bro,” he said.

Brian chuckled. “Alright, I’ll take two shots of vodka and she’ll
have a strawberry daiquiri and a glass of water.”

The bartender nodded and walked off.

“You must want to carry me out of here,” Destiny said, turning
toward Brian.

“You don’t have to drink it all. Just go slow and sip the water
with it. Did you eat tonight?”

She nodded. “I ate at the bar after the shows.”

“Good, you’ll be alright,” he said.

Their drinks came quickly and she sipped hers, her momentary
hesitation forgotten. Strawberry daiquiris sure were good. Brian laughed at her
dreamy expression.

“I see how you got buzzed so quickly,” he teased her.

“I can’t help it,” she smiled, taking another sip. “Everything
here is so much better.”

She bobbed her head as the band segued into a jazz-fused hip-hop
set. They were playing Common’s “I Want You” and she smiled. He grinned back
knowingly.

“We should definitely dance now,” she declared, downing the rest
of the daiquiri.

 
She hopped off of the
barstool, swaying her hips to the music as she grinned at him and held out her
hand. She watched as he quickly downed the shots and let her pull him off of
the stool. She led the way into the swell of people with him on her heels. The
dance floor was crowded and he pulled her to him so that she wouldn’t get
bumped by the people who were entranced by the music.
 
The alcohol was coursing through her
bloodstream and she felt good—free, even. She loved New Orleans. Dancing
with Brian reminded her of the countless times they’d gone clubbing whenever
he’d visit while she was still in college.

She held her arms up, tilting her head back slightly as she swayed
to the percussion that was beating a rhythm into her bloodstream. She opened
her eyes and grinned. Brian could dance. Actually, Brian did pretty much
everything he tried to do well.

He pulled her closer as their bodies moved in tune to the
mid-tempo rhythm. She pressed into him, closing her eyes and intertwining her
arms around his neck. He was pulling on her belt loops as he moved, his stubble
gently scratching the side of her cheek. She turned in his arms, still moving
in time to the steadily thumping baseline and reached up again, her hand on the
back of his neck, pulling him closer. She could feel his breath warm against
her ear, his fingers splayed across her lower abdomen as he kept her close.

In the back of her mind, somewhere beneath her alcohol haze, she
questioned how close they were getting to crossing their carefully drawn
friendship line. They’d danced together before, but this was something
different. She was too aware of his hands on her, his breath warm against her
face, his body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes, deciding not to over-analyze
it, and just enjoy the moment for once.

His hand trailed from her abdomen to her hip, then back up and she
leaned her head back, resting it on his shoulder. She could feel his nose
nuzzling against the side of her neck and she sighed, automatically tilting it
to the side, giving him better access. If Brian wanted to nuzzle his nose
against her skin, he could—or his lips, because that’s what he was doing
now.

They were warm and soft and trailing down to her collarbone. She
arched back into him, because that was okay, too. His tongue flicked against
her neck and she drew in a surprised breath. Then he kissed it and she moaned
aloud, the noise lost somewhere in the sound of the music. She was melting
against him as he pulled her tighter to him. Oh shit. He was kissing her neck.
And she was letting him. She was more than letting him, she was melting into
him, tilting her head back, drawing him closer to her with her hand on the back
of his neck. Whoa. Shit.

She turned in his arms, and looked up at him, her breathing
ragged. The room was teetering and she clutched at his shirt. He was staring
down at her, his eyes hooded, his own breathing increased. Then his mouth was
on hers. She didn’t know who had moved first, only that his tongue was in her
mouth, melding with hers, setting her on fire. They were in the middle of a
crowded dance floor, but she didn’t care. She’d never consciously thought about
kissing him before, but he was so familiar. He tasted like mint and sunshine
and she pressed herself closer to him, drinking him in.

But just as quickly as it started, he pulled his mouth from hers.
His breathing was labored as he stared down at her, watching her chest heave in
and out.

“We should probably go,” she said, shakily.

He nodded then shook his head, releasing a breath as he ran a hand
over his head. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the exit.

The wet night air greeted her when she stepped outside and she
took a deep breath. Her thoughts were slurred, her mind murky. She knew what
had just happened changed things in a way that she didn’t want to think about.
She’d never, ever crossed the line with Brian, ever. But she couldn’t really
analyze it adequately right now anyway. Damn deceptive daiquiri. The street was
still buzzing with activity and she tried to steady herself, grabbing onto
nothing as she nearly stumbled.

“Careful,” Brian said, catching her just before she tripped over
her feet.

The people were starting to melt into each other and she took a
deep breath hoping the fresh air would somehow bring about sobriety. It didn’t.

“Come on,” Brian was saying as he grabbed her hand.

 
She thought it seemed
like he was leading her back to her hotel. She followed after him,
concentrating on walking straight. Within a few minutes they were walking through
her hotel lobby, headed toward the elevators.

“You okay?” he asked once they were inside. She was leaning
against the wall and she blinked and nodded. “I’m good.”

“I feel bad. You’re pretty drunk.”

She shook her head. “No, no. I’m not that drunk. And don’t feel
bad. That was so much fun…well, before… and even that was fun…” She paused
shaking her head. “I mean… I just… I felt… free. I love New Orleans and I love
jazz and I love dancing with you. Are you drunk?”

“I’m… not as drunk as you.”

He chuckled and shook his head as the elevator dinged open. He
grabbed her hand again and led her to her room. She got the door open and
stepped inside, turning as he hesitated at the door.

 
“You have to come in.
I have something for you.”

She rushed inside, nearly tripping and turned on the light before
crossing the room to the desk and grabbing the brown paper bag that contained
the Bill Wither’s record she’d bought for him. She’d found it a vintage record
shop on her way to the show and even though it had made her almost twenty
minutes late, she had to buy it. Bill Withers was his favorite artist of all
time, as weird as that made him for being only twenty-five. She guessed they
were weird together though. Stevie Wonder was hers.

He’d stepped inside, though he was still lingering by the door,
and she handed him the bag.

“That’s for you.”

 
He eyed her then
peered inside. He pulled the record out and looked at her grinning in what
looked like awe, or amazement. She didn’t know why. It’s not like she was giving
him the secret code to the cure for cancer.

“I found it on my way to the show in an old record store,” she
explained dismissively.

“Thank you,” he said. His eyes were hooded as he looked at her.

“You’re welcome.”
 
The
room was spinning again, so she closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the coolest things anyone has ever gotten
me.”

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Then you really need
to meet some better people,” she teased.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Seriously, this was really sweet
of you.”

BOOK: Better Than Okay
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