WE DIDN’T STEP OUT OF THE FIRST BASE ZONE. If kisses only is what’s considered first base… I’ve never seen the diagram.
We made out between talking, drinking coffee, and eating dinner. Vivienne stopped muttering random lines for the rest of the evening, her mind calm regardless of how possessive and downright suggestive our kisses grew as the night progressed.
As the whole week progressed.
It flew by so fast I didn’t notice Friday arrive again. This time, I’ve not been purposely keeping a distance. I’ve not spent my afternoons fighting an internal battle to not wait for her at the front door whenever she dropped Rose off like I did for two weeks.
No, this week, I was with Vivienne. This week, we’re making progress. One month since our first kiss, and we’re two dates in.
Three, if you count tonight.
Seven, if you count every evening I spent at The Well, arriving half an hour before Vee’s shift.
Her dad and some Uncle Hal fixed her car, so she’s not biking.
If that’s not good enough, she’s starting to trust me more each day, finally believing I don’t care where she’s from. Every day, she lets me get away with more.
More kisses. More hugs. More hand-holding.
We ate takeout in my car all week, alternating between burgers, pizza, and Chinese. Once I fed her, I spent three or four hours parked at the counter, sipping non-alcoholic beer and filling the moments, while Vee wasn’t serving customers, with questions. By now, there’s little I don’t know about her past and favorites.
Purple, gummy bears, oranges. The Notebook.
She’s superstitious—refused to enter The Well one day because the owner stood a ladder at the entrance while changing the slogan. He had to get down and move it before she stepped inside.
Quirky.
My kind of quirky.
I skip classes every Friday the thirteenth.
Prioritizing her thoughts with ambulances took root. It helps Vee navigate her busy mind whenever she’s overwhelmed. It also helps me push some important ideas across.
We’re making progress, but she’s still happiest on neutral ground. The Well, the beach, the arcades, and Ruby’s Diner are places she’s one hundred percent comfortable with me.
As soon as we step out of her comfort zone, I lose her. Not entirely, but she morphs into a mouse in a roomful of cats. Wary. Uncertain.
It’s clear as day when I kill the engine outside The Olive Tree.
After days of surviving on greasy takeout and the bland food at Ruby’s, I thought it’s time we eat something decent, but the look crossing Vee’s face tells me I overstepped.
‘I’m not dressed for this,’ she mutters, pinching the fabric of her gray, scoop-neck, flared dress. I know that’s what it’s called because I’ve spent countless hours shadowing Mia from one boutique to another over the past two years.
Sometime during the many shopping sprees, I became an expert on necklines and fabrics.
Unlike my brothers who invented the best excuses their brains could concoct and fled, I didn’t mind holding Mia’s bag or fetching different sizes.
It’s not something I’d tell my friends, but it will come in handy one day when I’ll trail after Vee, helping her pick clothes.
“You look gorgeous, baby.” I help her out of the car because I’m sure she’ll stay put if I don’t.
We don’t take five steps before she whispers, ‘I look cheap.’
Anger rages through me, flash-flooding my system. I tug her hand hard enough she has no choice but to brace against my chest.
“You don’t look cheap, Vivienne. I never want to hear you say something as ridiculous as that. You’re beautiful, and this dress…” I run my fingers along the curve of her hip, waist, and higher until they curl under her chin, “…this dress drives me fucking feral with how the neckline shows off just the tops of your breasts.” I grip her jaw, making sure she’s focused solely on me. “Ambulance thought, Little Bee. Pay attention. The whole ride here, I kept my eyes firmly on the road because every time I looked at you, I wanted to stop, bunch that dress at your waist, and make you come on my fingers.”
She swallows hard, eyes wide like she can’t believe I said that.
There’s a hum in her, low, lustful, so fucking needy. I love it. I can’t get enough, and I’m learning how to turn on that needy desire that appears more often lately. In her and in me.
I’ve not touched her yet. Not licked, fucked, or even fingered her. God only knows where my patience comes from. I sure don’t have much when I hit my shower every evening and fuck my hand until I come, imagining Vivienne naked in my bed, panting, gasping, begging.
“Well…” She bites her lip, moving closer to press those perfect boobs into my chest like an invitation. “I wouldn’t say no.”
Jesus fuck.
My cock’s a pole in my jeans. I’m sure she feels it rubbing against her hip, twitching, almost barreling through my zipper as I snake my arm around Vee’s back, bringing her against my chest.
Mine.
She needs to know and accept that she’s mine before I claim her body because, once I do, there’s no going back. Once she gives herself to me completely, I won’t let her leave.
“Is this a date, or are we dating?” I ask.
She inches away, the lustful gleam fading from her blown pupils. “That’s one way of changing the topic.”
“I’m not changing the topic. Answer the question.”
Glancing over her shoulder at the restaurant, she stiffens again, and that little mouse demeanor returns. “It’s a date.”
“Then you’re getting food, not orgasms.”
“Oh…”
“What’s wrong?” I run a gentle hand down her cheek, loving how disappointed she looks. “You thought I’ll fuck you and be done? It doesn’t work like this. You want an orgasm? Tell me you’re mine.”
She folds her arms, all pretty defiance. “You think I’ll believe you never had casual sex?”
“I did, but with you, I don’t and I won’t. I won’t touch, lick, or fuck your pussy until this…” I gesture between us, “…is dating, not just dates.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss me, but I don’t miss how she rubs her thighs together, searching for friction, the little tease.
“I saw that, baby.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She does it again. Harder, on fucking purpose. I bet she can tell by my jaw clamping tight that her move strikes the right chord, and my resolve falters.
I’m a patient person. Jerking off like I’m sixteen again takes the edge off, but she’s testing my limits.
In desperate need of a distraction, I lead her inside. Instead of her wet pussy and the pornographic images filling my head, I focus on the waiter, my glass, the giant fish tank behind the bar, the other people… anything. Anything other than Vivienne and how much I want her to admit we’re dating.
She doesn’t speak either, flipping the menu back and forth, her expression growing more confused by the second.
“Where are the prices?” she finally asks, almost inaudibly.
Shit. I forgot there are no prices listed anywhere. Either you can afford to eat here, or you can’t. The Olive Tree isn’t the kind of restaurant that’ll charge seven-hundred dollars for a steak, but the lack of transparency helps evoke a sense of exclusivity.
“Nico decided not to put them on the menu.”
“So how do people know what they’ll pay?”
“They can ask the waiter or check the bill at the end.”
She scrunches her face, setting the menu aside. “Why did you bring me here? I know you have money, Conor. No need to show it off.”
“Don’t start with that judgmental attitude,” I warn, a vein throbbing on my neck. “I brought you here because the food is nice. Because we’ve been on your turf since the start, and it’s time you get used to my turf, too.”
She chews her bottom lip like an uncertain little girl, her eyes no longer spitting fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I know you’re not showing off. I just—”
“I know, baby. Too much traffic in your head. Can I order for you? I’m pretty sure I know what you’ll enjoy.”
She nods once, her eyes trained on something behind my back. “Your brother’s here with his wife,” she whispers, looking like a deer caught in the fucking headlights.
I turn, spotting Theo and Thalia crossing the room, eyes on us. “Looks like we’re about to have company,” I tell the waiter. “We’ll need a few more minutes before we’re ready to order.”
“And a bigger table,” Theo chirps, gripping my shoulders with both hands. “Hey, bro. Mind if we join you?”
“Not at all,” Vee says, her tone sheepish, but her words catch me off guard.
“Perfect.” Thalia smiles, stepping out of the waiter’s way when he joins another table and two chairs to ours. “I’m glad we bumped into you. I hate eating alone.”
Theo rounds the table, introducing himself to Vee. “Hey, I’m her husband and apparently invisible.”
“Theo,” Vee says, giving a small smile. “The game designer, right? I’m Vivienne.”
“Yup, that’s me. This is Thalia. Don’t mind her moody ass. She’s three days away from her due date and not handling it well.”
“Try taping a watermelon to your belly, smartass. We’ll see how good you’ll be doing after nine months. And you’re not invisible, but since I’m off work, I’m with you almost twenty-four-seven. You’re a bit much to take lately.”
“I’m a bit much to take?” Theo scoffs, grabbing the tumbler to fill Thalia’s glass with water. “You should see you, little one. I love you, but I’m not getting you pregnant again for a long time.” The playful tone and smile across his lips ruin the stern look. “I’m thinking at least three months.”
He’s been bitching about Thalia’s cravings, requests, and general tiredness to anyone who listened for nine months straight, but he secretly loves the midnight shop runs and foot massages.
I nudge his shoulder. “A girl, this time, alright? There are already too many Hayes boys. I want a niece.”
“Logan’s on it,” he says, spreading a napkin over his knees. “I don’t think I’d make a good dad to a little girl.”
“She’d walk all over you,” Thalia agrees.
It takes twenty minutes before Vee truly relaxes. Once she does, I can’t peel my eyes off her smiles as she chats with Thalia and banters with Theo, effortlessly fitting in with my family. We eat dinner, then dessert, and for the first time, Theo and me aren’t wrestling once the waiter sets the bill on the table. He purposely overlooks when it happens letting me take care of it..
“We should go out together sometime,” Thalia tells Vivienne when we leave. “Oh, I know! I’ll get Cass and Mia, and we’ll all go to Q.”
“You’re nine months pregnant,” Theo reminds, standing behind her, his hand caressing her big belly. “So is Cass, remember? Besides, you know Nico will hire the Black Ops team if you try taking Mia out. Invite the girls over for a night in.”
“I didn’t mean tonight, Theo. Next month. And Mia goes out with the triplets all the time, so—”
“So we’re invited, too?” I chuckle, pecking her cheek. “A night in might be the better option for now. Even if Nico doesn’t mind Mia going out, Cass is still far off her due date, so Logan will latch himself on and ruin your night.”
“Ugh! What is wrong with you all?” she huffs. “Okay, fine. Once I push this baby out, I’ll call you, Vee. We’ll set a date.” She hugs her, kisses my cheek, then lets Theo take her to their car.
“She’s nice,” Vee says quietly, twisting her fingers around mine. “And Theo’s funny.”
“That he is. You met Theo and survived, so now you’ll meet two more.”
***
Twenty minutes later, I park at the back of the bar, lean across the middle console, and catch Vee’s chin between my fingers.
She’s been mindlessly fidgeting the whole ride here, mumbling something incomprehensible.
“You’ll like them. I promise.”
She creeps closer, a silent invitation to seal her lips with mine. I do, slipping my tongue inside her sweet mouth. Every time we kiss, I’m falling so much fucking deeper.
And I want her so much more.
“C’mon,” I say when my pants get too tight.
She fuses our fingers together, not letting go even when I open the door to Tortugo—my favorite cocktail bar in Newport.
The familiar earthy scent of soil hits my senses one step inside. Clay pots with plants line the floor, spreading over the rusty metal shelves screwed into the exposed red-brick walls. Latin music sets the pace while the buzz of conversation drifts across the tables, making the space feel grounded but lively. I’ve loved this place since I first crossed the threshold three years ago.
Cody’s by the bar, chatting with Justin. Colt sits at a table by the window with Finn and a few chicks from the cheerleading team, their former captain, Blair Fitzpatrick, notably absent.
There was a time the cheerleaders wouldn’t show their faces at any gathering without their leader. After what happened earlier this year, they stayed in the shadows.
We’ve been hanging out with the football team guys more since Brandon made it his life’s mission to brown-nose his way back into our and—more importantly—Mia’s good graces.
Half the cheerleaders date football jocks, but with Cody’s fire-breathing attitude whenever he sees Blair, they stayed out of our way, and I believe after a month or so, they were sick of missing parties and social gatherings so they kicked Blair out of the cheerleading squad almost unanimously. The two girls who voted against are missing tonight, just like their bestie.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t give a fuck if Blair hangs out with us. It’s not like I have to talk to her. Besides, she knows better than to start a conversation.
Mia made her peace with the bullying she endured for years, and that’s the only thing I care about. But Blair won’t show up if Cody’s around, even with mine and Colt’s blessing.
While the two of us don’t like the girl, Cody spews fucking fire the moment he sees her. He was always closest to Mia, his big-brother attitude over the top at best. I get why he hates the girl who hurt Mia. I’m no fan, either, but Cody needs a fucking chill pill because he’s starting to stoop to Blair’s level.
How is gatekeeping her from every college gathering different from the shit she’s done to Mia? It’s bullying, whichever way you look at it.
But… tonight, I’m glad Blair’s not here, considering how condescending she can be. She’d make Vivienne even more uncomfortable than she already is.
Vee follows me to the bar, two steps behind, and Cody immediately drops his conversation with Justin, turning to face us, his eyes darting to our entwined hands.
“Hey, Little Bee,” he emphasizes with a smirk. “Good date?”
“It was nice,” Vee admits, melting into my side, her fingers pulsating around mine.
“Name your poison.” Cody nods to the drink list above the bar. “Beer? Wine? Maybe a caipr—” He frowns, looking over his shoulder. “Colt!” he yells, grabbing his attention. “What’s that blue cocktail called you always make for Thalia?”
“A beer’s fine,” Vee says. “Any, I’m not fussy.”
Cody waves Colt off, signaling we no longer need the name, and turns to the bartender. “Get us Coronas.” He takes another quick peep back, counting heads. “Eleven. Two Diet Cokes and…” He sizes me up with a smirk. “Nachos.”
“Double portion.” I pull out my wallet.
Cody slaps my hand away. “Put that back in your pants, or I’ll do it for you. My turn tonight. I’ve got a tab open.”
Vivienne fidgets beside me when Cody hands her the beer. It’s unnerving how she went from calm and beaming during dinner to this unsure-of-herself girl within minutes.
It’ll pass. She’s just careful. Needs time to take in her surroundings, settle her mind, and get to know everyone before lowering her guard.
I tug her hand, turning her to face me when Cody and Justin stroll toward Colt’s table.
“Tell me something. Am I even remotely close to the guy you thought I was at first?”
Her white teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Not when we’re alone.”
The unspoken but lingers in the air, driving me nuts.
“Was I different at The Olive Tree?” I wait until she shakes her head before I continue, “I don’t have a split personality. What you see is what you get. Same goes for my brothers and friends. Even Brandon’s not an uncurable dipshit, so I need you to give them a real shot.”
She looks at the crowd by the window, eyes skimming up and down like she’s sizing someone up. One look that way makes it clear who.
“That’s Anastasia,” I say. “She’s pretty cool, though she likes getting on Colt’s nerves a bit too much. Don’t be surprised if he drags her out of here once she crosses a line.”
“So she’s his girlfriend? She’s beautiful.”
I tilt her head so she’ll look at me. “You’re beautiful, Little Bee. And no, she’s not Colt’s girl. It’s just sex, but he’s territorial over the girls he has in his bed while they hold his interest, so she’s off-limits to everyone while they’re fucking.”
Two little wrinkles appear between Vee’s thick eyebrows, and her cheeks pink up. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Territorial about girls who temporarily hold your interest.”
“I’m territorial about you because this…” I point between us, then sneak my hand around her back, forcing her closer, “…is in no way temporary.” I dip my head, fastening her lips with a kiss.
It’s nothing like the kiss in the car. She doesn’t give in. Doesn’t part her lips for me or let me taste the silk of her mouth. Her muscles bunch under my fingers, so hard they have no give.
I pull back, my blood growing hotter, annoyance coursing through my veins. “Tell me what’s going through your head, Vee. You want to leave?”
“No. Of course not.” She shakes her head, making the few loose strands of hair dance around her pretty face. “I’m just not used to this…”
“Not used to what? Meeting new people?”
“Kissing. Well, not like this. Ugh,” she huffs, her features pinched. “You messed everything up, Conor. I thought we were building this up to… you know, sex, but you said it won’t happen until we’re dating, and everything suddenly changed.”
“What do you mean? Nothing changed, Vee. I told you at the start I want you for myself.”
“I know I just… I didn’t think you meant it, and now I know you do, it’s… it’s just that…”
“Deep breath, Vee,” I cut in, seeing her slip into traffic jam mode. “Slowly, okay?”
She forces all air from her lungs, then inhales deeply, blinking like it helps clear her mind. “I’ve never been on dates before,” she admits quietly. “And now that you took sex off the table, your kisses mean different things. Things I’m not used to.”
“And what are you used to?”
She worries her bottom lip but releases it when my gaze drops there. “Well, most of my previous kisses were… foreplay.”
One sentence and a multitude of unwanted images invade my head. All those men, however fucking many there were before me, touching her delicate body. Kissing those perfect lips, pawing her soft skin with their grubby, unworthy fingers.
We both have a past. I’m aware she’s not untouched, and I’m not a fucking caveman. Virginity isn’t important. In fact, I’m glad she’s experienced. That way, I don’t have to worry the same way Nico does sometimes—that he’s all Mia knows, and maybe one day she’ll want to know more.
It’s bullshit, really. He worries for nothing. They’re so good together despite how different they are that I know they won’t fall apart, but it doesn’t stop Nico crawling out of his skin to give her everything she might want.
So yeah, I’m glad Vee’s not innocent, but imagining her with other men gets me riled up all the same. The possessiveness stirs a brand-new flavor of hell inside my mind. And that’s something I’m not used to—feeling this territorial about a person.
“You got used to holding hands. Now get used to me kissing you whenever I feel like it because I will. A lot.” Proving a point, I seal her lips again, and this time, she lets me taste her the way I want.
Not for as long as I want, though. When she starts pulling away, I suck her bottom lip, bite hard enough to make it swell, then lick along the spot, soothing the ache.
“This will swell up real nice in a minute,” she says, throwing the words I’ve said almost every time I kissed her right back at me. “Why do you like this so much?”
“One look at you, and everyone knows you’ve been making out. Means they know you’re not available.”
