Snare (Falling Stars #3) (32 page)

She covers her face with a mitted hand.

"Why can't we have normal family dinners?" she mumbles, going back into the kitchen.

"Because you're a dirty slut, Mom," I call after her.

Looking over my shoulder at Xavier, I wink and stick out my tongue.

His eyes are wide and lips sucked into his mouth.

My dad slaps him on the shoulder, and says, "I hope you realize what you're dealing with."

"I'm starting to wonder," Xavier says, earning my glare.

"It will take one hell of a man," Dad informs him.

"Don't worry, Dad. Xavier's on board," I announce.

Xavier raises a brow, silently questioning.

"You basically signed up in saliva when you licked it," I say with a nice dose of
duh, asshole!
.

"Jesus," Dad groans.

Xavier drops his chin to his silently shaking chest.

"I've really missed you, Sid," Lucas states, taking a seat at the dining room table.

"Aww, thanks, buddy," I croon, taking a seat next to him. "Let's have meatloaf."

Xavier

"I have to admit, this has been one the most interesting family dinners," I confess.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Jackson sort of agrees and lifts his beer to his lips.

My phone vibrates against my leg.

Pulling it out, I continue, "Watching and listening to Sid with her parents concerns me."

Swiping the screen, I click on an image message from Em.

"Why's that?" Jack asks.

"I see them, but—fuck!" Growling, I stand and turn, looking for Sid.

"What's wrong?" Jack pushes off the couch.

Extending my arm, I hold out my phone, showing him the photo Em just sent me.

"Shit." He takes the phone for closer examination. "Is this from the airport?"

"In Miami, yeah," I confirm, taking my phone back.

I glance down at the photo of me practically face fucking Sid in the departure terminal—an image that surfaced on a popular gossip site and is now spreading across social media. It's not the image that bothers me. The comments people are making is another thing.

"Hey, man, don't get too freaked out," his hand clasps my shoulder, "Sid's a tough girl. I doubt this is going to cause a problem."

"Did you see what they wrote?" I scoff, knowing most women would be hurt reading,
Why would someone as hot as him want someone like her?
And
Is this real or one of those charity photos like Make a Wish.
And an even more hateful,
Hope he stays on top so she doesn't crush him.

"Who wrote?" Sid walks up, lifting her messenger bag onto her shoulder.

Swallowing the nervous lump in my throat, I reach out and cup her face.

Her brow furrows, eyes shift to Jackson, then back to me, and she pushes my hand away.

"What the hell is going on?" she snaps.

"Everything okay?" Her father joins us in the living room, followed by her mother.

"There's a picture floating around," I start.

"And?" she presses.

Holding up the phone, I show her the photo.

Her eyes widen. She takes the phone from my hand, zooming in and out, and then scrolls down to the comments. Sid's brow furrows, her mouth bunches to one side, and then she laughs.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims, making me blink.

"What is it?" Liza joins the mix, grabbing Sid's hand and turning the phone toward her.

"I'm going viral," she brags, using her left hand to give devil's horns.

"Told you," Jackson mumbles.

"Told him what?" Sid asks.

"I thought you'd be a bit more bothered by…" I explain, motioning to the phone.

"That there's photographic proof of your tongue in my mouth?" She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You do realize this puts me on the highest level of vag-swag."

"Vag-swag?" her mother questions.

"Baby, you should know better than to ask these things," Sid's father says, putting an arm around his wife.

"You're right," Charlene states, quickly adding, "never mind, I don't want to know."

Sid cradles my cell in both hands, tapping her thumbs on the screen.

"What are you doing?" I step closer and look down into her hands.

"Sending it to myself, duh," she retorts.

She shoves the phone to my chest and I reach up on reflex, holding her hand there.

"Calm down, fuzz-face," she slips her hand out from beneath mine, "I've been called worse."

This announcement pisses me off more.

She turns and gives her parents a hug and kiss before grabbing both our coats. She holds my gray coat out to me. When I don't take it, she shakes it in my face.

"I'll drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot," she sings.

Snatching it out of her hand, I slip my arms in and pull it over my shoulders.

Sid wraps her black jacket around her body and secures the buttons.

Her eyes rise to mine.

"Are you going to pout all night?" Her face twists in distaste before sighing. "Geez, I'm the one they called a sympathy fuck, not you. I should be the one angry, not—"

"Why aren't you?" I rumble.

Exhaling loudly, she crosses her arms over her puffy coat.

"You know, after finding out about…" she visibly swallows and fidgets, "the college incident, I'd think you are well aware that I've dealt with being called much, much worse. Narrow-minded people like that," she motions to the cell clutched in my hand, "don't register on my hate-dar."

Not giving a shit that her family is witnessing the moment, I advance. In one long stride, I reach out and grab her by the back of the head. Fisting her hair, I tilt her face to mine.

"I hate the way you just accept it," I grumble.

"Fat girls are used to superficial judgments," she whispers.

"Don't," I warn, tightening my hold on her hair, not enough to hurt her, just enough to get my point across.

Her tongue peeks out, wetting her lips.

"It's okay," she reassures, but her eyes tell another story.

Emotions storm in her blue eyes, strength battling against pain and hurt.

"Tiger, I'm so thankful you're strong enough to brush this shit off, but it's
not
, nor will it
ever
be, okay for anyone to talk about you that way," I inform.

There's a small jerk to her body, a nervous movement. Her eyes glance to our observers and then back to me.

"Okay," she concedes, placing her hands on my chest and patting.

She's fucking placating me.

Stowing my phone in the pocket of my coat, I take her face in both my hands and lock my eyes on hers, keeping them captive, making sure I have her full attention.

"Christ, Sid, you smell like the best summer day, look like the wickedest thing I could ever choose to sin with, and sound like the best fucking porno soundtrack when I'm deep inside you."

The air between us grows thicker, heavier, and, I swear to God, sweeter.

Her mouth parts on a shaky breath. Chest heaving, she bites her bottom lip.

"Oh my," Sid's mother says on a breath.

A throat clears from behind me and our surroundings return.

The gleam flashing in her eyes gives away her evil intentions. If there's anything I know for sure about Sid, it's her habit of using humor to hide her emotions.

"AVN Award worthy?" she asks, making me smile.

Licking my lips, I bring my face closer, and whisper, "No, 'cause I'm the only fucking one who's gonna hear it."

"Well, the boy definitely knows how to speak to her," Sid's father states.

"He sure does," her mother sighs.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sidra

I'm thankful for Lucas and Sean's sugar high, courtesy of my mother's mile high chocolate cake with three layers of chocolate mousse and fudge icing. Their noise distracts Liza and Xavier from noticing my silence.

The words swim in my head. A photo that isn't much to anyone else, but is a moment more profound than I want to admit, being shredded under the scrutiny of anonymous gawkers. Hidden behind a keyboard, human nature can turn its ugliest. It's all too reminiscent of another time I was exposed to the public eye, but I can't help but wonder if they aren't right.

Why would he choose to be with someone like me?

I'm not conventionally pretty or L.A. gorgeous, my figure would only ever star in the before photo of a weight loss commercial, and for Christ's sake, my foul mouth and penchant for porn are only amusing in small doses.

I shift in the back seat of the chauffeured van, putting an inch between Xavier and my body. Staring out the window, I close my eyes and let the comments run through my head once more.

I peak at Xavier from the corner of my eye and try looking at him objectively.

All the hair should turn me off, I've never dug long hair or beards, but it doesn't. His strong jaw and defined cheekbones carry the look well.

I used to make fun of idiots who tattooed their faces, and while his tattoos swirl at the shaved sides of his head, they should be close enough to make me think they're stupid—but they don't.

I can't use his large build against him. I'm a big girl, so a big guy just makes sense. The difference with Xavier is he's not just big, he's muscular big. Like bulked-up, rolling, sinewy muscle with a flat stomach. But there's no intimidating six pack or that crazy V bullshit that, while hot, is equally threatening to a woman of my size. I've never seen one of my stomach muscles, so seeing all of them on a guy I want to get naked with…yeah, it kills my confidence.

Then, there are his thick thighs, which feel absolutely amazing between mine.

Wrap all this up in a mature rock star persona, who also borderline matches my humor, and I'm…

Internally groaning, I flit my eyes back to the window.

I'm so fucked.

This man turns me upside down, makes me feel like the only woman in the room, and sees through me. He shouldn't be with me, but he'll never let me push him away.

Closing my eyes again, it's not the comments that invade my thoughts. It's the memory of his words—words he spoke like he didn't give a fuck who was in the room or heard him.

What the hell do I do with this, with him?

I jump when his hand lands on my thigh.

"Get out of that messed up head of yours," he says, nodding toward the window.

Busted. Damn him!

"We're here." He releases my leg.

Realizing the van has stopped, I peer out the window and see my building.

"We're going to the zoo tomorrow," Liza says as I climb out. "I'll call you in the morning to see if you want to go."

"Okay." I force a smile and give her a thumbs up.

Her eyes lined with worry, she mouths, "Call me," as the driver closes the door.

I give a wave and watch my cousin and her family disappear down the street.

"You going to share what's got you so wound tight?" Xavier asks, putting an arm around my shoulders and guiding me into the building.

"Nope," I answer, moving out from under his arm and hurrying up the stairs.

He doesn't linger, keeping up with me.

Inside my apartment, I drop my bag and keys on the table just inside my door.

"Sid?" His fingers graze my arm.

"Yeah?" I step away from the touch, moving to my computer desk and sitting down.

"I didn't mean to freak you out," he blurts.

"You didn't," I lie, keeping my eyes on the monitor.

He growls, but I ignore that too.

Bringing up my budgeting spreadsheet, I review sales figures and expenses. There isn't really anything for me to review, but I need space—and space is the one thing he doesn't understand.

His body fills my peripheral and his hand lands on the arm of my chair.

"I need you not to do that," I say, my voice robotic.

He stills, his fingers still on the chair.

"I know you don't get it, but I'm used to being alone, having space."

I keep my eyes on the monitor and suck my bottom lip into my mouth, hoping it will keep the tears at bay. There are too many feelings—too much him. The comments, the photo, the familiarity, and his words.

My fingers fly across my keyboard, calling up customer service and logistics reports. I don't see anything, just the flow of opening and closing documents, the keys beneath my fingers the only thing centering my emotions.

His hand slips from the chair before he walks away.

His footsteps echo down my small hallway and silence when he enters another room.

Stilling my fingers, I glance at the hall, press my lips together tightly, and allow one tear to escape. I'm pushing him away and even knowing it, I can't find the will to stop.

Maybe it's for the best.

Xavier

Everything inside me wants to grab her, shake her, and then kiss her until it's all better. Deep down, I can feel it's more than just the photo. There's something going on in her head making her shut down, and every time she pushes me away it hurts.

It hurts because no one likes to be shoved to the side and it's worse when it's someone you care about.

I snort, raising my head and look at myself in her bathroom mirror.

"Who the fuck are you kidding?" I mumble quietly. "You fucking love her."

Love her enough to give her the space she needs.

I pull my hair back and secure it at the crown of my head. After splashing cold water on my face, I leave the bathroom and make my way back to the living room.

Sid doesn't glance my way or take notice when I sit on her couch. Instead, she keeps busy with the computer.

Pulling out my phone, I look at the picture one more time.

Fuck. That moment was so poignant.

Her making one of her attempts to run from things, from us.

The way my hands hold her head, our bodies pressed into each other, and her hands…her hands.

Why didn't I see it before?

Sid's hands fist the cotton at my sides, causing the shirt to ride up. But it's the way the material stretches across my lower back that draws me now. It's so taut, I'm surprised it didn't rip up the back. And it's so tight because she's pulling me into her, not pushing away.

A smile splits my face and I save the photo to my phone before exiting to my contacts. Pressing Lyra's information, I settle on calling my girls and letting Sid have her space. But she won't get it for long—she wants me as much as I want her.

After my calls with the girls, Maria, and my sister, I drop my cell on Sid's coffee table and wander around her space. Coming to a glass case, I lean forward and focus on what she has inside.

"You have Chewbacca's autographed picture?" I look at her over my shoulder.

Her head peeks around her computer.

"I realize you might be related, but don't touch it. It's a collectible," she warns.

Shaking my head, I squat and look at the next shelf.

"Are these—?"

"Avenger dildos, yes," she answers, closer than before.

Twisting my body, I find her standing a foot behind me, eyebrow raised.

"You have Avenger dildos," I say, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that they make these, let alone her owning them.

"They were a gift," she says on a heavy exhale.

"From who?" It's not jealousy, really it's not. I just need to know who the hell would give someone this as a serious gift.

"Believe it or not, I have friends," she deadpans.

"But…" I can only point to the shelf.

"You grew up with people videotaping other people fucking. Don't judge me."

"I'm not. Just curious," I say, putting my hands up.

Turning back to the case, I tilt my head and look at the bottom shelf.

"Really?" I groan.

"Hey, she was in my life before you," Sid states.

"Should I be more grossed out by the fact that you have a shelf dedicated to my mother?" I ask, pushing up to my feet.

She shrugs. "I don't see why. Hasn't anyone ever been a fan of your mother? I mean, you had to have come across—"

"Guys," I interrupt, "not women."

"Really?" Her nose wrinkles and she tilts her head.

"Really."

"That's weird. You obviously don't know the right women," she tells me before turning and heading back to her desk.

Reaching out, I grab her arm.

"Uh-uh, you had your space, now I'm invading."

I pull her close, wrap my arms around her, bury my face in her neck, and inhale.

"Are you sniffing me?"

"Best summer day," I repeat what I said to her tonight.

It's a risk, but it pays off.

She twists in my arms, grabs my neck in both her hands, and pulls my face down to hers.

"I hate you," she growls before attacking me.

The past two days have been great. The day following dinner with her parents, we joined Liza, Jackson, and the boys at the zoo. I'm pretty sure the trip was more for Liza than the boys. Thankfully, the weather was spring-like. Well, being a California boy, Pennsylvania spring still put me in a heavy coat. The next day we spent in her apartment, watching TV, ordering delivery, and fucking wherever we were when the mood struck. Floor, couch, kitchen, shower, computer desk, wall—you name a spot in her apartment and some sort of sex occurred there. And if not, I'll make a fucking note of the places for next time.

Now, after all our amazing alone time and three phone calls from Red—one trying to convince Sid to fly to Philly—we are packing everything for the drive to Philadelphia.

"You have a car, but you aren't taking it?"

"Yes," she snaps. "Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I assumed you'd take your car."