Erin McCarthy - Believe

“Dude.” Tyler nodded in approval. “That is killer. You draw that?”

“Yep.”

“OMG!” Kylie screamed. “Robin, that’s you!”

Robin laughed. “I know. It would be pretty awkward if it was someone else.”

I snorted. “Cute.”

Riley shook his head. “You’ve screwed us all, man. Now they’re all going to expect portraits.”

“I’m not tattooing your girlfriend’s face on my body,” I told him, expression deadpan.

Riley laughed and gave me a slap on the back. Hard. “When did you become such a comedian?”

“That’s Robin?” Jayden asked, bending over to take a closer look. “I thought it was Selena Gomez.”

Jessica shot pop out of her nose and started choking as she laughed.

“Christ, you’re killing me,” I said, holding my side. Damn, laughing made my tight skin pull even harder.

But there was no way not to laugh.

“I do not look like Selena Gomez!” Robin said, giggling.

“It’s a compliment,” Rory told her. “She’s very pretty.”

“Muy caliente.” Robin grinned. “And that, my friends, is sadly the bulk of my Spanish. Oh, and feliz cumpleaños.”

“Gracias,” I said. “But I think you’re way hotter.”

“Don’t tell me you know Spanish.”

“A little. I took it in high school.”

Robin laughed. “You’re probably better at it than I am. It’s my personal failing.”

Cutting another piece of cake, I bit it. “Cosita, we all have plenty of those.” I held the cake square in the air like it was a glass. “Here’s to another birthday above ground.”

“Cheers,” Robin said with her Diet Coke.

When I was a kid, birthday parties followed the same pattern—lots of food, lots of people, lots of inexpensive presents, a massive cake, and running around the yard like we were filming a remake of Lord of the Flies. There was a lack of parental supervision and an excess of sugar. They were perfect afternoons, and the only thing that changed from year to year was the decoration on the cake. My mother didn’t go in for big themes or extravagant luaus or bowling parties or water parks. She thought spending hundreds of dollars on a kid’s party was beyond their budget and created unreasonable expectations for the next year.

I never missed having a bounce house or pony rides. Birthdays were about the joy of running wild and tearing off wrapping paper and the added bonus of accidentally nailing my brother with the piñata stick. It worked for me.

Which was why I was relieved when Jessica broke the ice at Phoenix’s party by swiping some of his cake. He had been so painfully uncomfortable opening his gifts that I had known I had messed up. I should have warned him about the party. He wasn’t the kind of guy you sprung a surprise on, as was obvious when he attacked Riley thinking he was a burglar.

Whoops.

But once he had relaxed, I thought he’d had fun, and now we were alone in my room, sitting on the bed, and he was opening the other presents I’d gotten him, the shirts and the shoes.

With his back against the wall, he held everything up and studied it, and he looked genuinely pleased. “I don’t know how to say thank you,” he said. “This is . . . everything was . . .”

“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re welcome.”

“How is your tattoo feeling?” he asked, turning my wrist.

“It’s fine. It stings a little, but it’s so small, it feels like a bee sting, that’s all. Everyone thought it was cute. The real question is, how is yours?”

“It’s fine.” Phoenix slouched, the new shoes propped next to his feet, a Rolling Stones T-shirt lying on his chest. He puckered his lips at me, asking for a kiss.

He was so damn cute, how could I resist that?

But I did. “I have one more surprise.” I stood up.

“God, are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked with a laugh. “I might wind up assaulting someone else.”

“If you assault anyone other than me in the next half an hour I’m going to be very upset,” I said, and then before I lost my nerve, I peeled my dress off over my head and let it drop to the floor.

His jaw dropped, and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Holy fuck . . .”

That was a good response, one that made me feel slightly less self conscious about standing in front of him in a completely see-through bra and thong. They basically didn’t even need to exist, that’s how much coverage there was. It was pretty much just red netting, the kind they wrap mints in at weddings. I had also gotten a bikini wax for the first time in six months, and I felt sexy. Slightly unsure what to do with my hands, but sexy at the same time. No vodka required.

Phoenix set his gifts on the nightstand and sat up straighter. “What happens next?”

“Naked enthusiasm.” I tapped my phone on the nightstand, and it started playing music off the sexy-times playlist I had created. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bed in front of me?”

Phoenix crawled across the bed without further encouragement, his jeans sliding down his hips, hair in his eyes. The muscles of his shoulders rippled, and I sucked in a breath, no longer self-conscious. I was just hot for him. Very, very hot for him. When he was facing me, legs spread, palms flat on the bed, his gaze smoldering and sexy, I started to move, dancing slowly. Not like I did in a club, not with a manic bouncy energy, but just a slow, sensual swaying, lifting my hands into my hair to pull it back off my face.

Turning, I watched him over my shoulder, personally aroused and proud of myself, feeling together, happy, whole. I owed him that, for thinking I was beautiful when I was broken, hair dirty, clothes haphazard. Ironic how people would look at him and assume dysfunction, when I was the one who had needed him.

His lips parted, and his eyes dropped down to my ass. “Am I allowed to touch?”

“No.” Slowly, I finished the rotation and climbed onto his lap where I gyrated, making sure he got plenty of cleavage in his face. But I wasn’t quite as confident in that position that I wouldn’t fall on the floor, so instead I shoved him onto his back to gain better leverage.

“I think I’m about to become a man,” he murmured.

That made me smile as I spread my hips and kissed my way down his chest, flicking my tongue over his nipples. He was plenty of man long before he met me. Sitting back up, I slowly undid my bra and peeled it off, tossing it to the side. I had him pinned as I straddled him, and I pushed my hair back again, enjoying the feel of power over him. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes were heavy with lust.

My original thought had been to go down on him but given the position I was in and how inconsequential the thong was, I decided to go with what was right for the moment. Shifting the scrap of fabric to the side and rising up a little, I realigned our bodies so that I sank down onto him, clamping his thighs with mine, free hand gripping his chest. Phoenix gave a low moan, his eyes rolling back. I felt a moment of pure feminine satisfaction that I had done that.

As I started to move, I asked, “Is the kind of lap dance you had in mind?”

“Even better.” Phoenix held onto my hips and pumped up into me. “And all I have to say is happy fucking birthday to me.”

I would have laughed except I was too busy having an orgasm.

Maybe his party had been a success after all.

“Girls’ Night!” Kylie shouted as she ran up the stairs a week later, shaking a bottle of vodka in the air. “Let’s go, bitches!”

She was wearing short shorts and wedges and a stretchy top that stopped just below her bra. Jessica was similarly dressed, though she wasn’t showing as much skin. Rory was sitting on the couch in a floral dress with her leg crossed, foot bouncing up and down. I was wearing a sundress and cowboy boots because that felt right, comfortable to me. Going out to a club was a huge step for me. I had no intention of drinking, no desire to, nor did I want to sex it up. I just wanted to go and dance and have fun with my friends.

“Who is in for a shot before we go?” She had Dixie cups in her other hand, her gold bracelets rattling as she spread the cups on the coffee table. “Robin, I didn’t bring a cup for you because I didn’t think you’d want one.”

“I don’t. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, I already did your shot.” She winked at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh. That was so Kylie. “But you know what, I’m going to do a shot of Diet Coke with you guys.” I went down the hall to the bathroom and got another cup and poured some of my soft drink into it as Kylie poured out the shots. I didn’t want to be totally left out. It was stupid, like why did it matter? But I still wanted to have that camaraderie, that connection.

So I raised my cup along with theirs and drank it like it was alcohol. It certainly burned a lot less going down. And I didn’t have that same reckless, fist-pumping, let’s-get-fucked-up feeling surging through me.

We all set our cups back down.

“Whose phone is blowing up?” Jessica bent over and glanced at the screen.

I realized it was my phone. “Oh, it’s probably Phoenix. He’s getting off work right now.”

“It’s Nathan,” Jessica said with a puzzled laugh. “Why is Nathan texting you?”

And just like that my face went hot and my entire world came shattering down around me.

“What?” I asked, with a weird little laugh that didn’t sound normal. I knew it didn’t sound normal. Neither was my grab for my phone. “Why would Nathan text me?”

But the phone was already in Jessica’s hand and Kylie took it from her, giving a confused laugh. “Did he text you by accident? God, are those guys trashed already? It’s not even ten yet!”