The Best Kind of Forever (Riverside Reapers #1)

by Celeste Briars

“Maybe you should slow down,” a voice says from behind me. I don’t register that the warning is aimed at me until an awkward bout of silence passes. Judging by the bass of the tone, the voice belongs to a male—one whose presence I can feel hovering behind me. The voice is thick, like crushed velvet, and it has a honeyed undertone to it. But as pleasant as it might be to listen to, the advice is unwelcome. “Did you know it’s rude to stick your nose in other people’s business?”

“Don’t worry, nobody’s watching your selfless act of kindness. You don’t need to pretend to care.” “Who said anything about pretending?” I hate the way my curiosity betrays me, because hook, line, and sinker, that gets me to turn right toward him.

He’s a disturbingly attractive man—the kind of attractive you only see on billboards or movie screens. He looks to be about six foot three, and just going off the wideness of his shoulders, there’s no question in hell that he’d be able to throw me across the room like a ragdoll right now if he wanted to. His eyes are blue and enticing, like the undercurrents of a churning sea.

This man is freakishly attractive, but I’m sure he doesn’t need me to tell him that. “You’re not hideously ugly, but don’t get a big head, alright?” I grumble. “Oh, there’s plenty about me that’s big besides my head.” As if on cue, my eyes slide down to his crotch, and then I immediately avert my gaze. My nervousness elicits a laugh from him, one that has his shoulders shaking and his voice thick with gravel.

“Why would you make me nervous?” His eyes roam over my pallor, which is beaded with sweat. “Because you’re warm,” he notes. He redirects his attention to the pulse pounding in my neck. “Because your heart’s racing.” I try to evade his gaze, feeling a little too picked apart under this stranger’s microscope, but the action itself only incriminates me. “And because you refuse to look at me.” Willing my blush to fade, I force myself to make eye contact with him. “Maybe I just don’t like you.” “I know I should feel emasculated, but that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Don’t know if I believe that, but I’ll play along. “Masochist much?” I joke. “No. But with you, absolutely.”

“I wish it was as simple as boy problems.” My knight in shining armor casts me an easygoing grin. “Does this mean you don’t have a boyfriend?” He guns me down with a look that has my lungs decompressing all the air out of my body, and I swallow the leftover alcohol greasing my throat.

I didn’t mean to unnerve her, but I couldn’t stop staring at her body. She had curves in all the right places. Her cleavage was spilling out of her small top—one that I admired with a half-lidded gaze—and the hem of it ended just above her navel, where a sliver of tantalizing stomach extended into the waistband of her jeans. Did I mention she has a belly button piercing?

“What’s your name?” I ask, not wanting to let my arms fall away, not wanting to stop touching her. I gamble with myself and decide to keep a light hand pressed to the small of her back for some extra support. “Aer,” she replies, a slight tremor to her vocal cords, one I’m hoping is from the cold and not my presence. “Air?” I ask, making a stupid motion with my hands. “Like, O2?” A laugh breaks free from her throat, and although it’s at my expense, I can’t help but love the way it sounds. Hoarse and full, melodic even. “Aer,” she corrects, dragging her tongue across her teeth. “Short for Aeris.”

Fascination dances in her caramelized eyes, and she hiccups, lolling her head against my sternum. Her six-inch heels give her some height, but without them, I’d guess she’d hit somewhere beneath my pectorals.

“Okay, stay with me, Aeris. Just a little farther.” A lazy smile steals purchase over her mouth, and the tension stacked in her body melts a little. “Mmm. I like that.” “Like what?” I humor her. “How you say my name.” I stop in my tracks. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she gets all my wires crossed.

“You’re adorable when you blush, you know that?” A flirtatious lilt skirts along his tone. Of course his comment makes me blush even harder.

As much as I want to let Hayes in, I can’t. I don’t think I’d survive another person abandoning me. First my brother, and then Wilder. The two people I loved most at one point in my life. I hate love. I didn’t used to, but I do now.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” he chastises, startling me when he reaches out to hold my hand. The raised scars on his palm send a lance of electricity through my arm, but I don’t pull away. This is the closest I’ve been to him, so I take advantage of the proximity. Through a sleepy gaze, I memorize every part of him—his ambrosial cologne, his well-defined dimples, the forefront curl in his blond hair,

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt out, and the minute those words windmill out of me, I want to slap a return to sender sticker on them. Great. Good going, Aeris. His seafoam irises turn a deeper shade as he ponders me, spotlighting the veins of gold branching out from his pupils. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” he inquires. I slam my lips together, withdrawing my arm from his grasp. “Because you don’t know me.” “What’s your last name?” he asks, his voice sporting a warmth that’s enough to rid the goose bumps on my arms. “Relera. Why?” “I’m getting to know you, Aeris. Plus, I need to know the name of the beautiful girl who let me escort her home.” That line shouldn’t have worked on me…but it did. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

“Look, Hayes, you don’t have to do this. I’m not asking you to talk with me. I can be…a lot…sometimes.” Ah, and the waterworks are right on time. Despondency wades through my bloodstream, subsequently siphoning all the air out of my lungs. My chest feels tight, my breath is bated, and tears swipe at the backs of my eyes. “I know. I want to,” Hayes counters. “And I don’t scare easily.” You should, I say to myself. But instead, all I offer him is a watery smile.

Finally, after what seems like a millennium, my voice cracks when it tastes the air. “You should probably get going after your clothes dry. I wouldn’t want to keep you.” Disappointment flashes across his features like a broken roll of film. “Right,” he agrees, though his mouth falls into a hard line. “Right.” The truth is, I don’t want Hayes to leave. I don’t want to be alone. Hayes is the first person since my brother’s death who’s made life feel a little less hopeless. But as much as I wouldn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, listening to the soft patter of his heart, I’m never going to allow myself to feel that vulnerable ever again.

Confusion claws at my chest. “I don’t remember having this much food in the house,” I comment, a little notch forming between my brows. I try to keep the cabinets empty to refrain from the temptation. “You didn’t. I went grocery shopping.” “You went grocery shopping?” He nods his head. “I’ve had my fair share of bad hangovers, and you seemed like you could use some cheering up.” “You didn’t have to do anything for me,” I insist, shaking my head. Hayes plies me with a disarming grin, one that births a firestorm inside of me. A cloying warmth leaps to life in my heart, maintaining a fuzzy circulation in my veins. “I wanted to.” My cheeks flush, and I struggle to suck in a single atom of oxygen. “I…” I don’t know what to say. I wish he hadn’t done any of this. If I’m around this much food, I can’t control my intake.

He stares at me. I stare back at him. “You’re staring,” I point out. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” I—huh? I’ve never heard those words from anyone in my entire life, at least not in the romantic sense.

Hayes is up and out of his seat, and in two quick strides, he’s standing right next to me. The sight of him hits me like a freight train, and it urges me up from my chair. His calloused hand ghosts over the contour of my cheek. “Can I kiss you?” I’m so close to him that I can see the disproportionate reflection of myself in his pupils, can smell the sweet aftertaste of chocolate on his breath, can feel the heat radiating off his body in tidal waves. This doesn’t feel real. His eyes travel over my lips, conduits of anxiety zinging through every inch of me. I accept his invitation with a wordless confirmation, rising to my tiptoes and twining my arms behind his neck, slowly leaning in.

A melting pot of colors breaks through me when our lips acquaint themselves with each other, and I inhale him like the weight of the world has suddenly lifted off my shoulders. He tastes like a warm afternoon, and I’m afraid that if I risk a glance away, he’ll fade into the backdrop of my imagination.

A growl rumbles in the back of his throat, and he clamps his hands down on my waist, pulling me into him. I flaunt my clavicle to him, mewling when his lips leech on to the bone. He pulls the thin skin between his teeth, sucking, gnawing, then soothing the purpling bite mark with a lap of his tongue. Tiny aftershocks quiver through my body from the blast of his touch. “I…want…” “What do you want, Aeris?” Hayes teases, stroking his hand up my stomach, and I try to suppress the shame and discomfort that comes from him touching the most insecure part of me. “I—” I’m interrupted by the blaring ring of Hayes’ phone.

Fulton and Gage, the rookies of the team, come barreling over to the group, sweaty in the face and panting like a couple of dogs. Gage’s lips gather into a sly grin. “Who are we talking shit about? Is it Micah? I hate that fucking guy. Always leaves his nasty ass gear all over the floor when he’s taking it off. And the dude never showers. Like ever.” “Aw, I like Micah,” Fulton says.

“Did you get your dick sucked?” Kit pipes up, his tongue playing along his bottom lip. Disgust contorts my features. “Did I get my—no, I didn’t get my dick sucked. And why is that your question for everything I do?” Kit shrugs. “I’m just trying to look out for you and your very sad sex life.”

Our group consists of Bristol Brenner, center; me, right-winger; Fulton Cazzarelli, left-winger; Casen Strader, right defenseman; Kit Langley, left defenseman; and Gage Arlington, our goalie. Bristol Brenner is my best friend, my wingman, and most importantly, the guy I can rely on for anything. He’s my emergency contact whenever I need a quick getaway from a one-night stand gone wrong, or for when I get shit-faced and need a ride at two in the morning because I got into a scuffle at a local watering hole.

Bristol is way more put together than I am. He’s a year older than me, and one of the best forwards the Riverside Reapers has ever seen. We’ve actually been friends since third grade, and it was just luck that we got drafted to the same team.

Fulton Cazzarelli is the baby of the group. He’s two years younger than me, and he’s a rookie. We all joke that he’s like a golden retriever: overly friendly, innocent, eats food off the floor. He always wants to know what everyone’s up to, and more often than not, he usually has no idea what’s going on. But that apparently does it for a bunch of chicks—the whole clueless, boy-next-door vibe.

Gage Arlington is his partner in crime. He’s more extroverted, more irresponsible, and the only other person besides me willing to break the law for fun. He’s definitely the trickster of the group, and he’s oftentimes sticking his nose into business that doesn’t concern him. You couldn’t keep a secret from him if you tried.

And finally, there’s Kit Langley. Kit lived in Brazil with his family before coming over to the United States. He’s a trust fund baby, and he played for UMich before getting drafted to the team. I have this theory that Kit’s one of those kids who peaked in high school, but his brain n...

Everyone bursts into a hurricane of frenzied euphoria. Even Lila is at the edge of her seat. She’s all endearment and enthusiasm, the two folding into one another on the canvas of her face. When the camera pans to the first scorer of the evening, my heart sinks into the soles of my shoes, and every contradictory emotion crashes into me like waves against a rocky outcrop. There, definitely not in a full-body cast from a life-threatening car accident, is Hayes, giving the spectators a smirk that spells disaster. No. Fucking. Way.

I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to look up before I suffer a face-smashing courtesy of The Incredible Hulk, and my eyes gridlock with a pair of mocha-colored ones that I would recognize anywhere. “Aeris?”

Just ask her out, dumbass. What’s the worst thing she could say? This feeling is foreign to me…this nervousness. I only get nervous before a game. I don’t get nervous around women. I continue to hold her in my arms, and I will my words to shoot out of me and construct themselves into a sentence. “I wanted to ask you out. Properly. On a date,” I mumble against the crown of her head. Aeris pulls back slightly, moistening her bottom lip. God, what I wouldn’t give to have her tongue in my mouth again right now, tracing the inside of my cheek, running along the blunt edges of my teeth. I remember how life-changing that kiss was. Hell, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. “A date?” “A date,” I repeat confidently. “You. Me. Maybe some hand-holding.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” she finishes. Oh, thank God. I hold her face in my hands, brushing my nose with hers, my parted lips mere inches away from slanting over her pretty mouth. Our breaths mingle, and I can smell the mintiness on her tongue, like she’d popped a piece of gum halfway through the game. I want to kiss her. And judging by the heavy pants racking her chest, I know she wants this just as badly as I do. But my self-restraint must be at an all-time high because I don’t kiss her. I pull away the minute she leans in, and it’s not because I want to be a tease. It’s because I’m afraid what will happen if I lose myself in her. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

Hayes hazards a look at me, and his cheeks go so warm they could give Arizona heat a run for its money. “You look beautiful,” he says, a dimple developing at the corner of his lips. There’s a rustling coming from his hands, and that’s when I take in the bouquet of flowers he’s brought me. No guy has ever given me flowers. Wilder certainly never did, not even on our anniversary or Valentine’s Day. “You brought me flowers?” I gasp, taking them from him and inhaling deeply. He went with some classic red roses. They’re stunning, and the gesture releases butterflies to reside in my belly. “You like them? I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and I didn’t want to ask you because it would ruin the surprise.” I blush something fierce. “They’re perfect.”

I lean over the sink, cutting the stems at an angle. “Dog person?” “Cat person,” he corrects. Oh, wow. Did it just get hot in here?

“Wow. He sounds incredible. I wish I could’ve met him.” I wish you could’ve too. I grapple for anything to respond with, but all my words get lost in translation, slowly blinking out of existence.

I don’t even notice that the waiter’s left because I’m so enraptured by Hayes’ burger. He pushes it toward me. “Do you want some?” Three hundred fifty-four calories. If I eat that, I’m gaining at least a pound. You’re disgusting, Aeris. Did you see how pretty those women were that Hayes was with? They’re in perfect shape. They’re models. They get paid for being beautiful. And look at Hayes. He’s brawny and packed with muscle. He can afford to eat a burger. You can’t. My face heats up at the fact that he caught me ogling. “No, that’s okay,” I dismiss, trying to ignore the angry grumbles of my belly. I haven’t had hunger pains this bad in a while. Everything burns, and it feels like my gut is trying to eat itself.

As I continue to chew happily, I don’t realize that Hayes is still staring at me. I blink my eyes open and immediately put the burger down, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “Sorry.” A lopsided smile pushes his cheeks back. “Don’t be. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” I don’t remember the last time I was this happy, but it’s not because of the burger. It’s because of Hayes. His kindness, his attentiveness, his understanding. He’s made me happier this past week than Wilder ever made me in two years.

My pulse and heart are in a head-to-head race. “Thank you. For lunch. I know you’re probably busy.” He shakes his head. “I should be the one thanking you for agreeing to it.” “I don’t follow…” “Someone as gorgeous as you agreeing to a date with me? You bet I’m clearing my schedule for the entire day to be with you.”

“Dance with me.” It’s not a request. My voice is clotted with surprise. “What?” Hayes extends his arm out to me, giving me a not-so-graceful bow. It looks wonky considering his towering height, but it manages to make me chuckle all the same. Panic fleets across my reddening face. “I…don’t know how to dance.” It’s true. It’s not an excuse. The first time I danced with someone was my freshman winter formal, and my date had a bruised toenail that ended up falling off because I’d stepped on his feet so many times. Hayes makes a pshaw sound. “Everyone can dance.”

Fulton drags a French fry through a dollop of ketchup, popping it into his mouth. “I’d pull out all the stops if I were you. Maybe read How to Woo a Girl in Ten Days.” I want to laugh, but that’s the first helpful idea anyone’s given me. “Is that a real book?” “Yeah, and why are you reading it?” Casen asks, squinting suspiciously. Fulton goes to open his mouth, but Gage beats him to it. “Because he’s in love with the barista who makes him a latte foam heart every time he goes to Deja Brew!” Gage yells, erecting stares from some of the people around us. Fulton smacks Gage on the arm so hard he winces. “That wasn’t a secret to share with the class,” he hisses through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at him.

When she doesn’t open the door right away, I knock continuously until a meow sounds from the other side, then I’m hit with a pall of warm air. There, standing in front of me, is a sight that I’ll never tire of seeing. Aeris, at that five-foot-one height of hers, looking up at me like I hold all the answers to the world. This time, though, she has her hair in a messy bun and a tiny, cotton pajama set on.

I shake my head, swallowing the boulder in my throat. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out.” There’s a red rim around her puffy eyes, and her cheeks look flushed. Has she been crying? Did I make her cry? I’m a fucking asshole. She bites down on her lip, not pulling away until it’s a shade darker. “It’s okay,” she squeaks unconvincingly, opening the door wider so I can come in.

“I’m so sorry for disappearing on you like that.” “It’s okay, Hayes.” A grenade the size of Texas spirals toward my chest. “It’s not okay, Aeris. I should’ve communicated to you how I was feeling. And the night of our date…that’s not how I wanted to end things.” She walks over to the couch and pats the spot next to her. I follow her like a puppy with its tail between its legs. “It’s not?” She fidgets with the hem of her tank top. Her fingernails are short and slightly bloody, like she’s been chewing them to the quick. “Not even close. I wanted to keep kissing you,” I immediately blurt out. “You did?” “So badly.”

“I thought I did something wrong.” My heart flexes. “God, no. I’m sorry if it sounded that way.” Aeris could never do anything wrong. Ever. “I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, okay? I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’m not planning on going anywhere,” I whisper, moving my hand to caress her cheek, wiping away the leftover water lingering beneath her eye.

“Lick whipped cream off the person sitting next to you. Anywhere below the neck,” I recite, my pulse hiccupping, mortification a missile aimed directly at me. I consider the potential outcomes. One, and the most reasonable option, is that I drink and don’t subject myself to this twisted game. Two, I pick Bristol, and things become really awkward. Or three—and my favorite option—I pick Hayes. Gage’s mouth parts into an O shape, same with Kit’s.

“If she wants to do it, I’ll be her willing participant.” I’m as quiet as a church mouse when I nod my head. I blink, and there’s a can of whipped cream in my hand, and Hayes’ shirt has already been discarded. Oh, how I’ve missed staring at those magnificent muscles of his—from the glistening bulge of his pectorals to the clean-cut ridges winding through his abs. Hayes Hollings is ruination, and he wears sin like the snug fit of a leather jacket around his shoulders.

Kit fans himself. “Wow, that was…” “Damn, is anyone else hot in here?” Gage teases. Hayes’ pupils seem to swallow his irises, a hungry gleam to them. The rest of the guys have already moved on to Fulton’s dare. I rise to my feet, ready to reoccupy my spot next to Hayes, but he grabs my wrist and stops me. “Sit on my lap,” he orders, his tone rife with urgency. Before I have the chance to protest, he yanks me onto his thighs, and the force evokes a surprised yip from me. “What—” His lips play along the shell of my ear, and his breath fires off electrical impulses in my brain. “Don’t move, or the guys are going to see the raging hard-on I have right now, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Gold leaves dangle from her ears, and a matching necklace disappears into the cleft of her breasts. “Oh, God. Do I look okay?” she asks, setting her purse on the car floor. “You look amazing.” She releases the tension in her shoulders, and a larger-than-life smile skims over her peachy lips. “Thank you.”

Thanks to a lot of “Carpool Karaoke” with Faye, I can make out the starting notes of Taylor Swift’s “Enchanted.” It must be one of Aeris’ favorite songs, because she immediately turns up the volume. “I love this song!” she shouts over the music, bobbing her head to the rhythm, dancing against the confines of her seatbelt. She looks so happy, so carefree. She’s lip-syncing along, her mouth wide open, her teeth glistening from the apricot streaks of sunlight splicing through the window. She’s a work of moving art, and I’ll forever be in awe of her.

“Oh, um…” She hesitates, scrunching her nose like she’s thinking extra hard. “I refuse to eat the orange Skittles because they taste the worst. I have an irrational fear of mascots. My favorite color is green, but specifically forest green. I cheated one time on a math test in high school, and I still have nightmares about it. I secretly love reality television. And…I think that crocheted bucket hats are the best fashion trend to have ever existed.” I can’t help but laugh, because that was the most Aeris answer to come out of her mouth. “That explains a lot.” “Explains what?” “How weird you are.”