The Invisibles: Let Me Go Part 3

Taking another bite of my sandwich, "you should," I agree before chewing.

"Robbie, don't talk with your mouth full," she chastises and I roll my eyes, bringing a laugh out of her. "What about you? Tell me something good."

Brown bouncy curls and pajama pants rush to my mind immediately, but I'm not sure I'm ready to share her with my mom yet. I know she'd be excited and probably a little too hopeful. I'm not even sure why because Paige will be a good f.u.c.k, but I have to remind myself that's it. I like my heart cold because with warmth it morphs too similar to gla.s.s which makes it too easy to shatter again. I made the mistake of bringing Jessa home, and then when she got too close and my feelings became too real, I threw her away. It was embarra.s.sing having to dodge my mom's questions about Jessa and what happened for several months. Because Jessa deserved better than what I ever gave her. I now know I have to be positive the next girl is a sure thing before my mom's already scorned heart becomes invested. "Um . . . I won my race last week. One thousand big ones in my pocket."

Disappointment roots in her face. "Robbie, I know you won't listen to me, but be careful."

"I will-I am." My a.s.surance appeases her for now.

"I'm glad that you have a good in your life though." She sips her iced tea. I'm sure she remembers the days when only darkness filled both of our lives.

Me too.

I GRAB THE remote off the table to up the volume on the television to mask Chrissy's moans of pleasure upstairs. Doesn't the girl know how to be quiet? As if he has the keen nose of a dog, and can sniff out s.e.x, Rob intrudes in on my solace and plops down on the armchair next to the couch. I peer over to him and then focus back to the Hotel Rescue show.

"This is right up your alley, huh?" He extends his legs out to the coffee table and crosses his ankles.

Propping up on my elbow, I rest my head in my palm. "Yeah, I love this guy." I point to the bald, no-nonsense guy that's in charge of the renovation.

"I've never seen this one." He inches closer to hear.

"s.h.i.+t, again? I swear those two never give it a rest." He comes over, s.n.a.t.c.hes the remote and then picks up my legs, eliciting a flutter in my belly and sits down.

After he positions my legs back over his lap, he turns up the volume. His eyes never veer my way. It's comfortable and intimate the way we're sitting. Knowing he's probably trying to warm me up to his bed, especially hearing Chrissy's cries for more to Dex upstairs, I begin to scoot up. His hand clamps down on my legs, halting my movement. "Friends, right?" He winks and those blue eyes are so crystal clear, you can't miss the torment that swims in them.

"Yeah," I mumble and relax into the couch. I try to concentrate on the television. How the owners have neglected their property and Mr. Bald man fights to fix it, but all I can focus on is Rob's thumb ma.s.saging mindless circles on my calf. His caressing is nice and gentle, as though he's perfectly content and doesn't realize he's even doing it.

Ten minutes later, Dex barrels down the stairs with basketball shorts on and a bare chest. He's muscular, bulky, and tattooed. Good-looking for sure, but not my type. I prefer the lean muscle, like the guy whose fingertips are giving me goose b.u.mps right now. When he stops in the doorway, I chance a glance toward Rob. His relaxed muscles still defined with his T-s.h.i.+rt tight along his biceps. He's my type and G.o.d would I love to screw him, but there's no way I'll set myself up for failure. Guys like Rob only stay interested until you give them what they want.

"What are you two doing?" Dex asks, bringing me back to the present.

"What does it look like?" Rob's hand never stops the motion on my calf and when I attempt to slide my legs out, he grips them tighter to keep them in place.

"Looks like you're about to p.i.s.s Chrissy off." His eyebrows arch. "I just thoroughly fulfilled her every wish, so I'd like it to stay that way for awhile." His fingertips grip the frame of the door and his body leans into the room. His muscles are impressive; I'm not going to lie.

"Obviously, if she's not in complete exhaustion on your bed and unable to get up, you didn't do too good of a job." Dex shakes his head and then steps into the room and picks up a pillow from the chair, throwing it at Rob's head.

The two of them chuckle and then Dex struts into the kitchen. "Hey, grab me a beer," Rob calls out and then spins in my direction. "Do you want anything?"

"Sure . . . a beer." I figure with no cla.s.ses tomorrow, I'll indulge.

"Paige, too."

Dex comes back in with the beers in his hand. "Thanks." Then he departs the room just as quickly, running back up the stairs.

"You invested in this show?" Rob asks and I face him, knowing an idea is swarming in his brain as he moves to sit up.

"No, why?" I cautiously ask, fearing I'm setting myself up for a s.e.xual advance.

"You want to play a little rummy?"

"You mean a card game?" I clarify because I didn't peg Rob as a guy who lounged around on a Sat.u.r.day night, playing cards.

"Yeah. Do you know how to play?"

"I do, but I guess-never mind. Sure." My legs slide out from his calloused palms and he never moves until my feet clear his body. He's stepping up his game and from the heat between my legs, it's working.

Rob flicks off the television, digging into a drawer and then we venture to the kitchen. He shuffles the cards and I grab a piece of paper and pen from our junk drawer. "So, how often do you play this game?" I narrow my eyes to get an idea of how easy I should go with him.

"I don't think I've played since I was twelve." He shuffles like a pro, bridging the cards and allowing them to fall in his hands.

"For some reason, I don't believe you." I open the pantry door and grab a bag of my microwave popcorn. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who doesn't have motives two steps before his actions."

He laughs. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right."

I place the package in the microwave and press the b.u.t.ton. "I'm a little surprised you're missing your signature apparel this evening," Rob comments, and when I swivel around, he's leaned back in his chair, his fingers strumming along the table. This incredible s.e.xual response comes over me, that he was admiring me going about doing a mundane task. The pleasure brings so much warmth through my veins, I wish he was mine and I could saunter over and straddle his lap. I ache to grind against the hardness I created, as his hands would find my a.s.s.

Instead, I swallow the urge. "Oh, well, laundry day."

He nods, his eyes moving up my legs. "I'm not sure which one I prefer."

I laugh. "Really? Pajama pants with absurd expressions are your things?"

"Not usually, but on you they are." My breathing stops before sputtering back up. Our eyes meet and an unbearable inner excitement flows through me. The more I swim in the blues of his eyes, the more he spins me in his web of magnetism. Just as I'm about to ignore my mind's resistance, I jolt from the beep of the microwave and quickly spin on my heels. Grabbing the bag, I toss it back and forth in my hands because it's so hot.

Rob laughs behind me and then the chair legs sc.r.a.pe along the floor and his footsteps thump behind me. "Let me help you." He relieves the burn in my hands, opening the two corners. Steam rushes out of the bag and I grab a bowl to pour it into. We accomplish the menial job together as a team. He's about to retreat back to the table, when he stops, leaning forward. "I like that I give you that reaction." He whispers and I lick my lips out of reflex.

"Keep doing that and I won't stand a chance in keeping my distance from you."

"What if I don't want you to?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can filter them.

"Hmm . . ." He places the bowl on the counter and then nears closer, gripping the counter on either side. "Believe me, Paige, you do." My heart stammers and the edge of the counter digs into my palm.

Then he backs away and goes back to the table, leaving me mute stricken and frozen in place. Perfect timing when Chrissy strolls into the room. Her hair is a mess, and she's wearing boxer shorts and a tank top. She's giving off her cute and hot look. "What are you guys doing?" She pa.s.ses by me, questioning me from the corner of her eyes.

"We're about to play rummy!" I announce a little too excitedly.

Her head rears back and she appraises me. "Okay," she giggles. "Sounds awesome, do you guys want to order pizza, or Philly cheese steaks?" She begins digging in the overstuffed drawer filled with menus and Dex penetrates into our little party, finally wearing a s.h.i.+rt.

"Babe, let's do Chinese." He offers a suggestion and Chrissy digs in the drawer again. Rob's eyes narrow to Dex.

"Way to ruin our moment," Rob says and Chrissy's head whips around to him and then flashes to me. Her eyes filled with a.s.sumptions.

"Did we?" she asks curiously, but I shake my head.

"No, I just made popcorn."

"Bulls.h.i.+t," Rob coughs out and I peer over Chrissy's shoulder and widen my eyes from his immature behavior at Chrissy's expense.

"We bonded over our roommates f.u.c.king like d.a.m.n rabbits," I joke and Chrissy's face beats red.

"You heard us?" she whispers.

"f.u.c.k yes, we heard you. Seriously man, stuff her panties in her mouth," Rob tells Dex, and I shoot him a confused look like is that something he'd do.

"Shut up," Dex demands, flipping the chair backward, which I've come to realize is his favorite way to sit unless Chrissy's on his lap.

"It gets Paige and me all hot. Pretty soon, we'll have no choice but to screw each other just to relieve the pressures your screams entice." Rob doesn't stop his complete babble.

Chrissy doesn't look at the guys, her face getting redder by the second. I swing my arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, girl. I'm jealous. I've gone through more batteries these past months that I'm about to look into rechargeable." She giggles and I'm glad I can lighten her embarra.s.sment.

She pulls out the menu and we both spin around, finding Rob dealing the cards. Chrissy sits next to Dex, which leaves me the seat between her and Rob. He stares at me through the corner of his eye when I sit down. Once the cards are spread on the table, he grabs a fist full of popcorn. "Maybe we should play strip poker. Or better yet, we could play for s.e.xual favors. How about it Paige?" He eyes me and now it's my turn to flush.

"We aren't having an orgy, Rob." Chrissy speaks first and hands the menu over to me. "What do you want to eat, Paige?"

I'm glancing over the menu when Rob leans in closer to look himself. "You want to share something, I'm not all that hungry," he asks me and there's something about sharing a meal that is too intimate. With Chrissy and Dex in some discussion about what they are going to order, he leans in close so only I can hear him. "I'm asking you to share a meal, not be my meal." I gasp from his words and then his hand grazes my knee. The excitement that comes over me from the stroke of his fingers still surprises me. My body has never reacted like this to a guy before.

My eyes catch his when I face him and my stomach flutters, but I try to maintain a stable infliction so he doesn't sense my desire. "How about Sweet and Sour Chicken?"

IT TOOK MORE convincing than I would have liked for Paige to agree on coming to Ace's for our show tonight. Watching her in the circular booth with Sadie and Chrissy, she fits. She wiggles and s.h.i.+fts along the vinyl seat, indicating maybe she's not as comfortable as I presumed. The booth is reserved for The Invisibles and our girlfriends, or girls we choose to sit there on the nights of our show. Once Sadie started dating Brady seriously, the girls we used to want to screw were no longer welcome. Sadie and Jessa made it theirs from the first night they came.

Fixing the string on my guitar that broke last night, I sit on the edge of the stage. With my guitar propped up on my legs, I admire the girls chatting. As much s.h.i.+t as I threw at Sadie when she first lodged a wedge in our band, she's forgiven me and surprisingly she's not so bad. Paige laughs with the other two girls as Roni shuttles back and forth from the bar to tables. I'm impressed with the girls. They're all taking shots and drinking vodka tonics. If their alcohol consumption keeps going the way it has, I'm positive Paige will be swung over my shoulder tonight.

"Speaking of which," I say when she slides out and saunters over to me, two beers weaved between her fingers. She places mine down next to me and saddles up on the stage.

"Thought you might want one before your show." The drift of her fruity perfume a.s.saults my nose. Urgency comes over me to figure out where it's coming from.

"Thanks." I nod, diverting my attention to tightening my string.

"Did you break that last night?" she asks, tucking her hands under her thighs and swinging her legs back and forth.

I flick my head in her direction, confused how she guessed. "Yeah."

"I'm in the room next door. I heard you playing and then you screamed f.u.c.k in the middle of a song." She giggles and I wish I could record that noise because it makes me feel something I haven't felt in years. "I figure occupational hazard."

"I wouldn't call this my occupation."

Why does this chick bring so much truth out of me?

"Would you want it to be?"

I don't answer right away, completing fixing my string. After the night when we got ice cream, she's a little too intrigued if music is what I want to do with my life.

"Like I said, I don't know." I lay my guitar down on the stage. Leaning back on the palms of my hands, I check her eyes as they focus on the bare strip of my stomach from my s.h.i.+rt rising up. Deciding I don't want to move because she should drool over what she could have, I remain in place. It may not be a six-pack, but it's d.a.m.n tempting.

"Hey," she leans in to grab the attention she doesn't believe she has and waves a beer in front of my face. "Have fun tonight and think about that hard stuff later." I blankly stare at her and she dips her head and shoots that innocent smile at me. If she were mine, I'd have her in the back of the van already.

Instead I swipe the beer from her hand. "You know me all too well." Sitting up straighter, I down a long pull of my beer. She crosses her ankles and tips back a sip of her own.

Roni is busy shuffling food and drinks to the tables slowly filling up for us tonight. We don't go on for another hour, so there's time to pack the place. I side glance over to Paige and notice her eyes searching around the same way. G.o.d, I hope we fill this place tonight. Otherwise, I'll appear like a loser to her. She's definitely into music, more than she lets on. I hear what music she plays through our shared wall. It's cla.s.sic, old s.h.i.+t, but music I've loved from the time I started really working on cars.

"A lot of girls here," she comments and I chuckle.

"Jealous?" I ask and her head reels my way, trying to appear straight faced.

"You wish." She chooses to toss a sarcastic flirt and I like her even more for it.

"I do." There's a half-truth in there somewhere.

She tears her eyes from mine and jumps off the stage. "Good luck tonight." Then she flips around to escape back to the table, now filled with the three couples that consist of The Invisibles.

"Paige!" I scream out and she spins back around. "I don't need luck." There's the persona I've mastered since I started at Western.

Her eyes dig deep into my own, violating me with her glare. She nods with a solemn gaze before sliding into the booth, leaving me resembling a pile of s.h.i.+t.

When my parents drove me up my freshman year, I convinced myself the Rob Winters from small town country, was gone. He died in Mill River, never to be resurrected. In exchange, an a.s.shole was erected and soon girls hated me, but never declined to occupy my bed at night. What the h.e.l.l do I care, they fill a physical need because d.a.m.n if I'll open my heart up to being shredded again. But Paige, she scares the c.r.a.p out of me. She's slowly and gently tugging at my heart, but it's not ready and I'm not sure it ever will be.

I leap off the stage, not wanting to even think about my heart and s.h.i.+t like love anymore. I meander over to a table of girls and plop down with them. Their mouths drop open and their eyes dart to each other's, wondering why I'm there.

"Hey girls." I nod and they giggle.

A blonde scoots her chair a little closer. There's always a 'take charge' one in every group. "Hi, Rob." I've never felt more like someone else than I do when the girls ogle my body with their eyes.

"Hi . . ." I wait for her to fill in the blank.

"Drea." Obviously, I'm not the only one who decided to reinvent themselves in college. Odds are this girl was Andrea in high school and she figured, Drea sounds cool. The idea that she was a shy and quiet nerd in high school flipped s.l.u.t in college intrigues me. They are usually the wild ones. The ones that go to the back room and suck me off.

I chat with the girls while they benefit me with their undivided attention. At one point during all the giggles and pushed out t.i.ts in my direction, a group orgy crosses my mind. Then a hand clasps on my shoulder and I spin around to find Brady. The girls gasp and their eyes pry to his engaged a.s.s.

"What's up, man? Care to join us?" I stay relaxed in my chair, my arm stretched out on the table with another beer in my hand, courtesy of Drea.

He nods to the table. "Girls."

They all sit up straighter and there go those t.i.ts again, out on display.

He's practically a married guy, girls; and his finance is two tables over.

"Hi, Brady." They all welcome him in unison and I shake my head from their high-pitched voices.

"Rob, I need you." His face stern, earning his role of the fatherly figure in our group.

"Oh, do you?" I ask and the group of girls giggle.

Just as I begin to stand, I spot Paige breeze by me. She plows through the front door with her purse swung over her shoulder. I bolt up and glance to Brady. "Yeah, that." He raises his eyebrows and I don't wait to hear what happened.

Shoving the gla.s.s door open, I frantically search left and right. Paige is leaning against the pole of the street lamp, a dim light s.h.i.+ning on top of her head while she fiddles with her phone.