Restraint is Useless Here

Anna watched her friend's lips slowly turn south as her hazel eyes scanned the paper she held. The mid-afternoon sun did not relent and Anna could feel a dull burn heating the hollow of her chest, so she peeled her back off the now-damp lounge and flipped over. Even living in Southern California as long as she had, her skin always bordered on crispy after 45 minutes of direct sunlight.

Val followed suit, her flat stomach enviously golden bronze. "Anna, I have been totally on board with whatever crazy recipes you've thrown together so far." She tapped a red nail on the paper. "And I trust you. I do. But goat cheese and caramel?"

Anna blinked at her friend. "You're kidding me, right?" Before Val could answer, Anna's phone trilled an incoming call. "Maria."

"Tell her to come tonight!" Val sat up and folded the recipe paper, then poured more tanning oil onto her palms. "Jimmy would love that." A suggestive smile punctuated her comment.

"Are you really encouraging Jimmy and Maria?" Anna laughed.

It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Jimmy was kind and animated and considerate, with an understated brilliance about him. Maria was kind and considerate as well, but it took a bit to chisel through her shell to get there.

Anna suspected Maria didn't quite harbor the same feelings as Jimmy. Since Cinco de Mayo, Maria had uncharacteristically declined all invites, but still texted daily to check in with Anna. Jimmy had come on strong and persistent, so maybe that deterred Maria's presence, but a part of Anna—the part that Jack cultivated—whispered that the recent drama might have repelled her. Anna reassured herself over and over she was just busy. After all, Maria was in charge of covering Anna's scheduled shifts at Diamond that month.

Still, something felt other about the situation.

Anna took the opportunity to find reprieve from the sun and padded to the patio table under Val's shaded veranda. The bamboo latticework from the chair felt cool against her skin. Anna pressed the green button and held the Blackberry to her ear.

"Hey!" Maria exclaimed in a very cheery, very un-Maria tone. It sounded like she was driving with the windows down, so her voice barely rose above the whipping of the wind. In a more-Maria fashion, she muttered, "Hang on just a second." The speaker was covered, but Anna still heard muffled, slightly irritated voices bickering back and forth before the line quieted. "Sorry. I'm in the car."

“No worries." Anna smiled at her friend's voice. She missed working with her. She missed her. “So, Val and I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. Don't get sassy, but I'm getting a little crazy and making goat cheese and spinach stuffed chicken breast with caramelized onion. I know it's a bit more experimental than you prefer your meals, but—"

"You know, I'm actually on my way out of town right now," Maria said ruefully."I just... I really wanted a weekend away before I go back to working my ass off Monday night. I'm sorry, girlfriend."

"Ah, bummer." Anna tried to quell her dejection, keeping her voice light. She plopped into a chair and blew out a breath, sending ashes from Brian's ashtray onto the stone patio. "Well, you deserve it. Another time, then. I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Maria sighed. "Mira, I know I'm a hard ass and I'm not the best with feelings and stuff." Maria was silent for a few moments before continuing. "I don't want to hound you with the memories or force you to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you do need to... please tell me."

Anna's chest filled with warmth. "Thank you, Maria. I'm okay, really. I'm in a good place. But that means a lot to me."

“It's so hard to even think about what he did to you. And how I didn't even know."

“How could you have known?"

"I spent 3 entire shifts with you per week. I knew he was a controlling asshole, but I didn't think..." Maria's voice faded. "I just feel like I should have sensed it."

"No. That's on nobody but me."

"No, it's on Jack," Maria growled his name and Anna skin prickled. "Fuck that piece of shit and the silver spoon in his mouth. Has he tried to get in touch with you?"

“Nothing since I changed my number. And my rent is paid up through the end of my lease, so I won't be back home until the end of summer to sign off. He has no idea where I am." The truth of it felt incredible. Still, she had cared about him once. Loved him. Despite her better judgment, she had wanted a life with him. But the ever-expanding void of Jack in her life helped Anna see one thing clearly: she hadn't been in love with him for quite some time. "I hope he gets the help he needs."

“Privileged little bitch boy needs more help than the whole world could offer," Maria spat. "But forget about him. What's next for you?"

"I don't really have a solid plan," Anna replied after considering for a moment. "The band won't be touring for awhile, so I'm staying with Val until graduation in December. Maybe I'll take a self-defense class in the meantime. Wouldn't hurt to know how to take a man down, you know?"

Maria chuckled in agreement.

"Then... who knows?" Anna peered down as a sparrow hopped out from underneath the patio table. It pecked at the stray ashes that littered the ground before flitting away. "There's never a shortage of sick people in this country. Maybe I'll get the hell out of Southern California for once in my life. Go somewhere with seasons."

"Is that what you want?"

"Who knows? I sure as hell don't," Anna said through a smile. "And I don't have to know. Everything's a crap shoot now and that's fine by me. I just feel... free, you know?"

"You are free. And your options are wide open," Maria agreed, before adding suggestively. "But for right now, I think you should just... go where the music takes you."

Of course Maria wouldn't let that go. At least the sunburn camouflaged Anna's heating cheeks. "Not gonna happen."

Despite her every waking hour, minute, second, she dreamed of it happening. But Brian made his stance pretty clear that first night at Val's.

Somehow, though, their almost-kiss didn't embarrass her. Brian was as easy-going with her as ever, like they had always been friends. There were never awkward silences or strained conversations. Brian went out of his way to make her feel at home. Of course, Val did as well—but the difference was: Brian didn’t have to.

The moment she laid eyes on him, gears began shifting within her, setting something into motion. She gravitated to him, unerringly. Any moment she could steal with him, she stole. Any opportunity for casual touch, whether passing the salt or brushing past him in the hallway, she sprang for it.

Anna foolishly held out hope that Brian pulling away didn’t really mean no.
She hoped there was an asterisk, some sort of fine print; the terms and conditions which underlie the face value.

"Whatever you say, girlfriend," Maria sighed. A male voice mumbled indistinguishably, but Maria was quick to muffle. Just as Anna began inquiring about her company, Maria cut in. "Hey, I have no idea where my GPS is taking me, so I've gotta focus on the road. I'll call you when I get back?"

"You'd better." As Anna ended the call, she thought about what Maria said and it gave her pause. Maria drove a 2000 Ford Fiesta. It had decent gas mileage and a rusted bumper; it did not have GPS.

"Well?" Val prompted, somehow even more golden in the 5 minutes Anna had stepped away.

"No dice. She's on her way out of town. Too bad for Jimmy, too. It sounded like she was with a guy."

"Yeesh." Val made a face. "I'm not gonna be the one to break that news. Speaking of Jimmy, he's supposed to stop and pick up beer, but I'm feeling super bloated." She stood up, splaying her hands across her non-existent bloat. "Give him a call and see if he'll pick up a good Pinot Grigio. I'd do it, but I'm pretty sure he'll rebel after two years of me telling him what to do. And he loves you more than anybody now, so..."

Hearing that never got old. She smiled as she scrolled to find his name in her phone, elated that she'd become not just Val's childhood friend, but now had a place of her own with Jimmy.

A steady droning ground through her phone when he picked up—he was driving, too. "Anna, how are you doing?" Jimmy's voice sounded oddly formal. He never called her Anna.

"I'm good, buddy," she replied. "Hey, are you on your way? Dinner's at 7, so I'll probably need you here in about an hour for prep. I even left the knives unsharpened, so you can the honors. I know you that's your favorite. And, hey, when you stop and pick up the beer, can you grab some Pinot for—"

“No can do. I'm Big Bear bound." Did not compute.

"I'm sorry, you're what? What's in Big Bear?"

"Put him on speaker!" Val hissed, hopping up from her lounge and knocking over the bottle of suntan lotion in her beeline to the phone.

"Big. Bear." Jimmy popped his Bs as he repeated himself. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I've got a song." He said song like it had a capital S. "It's bursting out of my skull. I can't contain it. I've got an arrangement but I can't really escape with it like I need to... and I really fucking need to. I can't ignore creative genius. You wouldn't understand. I mean, no offense, but you're not... you don't, like, compose shit so it's kind of above your... goddamnit, you know what I'm trying to say!"

Anna wasn't quite sure she did know what he was trying to say, but she took no offense.

"No, no." Val snatched the phone away and began scolding. "No Big Bear, Jimmy. We haven't called to have the cabin cleaned and there's no food there. We haven't been up there in two years! I don't even know if there's running water right now! Do you even have a key?" Her voice pitched higher with each statement.

“My eardrums can't process that frequency, VDB. Take it down a notch. Only the dogs could understand you."

Val pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head. "Just turn around. You can write here. We have a piano."

“You'll thank me when we get a fat ass royalty check. I'll build you a house on top of the Hollywood sign. Fuck it, I'll buy you the Hollywood sign itself and you can rearrange the letters to spell whatever you want."

"Jimmy—"

His boisterous laughter drowned out Val's plea. "Holy shit, wait. I'd have to spell out 'WOODY LOL'. You can still have the H, though."

“Jimmy, please turn around."

"BIG BEAR!" And the line went silent.

"Oh, for God's sake," Val muttered, her lips pressed together tightly as she handed back Anna's phone. Seeing Anna's blank stare, Val explained, "It's Matt's cabin in Big Bear. We all go there to get away and Jimmy wrote...” She trailed off, then shook her head once more in incredulity. “There's not even any electricity up there right now! I've got to do some damage control. Hopefully Matt can talk him out of this idiocy."

Anna stood in place for a few moments after Val went inside to make her call, trying to process the information that had come to pass within the last 10 minutes. The only conclusion she reached was: she was short a person in the kitchen and had approximately 3 hours to prep and cook a 3-course meal for 6 people.

The sun peeked from behind a cloud, igniting hellfire across her skin from the sunburn—a sunburn that would peel and possibly blister.

A shower was out of the question due to the time constraint—and assistant shortage—and, if Anna was being honest, even lukewarm water would probably feel like being drenched in acid, anyway. But she'd baked in the sun and her own sweat all day and didn't want to subject anyone else to that.

"Better than nothing," she muttered to herself. She turned to the pool, its pristine glassy surface mirroring an exact replica of the burning sphere in the sky, took a running leap and cannonballed.

————

Brian took one last drag from his Marlboro before flicking it into the street, then gassed the Camaro into Matt's driveway, announcing his arrival. He smirked at his own idiocy. It was a cheap thrill and ostentatious as hell, but he knew it drove Val crazy. And if Val yelled at him for it like she always did, it meant everything was normal.

He hoped she'd yell at him.

He turned the key and listened to the sound of his car settling. The quiet sloshing of the gas in the tank as it stilled. The jingle of his keys as they swayed from the ignition. The various creaks and ticks from unknown locations as the monster became dormant. It was almost meditative for Brian and he never rushed the process.

The trip to Huntington Beach Jiu Jitsu had sent a maelstrom of rapid fire emotions through him: pride and nostalgia, primarily, for being under the tutelage of Cyrus Luther and his bald ass head for so many years. Shame and guilt at beating a man within a few inches of his life, which he reluctantly rehashed to his mentor. Cyrus, stoic as usual with his impenetrable stare, nodded his acknowledgement at the appropriate junctures while Brian became drenched in cold sweat. And hope, especially, that he'd get his shit together.

Cyrus let Brian know he was seen in the usual way: quite literally staring at Brian through those deep set eyes, his craggy face unmoving. The intrusively direct eye contact used to unnerve Brian, but now it comforted him in its familiarity.

Brian had at least 5 vertical inches on Cyrus, but the black belt instructor had the stealth and strategy of a trap door spider. Once, Brian had asked why he never pursued the UFC. Cyrus' only response was: "My face was not made for television, even if it's being hammer-fisted."

Which was a joke in itself, because nobody ever got a hit in.

In the event he didn't make his opponent shit their pants from his fearsome glare, he would take them down within heartbeats. And once they were on the floor, his armbar had them weeping. He was unfuckwithable.

And yet, Cyrus’ primary passion was teaching kids’ jiu jitsu classes. The class graduation photos that lined the building’s atrium were the only photo proof that Cyrus smiled.

Finally, he spoke. With an accented lilt that Brian could never place and had never asked about, Cyrus offered this: "You are not a bad man. There are times when the only way to help is to hurt." He extended a hand to Brian, probably the closest he'd ever come to a hug. "Come back when you're ready."

He was so fucking ready.

A knock on the window made him jump, only to be greeted by a buttcrack pressed against the glass. Unfortunately, he'd recognize that ass anywhere.

"I don't have enough Windex for your skid marks, short shit.” Brian cranked down the window, launching a shrieking Johnny away from the car.

He turned a bewildered look on Brian as Johnny double-palming his own behind. "You pinched my ass, you asshole! You rolled down the window and it dragged my ass down with it! Like, DRAGGED MY ASS SKIN INTO THE WINDOW CRACK!"

“Say 'ass' one more time." Brian flipped his sunglasses up to keep his floppy hair back, reminding himself that he desperately needed a haircut. "With as much as you talk about it—hell, with as much as I've seen of it—I'm starting to think it's an invitation."

“Maybe that'll teach him to finally keep it hidden." A cackling Zacky Vengeance lumbered forward, bumping Brian's fist through the window. "Johnny has zero foresight."

"Of course I don't. I'm circumcised, you fuck. LOOK." Johnny snapped, turning around and bending over for a full moon. He wasn't lying. A blossoming red line slashed angrily across both cheeks. The descending glass had literally pinched his ass skin.

Brian snorted at the sheer impossibility of the situation. Only Johnny would get so unlucky.

"You laugh now, but you'll be sorry." Johnny pointed at Zack, then Brian. "You guys have all shit on me for the majority of the tour. I've gone easy on you, Gates, because of the truce." He motioned to Brian's splint. "And because of your handicap, but it's back on. No fucking mercy. Vigilante shit."

"Vigilante shit," Brian echoed in amusement. If a mountain was ever made from a molehill, it was this. "First of all, I'm really not processing how you think the fact smashing your asscheeks on my window—which happened to result in injury—is anyone's fault but your own. Secondly," he continued, a taunting grin on his face as he wiggled his splinted hand. "You're no match for me, handicap or not. I will destroy you. And don't think I haven't been harboring a major grudge over how it ended last time."

Brian and Johnny's longstanding prank war had no substantial origin; it spawned purely as a revenge move by Brian. His dad, Brian Sr., tagged along on a leg of the tour to help write as well as a stand-in guitar tech for Zack and Brian Jr., and was unlucky enough to earn the bunk beneath Johnny's on the tour bus. Johnny got so obliterated that he climbed down from his bunk to piss, but instead of dragging himself to the actual bathroom, he dropped trou right there and pissed on a sleeping Papa Gates.

The pranks escalated from juvenile—dipping hands into warm water while sleeping—to more costly, when Johnny dumped a cup full of salt into Brian's beer before challenging him to a chug race. Already shitfaced, Brian hadn't recalled tasting a difference in his drink, but ended up vomiting for the next 24hr straight and having to be hospitalized for dehydration like a tabloid celebrity. Ultimately, the band cancelled a tour stop in Brazil—and Brian incurred a hell of a hospital bill.

In short, he had beef.

"I'm not scared," Johnny sneered. "We have no tours scheduled and nothing else to do with our time. It's on." Johnny's promise was met with a middle finger from Brian—except it was the hand with the splinted pinky. All three deadpan faces broke into grins as they sputtered laughter over Brian's "virgin variation of The Shocker."

The front door to the house swung open and Matt popped his head out, dangling a PlayStation controller like bait. "I don't know what the hell you guys are doing out here, but I've got 18 months of Mortal Kombat: Armageddon battles to make up for. Any takers?"

Johnny pulled up his pants and darted inside the house, snatching the controller from Matt's outstretched hand. "Yoink!"

When Matt glanced expectantly at the remaining two, Zack wiggled his pack of Marlboros. Nodding, Matt retreated inside.

Plopping down on the front stoop, Zack lit his cigarette and offered the pack to Brian. After a drag, Zack asked, "So, how's it been living in a full house?"

"There's four people living in 5,000 square feet," Brian replied. "That's hardly a full house."

“Yeah, well. There's Matt and Val, of course. You. And Val's friend." Zack cast a sidelong glance at Brian. "And your major hard-on for her."

“That’s a little dramatic," Brian offered casually, not honoring Zack with a reaction. His avoidance of Anna's name did not escape Brian. "I've got a major hard-on for lots of things. It's flattering you think it deserve a share of the square footage, though. I knew I felt eyes on me in the shower. I can whip it out right here. Measure, if you want."

"No, I don't think so. I think it's more than that." Zack pressed his lips together as he watched Brian, searching for any cracks. Brian refused to crack. "And I think you'd better tread lightly."

Brian laughed, exasperated, as he stomped out his half-smoked cigarette. "Not even a 'hey, good to see you, man,' or 'how are the renovations coming along?' Nope, just crazy old Zacky V, the neighbor lady rubbernecking down the street, needing to know whose dick is in who." Brian sliced a finger at Zack before he had a chance to correct him. "Whom."

"You're the wordsmith, not me," Zack said simply, dragging deep on his cigarette, his stupid all-seeing green eyes looking out over the freshly landscaped yard. "Just tread lightly."

"I'm heading inside." Brian pushed to his feet, annoyed at the conversation that had just taken place. Annoyed that Zack inserted himself into Brian's business, whether his insinuation was justified or not. And especially annoyed that Zack had some unfounded issue with Anna, who had been nothing but kind and sweet to Zack.

Hell, to all of them.

Brian walked into the foyer and tossed his keys into the key bowl.

Just then, a blonde cyclone rushed past him. "Hi, Bri. Need Pinot and beer. Heading out. Coors for you?" In her frenzy, she probably hadn't even heard him arrive. Without giving him an opportunity to reply, she snatched her keys from the bowl and whirled out the front door.

Val never just walked places.

Brian popped his head into the great room to see Matt and Johnny already carving each other up. From the looks of it—and Johnny's maniacal laughter as the narrator boomed, FINISH HIM—his literal pain in the ass had subsided. Choosing not to interrupt their brutality, Brian strode to the kitchen where a rapid, staccato chopping meant one thing: Anna was in the zone.

Hair swept atop her head in some sort of tangled, curly bun, she wore her determined face—brow set in a straight line above eyes that seemed to see nothing and everything at once. Her teeth worked her bottom lip as she concentrated, hands moving like independently-thinking extensions of her. And holy shit, was she sunburnt. It looked painful as hell, but it didn't deter her focus. Measuring nothing ever, she just whisked and dashed and scooped.

Brian glimpsed an outline of her bikini beneath her oversized, threadbare shirt. When she turned away and reached high into the cabinet, her shirt cinched up to reveal the lower curve of her ass. Jesus, she was only wearing a bikini bottom, which triggered dangerous things below his waistline. He shifted his weight to adjust himself and leaned against the doorway, content just to witness her in action.

The front door creaked open behind Brian and Zack stood there, eyes settled on Brian then darting to Anna. Zack rolled his eyes and, with a harsh exhale, let the door slam shut as he made way into the great room.

Brian felt the blood blaze his face from the wordless communication and had half a mind to demand what the hell Zack's problem was, but Anna's voice claimed his attention.

"Hey! I didn't see you there," she said, instantly brightening. Her hands didn't skip a beat, but she took stock of the cutoff t-shirt and basketball shorts he wore, eyes holding on his crossed—and flexed—arms. "You look sporty."

"And you look... lobster." Lobster, she mouthed, turning the word over. Examining each of her bright red arms and wiping her hands on her oversized shirt, she nodded with a smirk. "Fair enough. Val and I grazed by the pool all morning and I seriously want to kick my own ass for trying to hang with that girl's melanin. I mean, I'll tan eventually, but I have to suffer for it first. I even used sunscreen!"

He couldn't help but smile back. "And you have the audacity to claim the OC."

“Technically," she countered. "I've spent the last ten years in LA county, protected by a healthy blanket of smog. As a result, my skin is fair as hell and possibly toxic."

Brian sputtered a chuckle. "Then I'll keep my distance." Directly contradicting himself, he pushed off the doorframe and strode closer to see what was on the menu that night.

"No, you won't." Her face grew smug as her lips twisted up. "Because you're just in time for me to put you to work."

Brian stopped in his tracks. "You want me in the kitchen?"

"Mmm, good point. But my usual co-pilot is MIA, Matt and Johnny are killing each other on TV. I thought I heard Zack, but..." Anna made a face, as if that wasn't a topic she wanted to broach. "And Val's on a beer run. So, call it a lack of options." She smiled warmly at him, her gaze sliding down his bare arms again, but then frowned. "Your splint. I'm an idiot."

"Not an idiot," he countered, opening his palm and gesturing to hand over the knife. "I still play guitar, don't I?"

Of course, he knew that she knew. She knew quite well. It had just gone verbally unacknowledged until that moment.

Val and Matt's home was approaching $900,000 in real estate, but the builder must've skimped on insulation. The walls were paper thin and the furthest thing from soundproof.

And in his bedroom—with only four inches of drywall separating his headboard from Anna's—Brian played every single night.

Mostly, he messed around with new riffs, feeling out potential melodies. But soon after, he'd grab the acoustic and picked his way through classic rock tunes, soft ones. Songs everyone knew by heart.

It typically took only a moment before Anna began humming along from her side of the wall. She was a little out-of-tune on the higher notes, but she sang them anyway, not giving a shit—he loved that.

They'd play their duet blindly through a few ballads, her accompanying vocals becoming more and more scarce. Once Anna's soft hums were replaced by light snores from the other side of the wall, he knew his job was done for the night.

A shame Brian couldn't serenade himself to sleep, but knowing he helped Anna rest soundly calmed the tightness in his chest.

Anna examined him after that question, tilting her head thoughtfully. He mirrored her, taking in the finer details of her face. She looked well today, not nearly so tired. Her entire face looked brighter. Her eyes were no longer ringed with purple and streaked with red the way they were his first day here. The laugh lines surrounding her mouth were deeper from use.

That mouth was currently quirked into a smile; a secret smile Brian liked to pretend was just for him.

“Well? Don't I?" he asked again.

"That you do." She placed the knife into his open palm. "And for quite a captive audience." She batted her dark lashes as she said this, her full lips pursed into a conspiratory grin.

Redheads had never been his thing, but her features were almost ethereal. The angles of her face were soft and sharp all at once—somehow, she’d be just as believable as the girl next door in a chick flick or a murderous siren in a fairy tale, her undeniable allure dragging sailors to their death.

God, was she fucking pretty.
None of this helped his nerves.

Lack of options or not, Brian's only culinary forte was microwaving Spaghetti-Os. Constant touring left little need for cooking, so the opportunity to learn never presented itself. And the fact was, Brian wasn't good at not being good at things. "Where is Jimmy, anyway?"

"Something about not fucking with creative genius and needing to leave for Big Bear?"

An abrupt pause in the cries of pain and death on repeat from the great room. "Big Bear!" shrieked Johnny. "We just got back and that asshole wants to go back to work?"

To Brian, Anna said, "Matt talked him out of it." "I talked him out of it!"

Matt's retort reached a similar volume. "Unpause the game. Don't try and fuck with my momentum."

“You'll have to elaborate on Big Bear to me later." Anna shrugged and placed an onion on the wooden cutting board. "Okay, so you'll need to cut the onion in half, then slice in quarter inch strips. Then do the same with the other half. I'll have some olive oil and butter simmering, so when you're done, just scrape them into the skillet."

“Quarter inch. Skillet. Got it." As Anna turned away and started doing something that resembled impaling several raw chicken breasts, Brian stared at the onion, turning it over in his hand and examining the best way to approach cutting it in half. He could do this.

Cut. Glide. Slice.
Maintain adequate distance between knife and finger.
All fingers.
Do not bump the splint.

He'd written some complex, near impossible to replicate solos in his life, but Brian had never concentrated so hard as this moment right now.

The onion must be conquered.

“Brian," Anna was next to him again, her voice low. "Brian, you're killing it."

He beamed at her affirmation, but then she gently removed the knife from his hand, stifling a laugh.

"No, like... you're killing the onion. You're stabbing it. It's dying."

Fuck the onion.

"Here." Seeing his frustration, Anna positioned the blade back into Brian's hand. "You don't have to use so much force when you slice. Let the blade do the cutting. Here, watch." She nudged her way in, slipping her body in front of his, and rested her hand atop his.

Brian froze. They hadn't been this close since his first night in Matt's house and, even still, this was different. The way their bodies were positioned, with him leaning slightly forward, his chest was flush with her back. Her elbow nestled into the ditch of his.

It was very domestic. The positions he'd been in with women were many things, but none of them domestic. In that moment, domestic didn't seem so bad.

What he should have focused on was her effortless technique. Instead, he watched as the stretched out neck of her shirt slid down with her movement, revealing a bare shoulder and a small constellation of freckles.

Keeping a steady heart rate proved difficult and he prayed to God she couldn't feel it pounding through his chest. His throat felt parched. Could she feel the sweat from his palms? She was so, so close. And she had moved in so casually, as easy as breathing—which wasn't so easy for him in that moment.

But when he did inhale, he lowered his head—close enough that a stray curl from her updo brushed against his forehead—and he filled his lungs with her.

It was salt and sun and amber and everything he fucking wanted in that moment.

“And that's pretty much it," she concluded, breaking their contact. She turned to face him just before he could regain composure. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Brian stepped back and scrubbed at his face with his hand, forcing a tight smile. "My eyes. The onion. I think it's messing with my eyes."

"Ah. Contacts," she said, pointing to her eyes. And none the wiser, it appeared. "They keep that from happening."

"WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THIS," a voice rang out from the back doorway. Jimmy walked in, eyes as wide as his slackened jaw, and gestured to the knife Brian still held. A brunette walked in beside Jimmy and coaxed his arm down.

Maria. Interesting.

Eyes scanning the knife and Jimmy's expression, Maria sighed. "Oh, here we go."

“You..." Anna pointed at Maria, evident confusion making slits of her eyes. She then sliced the finger toward Jimmy. "And you. Oh my God, you were in the car together!" Her face exploded into a grin despite her accusation.

But Jimmy ignored her. "Annie? What is this?" Turning to Brian with a pointed finger, Jimmy grit his teeth. "You're encroaching on my territory. Are you trying to ruin dinner? And possibly the entire evening?" He swiped it from Brian's hand. "Usurper! I'm the knife master!”

"Jesus, Jimmy. Cut my goddamn fingers off, why don't you?" Brian replied, recoiling.

“At ease, knife master. I had to make do while you were off gallavating." Anna affirmed with a smile, ducking under Jimmy's arm for a side-hug before addressing her friend. "Hi to you, too. Care to explain your 'weekend away?'"

"Not even a little bit," Maria dismissed briskly. "I've gotta pee. Jimmy?" Her expression wasn't quite as hard as she addressed him. "Chill."

“I promise nothing." Jimmy eyes crinkled as he grinned devilishly, watching as she disappeared down the hallway. He rotated his wrist, swirling the blade in a circle and pointed it at Brian. "I like to cut things."

“Brian here was about to cut off his own fingers before I saved him," Anna teased. Brian glimpsed a playful flash of tongue between her teeth as she grinned at him and it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. "Are those things insured? Don't you need them for your earth-shattering solos?"

Smartass. But he fucking loved it.

That peek of her tongue ignited him. He cocked his head to the side as he leveled his gaze with hers, reinflating his temporarily suppressed ego. She had no idea the things he could do with his fingers. "Amongst other things."

“Oh, god. Put it away, Gates," scoffed Jimmy as Anna half-laughed along with him, but Brian saw her sunburn flush deeper and turn back toward her skillet on the stove.

“Plus," Brian said to Jimmy. "I didn't usurp shit. If you'd hadn't been driving up to Big Bear for a sex bender under the pretense of writing music, I wouldn't have had to risk my career for an onion."

“Not just sex. I'm in love," Jimmy stated without an air of joking. "And not a pretense. A fucking epiphany." Jimmy's expression turned solemn as he walked to the fridge, then closing it after finding it void of beer. His movements bordered on frenetic as he turned, but Brian couldn't see a trace of red in his eyes. Jimmy was completely sober. "You have no idea, Gates. No idea what I'm conjuring. The soaring piano and the vocals and the lyrics. I've been fucking with this arrangement since Pinkly Smooth and I have enough for a solid demo now. We need Big Bear and we need it soon because my brain is about to explode out my goddamn fingers."

“I believe you," Brian said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. And he did believe him. No one was quite sure what it was about Matt's cabin in Big Bear, but the atmosphere birthed greatness. And after A Little Piece is Heaven—well, nobody contested Jimmy's genius. "We need Big Bear."

“We'll get there, Jim," called Matt as he yanked open the back door. "We'll make a few calls and get the utilities back up and running now that we're home. Couple weeks, okay?"

Val came through the door then, arms full of alcohol and car keys clenched between her teeth. "Eer's ‘ere."

“Beer's here!" Jimmy translated, snatching the cases from her arms and fleeing the kitchen. "Couple weeks, tops. In the meantime, get thee to the ivories, Shads. You've gotta hear this."

Val walked into the kitchen, placing two bottles on the counter. One was wine, the other was small and green. Anna sighed with relief. "Aloe. Val, you are a goddess. You didn't have to make an extra stop!"

"I didn't." Val pulled a pin out of her hair and repositioned a curl. "Huntington liquor stores are basically a one-stop shop for all drunken surfer needs. That includes you poor souls who burn to a crisp." Val leaned forward to peer into a rather large bowl Anna had pulled out and dumped egg whites into. "Is that....?"

“Meringue. Lemon. Or it will be when I'm done with it." Anna smiled at Val, whose eyes lit up like the Fourth of July.

"My favorite! You are the goddess." Val placed a hand on Anna's face, pulling her close and landing a loud smooch on her cheek. Anna winced and rubbed at her sunburn. "Shit! I'm so sorry!" Val tapped a finger on the aloe bottle. "Bathe in this tonight."
Turning to Brian, Val pulled something from her pocket and tossed it at him. "Ah, almost forgot. These are yours."

The item clinked into his palm and he unfurled his fingers to reveal keys.
His keys.
His keys to the Camaro.

"When the hell did you—?"

"It's entirely possible to quietly pull your car into a driveway without showboating." Val curtsied, her I told you so on full display. "The drive was fun, though. The wind whipping through your hair, people wanting to drag race at the stoplights. I get the appeal. Now, if you'll excuse me." As she walked away, she landed a light punch to Brian's arm and winked.

"What a fucking weasel!" Brian remarked to Anna, still shaking his head in disbelief. They were alone once more.

"I've only been here a month and already it’s that synergistic effect." Anna knocked her fists together for emphasis. She hopped backward up onto the counter and began effortlessly whisking whatever she was mixing in the bowl. "It must all be coming back to her."

"Oh, yeah?" He leaned forward attentively, both elbows on the island.

"Oh, yeah," Anna replied with a laugh. "She was the supreme ballerina... the better everything, really. But in the summers where there was no school or classes or dance, I would get bored easily. So, I made up fun of my own. Little Anna and Val used to terrorize our parents. We even had our own language. I don't think anyone ever caught on. That's ancient history, though."

"Ancient history, huh?" Brian's smile inched wider as he tucked away that little tidbit for safekeeping. "Nah, I'm sure it's just like riding a bike."

"You're probably right," she said, her gaze drifting off somewhere above his head, some memory triggering the ghost of a smile. After a moment, she nodded. "Old habits die hard."

"That, they do."

He loved every little piece of information he offered about herself, but he tucked this one away for safekeeping.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd be the ace up his sleeve in this prank war.

Notes