I blew out a harsh breath and put Hollister's hand in mine before heading down the sidewalk. "Why don't you tell me about your friends while we walk?"
And help me figure out which one of them is going to take you in.
"Where are we walking?" Hollister settled into a pace that put his steps down at the exact same time as mine. I didn't think he even noticed what he'd done. His body had simply obeyed.
I tightened my hand over his. "A few blocks over."
Hollister tried to slow, but I'd prepared for that already. "Why?"
He didn't need me to tell him, and I wouldn't fall for his trap.
His obstinate chin lowered in surrender. "You're right. They don't stop on my block." He took a deep breath that lifted his shoulders and then exhaled, shaking his breath out. "My friends are…my family, actually. We aren't always close. We go through waves, but we always find each other again."
I liked hearing him say that but had to wonder how his friends let him stay in the type of place he lived.
"I didn't so much as move to Seattle as I did find myself here. Things were tough at first, but Sam helped me and later Jorge—he's the one that gave you the I-see-you eyes—and now we're doing the same for the next generation. Sprinkles hasn't been with us for very long, but he's making leaps and bounds in terms of finding stability inside and out."
Having ordered a car to our location, I checked the surrounding area before leading Hollister to the bench to wait. "Sprinkles is an interesting name. Is there a story there?"
Hollister smiled, but I knew the affection in his face wasn't for me. "Yes, but it isn't very interesting. I think the story is more proof of how we suck at giving members of our group nicknames than anything else. Sprinkles's parents owned one of those ice-cream-slash-sandwich franchises, you know, for those times when you want a meatball sub and a cookies-and-cream parfait." Hollister's lips twitched and he let out a sharp puff of air from his nose.
When Wyatt or Nash laughed at their own jokes, it was annoying, but when Hollister did it, it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.
"But Sprinkles's parents were also utter shit heads, so Sprinkles developed a thing with ice cream shops. When Sam and Jorge found out, they insisted on doing exposure therapy because, to them, nothing should ruin ice cream. Well, the first time we all went out to a shop with him, he couldn't do it, but he didn't want to leave." Hollister started laughing in preparation for whatever came next. "It was his turn at the register, and he panicked, ordering an entire cup of sprinkles. We didn't want to make him feel bad, so we all ordered cups of toppings too. Sam nearly threw up trying to eat a bowl of hot fudge."
His happiness was so thick, I felt like I'd been there and had witnessed the same moment. I settled back against the bench, looking out onto the street with a smile. When I'd been Hollister's or his friends' age, I could've used people like him. I'd been confused as a teen, and by the time I knew what was going on with me, my mother and father had made their stance on the matter clear. They used to call Branson and the others horrible names after they'd all come out.
By the time I'd found my own spine, it was already bent into the shape of the box my parents had shoved me into. To repress my sexuality, I'd had to repress my alpha nature. I couldn't have one without the other, just like I couldn't be two people, Aver and whoever this person was. When I tried letting one out, even just a little, the other came with it, hand in hand.
The car showed up, and I had the transition to occupy my thoughts. The drive back into town was longer than the one out, due to the late-night traffic going downtown. I was eager to get Hollister back to my hotel room, but I found unexpected contentment sitting silently next to him in the back of the car, his hand warm in mine as we watched the scenery whiz by our windows in comfortable silence.
"What about you?" Hollister asked the moment we got out of the car at my hotel. It was as if we'd ridden under an unspoken agreement, and the conversation started up again exactly from the point we'd left off. The man holding the hotel entrance door open nodded as we approached.
I had a strict no-private-information policy that usually always came up once during these nights and then never again. My regular reply was locked and loaded. Let's keep this casual. Not knowing is half the excitement…The words tasted like dirt in my mouth. "My cousins," I blurted out.
Hollister's bottom lip puckered as he nodded. "That wasn't what I expected." He looked around the elegantly furnished hotel lobby. The fountain in the center of the marble room tied the look together while also providing the soothing sound of burbling water.
It was a very nice, very expensive hotel, but I didn't give two shits about the fountain, not when I had my own work of art walking beside me. I noticed the looks Hollister got from those lingering in the lobby: some curious, others laced with desire. I draped my arm over his shoulders, laying my claim. It was an arrogant, domineering action, but this was why I couldn't let any part of my alpha nature free back at home. That guy was a dick who did exactly what he wanted.
But right now, I was that guy, which meant nothing but Hollister could stop me from turning him to me once we were inside the elevator, cupping his ass, and kissing his lips softly. I drew my head back to look in his face. Like on the sidewalk, his eyes were still closed as if he was stuck in time a few seconds ago when our lips had still been pressed together.
I liked that he seemed to need a few extra moments to go from kissing me to not.
His eyes opened eventually and focused on my face. "I'll give you one thing—your place is nicer than mine," he said with a smile.
I grinned. At least we were joking, and he wasn't still embarrassed. There wasn't anything to be embarrassed about when it came to living within your means. Branson, Nash, Wyatt, and I had camped on the land where our home now stood. Tents had been preferable to the glittering mansions mocking us from the other side of the bay. I clearly didn't have a problem with him sharing a house either. My only issues with Hollister's situation were the dangers I saw lurking there.
"I'd have to tell a lot more fortunes," he said, but I didn't think he was talking to me at that point but to himself.
Already, I knew his name, where he lived, and what he did to earn his money. If I let this continue, nothing would stop me from trying to find him again the next time I was in town. These nights out of Walker County were about living without limits, ignoring that quiet voice that ruled my day-to-day actions. I couldn't make ties or connections. But I didn't want to stop what we were doing, not yet. "Will you tell me my fortune?"
The elevator doors opened onto a long muted hallway lined with doors on either side. Our room was the first on the left. I already had my key card out and tapped it over the mechanized lock. The lights were out inside and the window curtains shut like they'd been when I'd left earlier. That gave me an idea that made me glad I'd left the room shut up. I flipped on the light at the door and stepped to the side to let Hollister in first.
He looked around for a few seconds but then back at me. "I can't tell your fortune."
My eyebrows dipped. "Why?"
He frowned, his face scrunched into an expression that made me believe he was thinking very hard about what he said next. "You're too distracting."