Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

8

Fifteen minutes later,I leave the dressing room wearing sweats and a tank with my face scrubbed clean, and I run smack into Mack.

“Boyfriends aren’t allowed if they can’t behave themselves,” she says. “You know the rules.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just an idiot.”

She smiles. “He know that?”

“That he’s not my boyfriend, or that he’s an idiot?” I give her a sly grin. “He probably knows both.”

Mack shakes her head with a sigh, lifting her eyes to the ceiling.

“You girls are turning me gray.”

I snort a laugh. Mack is only in her early thirties, and there’s not a gray hair on her head. She looks back at me with an arched brow.

“You’re off until Monday.”

I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a palm.

“It’s not a punishment. Red told me about your shows. I don’t want you to worry about pulling doubles. You can make the hours up next week.”

“Really?” My smile must cover my entire face because her lips curve slightly in return. “Thank you.”

She nods, then turns to leave.

“Remember us when you’re famous,” she calls over her shoulder before heading around the corner and back into her office.

There’s a bounce to my step as I walk to the Pen. It’s a storage room that we use to hold drunk assholes before the cops come cart them off. It cracks me up that Levi ended up in there. First the strip club, then the lap dance, and now the Perv Pen.

What a day for good old Levi Cooper.

I wipe my face of any expression before I swing the door open, and it’s difficult as hell not to bust out laughing when I see Levi slouched in a metal folding chair, holding an ice pack on his face. His eyes jump to me immediately, but I settle mine on Red.

“I got it from here, Red.”

He nods without saying anything. Then he pushes himself away from the wall where he was leaning, gives me a wink, and walks out the door. It’s not until the door clicks shut behind me that I let my attention drift to Levi.

He’s glaring daggers at me, and my head jerks back on instinct.

“What?” I spit out.

“Vixen Viper?”

“We have to have a stage pseudonym.” I shrug. “It’s better than Candi or Cookie or Cupcake. At least a viper isn’t easily consumed.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t say anything else about my name. He just cocks his head slightly to the side and keeps his eyes narrowed on me. I put my hands on my hips and glare back until he decides to speak again.

“You’re a stripper.”

And there is the patronizing tone I didn’t miss.

“Dancer,” I correct, and he scoffs.

“Half-naked dancer.”

“It’s my job.”

“This isn’t a job. It’s a joke.”

“Well, you paid the fifty-dollar cover charge to get into this joke, and I didn’t see you complainin’ a half hour ago.”

I have to bite my cheeks to keep from smiling while we stare off. He can’t even argue. He knows I’m right. To further prove my point, I lower my eyes to his crotch, pucker my lips and let out a long, slow whistle.

“Alright, alright,” he says quickly, turning his body to the side, as if trying to hide from me.

“Never would have guessed you’d have such a big dick, Cooper.”

“Jesus Christ, Sav.”

His ears turn pink, and I smirk, waltzing up to him slowly.

“Oh, the Lord’s name in vain, too? Well hung and a sinner to boot. Just my type.”

I lean my hip on the table next to him and look down through my lashes. He meets my gaze, then scans my face with his big brown eyes. His nostrils flare, and I can tell he’s trying not to smile.

“Still a brat,” he says finally, and I let my grin slip.

“Still a weenie.”

His lips twitch into a smirk that makes my pulse speed up.

“A sizable one, at that,” he adds in a low cocky voice that has my mouth dropping open with a laugh.

Now my ears are turning pink, I can tell from how much they’re burning, and all I can do is shake my head. Un-freaking-believable. I stick out my foot and nudge his shoe with mine.

“Whatcha doin’ here, anyway?”

He stretches his legs out wide, bracketing me between them, and slides his body lower in the metal folding chair so he’s peering up at me. He sets the ice pack on the table, letting me get a good view of the bruise that’s formed on his cheek, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch it. To smooth away the hurt. His face is farther away from mine now than it was moments before, but something about this position feels closer.

“It’s my first spring break. Miami won the coin toss. Luck.”

Luck? Hmm.

“Where are you going to school?”

“UNC.”

There’s no hiding the pride in his voice, and though I’m impressed, I’m not surprised. Well, not surprised that he got into UNC, anyway. He was a straight A student. Did all the extra credit, too. A little surprised he didn’t end up at one of the Christian colleges, though. I squint at him playfully.

“Southern Baptist Ministry? Biblical Studies?”

He rolls his eyes. “Architectural engineering.”

That makes sense, too. He always did like building things. I used to make fun of him for his Lego sets and the doodles of buildings in his notebooks. I trace my finger along the edge of the table and let my eyes follow it.

“What are you doing later?”

I try to keep my voice neutral, act nonchalant, but I know he hears my excitement. I can tell from the way he tilts his head at me like a curious little puppy.

“We were going to hit up the beach.” I curl my lip in disgust and he laughs. “You live in Miami. You can’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Too much sand. Too many critters.” I shudder. “The beach would be better if it was a pool.”

He laughs again, then tilts his outstretched leg so his knee bumps my calf.

“You got something better in mind?”

I meet his eyes and give him a troublemaking grin. The same one I’d toss him when we were kids. I shrug.

“I might.”

Then I turn and walk out the door, working to tame my giddiness when I hear Levi stand and follow.

“This is a closet.”

Levi leans on the door frame to the room I rent from another dancer at the club as I dig through my “dresser” to find the outfit I want to wear tonight. It’s actually a plastic bin that I got from the resale shop, but it works as my dresser and nightstand. Even a desk, in a pinch.

I stop my digging and glance around the room, trying to see it how he’s seeing it. The paint is dull. The ceiling light flickers. The window AC box barely works. And yeah, it’s super tiny.

But it’s mine.

I go back to shuffling through my clothes as I respond.

“I can come and go as I please. I don’t have to be locked in from sundown to sunup. I can close the door when I use the bathroom. I can walk through the front door without listening for danger first. I don’t have to tiptoe around for fear of getting the shit kicked out of me.”

I pull out the outfit I was searching for and toss it on my mattress, then put the plastic lid back on the bin.

“Maybe it’s not big or luxurious, but I don’t need much space, and it works just fine for me. It’s mine. I like it.”

I push myself to standing and meet his eyes. His brow is furrowed with contrition, probably seconds away from apologizing. I wave him off.

“Forget it.” I give him an honest smile. “Only forward from here.”

He purses his lips and nods, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. It’s unsettling, and I don’t like feeling unsettled.

“Turn around so I can change, perv.”

“Why?” he asks as he obeys. “I already saw your tits.”

I bark out a laugh, stripping out of my tank and sweats.

“Since when do you say tits?”

His chuckle rumbles through the room, and I have to fight off a shiver. I’m thankful his back is turned because now my nipples are hard and my face is hot, and I’m not ready to deal with whatever that means.

“I’m eighteen, Sav. I say a lot of things I didn’t used to.”

I flick my eyes to his back, taking note of the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretches over it. His shoulders are broad, his arms larger than I remember. He’s not fifteen, anymore. That’s for sure.

“Is this the obligatory sheltered church boy rebellion? You gonna join a frat or date a goth girl, next?”

He laughs but doesn’t answer, which means I’m right. A Levi Cooper rebellion. How fun. I think I’d like to see how this plays out.

I finish dressing, then I toss my discarded clothes into my small hamper in the corner.

“Alright, I’m good.”

Levi turns around smiling, but the minute his eyes land on me, his smile disappears. His gaze slides from my face to my lips, then down my body slowly, sticking on certain places that make my nipples pebble again under the tight fabric of my push up bra. I bite my lip and squirm a little under his heated attention, but then his eyes turn angry, and my defenses shoot up.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

I gape, and then I’m pissed.

“Just what exactly is wrong with what I’m wearing, Leviticus?”

His nostrils flare at the old nickname, but then he drags his hand down his face.

“Don’t you have anything that doesn’t make you look like a stripper? Put the damn sweats back on.”

I clench my teeth at his tone, then put my hands on my hips and glare at him.

My outfit is sexy as fuck, but it’s not something I’d wear at the club. Hell, you see more skin just walking down Ocean Drive. Sure, the men’s dress shirt is hanging off one shoulder with only two buttons fastened in the middle, and it’s exposing my electric purple push up bra and my navel, but my black leather short shorts and fishnets cover almost my entire ass. My arms are covered, my back is covered, and the combat boots I plan to wear come to mid-calf.

If anything, I’m overdressed for Miami.

“If you’ve got a problem with the way I’m dressed, then you can go back to your little frat bros and hit up the beach. Maybe you’ll get lucky and the sand you get up your ass will turn into a pearl.”

I say the last sentence with a sweet smile, batting my eyelashes at him, and he tips his head back. He doesn’t say anything, and the longer he breathes in and out at the ceiling without acknowledging me, the angrier I get.

What the hell is he so frustrated about? He’s got no right to police how I dress.

I snatch the pillow off my mattress on the floor and swing it at him, hitting him square in the gut. He grunts and doubles over, hugging the pillow to his body and turning quickly so it rips from my hands. Then, quick as ever, he swings it back and it smacks me right in the face.

The tension is gone before the whoosh of breath leaves my body, and we start to laugh at the same time. When our gazes lock, my excitement for his presence sparks once more.

I can’t fucking believe he’s here in my little rented bedroom in Miami, Florida. Here after showing up at the club while I was performing.

God, it feels like it’s been so much longer than three years.

I fight the urge to shut my eyes against some of the memories that assault me.

I wonder if he’s experienced as much as I have. I wonder how much these past three years have changed him. He looks so different than he did the last time I saw him. Still boyish, but less so. He’s taller. His cheeks aren’t as plump. There’s a smattering of scruff on his jaw and product in his hair. But I still knew who he was the second my eyes landed on him.

He’s still Levi.

When our laughter slows, I drop my pillow back on my mattress and pick up my combat boots. I shoulder check him when I walk past, smirking when he huffs out an ouch, then glance at him over my shoulder.

“C’mon, Weenie. We’re going to be late.”