Flock

“HEY, AFTERNOON DELIGHT!” AN AMUSED chuckle sounds up behind me as I make my way through the parking lot, “Wait up!”

Frown in place, I turn to see Sean sauntering toward me between a row of cars. Hands on my hips, I stare him down as he approaches, and then am forced to look up at him when he gets closer due to our difference in height.

In the sparkling light of day, he’s far more impressive than I gave him original credit for, and I’m careful to control my gawk. His looks are—paralyzing—spiked two-toned dirty blond and platinum hair, sun-drenched skin, insane build, and hazel eyes with undecided dominance, a strong nose with a slight bump along the ridge ending with just the right flare. And his mouth, his mouth is enough in and of itself to keep my thirsty eyes busy. His tongue darts out, sliding against the ring tucked in the corner, showcasing his full bottom lip. His gaze glitters over me, along with a building smirk as I take my fill and then drift to his pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, and lower, and lower. A large tattoo covers the majority of his left arm, the dark black tip of a wing and feathers starting just above his elbow and looks like it ends at the base of his neck.

“That’s not my name.”

“Sorry,” a flash of teeth, “couldn’t resist.”

“Try harder.”

His chuckle sends a flutter across my skin. “Will do. That was pretty brave back there.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not looking forward to the job. It’s a condition of my sentence.”

He frowns. “Sentence?”

“Because of my last name. I’m being forced to work here for a year, so I’m deserving of it, I guess.” I shrug as if my bitterness hasn’t said too much on my behalf.

“Hmm, you aren’t alone. I’m not thrilled about being back here either.” He’s older, I’m guessing somewhere in his mid-twenties, his presence impossible to ignore due to his insanely good looks and his scent is just as tempting—cedar and something else I can’t put my finger on. The vibe he’s throwing off is irresistible. The more he stands in the golden sun, the more he seems to absorb. It’s alarming just how much looking at him is u

“Cecelia, right?”

I nod.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“Why?”

He runs a hand through his messy spiked mane. “You’re new in town, right? My roommates and I have a spot a few miles away. We’re having a few friends over today, and I thought you might want to come.”

“Yeah, I’m going to pass.”

He tilts his head, amused by my fast answer. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know you.”

“That’s the point of the invite.” His mouth might be moving with pleasantries, but his eyes are devouring me in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.

“That crack I made back there might have given you the wrong impression about me.”

“I’m making no assumptions, swear,” he holds up his palms, where a heavily inked ace on his right wrist poses as a permanent top card up his sleeve.

Clever.

He winks, and it feels like a kiss on the cheek. All I have to look forward to at home is a swim and a book. And I have a feeling I’ll be doing that for most of the summer. I look him over carefully and hold out my hand.

“Let me see your driver’s license.”

Thick blond brow raised, he pulls out his wallet and hands me his license. I take the offered card and eye it and him as a cigarette appears, dangling between his lips before he strikes a black titanium Zippo, and I flick my attention back to his ID.

“You are aware you’re the last smoker, right?”

“Someone’s got to keep up my old man’s bad habits,” he says on an exhale.

“Alfred Sean Roberts, twenty-five, and a Virgo.” I take a picture of his license and shoot off a text to Christy.

If I wind up dead, this dude did it.

The response bubbles start immediately, and I know she’s going insane. The picture does little credit to the real thing. His looks are jarring and seem out of place here.

“Sending out a safety net?” he asks, reading my move.

“Exactly,” I hand him back his license. “If I don’t make it home, you’re suspect number one.”

He seems to mull over my statement. “Do you party?”

“In what sense?”

“In every sense.”

“Not really, no.”

He looks at me with such…intensity, new hesitation in his posture, as if weighing whether or not to take back his invitation. Despite being slightly offended, I decide to make it easy on him. “I guess that’s a dealbreaker? Don’t worry about it, see you around—”

“It’s not that, just…” He cups the back of his neck. “Jesus, I’m fucking this up good. It’s just the guys, they’ll, well, they’re—”

“I’ve been to plenty of parties, Sean. I’m no Little Red Riding Hood.”

This earns me a grin before he stomps out his cigarette with a greased-stained tan boot. “Good, because we don’t want to let the wolf get a whiff.”

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

He flashes a blinding smile that feels like a bat to the chest.

“I told you, my spot.”

I should be wary, especially because of his hesitation, but I’m intrigued more than anything. “I’ll follow you.”

We pull up to a two-story house, the only one in a tiny cul-de-sac. The rest of the houses on the street spaced just far enough apart to allow a fair amount of privacy. It’s a far cry from the inch between houses neighborhood I grew up in. I get out of my Camry and meet Sean at his car, an old classic that I struggled to keep up with on the ride over. It’s fire engine red, looks newly polished and seems to suit him perfectly. The rest of the parking spots in the circle and lining the street are cars of the same nature, mostly classics, shiny metal with powerful engines—either that or huge trucks that require some effort to climb in.

“This is beautiful,” I tell him as he gets out and closes the door, eyes hidden due to a pair of vintage Vegas Elvis style shades. Sunglasses that would look ridiculous on anyone else but work effortlessly on him. Darting my eyes away, I run my fingers along the glossed exterior of the car.

“What is it?”

“’69 Nova, SS.”

“I love it.”

A flash of teeth. “Me too, come on.”

I glance up the driveway, and it’s easy to see the tan-sided house is suited for bachelors. It’s nothing special, the lawn manicured enough to make it clean, but lacking a personal touch. There’s a group of people gathered on the porch, a few of their heads already turned our way.

A twinge of social anxiety keeps me idle as Sean walks a few steps ahead of me to follow. When he senses I’m not at his side, he turns back, and I latch my wrist to the arm draped loosely at my side. “Who all lives here?”

“Me and two others, they’re like my brothers, and both will bite.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He pushes his shades up to his crown and eyes me skeptically. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Should we?”

Sean takes the few strides towards me, his voice level when he speaks.