Happily Ever After: A Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Piper Rayne

  “I never could say no to you, Ev. But I promise, at the very least, I’ll hold your hair back,” he adds.

  “Oh great,” I say, deadpan. But there’s a twitch at the corner of my mouth.

  “And that, my dear, is why you don’t experiment on venomous predators,” some hokey voice says from the TV.

  “What do you think,” Colton asks me as the credits start to roll, with a weird sort of opera music accompanying. “Worst movie ever?”

  “I think we can top it. I mean, isn’t there one about stripper zombies? We can totally do better than radioactive bugs. Come on,” I egg him on.

  I throw my playing cards down to reach over for the remote. And I only stop for one French fry along the way. Obviously, we did need room service.

  But we didn’t crack any more booze bottles, not even the little ones. Not even when that last movie—the third so far—started. So I’m finally starting to win more games, evening the odds, as I get closer to sober.

  “Okay, you pick. Both the movie and the game. I’m going to take a really quick shower.” Colton stands and stretches, his T-shirt lifting up above his low-slung sweatpants.

  Something weird flip-flops inside me.

  And my mouth dries out, like I’ve been chewing cotton balls for the last hour.

  What the eff.

  “Hurry up,” I say.

  “I swear. I swear, three minutes tops,” he assures me.

  “I’m timing you,” I shout with my eyes very firmly on the TV as the water starts spraying even before the door closes. And just hangs open. So I don’t dare turn around to get my phone, or look at the clock, to actually do what I threatened I would.

  I’m sort of scared to move at all.

  Because if I move, I might be tempted to look where I so should not.

  Where my stupid, stupid little voice somewhere down deep is telling me to look. That little nudge, it’s starting to itch.

  So that’s when I jump up. Slapping both hands on my thighs after I do. It might have been a more normal thing to do to slap them together. But whatever.

  And the freak, the coward that I am, the untrustworthy little perv—I run out of the damn hotel room and down to the lobby as fast as I can, without putting on shoes or adding yoga pants over my boy shorts.

  What’s modesty anyway?

  When I get downstairs, I ask the poor guy at the front desk a million questions before I finally let him be. And I walk back up as slowly as I can, without feeling ridiculous, with an arm full of new goodies.

  “Ev? Ev!” I hear Colton, borderline frantic as I come up the stairs and turn the corner for our hallway. “Emma?”

  Opening my mouth to call out, I stop before any sound emerges. Because in his panic, apparently thinking I’ve been kidnapped from our room without any sound or struggle, he’s half in the hallway with a towel that’s falling off his…

  “Here,” I squeak as I close my eyes. “I’m here. Sorry,” I add as I rush down that hall looking hard at the patterns in the carpet, like I’m trying to memorize the designs in pinks and golds and tans.

  “Oh, fuck me, Emma,” Colton gets out in a rush, on one big huff of air before he has to suck in a steadying breath. The double use of my full name makes me feel a little like a kid getting yelled at by my mom. “Shit, I turned off the water and asked something—I don’t even remember what it was anymore. But you weren’t there. And, and, and,” he stumbles over his words, and his arms wrap around me, and he starts squeezing.

  “I’m here. I’m fine. I’m sorry,” I say into his wet chest, trying hard not to breathe in. So hard. But he isn’t letting go, and there’s a droplet of water moving down his neck and… “I went downstairs for more games,” I say, sort of pushing the boxes into his stomach where they’re currently crushed between us, for emphasis. “I thought I’d be back before you came out. I was sure you’d take longer.”

  Also, I sort of felt like I was going to burst into flames, sent straight to hell on a wet-and-wild slide the whole way down. I did not trust myself.

  Which is new.

  And confusing.

  And not something I’m going to evaluate at the moment, let alone admit.

  “I always keep my promises, Ev. You know that,” Colton says as he shifts, and his voice is back to normal. His arm hooks around my neck and he takes the board games from my hands and he hauls us back into the room.

  Thankfully his towel stays on, though barely, as he pads into the bathroom.

  Or maybe not so thankfully—

  “If it’s still my pick, then we’re gonna play the lamest-looking game here,” I shout toward the TV as I flick channels.

  “Don’t worry,” Colton says from right behind me, his lips almost touching my ear. I jump, my stomach clenching and my teeth clacking together. “I’m not going to punish you for scaring the shit out of me,” he adds on warm breath.

  Don’t shiver.

  Don’t shiver.

  I shiver.

  And I hope he doesn’t notice.

  Sitting down on the bed, Colton smiles across from me as we set up the board and pieces and cards. It’s possible we make up our own rules, I’m not totally sure. Because I’m focused more on his smile every time I do better than him. And on the way he makes sure to touch my fingers when he hands over a card.

  Even my competitiveness is mostly forgotten.

  That is until I win.

  “Boo-yah!” Jumping up from the bed, and knocking over the entire game in the process, I smile at Colton as I yell in triumph. With weird hip movements and my hands above my head, I victory dance across our hotel room and then back between our matching queen beds.

  “You’ve always been the sorest winner,” Colton says. But the shape of his mouth doesn’t match the tone in his words.

  “I’m oh-so sorry you always lose,” I retort with a wink. “But I’m not a sore winner. I’m simply a proud winner.” Then I turn around, shake my butt at him, and add over my shoulder, “So eat that.”

  His laughter is loud, and like a massage for my ears.

  Wait, that’s weird.

  But it’s comforting, is what I mean.

  It kind of sounds like magic, like the best memories, like the feeling of a bubble bath with wine and candles lit. It makes my stomach warm up and go all melty.

  I’m laughing too, I think. At least from the sore abs and moisture at the corner of my eyes, I guess I am. But I’m not focused on me as I plop back down onto his bed.

  I’m closer than I intended when I’d aimed, but I don’t scoot away.

  “Okay, since it’s my turn, I say we go with the tried and true so we can kind of watch the rest of this awful movie and maybe get some sleep when it’s over,” Colton says.

  I nod, and he leans over to turn off the lights.

  He’s in a new pair of sweat pants, these ones thinner, and a ratty old shirt from college that does the same lifting thing as the last one when he leans to the side.

  My next swallow sounds like a gulp.

  As we settle into each other, against the headboard, like we have a million times before—something feels different. The air in the room is on the verge of something. I’m not sure what it’s on the precipice of, but it’s something new, something different, I can promise that.

  “You start,” I whisper, not trusting myself to be any louder, or to say anything more than that.

  If Colton notices a difference, he hides it like a goddamn magician.

  “Would you rather have one pet that lives forever, or be able to have unlimited pets—money aside—that live normal lives and deaths?” Colton asks.

  “One. If it’s true love, that’s all I need,” I say with my eyes on the flashing colors on the screen in front of us, taking exactly none of it in. For all I know, it could be porn, and I still wouldn’t be reacting.

  “Great minds, Ev. Great minds.” Colton pulls his arm from where it rests on the headboard and snakes it behind my back. And when his fingers find the sensitive sp
ot just below my ribs, on my side, I suck in a breath.

  “Your turn,” he says in a voice oddly serene compared to how my heart is beating. Erratic, frantic, like it might just hop on out of my chest to say hello to the whole room.

  “Would you rather…” I say, trying to think of something. But my mind is too full to think straight. There are dangerous thoughts flitting around, that I’m terrified I might let out.

  Taking a deep breath, I sink back into the warmth of his arm behind me. It shouldn’t help, but it does.

  “Would you rather find the love of your life early on, but lose them to a tragic accident after only a few years? Or would you rather have to watch them from afar for years, going unnoticed—but get to be with them late in life without losing them before you’re ready?” I ask.

  I know it’s a complicated one, and sort of like one from dinner. But after it’s out, I regret the wording a little. Though, not enough to take it back.

  “Option three—I’d rather spend my entire life with her,” Colton says with confidence, his eyes locked on the TV. Nothing in his face changes, but his fingers give a little more pressure on my side.

  “That’s against the rules,” I chide him, waiting for his answer.

  “I’ve got a better one,” he says. And as he finishes, he unwinds himself from me and turns to face me head on. His eyes are a deeper shade than normal, like something I could dive into.

  “Hey now—” I try, but stop short when Colton’s face goes from excited to pained. He doesn’t even need to hold up a hand or say a single word. “Okay.” I nod. It’s slow and unsure, but I let my chin dip down and pop back up anyway.

  “Would you rather,” Colton says it as he leans in closer to me. Before I have time to blink, his hands are both on the comforter, palms down, on either side of my crossed legs. He takes a breath, gathering nerve for something. His steadying makes me shakier.

  “Would you rather lose out on the opportunity of connecting with your soulmate if it meant you’d stay friends for life, or chance everything on breaking your rule to never date a friend again?”

  When he finishes, the warmth of his fingers, the soft skin of his palm finds my cheek. And the room goes dark for a second as everything tips and spins, going haywire. But a few blinks, fast and stuttering, help to clear the fuzzy spots away.

  It’s impossible not to lean into his hand, letting my eyes flutter closed again for a moment as I rest the weight of everything on him.

  And then…and then my mouth pops open because everything sinks in the rest of the way, hitting me in the chest with one hard smack. Nothing comes from my open lips, though.

  It feels like I’m struggling for breath, drowning in all the things I could say but don’t know how to. Don’t know if I should. At this moment I don’t know a fucking thing anymore.

  “Colton,” I whisper.

  Actually, I’m not even sure if any sound comes out or if my lips form around his name without any substance behind to follow.

  He looks like he’s going to respond, like he’s going to tell me what to say, how to feel. But then instead he lifts his hand from where it’s making my cheeks even pinker than they would be on their own. And he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I’d rather—” I start, Colton hanging on every syllable, his eyes fixed somehow both on my gaze and my lips simultaneously. I don’t care if that’s impossible, he does it anyway. Maybe he’s magic.

  Maybe I knew that already.

  And then there’s a knock at the door, interrupting my thoughts. Stopping my breath in my throat. Pulling us apart like we were caught naked and on top of each other by both sets of our parents.

  “Room service,” someone calls from the other side of our door.

  “Shit,” Colton hisses out.

  10

  “Honestly I’d completely forgotten we ordered more food,” I say as Colton comes back to the bed with a tray of various munchies. Keeping my voice light, my smile sure, I’m hoping he doesn’t see through my attempt to start a new conversation, to change the subject.

  I just need a couple more moments to think. I just…

  “I’m surprised they’re open all night,” Colton adds.

  When he sets the tray down, it’s on the nightstand between our beds, but he takes a couple fries as he comes to sit. Picking at the greasy, delicious potatoes, Colton keeps his eyes down. And after a moment of waiting for him to look up, I let my eyes fall to his snack too.

  His hands are shaking.

  “Want to watch a different movie? I don’t think this one is bad enough,” he says, reaching for the remote.

  So I’m not the only one trying to pretend.

  Except I have this sinking feeling that if I never brought it up again, he’d pretend forever. And that’s not what I was going for.

  Thinking of that, seeing the waver in his normally steady hands, knowing that this is one-hundred percent on me—all of that changes something. It starts swaying me fast and hard one definite way, when I’d been very much on the fence before.

  “Leave it,” I finally answer. But he still won’t look up at me, instead turning his body to sit next to me again and watch the movie.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Colton so nervous in all the years I’ve known him. It makes me want to help, to be the rock he’s been for me so many times, for so many years.

  “Colton,” I say. “Will you look at me?” To me my voice sounds as shaky as his hands were a moment ago, but he must not hear it since all he does is shake his head.

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m just going to keep working on a way to rewind time,” he mumbles.

  “Shove over,” I say, and I start moving closer, almost sitting on top of him. Finally, he tucks his feet beneath him so I can block the TV with my big head, sitting right in front of him.

  Our knees touch as I lift my hand up to his chest.

  I knew he was worried. It might not have been obvious to anyone who knew him any less than I do. But the tightness around his eyes, the too-light tone of his voice, the angle of his back and the twitch of his lips. It all pointed to nerves.

  But feeling his heart under my fingers, racing faster than I think mine ever has, it hits me just how much this means to him. His anxiety is through the roof, even though he’s trying to hide it.

  And another punch goes through my gut, all the way into the deepest parts of me.

  Maybe…

  “You answer first,” I say, broaching what we both can’t stop thinking about. It may be tip-toeing around it, but at least we’re closer to the real conversation now.

  And finally, freaking finally, Colton looks up at me.

  He purses his lips until I worry they’ll turn to stone, but his eyes are tumultuous, thoughts shifting the green waters and sparking one look after another that I can’t quite read.

  “That’s not how the game goes,” he says.

  He doesn’t smile. Yet. But his hand does move up to cover mine, still keeping track of his heart. There’s a tremor as our fingers find each other, but once we’re connected, something calms in Colton. There isn’t anything I see that’s specific, that I can point to. But I feel it. Like something in the air dissipated, leaving room for something new.

  Something better.

  Something exciting.

  “You’re supposed to answer first,” Colton reiterates as he searches my eyes for what I’ll say.

  “Which would you rather?” I try again. I don’t mean for my words to be so breathy, but I don’t say it again louder, more forcefully, either. It sounded like a plea, which I guess isn’t wrong.

  To my surprise, Colton’s eyes snap closed, like I’ve hurt him.

  And when he opens them again, they’re no longer on mine, or anywhere on my face, but back down like there were earlier.

  “Do you want the answer you want to hear…or the truth?” Colton asks our crossed legs and the comforter.

  “I could kiss you, Ev,” Colton said with a
smirk.

  At the time I thought it was just an expression, a way to show me how happy he was with whatever I’d done for him right then.

  * * *

  “He didn’t deserve you. None of them do,” Colton told me.

  So who did?

  * * *

  He pulled me in for a hug, and set his chin on top of my head. He breathed deeply before saying, “I’ve got everything.”

  I took it for lowercase. But if it had been capitalized…

  * * *

  I asked him, time after time. With every failed first date. With every relationship that tanked.

  “What was wrong with her?”

  He wouldn’t specify, just said something was missing.

  I told him he was too picky.

  He assured me he wasn’t. He just knew what he wanted.

  I thought he was clueless. That he had no idea what he wanted.

  But maybe he knew, and couldn’t have it.

  * * *

  “You’re stuck with me, Ev. Make sure you tell him that,” Colton said whenever I started a new relationship that looked like it was going somewhere.

  Best friend. That’s what I told myself.

  Someone I could count on. Someone who was always there and wasn’t afraid to make that known.

  Someone who was patient. Someone who could wait it out. Someone who wouldn’t jeopardize a maybe, an eventually.

  I blink away the memories, all the times I heard only what I wanted to and let the reality go right over my head.

  “I want the truth,” I assure Colton, sounding stronger that I’ve ever felt. The words ring out, crossing over to him fast and sure, and bouncing back to fill the room all around us.

  I can’t tell what he’s thinking. And even though I’m trying to read his mind, trying to figure out what he’ll say, I feel like we’re sitting in pitch black. I feel blind.