by Skyla Madi
“I hate to bother you…” Wade rubs at the back of his neck, his gaze darting nervously over my shoulder, looking for something. His light blue shirt lifts, exposing a sliver of skin above the band of his loose-fitting cargo pants. “Are you free?”
I drum my fingers against the door I hold in my left hand. “Free? Free for what?”
He glances down the hall toward his place, toward Caleb’s place. “Caleb’s been weird since this morning. I think I might’ve offended him, or maybe it was the phone call he got, I don’t know.”
I blink at him, not sure what he wants me to say. Then I realize he wants me to go over there. There’s no way I’m going into Caleb’s apartment. Not after what transpired between us after dinner. The last thing I need is for Nick to come home at the wrong time.
“Is he being a broody, sarcastic asshole?” I ask.
The brunette behind Wade nods. “More so than usual.”
“That’s his thing.” I sigh, closing the door a little. “It’ll go away when he finds something to do.”
“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, he’s a dick, but this feels different.” Wade swallows with a shrug of his shoulders then drags his round, concerned stare to my face. “You two seem…close, so maybe you could check in on him while I’m gone?”
Check on Caleb? In his apartment? Wade digs into the front pocket of his jeans, then holds out his enclosed fist to me. I snag my lower lip between my teeth. If he truly thinks Caleb needs to be checked on, how can I say no? I hold my breath, then open my palm under his and he drops a small, silver key into the center of it. “This will get you in. We won’t be back until after the weekend, so feel free to come and go as many times as you want.”
“Oh, okay.” I close my hand around the key. “When I get some time, I’ll check on him.”
“And, uh…” He rubs at his neck again. “You don’t have to worry about me telling Nick anything.”
I tip my head, playing dumb even though my palms dampen with guilty sweat. “Why would I be worried about that?”
“Well, I know you and Caleb have a thing—”
“We don’t have a thing.”
What has Caleb told him? Knowing him, it could be anything.
“Right.” His lips quirk and he purses them, hiding his all-knowing smirk from view for three long seconds before releasing it. “Anyway, my number’s in Caleb’s phone if either of you need to reach me.”
I nod, inching the door halfway closed. “Enjoy your weekend.”
Wade and his two lady friends turn away as I close the door. Exhaling, I lean against it and look at the key in my hand. If Caleb was anyone else, I’d stash the key and ignore it until Wade returned.
But Caleb isn’t anyone else…
…and I know he struggles with his own company some days.
I can ignore it, treat it as a gimmick Caleb’s pulling to get me inside his apartment, or I can take it seriously and check on him.
“Fine,” I whisper-snap at ceiling, like someone’s listening. “I’ll go.”
I push off the door, open it, and step into the freezing hallway. I reach around the wood and lock the apartment from the inside. I can get back in through the unlocked window.
Thankfully, the hall is dead quiet, and I tiptoe as quickly and as quietly as I can to Caleb’s door. My heart races, and I can’t keep the nervous heat from rushing up my neck. I glance toward the stairs, worried Nick will stomp up them any second and catch me at the neighbor’s door. It’s ridiculous I feel I should hide, but I brought it on myself with my lie.
I knock on the door, and it feels like a sheet of ice against my knuckles, and I immediately regret wearing bed shorts outside my warm, toasty apartment. I knock on the door again, four raps of my fist, then bounce on the spot to keep warm. He better have the heat on inside. What if he doesn’t? What if he’s frozen to death in there?
“Caleb?” I call out, then knock again.
Still no answer.
Cursing, I fumble with the key and stick it into the lock, turning it once. Pushing on the cold handle, the frame releases the door and the hinges screech. “Caleb?”
Warm air kisses my pink, freezing nose, and I swoop inside, closing the door behind me. Surprisingly, their apartment is squeaky clean and the air carries a calming, lavender scent. I expected rubbish, empty beer bottles, and gross, two-week-old pizza boxes to litter a space filled with cheap furniture and repurposed kegs, but that’s not what I’m seeing. I glance around the beautiful, minimalist space. From the kitchen to the living room, everything has a place, not a single item looks misplaced, not even on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf next to the large, L-shaped couch.
I stroll into the living space and stop on the edge of a red, shaggy rug. Maybe he went out? I glance at a closed door on one side of the room. It must be his.
I clear my throat. “Caleb?”
Still no answer. Squaring my shoulders, I amble toward the intimidating white door, take hold of the handle, and knock gently. Not waiting for a response, I push on it and ease the door open. His large room is simple and uncluttered; the only disheveled thing in his space is his big bed in the middle of the room, flanked by matching bedside drawers. The scents of crisp, musk cologne and soap hangs in the warmish air and fills my lungs. Comfort eases over me, nostalgia too, from all the time Caleb and I spent together at his father’s house.
I lean further into his room, looking at the hill of pillows and blankets on his bed. “Are you sleeping?”
“No.”
Oh. I’m surprised to hear his gruff response coming from underneath the pile of blankets. Didn’t he hear me calling him? Did I really need to come all the way to his room? “I’ve been calling your name.”
He throws the blanket off and sits up. My heart thumps in my chest as he swipes at his face, keeping his gaze downcast. I watch, quietly, while he places three pillows behind him and shuffles backward, resting against them. His dirty blond hair is a ruffled mess, his face sleepy and clouded. He’s a perfect lazy day personified with his fitting white tee and loose gray sweatpants. It makes me want to snuggle into him, like I would a hoodie, and curl up on the couch.
Folding my arms across my chest, I tuck my cold hands under my biceps and lean against his door frame as he scoops up his phone and unlocks the screen. The light brightens his features and he doesn’t look so good. His skin is an odd pale shade, his eyes heavy and troubled.
“How are you?” I ask, trying my damn hardest to come off impartial and indifferent even though every cell in my body is urging me to go to him, to comfort him.
“I’m fine.” The energy swirling around his room is a perfect match for his dark and aggressive tone. He clenches his jaw and tosses his phone onto his bedside table.
“You look miserable.”
Still, he doesn’t make eye contact with me.
“I don’t feel miserable.”
“How do you feel?” I ask, and he lifts his dark stare to mine.
My heart stutters, and I swallow. I’ve never seen him so closed off, so apathetic.
“Does Nick know you’re here?”
I open my mouth, then stammer. “N-no.”
Caleb’s eyes thin, his glare cutting through me. “You should go. I’m not in the mood to socialize anyway.”
I push off the doorframe and step into his room. The second I cross the threshold, the air changes. It’s heavy, electrifying, and personal. I’m in his private space, a space I have no business being. It’s scary. I half expect the door to slam shut and lock behind me, sealing my fate.
Caleb flicks his serious stare over me, and I feel underdressed as a warm flush sweeps up my spine and engulfs my neck. Stopping two feet from the end of his bed, I plant my hands on my hips and tilt my head, as if looking at him from a different angle will help me understand why he’s so gloomy. “Are you mad at me? Is that why you’re sitting in the dark, brooding?”
“I’m not mad at you and I’m not brooding.”
“Really?
Because I’m getting a different vibe.” I wait a beat, but he doesn’t protest. What can I do? If he wants to be alone, then I have no right to intrude. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“No, Cass. Don’t—” Caleb drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. He rubs at the corners, then lifts his head, his face softer than it was a few seconds ago, making my heart pound. “I’m sorry. Come here.”
I glance at his large, open hand as he extends it to me, but I don’t move to take it. “Why?”
“I want you to sit with me. I need you to sit with me. Please?”
I drop my hands from my hips and blow out a subtle exhale. I’m going to regret this. I know it. I step around the big base of the bed and take his hand. He tugs me onto the bed and I almost choke on a gasp. Using my arm, and a firm grip on my hip, he maneuvers my body until I’m sitting between his legs, my back flush against his chest. My lungs seize at the feel of him, his hard torso, his strong arms around my waist, his chin resting on the slope of my neck.
Breathe.
“It’s not you,” he mutters. “I’m not mad at you.”
Through parted lips, I inhale—it’s shaky, sounding like a magnitude nine earthquake in my ears. “No?”
“No. Not even a little bit.” He moves his head, inhaling my hair, my skin, and grazes his lips against the slope of my neck. “I’m glad you’re here. I want you here. You’re the only one I want here.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he sweeps my hair out of the way and trails his nose up and down my neck, breathing me in. My spine tingles, and my scalp crawls delightfully.
“Agnes had emergency heart surgery,” he tells me, and I gasp, my heart stuttering for him. “They’re worried about her recovery and she’s…she’s not in a good way.”
Oh. The thought of losing her would be eating him up inside. It’s no wonder he wants to be alone. He must be beside himself, sick with stress.
“Bree told me the doctors said they can’t risk another surgery on her, that her heart can’t take it, and there’s a chance she’ll…” Caleb clears his throat and plants a gentle kiss to my shoulder. “I know what they’re telling me is fucked up, but I can’t process the information. It’s stuck in my ears and in my head, but I can’t…I can’t…absorb it.” He makes a gruff noise in his chest, out of frustration and anger. “I’m not sad when I should be. My heart should be bleeding for this woman, Cassia, because she’s all I’ve had my whole life. She deserves something from me. How can I show my face at her hospital bed knowing I can’t even shed a tear for her?”
“You’ve known her since you were little, right?”
He nods.
“I think she’s probably the only person on the planet who understands you, Caleb. Tears or no tears, you should go home and see her, or regret it for the rest of your life if something happens.”
He smooths a hand along my covered belly, up and down, caressing me until he flirts with the hem at the bottom of my sweater.
“I don’t want to leave you here,” he admits. Slipping the tips of his fingers under the fabric, he glides them along my abdomen, and I shiver, clenching my thighs together in response. “Not with him.”
“Caleb…”
The muscles in his stomach contract against my back, and he drags his mouth to my ear, vibrating me all over. I lift my shoulders as unbearable tingles explode along my flesh, causing it to pebble.
“Come with me.”
I try to shake my head, but his mouth on the lobe of my ear, and his fingers as they float along my bare stomach are making it impossible.
“Caleb,” I hum his name again, and I don’t know if it’s in protest or if it’s a plea for him to keep going. “I can’t.”
“Please.” He circles my belly button twice before he dips the very tips of them under the edge of my shorts, then back up again, this time pushing higher underneath my sweater. “I need you to come with me.”
I let my head loll back against him and rest comfortably in the slope of his neck. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be on this bed and in his arms like this, but it’s the only contact I’ve had in a while that feels right—more than right. Being in Caleb’s arms is perfect and natural, and I never want to leave.
“I can’t go with you,” I murmur, closing my eyes to focus on the feel of his left hand as it glides up my bicep. He pinches the fabric of my sweater and gently pulls it, exposing more and more of my shoulder. “I won’t give my father the satisfaction.”
My stubbornness, and the ache to punish my parents aside, it’s best if I stay here in New York. If I’m going to get through the next few weeks with Nick—who already thinks I’m sleeping with our neighbor—it’s better if Caleb and I aren’t M.I.A. at the same time. The last thing I need while trying to get my life together is Nick screaming “I knew it” in my face and calling me all the colorful names he spat my way when we spoke on the phone in the early hours of this morning.
Without a word, Caleb touches his lips to my shoulder again and plants beautiful, loving kisses along it. Each one grows increasingly passionate, needier, until his lips aren’t enough, and he parts his mouth to touch the tip of his tongue to my flushed skin. I shift against him, placing my hands on his strong thighs, my breathing suddenly labored. A slight moan slips from me as every hair on my body stands on its ends. God. His mouth plays me so perfectly, consumes me so intensely, I don’t register his hands cupping my bare breasts until he pinches a hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger and releases a tight groan in my ear.
“Fuck. These feel good in my hands,” he rasps against my earlobe, sending an electric current pinging through my veins. “I want them in my mouth.”
I open my eyes, and everything registers. Caleb’s room, his hands, his mouth, and his hard length pressing against my lower back. How did we get here? Not too long ago I despised seeing his arrogant face. Now, he has his hands up my shirt, his mouth against my neck, and I’m filled with an unbearable need to feel him inside me.
And that’s wrong; I know it is. The sharp tendrils of guilt burrowing through my chest won’t let me forget it…but it’s Caleb. It’s always been Caleb from the moment I saw him.
Since last night, I’ve thought a lot about how we ended things. I’ve been so focused on what he didn’t do for me back then that I refused to see what he’s doing for me now. He moved to New York to win me back. He moved into the freaking apartment next door to mine and swears he hasn’t been with anyone else because he only wants me. I tried, for a while, to love Nick the way I remembered loving Caleb, but it never blossomed. I liked Nick enough, sure, but that little sliver of affection I felt for him has always been tainted with unauthenticity, regret, and guilt. I powered on because I promised Nick I would. He wanted us to work so bad he drove a vicious wedge between us with his suppressed resentment of me. In the beginning, he was easy to like, but by the end of it…he became a different person. Most days, he’s a delight to be around. Others, a complete nightmare.
I turn my head, kinking my neck on a painful angle to look Caleb in the eyes. They’re dark, his green irises barely seen in their clouded depths, and his lids are hooded.
“I want to touch you everywhere.” He kisses my lower lip, slowly and sensually. Releasing one breast, he glides his fingertips down my torso, past my belly button, to tease the line of my shorts. “I won’t tell anyone. Not Nick. Not a soul.”
I swallow, tightening my grip on his thighs. “Nick and I broke up.” I flick my tongue over my lip, trying to find the right words. “He’s…he was…he’s not…”
How do I swallow my pride and admit everything I’ve said about Nick and me isn’t true? I mean, concrete? Nick and I were far from concrete and about as stable as a cluster of dust particles settled on a well-used shelf. I wanted concrete. I tried my hardest to make it, but the ingredients just weren’t there. Truth is, I never stopped thinking about Caleb or loving him. I couldn�
�t. I’ve been enamored with him from the moment I saw him. After leaving Paradise Valley, I compartmentalized him, and the pain I associated with him, at the back of my mind. I told myself he was screwing other girls, throwing parties, and having the time of his life, while I grieved the end of our whirlwind romance. Really, he was planning his way back to me, to make up for the way we ended things. He’s tried so hard to make it better, and I’ve thrown it back in his face over and over, forcing him to watch from the sidelines while I pretend to be happy with someone else. Still, he stuck it out and persevered when I would’ve flaked. If I had to watch Caleb build a life with another girl…it would crush me. I sigh, my attention falling to Caleb’s perfect lips. There aren’t words strong enough to convey my message. Not in any language.
“He just isn’t,” I whisper, making eye contact with him again.
His eyes lighten a fraction, and his lips quirk in one corner. He understands. Pulling his hand from my sweater, he cups my cheek in his warm palm and flicks his thumb over my cheekbone. Then he crushes his mouth to mine and kisses me in a way only he can. I open my mouth to him and his tongue is right there, moving against mine, as he releases a husky groan of pleasure. I gasp at the sound, reveling in the vibrations it sends over my skin. Releasing my face, he wraps his arm around my waist, anchoring me to him, while pushing his other hand under my shorts and panties, his fingers sliding along my bare pubic mound. I tense as a pang of uncertainty and insecurity zaps my blood, and I pull away from his kiss. His name is a scared whisper on my lips before I can register thinking it, and he pulls his hand from my shorts.
“Close your eyes,” he tells me, kissing the top of my nose, and I do as I’m told.
Straightening my head, I relax against him, and he continues to caress me, moving slowly, sensually. He nips at my earlobe and, I think, he whispers something against my skin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant for me, so I don’t press for him to repeat it. He touches me, dragging his hands up and down, and places open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and the slope of my neck until I’m completely absorbed by him.