I send the message before I can overthink it, then immediately regret it. She’s going to block me. I deserve it. I accused her of fingering herself to memories of us, which is messed up. I know it is. Why the hell do I say stuff like that to her? Why am I trying to provoke her pretty little ass all the time?
Because you like seeing her fired up. You get off on her anger when it’s aimed toward you.
I scrub a hand over my face. I’m a sick fuck. Seriously. I like how she makes me work for it, every single time.
My phone dings and I almost drop it, I’m so eager to open up my DMs. The message is short and typical Ava.
After not talking for months, THIS is the first thing you say to me????
The relief that smacks me square in the chest is damn near overwhelming. I immediately respond.
Me: Sorry. Got worked up.
Ava: Clearly.
Me: You with this Wyatt douche then?
Ava: Already figured out whose jersey it is, huh?
Notice how she doesn’t answer the question. We were last together in June. It’s now late August. Plenty of time for her to find someone else. Plenty of time for me to find someone else too.
But I didn’t. I can’t. She’s irreplaceable.
Me: When it has to do with you, I need to know.
Ava: It’s really none of your business.
Me: I’ve had my tongue in your mouth.
Ava: So?
Me: You’ve had your tongue in MY mouth.
Ava: Big deal.
Me: Best kiss of my life.
Ava: Because you broke into the cabin like some sort of criminal.
Me: You get off on that shit, too, Ava. Don’t deny it.
Ava: Absolutely not.
Me: More like you get off on that shit when it’s me who’s doing it to you.
No response. For a solid five minutes.
She’s keeping quiet on purpose. Trying to torture me.
It’s working.
Finally, she answers me.
Ava: You’re unbelievable.
Me: No, you’re the unbelievable one. As in, I can’t believe you haven’t come to your senses and hit me up.
Ava: I’m not interested.
I make a scoffing noise out loud. Girl is straight up lying. If she wasn’t interested, she’d tell me to go to hell. She’d block my ass, and it would be done. Easy as that.
Me: Liar. So tell me. You with this dick or what?
Ava: I’m not with Wyatt.
Ava: Not yet.
I rub my hand over my chest. Ouch, that hurt.
Me: Don’t do it.
Ava: Don’t do what?
Me: Wear Wyatt’s jersey. Talk to me.
Ava: I’m talking to you right now.
Me: You’re a smartass.
Ava: My father says it’s my best quality.
Me: You have a lot of great qualities babe. One of them being your ass.
Ava: Did you really just call me babe?
Huh. Surprised she didn’t call me out for the ass compliment.
Me: I did.
Ava: I’m not your babe.
Me: You haunt my dreams daily. You are definitely my babe.
I get nothing but eyeroll emojis for that response, and I can’t help but laugh.
Ava: You’re only attracted to me physically. You don’t even know me.
Me: I want to get to know you. Your beauty is just a bonus.
Her beauty is a huge bonus, I can’t lie. But yes. I want to know her better. I want to know everything about her.
Ava: Somehow that doesn’t feel like a compliment.
Me: Trust me, it is. Hey, let’s meet up tomorrow night, after our games. Mine’s at home too. Come over to my house. Hang out with me.
She goes silent for over ten minutes, making me sweat. I don’t know why I threw that out there. To test the water, maybe? See what she’d say? I took a total chance. If she didn’t want to come over, she’d tell me no, end of story.
Taking her time is a good sign. Maybe she’ll say yes. Maybe she’ll want to see me after all these months. Maybe I can get my mouth on hers again and convince her we’re a good idea.
Ava: I don’t know if I can come over.
Me: Don’t go to Sorrento’s house.
I know how they work. Home games equal a party at Tony’s afterward. Madness ensues. Drinking. Drugging. Fucking. Fighting.
No way do I want Ava there. I want her safe.
With me.
Ava: I definitely won’t go to Sorrento’s house.
Me: Come over to my house instead.
Ava: Are you having a party?
Me: Yeah. A party of two.
Me: Me and you.
Another pause in her response. I’m calmly going out of my mind. I wish she’d just say yes. She will most likely say no.
I’d even bet money she’ll deny me.
Ava: I should tell you to go to hell and leave me alone forever.
Me: You already did that. And look. Here I am, acting like a possessive boyfriend.
Yeah. Seriously. I’m acting like an asshole making his claim, when I’ve got no claims to make. I have no right to treat her like this. Make all of these demands. But…
It’s like I can’t help myself.
Ava: I’m tempted, but I can’t.
Me: Afraid of pissing off your brother?
Ava: No. He can’t tell me what to do.
Me: Funny, he always acts like he can. Mr. Overprotective. I’m surprised your little Wyatt had the balls to ask you to wear his jersey. Figured Jake would’ve smashed them already for even looking at you.
Ava: Jake is not the boss of me, no matter what you think.
Me: Yeah right.
I’m provoking her on purpose. I’m no idiot.
Okay, maybe I am. Provoking her is fun, but pushing her too far might just push her right out of my life, and I don’t want that to happen.
Ava: Oh fuck off. You want me to come over tomorrow tonight? Fine, I will.
Did that actually just happen?
Seriously?
I figured she’d tell me to go to hell. We’d argue. I’d say something inappropriate. She’d tell me I’m crude and disgusting, end of conversation.
But she actually said yes.
Hell has frozen over.
Me: Are you serious? Really? You’re going to actually meet me—
Wait a minute. I backspace all of that and rewrite my message.
Me: Cool. Text me right now and I’ll give you my address. Here’s my number.
I add my phone number and send it to her, ignoring the jumble of nerves suddenly churning in my stomach.
Or maybe I should pay attention to my instincts.
As in, this could all be fake. She could be playing me. She could be laughing with her brother right now at this very moment, stringing me along and setting me up so a bunch of assholes show up at my house tomorrow night and beat my ass. I wouldn’t put it past Jake and his friends.
Ava: Let’s keep our convo in DMs for now.
Me: Why? You don’t want anyone to see me texting you?
Ava: That’s right.
I toss my phone onto the bed next to me and sit up, tearing off my T-shirt. I should take a shower. That’ll give me time to think about all the things I could do and say to Ava tomorrow night. There’s so much I want to do to her. And so much I want to say to her.
A notification sounds and I check my DMs.
Ava: I don’t know why I’m doing this.
I start typing. She might be talking herself out of it at this very moment. Or chickening out over sending her brother to my house to beat me into a bloody pulp.
Me: Because you can’t stop thinking about me?
Shit. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.
Me: I can’t stop thinking about you.
There. That’s the God’s honest truth. Since that night, I respected her wishes and left her alone, but never once did I ever stop thinking about her. The scent of h
er skin. The taste of her lips. The softness of her hair. The defiant way she glared at me, like she wanted to tear me apart.
Ava: It was a memorable evening.
A smile curls my lips. So she felt it too. And maybe she’s still feeling it.
Me: Don’t wear that dude’s jersey tomorrow.
Ava: I already said I would.
Me: Make up an excuse. Tell him you can’t. Blame your brother. I just—let me talk to you first. I want a second chance.
The girl leaves me hanging for a solid twenty minutes. T-W-E-N-T-Y minutes. Talk about excruciating. It felt like the clock—and my fucking heart—stopped. DOA, dead on arrival, that’s me.
Finally, finally she responds.
Ava: No promises.
Ava: But you better not mess this up with that crazy mouth of yours.
Eleven
Ava
What am I doing?
Not only did I fall for Eli’s “charm” via DM, but I actually agreed to meet with him. Even after he said I fingered myself while thinking of him every night in bed. Like, who says that?
Not actually a lie though, either. I might’ve tested things out so to speak, but I felt silly and inept, so I gave up. I do still think about that night. A lot. It was the first real, major kissing session I’ve ever had.
Ever.
The guilt I’m experiencing over agreeing to meet with Eli while promising Wyatt I’ll wear his jersey is unreal. And overwhelming. I dealt with it for all of an hour before I finally had to text him and blame it on Jake for my not wearing the jersey tomorrow. I made up some excuse about Jake being pissed, blah blah blah, and Wyatt better not ever bring it up to him because then my brother will be more pissed, blah blah blah.
I felt terrible. I’m a horrible human being. Wyatt took it all in stride, as if he expected Jake to be mad and complain about me wearing Wyatt’s jersey. Which is crazy. I love my brother. We’re pretty close. But I would never let him dictate who I can and cannot see. Nope. Screw that. I’m my own woman, no matter what anyone thinks.
At school, I told Ellie the same thing I told Wyatt, and she was indignant on my behalf. She also couldn’t believe I let Jake tell me what to do. I tried to tell her I’m keeping the peace, but I don’t think she believed me.
My best friend knows me too well, as she should. This is not normal behavior for me.
But I reassured her I didn’t want to rock the boat. She believed me. Somewhat.
I’m a good liar. Better than I thought.
Once the game starts, I can’t focus on anything else. We won. I only messed up a couple of times while cheering, earning a hard stare from Cami, the cheer captain from hell. Then she went and slobbered all over my brother after the game, making me want to puke.
When did those two get back together? That is the last thing I want to see.
Once I could get out of there, I left and headed for Eli’s house. He already texted me that his game was over and that he’s home. He also requested that I text him when I arrived versus just knocking on the front door.
Sketchy but whatever.
It’s only when I pull up Eli’s steep driveway that I realize I’m still in my uniform. Broadcasting those Badger colors while I’m about to walk into a Mustang house. And it’s the QB’s house—if Jake ever finds out I’m doing this, he will kill me.
What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Or me.
Ha ha.
I put my car in park and reach for my phone that’s sitting in the cup holder, when there’s a knock on the driver’s side window. I startle so hard, the phone falls from my grip, landing on the floorboard, and I scream.
It’s Eli, standing beside my car with a smile stretched across his face.
Hitting the button, I lower my window. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound very sorry. His gaze drops past my face, his eyes widening. “Fuck me, are you wearing your cheer uniform?”
This was a huge mistake. “I should go.”
“No way. Uh uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re staying. You gotta give me that second chance.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
He holds his hands up in front of him, as if he’s praying. “Please?”
I watch him watch me. He’s too attractive for his own good. This could be the biggest mistake of my life. This boy will break my heart. I can guarantee that.
But I am a big believer in going after what I want. Having no regrets. My mama taught me well.
“I need to change,” I finally say.
“Oh, be my guest. I’ll take you to my room right now.” He reaches for the handle to discover my door is locked. “You gonna sit in your car all night?”
A sigh escapes me, but I don’t open the door. Not yet. It’s like I’m using it as a shield. “Why did you want me to text you when I got here?”
He rises to his full height, resting his hands on his hips as he looks toward the house. His very large, very grand looking house. This gives me the opportunity to ogle him for a moment, and oh man, is he pretty. That golden brown hair blowing in the light breeze, the granite sharp jaw, the piercing gaze. Oh, and his lush mouth. A mouth I’ve kissed.
A mouth that sends a rush of tingles all over my skin just thinking about it.
I shouldn’t have given in so easily to him. He says the absolute worst things on the planet, yet it’s like I can’t help but say yes to his every request. As if I’m caught up in some sort of weird spell that only he holds over me. Maybe I am. Maybe he’s a witch or a warlock or whatever, and he has mystical powers. The spell has been cast, and it can never be broken.
I’m losing my mind, and it’s all thanks to this boy.
“My mom’s home. But she’s asleep.” He rubs his jaw, his gaze returning to mine. “She hasn’t been in the best state lately.”
“Oh no. Is she sick?”
“Sick of my dad. Sick of his bullshit.” He grimaces. “They’re getting a divorce.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what to say. I’m lucky that my parents still like each other so much. They’re each other’s best friend, they say that all the time. It’s sweet, how much they love each other, but when I was younger I was always thinking how gross it was that Dad would touch Mom’s butt or kiss her so passionately.
Now, I think it’s kind of awesome. They’re still madly in love.
“It’s okay.” He waves a hand, like he doesn’t want to talk about it, and he probably doesn’t. “Mom’s doped up on Ambien for the night, so she won’t hear a thing. I just didn’t want to take any chances of setting off her fuckin’ yipper when the doorbell rang.”
“What’s her yipper?” I ask with a frown.
“Her dog. Muffin.” Eli rolls his eyes. “It’s as bad as it sounds.”
I just laugh. I’m also appreciating this extremely rare human glimpse of Eli Bennett. He has a persona that he’s always flaunting for the public. But right now, he’s acting differently when it’s just the two of us.
I like it.
Grabbing my backpack, I climb out of the car and lock the doors with my key. When I turn toward the house, I find Eli standing in front of me, his gaze raking over my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I feel the faintest bit embarrassed.
“Turn around,” he says softly, spinning his index finger in a circle.
I drop my backpack on the ground and do as he says, slowly turning so he can get the full effect. Of course, he hasn’t seen me in my uniform, at least not in person.
Is it wrong to admit I posted those photos and videos on my IG story last night to see if I could get a rise out of him? Because I did. There. This is my confession. I posted the photos and the Boomerang video, not for Wyatt. Not for anyone else. Not even for myself.
It was all for Eli.
And just like I hoped, he responded. In a rather aggressive fashion. I knew he would do this. I knew deep in my bones he would come for me. Say something possessive and annoying. I
secretly like the possessiveness. The unabashed way he reaches out to me, no matter what. Nothing scares him. I don’t. Jake doesn’t. My father doesn’t. He just—he wants me.
Maybe I want him too.
“It was one thing seeing you wear the uniform on Instagram last night,” he says, his deep voice washing over me, making me tingle. “But it’s another thing entirely, having you show up to my house like this, still wearing it.”
I still have my hair in a high ponytail with the white bow. Our uniform skirt is pleated, so it flares out when I spin, and when I’m facing him once more, he’s staring at me like I’m a snack and he’s famished.
“I can’t take it,” he says, and he sounds as if he’s in complete agony all because of me. “You’re too damn sexy for your own good.”
“Please,” I tell him with a shake of my head. I sort of want to laugh, but I keep it contained. It’s hard to take this guy seriously sometimes, even though I secretly enjoy it when he says things like this. “No cheer uniform is sexy.”
“When you’re wearing it, it’s fucking sexy as shit. Take my word for it.” He dips down and grabs my backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as his gaze meets mine. “Come on. Let’s go through the back door. Less chance for Muffin Top to hear us come in and bark her shitty little head off.”
I follow Eli through a wooden gate as we enter the backyard, and I come to a stop, drinking it all in.
His yard is absolutely gorgeous. There’s a giant pool with its lights on, cycling from blue to green to purple and back again. There’s a giant rock formation that I assume is a waterfall, though it’s not currently running. Outdoor lights are strung in a crisscross formation over our heads, giving the entire area an almost ethereal glow. The landscaping is meticulous. Groups of colorful flowers surround various trees and the large lawn has thick, luscious green grass. Along the fence, there is a line of rosebushes, every single one of them in bloom.
“Your yard is amazing.” My mom would absolutely love it.
“Thanks. I’ll mention it to the landscaper guys that you’re a fan,” he says as he heads for a French door. I shake my head, not bothering to respond to his snarky response. I can see through the window that it leads to a massive kitchen, and once we’re in the house, I’m equally impressed.
Addicted To Him Page 9