by M Johnson
“I have something for you.” He walks back over to me and hands me a small box. “It’s for your eighteenth. I meant to give it to you at the party, but I couldn’t…”
I lift off the lid and gasp, because it’s Mum’s engagement ring. I slide the white gold band along my finger and admire the way the light catches the stunning princess-cut diamond set in the middle of the ring, the smaller diamonds surrounding it sparkling just as much.
“She wanted you to have it when you turned eighteen. Made me promise.”
I throw my arms around him and cling tightly, tears tickling my cheeks. Even Dad is looking a little teary, which only makes me more emotional.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll never take it off.”
“Maybe don’t wear it on your left hand, just in case people get the wrong idea,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His lips twitch into a smile. “On second thought, maybe giving all those boys who were sniffing around you at your party the wrong idea is good—”
“Dad,” I growl, playfully shoving him. I look him over, shocked and disappointed in myself for only noticing now how thin he’s gotten. “Hey, you’ve lost weight.”
“Just a few kilos,” he acknowledges. “The doctor put me on some new medication for my blood pressure and one of the side effects is weight loss.” He glances at his watch, then brings me in for another hug. “I really have to go, kiddo.”
I nod and follow him downstairs, helping him with his luggage.
“I’m surprised Zave isn’t here to see you off,” I say casually.
“He’s probably busy with the bar,” Dad comments, stopping short of the front door. He turns to face me. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“What bar?” I ask, confused.
“He bought Traction,” Dad murmurs, something flashing through his eyes. It’s almost like he’s embarrassed for his friend.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Zave bought a bar?”
“My reaction exactly.”
Dad wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the top of my head.
“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”
“Bye, Dad.”
He loads his bags into the back of his white Lexus, then gets behind the wheel. I stand on the front porch and wave after him as he drives off, only heading back inside when I can’t see the car anymore. Locking the door behind me, I lean against it, a strange feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure I’m just nervous at the idea of seeing Zave since I have no clue where we stand with each other.
I shake my head, still in shock he bought Traction. Not only did he listen to me, but he actually took my advice and did something for himself. It’s also in the back of my mind that Traction is where we kissed.
Is he going to think about that every time he walks through those doors?
God, I hope so.
It’s just after eight, so I head upstairs and take a shower and change into something more flattering than jeans and a shirt. After surveying my options, I decide on a pale pink cotton dress with spaghetti straps. It finishes mid-thigh, showing enough skin without being too obvious.
I breathe in, tiny butterflies swimming around my stomach, surfing the waves of nausea that are beginning to build. I’m so nervous about seeing him and the more time passes, the more intense it feels, until I almost can’t breathe. I feel sick, nervous, scared, excited, and a million other emotions I can’t even comprehend. I just want to get this over with.
By ten o’clock, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe Dad had it wrong. Zave is still not here, and I haven’t heard a thing from him. I’m not even sure if Dad gave him a key. It would serve him right if he didn’t and I went to bed, but I can’t resist texting him to ask.
It’s an innocent question that he really has to answer.
Me: Do you have a key to get in?
I put my phone back down on the coffee table, jumping when it beeps almost immediately. I scoop it up, my heart racing when I see his name. The excitement quickly gives way to annoyance. He can answer this, but every other text I send goes unanswered?
Zave: Yeah, your dad gave me a key. I’m pretty busy here, so don’t wait up.
Don’t wait up.
I do wait up—at least, I try to, but by midnight there’s still no sign of him and I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m just about asleep on the couch when my phone pings. I jump forward and grasp it, my heart in my throat, but it’s just Dad, telling me he’s boarding his flight.
Me: Have a good flight.
D: Thanks, kiddo. Thought you’d be asleep. Zave there?
Me: Yes, and I’m just going off to sleep now. Love you xx
I’m not sure why I lied to him; all he’d have to do is call Zave, and he’d figure it out he is, in fact, not here. I guess I didn’t want to get him into trouble. On some level, I feel responsible for all of this, because I instigated everything that happened the night we kissed. Even now, in hindsight, I don’t regret what happened. Not for a second. Given the chance, I’ll probably do it again. The way things are going, though, I’m not sure I will get the opportunity.
With a sigh, I reluctantly trudge upstairs and get ready for bed, too tired and cranky to sit up and wait any longer. I set my alarm for six, vaguely aware that I’m bordering on stalking the poor guy, then I climb into bed and go to sleep.
Cracking my eyes open, I sit up in my bed, taking in the silence of the house. It’s not even six, which means Zave is likely still asleep. I get up, throw on my robe, and tiptoe down the hallway. I pause outside the guest bedroom. The door is wide open, the room exactly as it always is. The bed hasn’t even been slept in.
Did he not stay here?
Confused, I go downstairs, stopping when I see the couch. Two pillows and a blanket lay neatly folded on the end seat. I clench my hands into fists and stalk over to the window and look outside at the empty driveway. He’s already left.
Are you fucking kidding me?
First, he ignores my messages and now, he sneaks in and out of the house while I’m asleep. He couldn’t even sleep in the guestroom—no doubt because it’s next to mine. If this is what it’s going to be like, I might as well be here on my own. That should make me happy, but I feel far from it. I’m angry, upset, and annoyed because he’s the one acting like a child.
Me: So, your plan is to only be here when I’m asleep?
Zave: I’m busy, Sofie. Don’t take it so personally.
My skin prickles as I glare at his message. How dare he make me feel like I’m overreacting, especially when I know I’m not?
He is avoiding me, I’m sure of it.
With a shake of my head, I stalk up to my room to get ready for school. He can try all he likes, but he can’t avoid me forever. One way or another, we’re going to talk.
Chapter 8
Xavier
It’s after two on Wednesday morning when I pull into the driveway after another long day. It’s been forty-eight hours since Aaron left and somehow, I’ve managed to keep my promise to him and look out for Sofie, without actually having to see her. I stay at their house, making sure I get home after she’s asleep, and then I’m gone before she gets up. I make sure she’s alive and eating, but most importantly, I keep my distance.
I know I’m going to extremes and that it’s probably pissing her off, especially since she’s made it clear she wants to talk about what happened, but I’m not sure I trust myself—or her, for that matter—to have that talk. I’m beyond attracted to her, and the two of us, all alone in that big house, discussing the night we kissed? It’s not a good idea.
Lucky for me, I have a bar to revamp and distract myself with.
Between running the bar during the evenings and doing renovations after hours, I’m exhausted, but for once, it feels worth it. The previous owner left behind a good team who I kept on, leaving me time to focus on things behind the scenes, like the remodels I want to make and the music connections I need to re-establish after cutting myself off from everyone twenty years ago. I’m nervous I’m g
oing to fuck it all up, but the excitement far outweighs the negative.
I park at the front of the house instead of in the driveway, so as not to wake Sofie, then I walk across the grass to the front door. Letting myself inside, I kick off my shoes, burying my toes in the thick carpet with every step I take towards the couch. I’m halfway there when I see her, sitting in the middle of it, her hands poised in her lap.
“Sofie?”
She looks up at me, wearing the same expectant look Aaron usually does when he’s pissed off at me—one eyebrow arched and head slightly tilted, eyes fiery and bright.
“You know we have a spare room, right?”
Yeah, right next to hers. No way in hell I’m sleeping up there.
“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” I ask, rather than answering her question.
I keep my distance from her. She’s sitting on my bed, after all, and I’m not stupid enough to get close to her and risk her touching me, or me wanting to touch her more than I already do. Even now, obviously dressed for bed, with no makeup, her hair dishevelled, she looks good enough to eat… fuck, she looks good enough to do all sorts of things to—
“You’ve been staying here for three days.” Her voice, strained and tight, slams me back to reality. “And I haven’t seen you once, Zave. You won’t even reply to my texts anymore.”
“I reply—”
“With one or two words,” she cuts in. “And only when you feel you have to. Three days ago, we were texting all the time. What changed?”
“I’ve been busy,” I mutter.
She laughs, tossing her hair. “Yeah, busy avoiding me.”
I wince. “Sofie…”
“Are you going to tell me I’m imagining it?” she challenges, the fire in her eyes igniting a flame of yearning in my stomach. “If this is about the kiss, we should at least talk about it, don’t you think?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say as calmly as I can manage while still meeting her eyes. “I think it’s best we both pretend it didn’t happen.”
“That’s really what you want?”
“Come on, Sofie. You and me? It’s never going to work. You have to see that.”
There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes I can’t ignore, even though she seems like she’s trying to push it down. I feel bad, but I’m also being realistic. Her jaw clenches as she stares down at her hands as they fidget in her lap, then she looks up and meets my eyes, a renewed sense of determination in them. I sigh, convinced she’s going to fight me every step of the way on this, but then she surprises me with a stiff nod.
“Fine. It was a moment of weakness,” she agrees, pushing herself to her feet. “It meant nothing.”
“Okay,” I murmur, not sure how to take her sudden consensus. “If it’s okay with you then, I might get some sleep. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning.”
“Are you free in the afternoon?” She laughs at my nervous expression. “Relax, it’s perfectly innocent. Dad said you might be able to give me some driving lessons, since I’m going for my licence after my exams. You can call him and check if you don’t believe me,” she adds, almost daring me to.
“I believe you. Tomorrow afternoon is fine.”
“Great.”
Her tone matches the stiff smile she gives me, then she turns around and walks out of the room. I exhale sharply and listen to the sound of her thumping up the stairs, but I don’t chase her, no matter how much I want to. That would be the worst thing I could do.
Instead, I collapse down on the couch and lie back, closing my eyes. My cock stirs because I can smell her on the cushions. Flipping them over, I clamp my eyes shut and try to get some sleep, but she’s all I can think about. Fuck, she’s everywhere. I can’t breathe in this goddamn house without thinking about her. She’s lying pretty much above me right now, in her bed, thinking I don’t want her, when the reality is, I do want her. The only thing that’s stopping me from marching up those stairs is what I risk losing if this goes any further.
I’m doing the right thing.
I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose my only friend, too.
Five-thirty a.m. rolls around and I reluctantly haul myself off the couch and stumble to the kitchen to make some coffee. I feel like all the caffeine in the world isn’t going to get me through today. At best, I might’ve slept for ten minutes of the three hours I was lying on that couch. Massaging my neck with one hand, which hurts like a motherfucker from sleeping at an odd angle on the couch I’m just a little bit too tall for, I put a pot of coffee on.
The drip has just started when Sofie walks in. I do a double take, because she’s wearing pyjama bottoms so short, they ride up her ass, and the thinnest little cotton tank top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, especially since she’s not wearing a bra.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t tear my eyes away from her, or those stiff little nipples that are practically begging to be touched. My fingers twitch, my jaw aches, my cock stiffens until it’s as hard as a fucking rock in my pants, all the while she stands there, smirking at me.
So much for keeping things just friends.
“Morning.”
“Do you always walk around like that?” I choke out.
“Like what?” she asks, her voice dripping of innocence as she tilts her head.
“Half-dressed,” I rasp, the words catching in my throat.
“Not always… sometimes I wear even less.” Her eyes dance with amusement and I shake my head. She’s enjoying this way too much. “Relax, Zave. It’s what I wear to bed. It’s not like I’m naked.”
Fuck, she might as well be.
She presses her lips together, sizing me up. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. You can go back to your hotel if you’re finding being around me too difficult—”
“I’m finding it just fine, thanks for your concern,” I snap, cutting her off.
“Really? Is that why you’re sneaking out at the crack of dawn?”
“For your information, I have a meeting,” I say, doing my best to sound bored with this whole conversation.
“A meeting,” she repeats, lifting her eyebrows. “At six in the morning? Let me guess, the last two mornings you had ‘meetings’ as well?”
“I’ve been busy getting the bar where I want it to be,” I snap, no idea why I need to explain myself to her.
“If you’re so busy, then let me help,” she offers.
“You have exams to study for,” I remind her.
Thank Christ for that. The thought of her working beside me every day… I shudder, because that would be torture.
“Like you’d agree, even if I didn’t have exams.” She scoffs, her eyes narrowing on mine. “Why can’t you admit that you’re attracted to me?”
“Because that has nothing to do with it.” I force the words out through gritted teeth. “What happened to agreeing with what I said last night?”
She shrugs. “I slept on it and decided that it’s bullshit. I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me… I mean, you are, right? I’m not imagining the way you’re looking at me right now, like you want to tear my clothes off and run your hands over my—”
“You’re barely wearing enough clothes for me to tear off,” I scathe, not letting her finish.
Fuck, this girl… she’s pushing all my buttons right now.
Of course, I’m fucking attracted to her. It’s taking everything I have not to lay her down on that table, spread her legs, and show her just how fucking badly I want her.
“I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but you need to move on. I’m not interested in you like that.” It’s all bullshit lies, but I need her to back off. Convincing her I’m not interested is my only hope. “I was drunk, but I promise you that it will not happen again.”
Hurt clouds her eyes as she glares at me, which only riles me up more. Has she thought about how her father will react if he finds out, or considered the fact that I’ll probably end up hurting h
er? No, of course she hasn’t.
“You’re not interested? Fine. Then me walking around like this shouldn’t bother you.”
“You’re right.” I down the rest of my coffee, then put my cup in the sink and give her a tight smile. “It shouldn’t and it doesn’t. I’ll see you after school for your driving lesson.”
Eyes narrowed, her hand perched tightly on her hip, she glowers at me as I walk past her without so much as a glance in her direction. But I want to look, boy do I want to look. It kills me how hard she’s coming on to me and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I hate that I need to be this blunt, but if she detects even the slightest hint of interest, I know she won’t give this up.
This girl is going to be the fucking death of me.
Chapter 9
Xavier
I really do have a meeting with an old friend, Darren.
Darren and I go way back to my music days. We met when I was twenty and the band had just started getting some exposure. He saw us play one night and offered to manage us. Back then, he was a young talent spotter, trying to find his feet in a competitive field, and we were his first big sign. These days, he’s still uncovering amazing new bands, but now he’s running his own agency, one of the best in the country.
Unlocking the bar doors, I walk inside, flicking on the lights as I pass them. A strange feeling of satisfaction fills me as I look around—something I haven’t felt in a long time. I really like this place, more than I ever thought I would. Buying it was an emotional decision that is paying off, and not just in cash either. As tough as the last few weeks have been, I’ve felt more clarity about my life than I have in a long time.
“You haven’t aged a bit.”
Turning around, I grin at Darren, who stands in the doorway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive-looking suit. He’s only a few years older than me, but his greying hair and the crinkled lines around his eyes makes the difference seem so much more. Walking over to me, he claps his hand into mine before pulling me into a quick hug.