I go and sit down, stretching my arm along the back of the bench, careful not to touch her.
Let’s do this.
****
Aw, Cannon! These two are a mess, aren’t they? We’re getting closer to the end…and to the release of JUST FRIENDS (out 9/13)! All preorder links are live so check them out here: http://monicamurphyauthor.com/books/justfriends/
Chapter 12 - Amanda
I’m in Tuttle’s room.
I’m on Tuttle’s bed.
It is definitely the most surreal moment of my life, I must tell you.
He’s half-sitting/half-lying next to me, the both of us propped against a mountain of pillows, staring up at the ceiling, which has-I kid you not-twinkle lights. It’s not like my room, where I strung white Christmas lights around my iron headboard because I saw it on Tumblr once and thought it was cute. Though of course, my version is never as cute as the Tumblr version.
And it’s not like the old plastic glow in the dark stars I had stuck on my ceiling when I was a little kid either.
No, this is a sophisticated magical array of stars in a velvety night sky, strewn across Tuttle’s ceiling. It’s crazy. It’s awesome. It must’ve cost a fortune.
I have a feeling this is the theme of Tuttle’s life.
His bed feels like a cloud, soft and cuddly. The pillows are that perfect combination of firm yet sinkable-soft. I can feel his gaze on me, checking me out every once in a while, though he might be on watch, waiting for me to lose my mind or barf my guts out, considering I’m kind of buzzed. But otherwise, he doesn’t really say anything. We’ve been silent for approximately two minutes and already I feel like I’m going to burst.
Maybe it’s the alcohol. I drank a lot of beer earlier-beer bongs are dangerous-and my head is currently spinning. This is the reason I’m laying down. Tuttle made the suggestion and while at first I balked, complaining about how many other girls he’s had to his room, he just shook his head, took my arm and guided me to the extra large bed in the center of his room.
Where I gratefully collapsed on top of it, sighing with happiness when the bed/cloud embraced me. I went completely still when he stretched out next to me, his body so close I could feel his warmth and I discreetly breathed in his scent. He smells like a citrus pine tree, which sounds weird but smells delicious. Trust me.
Remember, this is Jordan Tuttle I’m talking about.
Finally I can’t take it anymore. I need to talk. I need to talk to Tuttle and ask him what’s up with him being so nice to me. I want to ask if he knows what happened to Thad and Tara, but then I tell myself I don’t care what happened to them. They are the rottenest scum of the earth. They are lower than the rottenest scum of the earth. They are everything I despise and hate and want to destroy.
Dramatic much?
Yet my heart hurts too much over their betrayal, so I don’t want to talk about them at all, let alone think about them. I don’t want to talk about Tuttle’s motives either. So I stick with the safe stuff.
“What’s up with the stars?” I nudge his arm with my elbow and wow, his arm is rock hard with muscle. I’m tempted to skim my fingers over his biceps but I keep myself under control. What if he slapped my hand away? Talk about mortifying…
“You like them?”
I glance over in his direction to find him watching me yet again. This guy likes to stare, but it’s not creepy. No more like it’s kind of hot because with the way he’s intently staring at me, I feel like I’m the only girl in his universe. “They’re amazing,” I admit when I realize he’s waiting for an answer.
He stares up at the ceiling once more. “They’re also in our movie screening room. Something about the material helps with acoustics. Back when the house was being built, my mother had a moment of supposed good-mom feelings and decided my room needed stars in the ceiling too.” He hesitates, then murmurs in a higher pitched voice, “Nothing but the best for my baby boy.”
My heart actually aches at all the sarcasm and bitterness I hear in his tone. He doesn’t like his mother. That much is clear, just by that one sentence. “You’re their only child?”
“I have a sister. She’s thirty-two, married with three kids and miserable.” His gaze remains fixed on the stars twinkling down upon us. “I’m the let’s-see-if-we-can-save-our-marriage-baby. My sister was fifteen when I was born and she’s resented the hell out of me ever since.”
“Your family sounds…” My voice drifts because what can I say? They sound miserable? Awful? Rude?
“Fucked up? Yeah, we are.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor there. “We’re the classic case of money doesn’t always make you happier. I know that sort of thing pisses people off, so let’s not talk about it.”
“Talk about what? The fact that you’re richer than anyone else at our school, yet you’re miserable and your family sucks?” When he frowns at me I sit up and start gesturing with my hands, jabbing my finger at him like I’m a nut job. I’m thinking the beer is making me bold. “I don’t feel sorry for you. You can have whatever you want. Buy whatever you want, go to the college of your dreams and sleep in a room with fake stars twinkling above your head every single night. Your life is everyone’s dream come true.”
He slowly shakes his head, his gaze growing darker. He almost looks…disappointed? In me? “Now you’re all pissed off. I told you we shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Whatever. I’m not falling for your poor little rich boy routine.” I wave a hand, dismissing his words and he laughs. Actually laughs, the sound full bodied and rich and wonderful. His laugh does something to my insides. Twists them up and reminds me that I’m totally overstepping my boundaries with Jordan Tuttle while sitting on his giant bed in his giant room. Oh, and I can’t forget that we’re all alone and there’s this weird crackling energy brewing between us. Chemistry? Is that what it feels like?
No freaking way. Not me and Tuttle.
“You really think I’m a poor little rich boy?” he asks with a frown.
I point at him, ready to blurt out a big hell yes, when he snatches my hand and curls his fingers around mine. His thumb skims across my palm slowly and tingles scatter over my skin, making me hyper aware of his proximity.
“Aren’t you?” I sound breathless. My heart is racing from his touch and he glances down at our linked hands, which of course allows me to see just how thick his eyelashes are. But what’s worse? The eyelashes or his beautiful blue eyes?
Kill me now. He is too gorgeous for words.
“Yeah. I guess I am.” His gaze lifts to mine and lingers. “So you don’t feel sorry for me?”
“Who in their right mind ever feels sorry for you?” I laugh nervously, but the sound dies in my throat when he gently tugs on my hand so I have no choice but to move closer to him.
“Is this the beer talking, Mandy?” His voice is low, his gaze locked on mine and I swallow hard, almost too scared to speak.
Frowning, I let my gaze roam over his face. He has great skin, the bastard. Not a zit in sight. I’m still recovering from the honker I had on my cheek last week thanks to PMS. I can see stubble skimming his jaw and my fingertips literally itch to touch him there. “No.” Um, be real. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“You don’t strike me as the type to be this…”
“Crazy?” I supply for him. “Weird? Pushy?”
He cracks a smile, his eyes lighting up and I suck in a breath. Now is not the time to freak out over the beauty that is Jordan Tuttle. I need to remain calm. Focused. Normal.
Ha. Let’s see if I can actually keep my crap together.
“Bold,” he offers. “You’re always so quiet in class.”
“That’s because I don’t want anyone to notice me,” I admit.
“I notice you.” He hesitates. Reaches out with his free hand and pushes a wayward strand of hair away from my forehead. “I have for years.”
Okay. He can’t just go and say things like that. His words make my heart feel li
ke it just tripped over itself and they give me this weird hope. I should be devastated tonight. Crying my eyes out over Thad and Tara’s betrayal and while yes, I did cry over their betrayal and I drank too much beer and acted the fool for all of about ten minutes, I don’t feel sad at this particular moment.
No, I feel excited. Intrigued. Blown away.
I need to focus on the blown away part because come on. He doesn’t like me. He’s just trying to make me feel better. He knows I’m upset over what I discovered and he’s offering me comfort. That’s all.
But when does he offer comfort to anyone? He doesn’t give a crap about girls and their silly feelings. He’s too self-absorbed, too wrapped up in his own issues. He’s selfish. Everyone says so.
Everyone.
“Don’t lie to me, Tuttle.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, fighting the urge to close my eyes when his fingers continue to blaze a path across my face. They drift over my cheek, along my jaw, his thumb coming perilously close to the corner of my mouth. Then they’re sliding into my hair and he cups the side of my head. I feel his breath flutter across my face when he whispers two words.
“It’s Jordan.”
My eyes slowly open to find his face right in mine. So close I can count every eyelash, can see the faint scar in the corner of his right eye. He’s watching me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me so I say something brilliant.
“Huh?”
“My name. Don’t call me Tuttle.” Now he does touch my mouth with his thumb and oh, wow, I wanna melt. He dips his head and comes closer, his mouth hovering just above mine and it takes everything within me to keep my eyes open. I want to remember every second of this moment. Closing my eyes might mean I’ll miss something. “Call me Jordan.”
“Jordan…” I start but the next word is silenced.
By his lips.
*****
I don’t know about you, but Tuttle makes me swoon. There. I said it. I’m #TeamTuttle :) Let me know what you think of the chapter and don’t forget to comment/vote/share this story with your friends! We are getting down to the last six chapters before ONE NIGHT ends and then JUST FRIENDS is out on September 13th! Thank you all soo much for reading this story. I appreciate each and every one of you!!! â¤ď¸
Chapter 13 - Tuttle
I couldn’t resist kissing her. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve noticed her for years. I have. Even when we were younger and I was nothing but an irritating thirteen year old, awkward as hell and uncomfortable with the way Amanda Winters made me feel every time I looked at her.
She made my heart pump a little faster, my head would spin and this sort of hunger would form low in my belly that had nothing to do with food. She’d smile at her friends and I wished she’d smile at me like that. She’d swing her long, smooth dark hair over her shoulder and I wanted to touch it. Run my fingers through the silky strands and hear her sigh with pleasure.
Yeah. Weird thoughts for a thirteen year old but I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted Amanda with an almost painful longing that’s gone on for years. A longing I’d shoved deep down inside of me, hoping I’d forget all about it.
But opportunity presented itself and here she is, in my arms, my mouth on hers. And she tastes like heaven.
Heaven and beer and the faintest hint of something sweet, that must belong only to her. I give in to my long repressed urges and touch her hair, thread my fingers through it and the strands are as soft as I’d imagined. I keep the kiss on the chaste side, not wanting to push too hard in case she bolted on me. She did just happen to see her boyfriend boning her best friend earlier. That’s some straight up bullshit right there, and I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her in her fragile state.
Hell. I wonder if she does I’m taking advantage of her.
I realize quick she’s not reacting to my mouth on hers. Her entire body is stiff, like she’s frozen solid and I know I’ve either scared her or freaked her out. I pull away from her lips and stare at her face, willing her eyes to open.
When they do, she’s watching me with a wariness that worries me. I also can’t help but wonder who she’s more afraid of-me or herself. “Why did you kiss me?” she asks, her voice a faint croak. She clears her throat and averts her gaze, her cheeks going pink with embarrassment.
“Did you not want me to?”
She meets my gaze once more, her teeth sinking into her lower lip for a moment before she says, “Your timing is awful.”
“Because you still have feelings for the asshole who cheated on you with your best friend?”
Amanda’s eyes go wide before she bursts out laughing. “Nothing like getting right to the point,” she says once the laughter dies.
I shrug one shoulder. Don’t say anything. We’re still lying on my bed, our bodies so close I can feel the warmth of her body radiate toward mine. I could lean right over and settle my lips on hers and make her forget that loser boyfriend of hers for good. Slip my arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. It wouldn’t take much at all to push this farther.
But I won’t. I should keep my distance and let her make the next move.
She bends her head, her hair rustling against my pillow she’s lying on. Will it smell like her when she leaves? Holy shit, my thoughts about her make me feel like a perv. “It hurts, knowing that they’ve done-that. I would’ve given him whatever he wanted too. He just never pushed the issue. I was perfectly willing. So why did he mess around with my best friend?”
Anger swells up inside of me and I stuff it down. She was perfectly willing to give that asshole whatever he wanted and he still went off and cheated on her. What was wrong with the guy?
If she were mine, I’d treat her like a goddamn princess. If she were mine, she’d never doubt how I felt about her. I’d do my best to show her how I feel every damn day, just to bring a smile to her face. Just to make her happy.
“But I shouldn’t talk about that sort of thing with you, right? Like you’re even interested in me, but you know what I mean. And talk about tacky, considering I’m rambling on about my stupid boyfriend and you just kissed me. Not that it was much of a kiss…” Her voice drifts and I slip my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up so she has no choice but to look at me.
“Not much of a kiss?” Her words are a challenge and I’m ready to conquer. “You weren’t impressed, huh?”
She makes a cute little face. “I think you kissed me just to shut me up.” Her voice drops. “Or because you feel sorry for me.”
“I feel sorry for you?” I drop my fingers from beneath her chin. This girl has no clue.
“Well, yeah. I’m me and you’re you and here I am at your house, a drunken sad mess and you feel bad, right? Just watching out for me, which makes you a stand up guy, seriously. All of my past thoughts about you being a complete jerk are banished for good, so thanks for that.”
I’m incredulous. “You really thought I was a jerk?”
“Well, duh.” She rolls her eyes and giggles. I’m thinking she might still be a little buzzed. “You’re the one who basically said so earlier, right?”
“Right.” I just thought she was going along with me. Or maybe remembering our early middle school days, when I had a giant chip on my shoulder with my parents’ names scrawled across it. My bad attitude got me into a lot of trouble back in the day.
“So thank you.” She smiles and reaches out to touch my chest and I swear to fucking god, her fingers burn through the thin material of my T-shirt. “For being so nice to me tonight. You’re really sweet. I’m just glad I didn’t throw up on your bed or something awful like that.”
I capture her wrist with my fingers before she can yank her hand away from my chest. I hold her there, my thumb skimming the soft skin of her inner wrist. Her eyes go wide again and her breaths quicken the longer I touch her. I’m not letting her go. I can’t leave it like this.
“You think I’m sweet,” I say.
She nods, her eyes luminous in the dim li
ght of my bedroom.
“And that our kiss was less than impressive,” I add.
She doesn’t nod at that statement. Smart girl.
“Oh, and you think a guy like me can’t like a girl like you,” I remind her. “Why is that?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“You have an idea, Mandy.” I scoot closer, my legs brushing against hers, my grip still tight on her wrist. “Tell me why.”
She says nothing. Just stares at me with those wide, unblinking eyes, a shuddery breath escaping her.
I release my hold on her wrist and slip my hand around her neck, cupping her nape. She sucks in a breath, her eyes falling closed when I lean in close, my mouth at her ear as I whisper, “Tell me why I wouldn’t be interested in a beautiful, smart, funny girl like you.”
Turning my head, I press my lips to her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin, everything about her. A sigh escapes her when I start to kiss the soft skin there and I’m overcome with the need to devour her.
But I keep my urges in check. With Amanda, I can’t mess up. I gotta take this slow.
Do this right.
Somehow I end up rolling her over on her back and I’m hovering above her, my knees on either side of her hips, my mouth still on her neck. Her hands are resting on my shoulders, like she’s desperate to hold on for dear life. When I finally lift my head and our gazes meet, I ask, “Do you want me to stop?”
She slowly shakes her head and I lean in, running my lips along the delicate line of her jaw, her chin, her cheek. I’m trying to drive her crazy. I want her wanting my mouth on hers so damn bad, she’ll forget she ever said our kiss was just okay. What we could have would never be considered average. I know it. Just being close to her like this has me feeling like I could burst into flames at any given moment. I know she feels it too. Her entire body is trembling and I know it’s not because she’s cold.
It’s because of me.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur against her soft skin. She turns her head so our mouths are perfectly aligned, our gazes locked, hers dazed, mine I’d guess determined. “Can you say it, Amanda?”
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