by Lyla Grace
Chase looks around the locker room, then back at me for a minute before breaking into a huge smile. “Holy shit, you got laid last night. I can’t believe it. Landon Sutton hooked up with some chick from a bar?”
“Drop it, man,” I whisper.
“Hell no, I can’t drop this. This needs to be celebrated. Landon hooked up with some chick last night. Ha. Who was she?” he yells out.
“I said drop it, Chase,” I demand again.
“It was your sister, man,” Dominguez yells from the other end of the locker room. Fuck.
Chase drops his head and shakes it. “Again?” he asks as he bursts out laughing.
And now everyone is up in arms. Shouts ring out through the room. “You know?” “I thought she was off limits?” “What the hell, Chase?”
“Okay, listen up, douche bags. Any of you fuckers ever lay a hand on either of my sisters and I’ll kill you. Except for Landon, and that’s because he’s not an asshole. But he needs to pick one. Only one. Got it?” He gives me a stern look, fully knowing that there is no way I would ever touch Madison, the extremely high-maintenance Matthews sister, with a ten-foot pole. Grumbles come from the locker room; some snicker before turning back to their own lives. It’s not as fun to give me shit if the one person who should care doesn’t. Chase turns to me. “Man, you are a glutton for punishment.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, the tone of my voice coming across more pissed than I actually am.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I love Livie, but with everything she has been through, she is more than a little hesitant about relationships.” He puts his hands in the air. “And I know, I know, you and Ashlynn did the whole friends with benefits thing, but something tells me this is different. You have feelings for Livie.”
I run my hands over my face. “None of it matters anyway. I screwed up last night and she won’t return my phone calls.”
“What the hell could you, of all people, have possibly done?”
As much as I could use some advice on how to fix this situation, Chase is the last person I should be having this conversation with. “Let’s just say I was inadvertently an asshole and now she won’t answer her phone so I can apologize.”
Chase laughs. “Okay--you know what? I don’t really want to know anyway. What I can tell you is, I know Livie. And once she cools down she will get ahold of you. You can count on that. Now, it may be just to hand you your ass on a silver platter, but she will call.” His cell phone rings and he swipes to answer the call and walks out of the locker room.
Tension builds in my shoulders. I can only guess what Livie might be telling him. If having sex with his sister didn’t cause him to punch me, I am pretty sure what transpired last night will.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly when he returns.
“You can relax; it wasn’t Livie. It was Harper.”
I stare at him in disbelief. The woman is like a piranha. She destroys him and then comes back begging for more. I don’t get it. “What the hell did she want?”
Chase shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” I disagree. He finally seems remotely over her. I refuse to sit back and watch her destroy him again.
He claps his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man. We need to get onto the field. It’s no big deal.” God, please tell me he isn’t getting back together with her. He grabs his helmet and makes his way for the door. With his hand on the door to push it open, he stops and turns to me. “Hey, Landon?” I look up at him in acknowledgment. “For what it’s worth, I really hope things work out with you and Livie.”
“Seriously? A supply closet?” His laughter is grating on my nerves. I know better than to ever call my brother for advice. Older or not, he is still a jackass. But I can’t talk about this with Chase, so there is nowhere else for me to turn.
“That’s not the point,” I argue.
“That is most definitely the point. Mr. Perfect fucked the girl of his dreams in a supply closet and walked out on her. This is awesome. Apparently you are mortal, just like the rest of us,” Derek laughs. If we weren’t in a very public place right now, there is a good chance I would punch him. Fucking jerk. I am so glad that I can amuse him with my misery.
“It wasn’t like that,” I try to explain.
He knows this already. He knows that I am just not that guy. Being an asshole intentionally just isn’t in me. Besides, this is Livie we are talking about, not just some random woman. I would never do anything to hurt her. Walking out on her really was nothing more than an attempt to avoid suspicion.
I mentally kick myself, because if I am half the man I claim to be, there shouldn’t have been a departure. Hell, there shouldn’t have been a situation to depart from. I should have kept my hands to myself and my dick in my pants. But, again, this is Livie we’re talking about. And once you have her, you can’t help but want more. Last night she took me by surprise. Just seeing her and looking into her hazel eyes again--the desire in them showing me that she wanted me as much as I wanted her made me lose my mind. I hadn’t planned to run into her, and I sure as hell never intended to hook up with her in a public place. I don’t know what came over me. Strike that. I knew exactly what came over me…my dick.
“Oh come on, man, loosen up. It’s not the end of the world,” he says as the amusement leaves his voice.
Maybe to him it wouldn’t be, but it sure as hell felt like it to me. This was not helping. My chances with Livie are slim as it is, and last night is definitely not going to help my case. “You said she was attracted to assholes, right? That’s why she’s got commitment issues? Well…maybe you’re looking at this wrong. Maybe this will work in your favor,” Derek says.
Despite being a deliriously happily married man, Derek Sutton is far from an expert on women. But in this case, he did have a valid point. Hell will freeze over before I ever admit that to him. But that’s not how I want things with Livie to play out. I don’t want games. I want her to like me, trust me, to get to know each other and see where things go.
It was most definitely a valid point. “But I’m not that guy, D.”
“I know that, you know that. But last night she thought you were that guy…even if only for a split second. And while she may be off licking her wounds right now…girls love that shit. They love the drama. And you gave her a little taste of that which just might bring her back in. But in the meantime--” He nods his head toward the door.
“What the hell did you do, D?” I ask angrily.
I look toward the entrance to the bar just in time to see Chase walking in with Ashlynn at his side. Ashlynn Robbins, college friend and former fuck buddy. I haven’t seen her in at least a year, but damn if the woman doesn’t still look as good as she did in college.
She squeals my name as she flings her arms around my neck. Reflex has me hugging her waist, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair. I don’t know what the hell these two were thinking inviting her was going to solve. For just a moment, I don’t allow myself to think about it. I just lose myself in her the way I used to. When she pulls back and looks at me, she knows something’s up. “Uh-oh…what’d you do?” she asks.
Instantly I feel transported back four years, back to college. Most nights were spent just like this. The four of us in a bar with Ash on my arm…Chase and D giving me shit about it. Mostly D because he knows hooking up isn’t my thing. But after you have your heart ripped out of your chest…well, it’s the only way, if you want to protect yourself.
It seems as though I may have reconsidered my stance on that. The more I got to know Livie while we were in Mexico, the more I entertained having her as a permanent fixture in my life, building something with her. The real question is how do I convince her to reconsider her permanent bachelorette status? Especially now that I have officially acted like such an asshole that I don’t know if I could even get her to speak to me again.
“The issue is more where he did it. And what he did after,” Derek laughs.
Forgoing the fact that the second half of this debacle is his sister, even Chase chimes in. “Who would have ever thought that our good boy Lando would be a supply closet kind of guy.”
“And a fuck ’em and chuck ’em kind of guy,” D laughs. Chase glares at D, and for a moment I think he might go after him. But then they both burst out laughing.
Ashlynn shakes her head before tugging on my arm to lead me to the bar. “Buy me a drink,” she suggests.
Thank God for that, because those two are going to drive me insane. “Listen, Ash, I don’t know what those two told you--” I begin.
“It doesn’t matter what they told me. You were in trouble and I wanted to help. So Chase’s sister, huh? What’s the deal?” she asks.
In college we were just two overly ambitious young adults with high sex drives and no desire to have a relationship who formed a great, albeit strange, friendship. Ash also happens to be the only person I have ever actually told about Sarah. It’s not something I ever discussed even with Chase. As far as he knows, I am just a super-picky asshole waiting for Mrs. Right. Little did he know that my idea of Mrs. Right, the girl I intended to spend the rest of my life with, died before I could ask her. But this time, for a change of pace, my problems don’t revolve around Sarah. So I digress and recount my non-relationship with Livie to her.
“First of all, I am so glad to see that you have finally moved past everything with Sarah…at least enough to allow yourself to fall in love again. Second of all…where the hell was this side of you five years ago when we were hooking up? Supply closets, Landon? That is so not your style.” She playfully slaps my arm, a huge smile on her face.
“I know, I know. Believe me; I know I fucked up, okay. I just need to know how to fix it.” Or know if it was even fixable. I cringe, thinking that would be the last time I saw Livie. I was never overly confident we would last, but I never imagined things would end like this. Not because of me, not because I acted like an asshole.
“And you’re sure you want to fix it?” she asks, breaking my thoughts.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Before I can ask, her body is pressed against me. Those ruby red lips of hers way too close, her breath smells of the sweet amaretto she was drinking. “I mean, if you want a relationship…we were always amazing together.”
Those nails that used to dig into my back when she was on the verge of an orgasm now run up and down my arm, trying to entice me. And enticing a man to get what she wants? Let’s just say she has definitely mastered some techniques to do just that. Nonetheless, as beautiful as she is and as aware of her advances as my body is, it pales in comparison to how my body reacts from just being in the vicinity of Livie.
I jerk back, but she continues to press forward. I grab her wrists to stop her. “Ash, no….”
She tosses her head back and laughs. “Fuck! You guys weren’t kidding. He really is in love.” Great, they have jokes. All three of them. This is going to be a fun night, and a long one. Shit; I am screwed.
Our table is covered in empty glasses, most of which were emptied by me. After we close the bar down and walk outside, it becomes obvious just how much I have had to drink. I am wasted; the stumbling, slurring, drunk-dialing kind of wasted. I’m also clueless. Because not one second of our conversations were spent giving me advice on how to fix things with Livie. I grab my phone from my pocket because in my current state, calling Livie at 3 a.m. seems like a good idea. I mean, I have to tell her I am sorry and there is no time like the present, right? Ashlynn is pleading with me to put the phone down, D is laughing his ass off, and Chase --well, Chase disappeared about half an hour ago with some redhead that he swore was going to be freaky.
“Hello.” A sleepy voice answers the phone.
“We need to talk,” I proclaim.
“Landon, is that you? Are you drunk?” Livie asks.
“I’ve had a couple.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Um, no?….How long does it take to get this drunk?”
“Landon, what do you want?” she asks. She sounds irritated, but there is a hint of amusement in her voice.
“You.”
“Been there, done that.”
“And I want to do it again. You again. I mean--” Laughter comes from the other end of the line. “You know what I mean.”
“Maybe, but it’s kind of fun listening to you like this.” At least she sounds a little less pissed. But it’s not very encouraging when you have three people laughing at you. Especially not the one you are trying to make a point to.
I take a deep breath and try to get my shit together. “I just. What I am shaying..saying….is I’m sorry. I was an ass.”
“You just booty called me at 3 a.m. You are still an ass.” Okay, so she makes a valid point. But in my defense, this isn’t a booty call; a pathetic attempt at winning her back, yes, but definitely not a booty call. Not that I would object if she offered….
“No…no…no. Not calling your booty. Calling you.” She laughs again. “Calling you to say I’m sorry.”
“If I say I forgive you can I go back to bed?”
“Can I join you?”
“No.”
“Please, Livie.” After a few more pleas, she gives in. I’m not sure if she just wanted to make me sweat, or she agreed just to get me off the phone. Either way, she agreed and that’s all that matters.
When I get there she opens the door, wearing nothing but a strappy blue tank top and matching boy shorts. The “wow” escapes me before I can control it. I’ve had some coffee in an attempt to sober up, but it hasn’t done much to help. She looks at me expectantly. “Hey,” I say, more because I really don’t know where to start or what to say. She folds her arms across her chest. Even when she is pissed off, she looks gorgeous. My cock strains against the fabric of my jeans, ready to stand at attention for the woman it adores. Jesus Christ, am I pussy-whipped. Even pressed up against me, Ashlynn didn’t inspire this kind of result.
“Can I come in, or you going to make me do this out here?”
Chapter 7
Livie
“The apology…or me?” I ask him. His only response is to hang his head in shame. Damn him. Even when he is being an ass, he is still the sweetest man I have ever met. I push the door further open, allowing him in. He enters my apartment, hands shoved in his pockets, his head still down. I shut the door behind me and situate myself in the oversized leather chair. I cover myself with a blanket, a shield of sorts from letting him get too close. “You wanted to talk… so talk.”
He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes still unable to meet mine. I want reach out and touch his face, to make him look at me, the way he makes me look at him. I want to see inside him the way he does me. But I don’t. I let him handle this, me, the way he needs to. Because something tells me this is a first for him. And I know what it’s like to screw up. “I need you to know that what happened at the restaurant last night…I really didn’t mean for it to come across like that. Seeing you again made me lose my head. I am not that kind of guy, but fuck if seeing you again didn’t make me want you like I’ve never wanted anyone. So instead of thinking, I reacted. I never considered the ramifications, until we were done. I didn’t want the guys to find out; I didn’t want there to be talk. Livie, you have to know I’m not that guy--I would never walk out on you like that.”
“You did in Mexico.” Shit. I instantly regret making the comment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I get up from the chair and head to the door, but a strong hand grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Is that what you think? That I just left you in Mexico?” he asks. It’s my turn to hang my head now, embarrassed by my confession and scared of what his answer might be. “Shit. Livie. No. I…you made it clear that Mexico was it for us. I was just trying to respect your wishes. I’m so sorry. I should have said goodbye in per
son.”
“You’re right. It’s stupid. Just forget it.” I try to pull away again, but he won’t let me. He tightens his grip and tugs me closer to him.
“It’s not stupid, and I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Give me another chance.” His free hand caresses my cheek.
Such a simple touch, a simple gesture--it shouldn’t affect me the way it does. “We don’t have a chance, Landon.”
“Truth or Dare?” he asks. I look at him, confused as to where he is going with this. When I don’t respond, he asks again, “Truth or Dare? Pick.”
I inhale sharply as the temperature in the room seems to go up 20 degrees. Man, it’s getting hot in here. “Dare.”
“Kiss me.” It’s more of a demand, really. But I can’t help the reaction it spurs in me, him throwing my own game in my face. “Kiss me, Livie,” he repeats.
I will most definitely give him what he wants, because I want it so very badly too. But instead of kissing him, I one-up him by sliding my tank top over my head and throwing it at him. When my lips meet his, all bets are off. There is no stopping; there is no pulling back. I have no clue what I’m doing or why I am doing it, when I know deep down this will only cause us pain. But when he looks at me, when he touches me, it’s as though everything is right in the world. The possibilities are endless. And for just a moment, as long as he will let me, I just want to stay there with him. Be with him in a world where it’s just the two of us, together.
My alarm clock sounds, and I can’t help but feel like I just went to bed. I roll over to shut it off and feel a hard body lying next to me, reminding me that I did just go to sleep about an hour ago. As if make-up sex isn’t outstanding on its own. Landon? He brings it to a whole new level. He made sure to prove to me a few times just how sorry he was. He definitely made up for his poor judgment the other night in the supply closet.