Him or Me

by Veronica Larsen

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER One - Grace

  CHAPTER Two - Heath

  CHAPTER Three - Grace

  CHAPTER Four - Grace

  CHAPTER Five - Heath

  CHAPTER Six - Grace

  CHAPTER Seven - Grace

  CHAPTER Eight - Grace

  Before You Go

  Acknowledgements

  © 2016 by Veronica Larsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Lea Burn, Burn Before Reading

  Interior formatted with Scrivener for Mac version 2.5

  Published by Veronica Larsen

  Cover design by Goudy Designs

  Publication Date: July 21st, 2016

  For anyone who's ever been the one in a group to laugh the loudest

  and felt uncool about it.

  Dude, you are SO cool.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Grace

  "GIVE ME SOME OF that."

  Heath buries his hand between my thighs. Or, rather, into the bowl cradled there. I slap his hand but it comes away with a fistful of caramel and cheddar popcorn anyway.

  He pops some kernels into his mouth and says, "I'm only trying to help you, you said you were on a diet."

  "First of all, that was weeks ago. Second, it was a cleanse, and it didn't work. My sweet tooth came back all angry, pelting me in the face with peanut M&Ms."

  "How long were you on this cleanse?" he asks, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

  I think for a moment. "A day and a half."

  "Should've given it a few more hours, just to be sure. But since you're not on your diet anymore, let's go grab a burger after this? Jackson won't eat burgers now."

  "Why not?"

  "He's doing this pseudo-vegetarian thing to support Samantha."

  I lay a hand over my chest. My best friend has such a thoughtful boyfriend. "He's so sweet."

  "He's a pussy."

  "Yeah, but an adorable pussy. Like one groomed to have cat ears or something."

  Heath goes quiet, and I know he's lost in mental imagery.

  "Are you thinking of giving it a try?" I ask. "Chicks dig pets, you know. Especially cats."

  "I know they do. I'm just not sure cats are as adorable when they have a cock for a nose and a pair of balls for a chin."

  It's my turn to get lost in mental imagery, and Heath takes the opportunity to steal another handful of my popcorn, stuffing his face with it before I can object. From the television in front of us, someone screams and frantic music begins to play. And off to the right from where we sit in the living room, the front door of the apartment clicks. I hear it before Heath does because his eyes remain glued on the screen and I perk up, an excited smile erupting on my face.

  Heath is busy chewing, but his carefree expression falters when he notices the joy on my own. Because he knows nothing good brings me this type of sudden happiness. By the time Jackson steps inside, Heath is completely unprepared for this round of our war, the mouthful of popcorn rendering him helpless as I blurt out:

  "Yeah, but it's not like the rash reached your balls yet, so you should be fine."

  Heath stares at me, his cheeks straining as he chews even faster, and swallows. But it's too late. His brother heard me.

  Jackson halts mid-step to look at us, face scrunching up in equal parts confusion and disgust.

  "Good point, Grace," Heath says, carrying the fictional ball I just dropped. "The dermatologist did say the same thing."

  I stifle a snort, just as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  "I seriously need to knock before walking in on your conversations," Jackson says, strolling past us, eyes on the stack of mail in his hands.

  Heath lowers his voice, and says, "You thought of that, just right in this second? I'm impressed."

  "It's a skill I'm honing."

  "I'm not sure if I should be proud or scared."

  Scared.

  Just last week, Heath came to meet me for lunch and thought it would be funny to blurt out, "But the last time you used Vagisil there it only made it worse," as one of my co-workers approached from behind me in the parking lot. Worst part is, the co-worker was the one person who would never understand the concept of having an asshole friend who just wants to embarrass you.

  All I know is, the moment marked the start of a war of opportunity, the rules of which we are still working out. If one of us spots someone approaching while the other is caught off guard, we will blurt out something embarrassing. The other has to go along with it.

  My phone buzzes again, reminding me I have yet to check my message. It's a text from William.

  [Hey, babe, I'm in the neighborhood early. I'll drop by to pick you up in ten.]

  I shoot to my feet, cursing under my breath.

  "What is it?" Heath asks, frowning at the phone in my hand, even though I don't think he saw the message.

  "William's coming over and I'm dressed like this." I gesture down my body. I'm wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. My face is makeup free and my hair up in a loose bun.

  Heath appraises me in silence then pulls in his brows. "Yeah, and? You look good."

  "I look like shit."

  I walk over to the door to grab my shoes.

  "You don't look like shit. Unless I missed something and you somehow shit cute, five-foot-three blondes. That sounds painful, but I'd like one if you've got extra."

  "You've got beer goggles on."

  He grabs his beer as though I've just reminded him to take a sip, and says, "But what about the show? Don't you want to know if the nice lady finally gets eaten by the walkers?"

  Heath and I have been binge-watching The Walking Dead over the past few weeks. I enjoy watching it with him so much because anyone else would get annoyed at my need to add my own commentary to everything that happens on the show. But Heath? He eats it up and matches me.

  Something tugs at my stomach when he gives me a little pout, silently begging me to stay. He's wearing a muscle shirt, his toned arms on full display. The innocent way he peers up at me with those light-blue eyes is so cute, I'm tempted to walk over and pinch his cheeks.

  "I do want to know. So badly. And if the zombies could eat her kid, too, that would be amazing."

  "You do know you're a terrible person, right?" And when I shrug, he adds, "I love it."

  I smile then point at him. "Don't you dare watch a single minute without me."

  "Wouldn't dream of it," he says.

  I hold his gaze a beat then turn to the door, opening it. When I glance back to say goodbye, Heath's gaze darts upward from my behind.

  He looks temporarily caught off guard, but then grins and says, "Might want to take those granny panties off."

  "Shut up. I'll see you later," I say with half a laugh before closing the door.

  Lucky for me, my apartment is just down the hall from Heath and Jackson's place. No one's home when I run inside to change into a sundress and wedges. I let my hair fall over my shoulders and do quick work of light, summer friendly makeup. By the time there's a knock on my door, I look halfway decent.


  William stands out in the hall, handsome as ever with his sun-kissed skin and gorgeous brown eyes beaming down at me.

  "Oh, hey." I smile casually, as though I didn't just spend the last ten minutes rushing to get ready.

  He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, but I don't miss the way he eyes the living room behind me.

  "What have you been up to?" he asks, as I step out into the hall and shut the door.

  "Just finishing up the first season of The Walking Dead with Heath."

  "Just Heath?"

  "No one else will watch it with us," I say. "They think zombies are stupid."

  William holds out his arm without saying a word. I loop mine through it and move closer to him as we start our walk to the elevator.

  "No one important has died for two whole episodes. We're going nuts," I explain.

  I'm not sure if he hears me. He usually zones out when I talk about it. But just then, he looks over his shoulder at the sound of a door closing. I follow his gaze and catch Heath locking his apartment door and heading down the hall toward us.

  Heath hesitates for a moment when he notices William and me, but his lips spread into an easy smile and he calls down the hall, "Guys, hold the elevator?"

  William's jaw ticks, so fleeting I almost miss it. I hold a hand over the elevator door and wait for Heath to come down the hall. It's not a long walk and Heath's long strides cover the distance quickly, but William seems annoyed anyway, mumbling under his breath something I can't decipher.

  "Thanks," Heath says, passing me to board the elevator. He looks at William and nods. "How's it going, man?"

  "Going good, thanks."

  I stand between them as the elevator door closes and wonder if I'm imagining the awkward way they both fall silent as they turn to stare ahead.

  Heath turns his attention to me. "Going to go grab that burger. Then meeting the others at the Hideout," he says of our coffee shop hangout.

  I groan and fake-whisper, "Bring me a burger."

  "You can go with him if you want," William says.

  I stare at him, my mouth parted in surprise at the way his statement hangs in the air like a warning. I realize this is the first time the two of them have been alone together.

  Well, alone together…with me.

  "She knows she can," Heath says before I can recover. He stares right at William, who's already looking straight ahead.

  The air is thick with something I can't quite explain, something seeping out of William in heaps and maybe, just maybe, out of Heath as well.

  I can't ignore the nagging disappointment in my stomach at how they don't seem to like each other. Heath is an inevitable part of my life. His brother dates my best friend, who also happens to be my roommate. Even if this weren't the case, Heath would still be my neighbor. And I happen to think he's a really cool dude with good intentions.

  As I stand in the uncomfortable silence, I realize how difficult it will be to bring William into our group of friends if he doesn't get along with Heath.

  The elevator comes to a stop at the lobby. William and I step out first, and when I glance back, Heath gives me a quick but small smile. What strikes me is his expression right before he registered me looking. I caught a strange glint in his eyes. A quiet rustling of something sweeping through too quickly for me to make sense of it. William looks back too.

  They make eye contact, and in the instant before they break it, I swear, it's as if they're about to whip out their dicks and sword fight.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Heath

  JACKSON'S GOT THAT LOOK on his face. That, I'm disappointed but I'm trying not to be dramatic about it look.

  "Listen, man," he starts, lowering his voice even though his girlfriend and her sister are at the other end of the coffee shop, too far away to hear. "It would make my life easier if you didn't argue with Delilah so much."

  I glance back at where Samantha and Delilah sit, the first on a beaten down leather loveseat and the other on the three-seater couch across from it. They're in conversation and not concerned with Jackson and me, as we wait for the barista to finish preparing our drinks.

  "I'm not arguing, I'm just engaging in a debate," I say. "You expect me to not have a response to her saying she can feel wireless Internet signals? I can't, man. I physically cannot keep my mouth shut when I hear things like that."

  "It's not as crazy as you might think. I read an article about a woman—"

  "Jesus, you're drinking too much of the Kool-Aid."

  Jackson smirks, glancing back at his girlfriend. "Tastes damn good, man."

  I miss Grace already. My brother's being seduced by the crazy side, and without Grace here, there's no one to back me up. Without her here…our group is off-balance.

  The barista sets our drinks down on the counter. Jackson grabs his and Samantha's and, by default, I take Delilah's and mine. The otherwise innocent gesture is exasperated by the nagging suspicion Jackson wishes Delilah and I would hit it off, romantically. There's just no way it's going to happen.

  "Delilah's kidding," Jackson tells me. "She has a really dry sense of humor."

  "No. She's serious."

  He lowers his voice even more as we approach the two women with their drinks in tow. "Just go with it."

  I pull a sarcastic smile on my lips, hand Delilah her drink, and lower myself onto the couch beside her. Sitting one seat over just seems childish, although I do consider it.

  "Is Grace coming?" Delilah asks, leaning forward.

  I don't read anything into how intently she eyes me as she waits for my response. She looks at everyone in the same way, with the same steadfast curiosity. It's unnerving the way her big eyes are fixed on mine. I sit back just to put more space between us. She has little concept of personal space, and I swear she doesn't blink as often as normal people do.

  Creepy.

  The word I'm looking for is creepy.

  Delilah is creepy.

  But I'm working on getting used to her. It's not like I have a choice if our siblings insist on smashing private parts for the rest of time, which it appears they are intent on doing.

  Before I get to answer, Delilah's gaze snaps to the entrance at the sound of the clanking bells over the door. "Oh, there she is."

  My mood raises a few hundred notches as Grace walks inside. She spots us immediately, since we've all but commandeered this section of the coffee shop as our own territory. There's only been the occasional turf war with some local hipsters. They sat here way before it was cool.

  Grace reaches us and nudges me sideways, closer to Delilah. As I move and she settles down in the seat, I can't help but wish the sundress she's wearing hugged her body more instead of flaring out the way it does. I stare anyway, lost in the memory of her ass in the yoga pants she had on earlier. I know for a fact Grace doesn't do yoga, but the fabric of those pants clings to her like a second skin, molding over her ass in such an incredible way it fucking hurts.

  God bless those fucking pants.

  Grace sits and the view of the back of her dress is replaced with Jackson, sitting straight across from us. His arm thrown over Samantha's shoulders and his eyebrow tilting up, silently telling me he caught me staring at Grace.

  "Thought your text said you were going out with William?" Samantha asks, and I use her speaking as an excuse to look away from my brother's smug face.

  She and Jackson sit so close and all I can think is how uncomfortable all the body heat must be. It's like cuddling upright.

  Beside me, Grace rubs her eyebrow at the question, and I get the sense William's the last thing she wants to talk about.

  "We got into a huge fight on the train," she says, taking the coffee cup from my hand to drink from it. I groan in disapproval, but really, I love the sight of her lips closing over the very spot mine were on a moment before. "He doesn't want to go camping this weekend—" She holds up a hand to interrupt Delilah's oncoming rebuttal. "Don't worry, I'm coming. I told him it's for your birthday, and how you want no
thing more than to sleep under the stars and hug all of the trees. But when he agreed a few weeks ago, I think he wasn't even listening to what he agreed to, and now he wants out. He literally said, 'I'm not going and you're not going without me.' You should've seen the way my head spun 360 degrees. The lady sitting beside us even muttered, 'oh shit.' She was this sassy looking Hispanic woman, so naturally, I felt the pressure to tear William a new asshole and then storm off the A train right before the doors shut. It was super dramatic," she finishes, obviously pleased with herself.

  "Oh good," Delilah says. "So you guys broke up?"

  I go still at the question and an energy rolls through the group, everyone seeming to tense up just slightly, anxious for confirmation.

  Grace doesn't miss this, her eyebrows pulling down over her blue eyes.

  "What? No. It was just a fight, you guys," she says. "Couples fight. Heads roll. It's normal."

  "My parents fought once," I say. "Then they got divorced and now they hate each other."

  "Your parents aren't divorced," Grace counters. And when I shrug like it's beside the point, she goes on, "Wait, do you guys not like my boyfriend or something?"

  Grace looks around at each of us as we erupt into varying degrees of noncommittal sounds.

  "What was that?" Jackson asks, pretending he missed the question.

  I snatch my coffee back from her and take a sip.

  Samantha starts blabbering to make up for the rest of us. "Us? Not like him? No—he's good, he's got the…the…" She starts gesturing blindly over her head, seemingly lost for words as she looks to Jackson for help.

  "He's got the hair going on," Jackson says.

  Samantha snaps her fingers as though this was what she wanted to say.

  "The guy's got good hair," she agrees.

  "I mean, yeah," I say, when Samantha shoots me a pointed look, "it's decent."

  Anyone could have his hair if they're willing to spend enough time in front of the mirror every morning, slapping on mouse and getting finger cramps trying to get it to tousle just right.

  Not that I've tried.

  Grace looks at Delilah, who is the only one who did not make a sound.