Mad About You: A Box Set

by Pamela Ann

  Pulling the box close to my face, I closed my eyes and inhaled the decadent aroma of chocolate with whipped chocolate frosting sprinkled with dark chocolate powder, mixed with the tropical smell of perfectly smashed ripened bananas, mixed with brown sugar and the nutty whiff of walnuts topped with abundant banana frosting.

  “Fuck,” I viciously groaned in protest before I finally found the strength to shut the lid and situate it on the side table, choosing the coffee, instead.

  This shit was lethal for my diet and my poor heart.

  Getting on with my morning, I buzzed about, readying myself and making sure I had every single piece of paperwork needed for school. Then I stepped out of my room before hesitantly pausing right outside Drew’s bedroom door.

  Was he home? He had to be…

  But upon opening his door, I was greeted by a made bed and no Drew Cavendish in sight. He probably had gone to school early, or maybe he had merely dropped these off and left. Whatever Drew had aimed to achieve with the impromptu treats this morning, be it my forgiveness or something else, I had to concede that he had succeeded in making himself significant in the majority of my thoughts.

  Once I got to school, I immediately sought out my designated advisor, having an appointment with him first. Upon meeting him, he proceeded to go through my schedule. We spoke about what my intended goal was for this semester before he gave me a thorough rundown of what NYU had to offer when it came to extracurricular activities such as fellowships and organizations that could potentially pique my interest.

  My classes were solidly filled from Tuesday through Thursday from eight a.m. to six p.m. It was either I joined something or found a part-time job somewhere to fill the rest of my week.

  My parents wouldn’t be too keen about me having a job while in school. Most parents would actually encourage it, but mine were the kind who liked to get monthly dividends from the family business without lifting a finger, so they had no idea what the word “working” really entailed.

  Not to sound harsh, but thank fuck I hadn’t inherited their mentality. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself quite honestly. Whatever I decided, it would be for the benefit of mental maturity and life experience. And since Jackson had gotten away with whatever he was up to with his secret school, then I was pretty sure I could do as I pleased as long as it didn’t reach my parents’ ears.

  My next stop was the NYU Bookstore to get all the books I needed this semester. It took me a couple of hours to gather them all since I was often distracted, wandering around the rows of bookshelves, just browsing through books that captured my attention.

  It was right after I paid for my items that my phone beeped, indicating a text message received. It was from my brother Jackson.

  Dinner at home. Drew’s cooking. Hope you’re okay. See you later, booger!

  Glancing at the time on the top screen of my phone, it stated it was fifteen past five. Well, I supposed this would be a good opportunity to discuss chores. And Drew offering to cook was always a good sign. Besides, I had missed his barbeques; they were the best. Then again, I hardly thought he would be dishing that out tonight. He’d probably opted for pasta or something along those lines. And as for those cupcakes, how could I even begin broaching that topic? I supposed I should see how tonight’s conversation panned out and decide from there.

  I wasn’t particularly excited, nor was I indifferent about it, but maybe leaning a bit more toward blasé, so I surely wasn’t scurrying up to get to the apartment. When I finally got home and opened the door, the lovely smell of garlic sautéed in butter made my mouth water. It was one thing to be hot and all around sexy, but it was another to be hot, all around sexy, and be able to seriously cook a mean meal. And Drew was all of that and then some.

  “I’m home!” I announced as I strode toward the hall then into the kitchen where I found Drew with messy bed-head hair and his cargo pants hanging low, just a tad below his pelvis. He was barefoot and donning only a black apron to cover his bare chest while he used metal tongs to check on whatever was in the hot pot in front of him.

  Fuck. If my mouth had watered before, I was beyond salivating this time. Good grief. Was he ever planning to wear a shirt around here?

  The ventilation fan was being used in full force, so I doubted he had heard me enter. I stood there for a moment, contemplating if I should try to get his attention or leave him be since he was busy with the heated pan where the garlic was being caramelized before he added the minced onion into the mix. I could stare at him all day long, and I wouldn’t be bored, but as lovely as that idea was, it sure as hell wasn’t feasible. Not now, not ever.

  Slightly shaking my head to free it of idiotic thoughts, I took a few steps toward the six-seater glass table before leaving my purse and the paper bag on one of the seats.

  I could feel my adrenaline kick up a notch as I approached the fridge, which was conveniently located next to where he stood.

  “Hey,” I half-yelled at him before opening the fridge to get a small bottle of Fiji water before shutting it and leaning against it.

  “You’re home,” he noted, his eyes on me.

  I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I had this odd notion to be a bit daring as I opened the bottle, brought it to my lips, and began to drink it while our eyes were glued to each other. Just as expected, his blue ones darted from my amber ones then to my lips before he lowered his gaze toward my neck, watching it closely as the tip of his tongue came out to lick the bottom of his lip, stimulated.

  “Do you want some?” I rasped out, watching his eyes dilate at the sight of my lips.

  “Is that an offer or a challenge? I can’t be too sure,” he answered in a low, grated voice before he his gaze clashed again with mine.

  This was nice and all, but as tempting as it was to keep playing with fire, a woman could only be burned so many times until she knew better and learned to appreciate from afar.

  Forming a tight smile, I handed him the bottle. “Water. I meant water; that’s all.”

  Something crossed his face. I couldn’t be sure if it was anger, disappointment, or irritation. Maybe a mixture of the three. Whatever it was, it passed, and his face became unreadable before he diverted his attention back to cooking.

  I should have felt somewhat triumphant at my little display, yet I felt far from it. Somehow, his immediate withdrawal made me feel empty, bereft that he had disengaged so quickly.

  Trying to engage him in a conversation was seriously out of the question. Instead, I strolled toward the living room with my phone in hand. Then I slipped my checkered Burberry ballet flats off and casually lounged on one of the white couches, hoping my brother arrived soon to ease the tension.

  I occupied my time by sending my best friend Courtney a quick text about how my day had gone and that I hoped hers had gone better than mine. I was quite surprised to see that Spencer had just sent me one, as well.

  How did your day go? Just want to ask if you’d be interested in coming along this weekend. We’re heading to Miami, and it’d be amazing if you’d join and keep me company. I promise to behave this time.

  I hardly doubted Spencer knew what behave meant, but that was beside the point. There was an attraction between us, yet I still had some reservations. Besides, I sort of wanted to see what else was out there, enjoy my first year here without needing to worry about someone else’s feelings while I partied the night away. True, I wasn’t much of a party girl, but I didn’t want any obligations whatsoever on the romantic front.

  Even if Spencer didn’t want to pursue anything serious with me, I wanted something different. My soul craved something edgy and maybe a little taste of danger … a whole different sphere, something unexplored, unexperienced by me before. Whatever that might be, I knew for a fact that Spencer wasn’t the guy to deliver the goods.

  Before I could manage to type in my reply, Jackson arrived to save the day. Thank God for that, I thought as I greeted him with a smile and a warm hug.

  Chapte
r 41

  Steamed lobsters, pasta with white sauce, garlic bread, and an excellent white wine completed the meal, although the guys opted to have beers instead of the wine.

  My brother seated himself at the head of the table while Drew and I chose to sit across from each other. As nervous as I was, I couldn’t help eating not one, not two, but three medium-sized succulent lobster tails. They were to die for when dipped in butter sauce.

  I hadn’t realized how starved I was until my brother cheekily pointed out that I still had a hard time resisting some of my favorite foods, even though I had claimed I was hell-bent on practicing portion control. I loved my brother, but at times like these, he should know better than to point out that my soul was still a diehard fat-ass. Nevertheless, men were unperturbed when it came to women’s sensitivity about body image. It was a golden fact as old as time.

  “Spencer is insisting that you come along.” Jackson broke the amiable silence while I coolly sipped on my wine.

  Before I was given the chance to voice out my reply, however, Drew butted in for me. “Where to?” he grumbled out as he impassively directed his gaze at Jackson.

  “Miami.”

  When those intense blue eyes landed on me, I felt as though my chest were about to combust from hypertension.

  “You’re going?” he casually asked.

  As simple as that question sounded, there was an underlying meaning to it. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but I knew I had to mumble a response since Jackson was waiting for one.

  “I’m … uh … I’m not sure yet. Can I think on it?” I had never been to Florida, but I didn’t want to join Jacks and his friends if Spencer was tagging along wherever I went, like how he had been at the party, stuck to me like glue.

  Jackson frowned as if he were trying to piece something in his mind. “Is there something going on between you and Spencer?”

  His question threw me off a little. I wasn’t sure how to proceed with it. In the end, I eventually muttered an honest, “No. I don’t know.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Drew piped in his blatant objection before regarding Jackson with unmistaken disgust on his face. “The guy is fucking garbage, and we both know it. If you give your approval for her to date someone, at least do it with a guy who isn’t a halfwit bitch-face wearing some tight jeans suffocating his balls, who splashes his money around because that’s the only currency that could garner him any form of respect since everyone knows he’s a fucking joke.”

  “Wow, what the hell did Spencer ever do to you?” My gasp barely showed how perplexed I was over his rant.

  Jackson blew out a hot breath before uttering, “He found out Spencer slept with one of his women. Shit went downhill from there.”

  Ah. A woman. Of course. What else could it be? Had he been in love with her? Because no man could be this hateful toward another guy unless that woman meant something more than a quick lay in the sack.

  “How many women do you have on speed dial?” It was a question in reference to Jackson’s statement of “one of his women.” My curiosity had gotten the best of me.

  Drew locked his jaw as he gave me a hard stare while I audaciously raised my brow, goading him a little.

  “Too many to count at this point.” Jackson chuckled before he drank his beer.

  “You’re one to talk,” Drew chided as he directed him a curt glare before he let out a tired sigh and resumed eating.

  Feeling the brunt of his gaze, Jackson held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging; just stating facts here, bro.”

  There was no denying Drew found this particular subject unappetizing. Regardless, I couldn’t let it go. I had to know more about this woman in question. She must have been quite special.

  “If she was, as Jackson put it, one of many, then she shouldn’t incite such a reaction from you, now should she?”

  “That’s not the fucking point. I have never appreciated snakes, and I don’t plan to start now,” Drew grated out with alarming ferocity.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out my probing had displeased him. Regardless, the dam had broken, and there was no stopping me from getting answers from him.

  “So, I’m guessing that’s why you don’t hang out with them, then.”

  Jackson cleared his throat before looking away. “Let’s just say that Drew’s been … on a journey to learn how to dominate the world one day at a time.”

  Was that snark I detected from my brother? What was going on between them?

  Before I had the chance to grill them more, Drew’s stoic face made me second-guess that notion.

  “That’s an extreme take on how you see things. If you’d take a chance to open your mind instead of hanging on to pre-existing beliefs, maybe you’d see a different perspective, Jackson.” There was a silent plea in Drew’s tone, as though they hadn’t agreed on something important; hence, the fractured friendship.

  The resonating sound of tense silence filled the air. It was palpable, and I felt caught in the crossfire.

  Jackson shook his head before giving a dry laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Right. Well, thanks for dinner. I’ll take my narrow-minded self out to party with the same people you deem garbage.”

  “Wait! You’re leaving?” I watched in horror as I flickered my eyes to and fro, wondering where their years of tight friendship had gone.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chloe. Have a goodnight.” Jackson gave me an unapologetic look before getting up and pushing his chair into the table.

  It didn’t take long for the sound of the door being slammed shut echoed around the apartment. Something was very wrong, and I had no idea what that was.

  “What is going on between you guys? This doesn’t look like the petty fights you two always had back home.”

  “People change … and some don’t.”

  What did that mean? How long had they been like this to each other? Not only had they barely hung out since I had arrived, but it seemed as though they couldn’t bear to be in the same room together for long.

  “Are you really considering going to Miami?”

  I glared at him. It couldn’t be helped. How could he just brush off what had happened and continue discussing Miami?

  “I already said I would think on it. Nothing’s been decided yet.”

  “Spencer likes challenges. The more he sees that you might play hard to get, the eager he becomes. He lives for the thrill of the chase,” he stated succinctly.

  Funny he should say that ’cause … “If I didn’t know any better, you could be describing yourself.”

  I was completely unprepared when he reached out to hold my hand, looking at me with pure sincerity. “I only want what’s best for you, Chloe, and that sure as hell isn’t Spencer … Nor is it me.”

  The weight of his words knocked the air out of me. How often had he stated such words to me? Of course, it hurt to hear him say it. I hadn’t given up my V-card to some random man. He meant a lot to me.

  “Great, I guess I should say thank you and good looking out.” It would have been a good retort had it been a joke, but the sarcasm was too apparent to be ignored.

  Silence stretched between us while his hand casually held mine. It felt like forever, waiting for that moment that he would eventually pull away.

  Just before I had the strength to look away, he cleared his throat then gazed at my face appreciatively. “I like your hair down like that. It makes you look very exotic.”

  With my tan and amber eyes, I supposed I could pass for exotic. Hearing it from him, from his lips, pleased me more than I cared to admit. But as much as I wanted to dwell on my thoughts, I still had a lot of unanswered questions that needed to be addressed.

  “Where did you go after you left that night?” I referred to the night he had walked out on me after interrupting that tête-à-tête with Spencer.

  He seemed tentative for a few seconds before finally rasping out, “To someone’s place.”

  Gauging by h
is reaction, I didn’t have to wonder. “It’s a woman, of course.” I snorted, as if mocking him.

  Why couldn’t he just hang out with guys like Jackson? He used to do that, too, but it seemed as though, every waking moment he wasn’t in school, he was bed hopping like a fucking gigolo. What the hell had gotten into him?

  “Sex isn’t everything, Drew. I know that sounds ridiculous to men like you, but there’s more to life than that.” I was treading on such a dangerous subject, but I had to say it.

  He had been off his rocker when his mom had died, followed by his grandmother. He’d had no family left as far as I knew. This wouldn’t do him any good if it were his way of coping with their loss. After all, it had been less than two years since it had happened. For some folks, that was still considered fresh wounds.

  Something feral flickered in his magnetic blue depths before they locked onto my amber ones. “I fucked her hard. I fucked her good … so good that she fucking looked shattered. And I didn’t fucking stop until every thought of you with that little skirt on had been wiped out of my mind.”

  My mouth hung ajar as hurt bombarded me from all fronts. “You …” I growled as my body shook. I wanted to slap him so hard I could feel my hand tingling. Instead, I opted to abruptly stand up from my chair and leave the table, too blinded by my tremendous pain to see that my foot was about to crash against the settee.

  “Fuck! My big toe!” I screeched and sobbed at the same time. It was so painful I was seeing white stars and hadn’t realized Drew was right there with me before he carried me to the sofa.

  While seated, my gaze dropped to the swollen toe, wondering how I was going to survive going to school injured.

  “Sit still while I get some ice,” Drew tersely commanded. It didn’t take him long to come back with a bag of frozen mangos in his hand. “It’d take longer to put ice in a bag. This is faster and works just as well,” he argued before situating himself by my foot, carefully placing it on his thigh before setting the icepack on it.