Crushed (In This Moment Book 2)

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Crushed (In This Moment Book 2) Page 13

by A. D. McCammon


  Her thought is cut off when my mouth covers hers. It’s not exactly how I wanted our first kiss to go, but I couldn’t stomach listening to her excuses or made up reasons why we can’t be together. Kissing her seemed like the best way to make her stop—to show her we belong together. She quickly melts into me, her arms circling around me and body going flush with mine, dissolving any second thoughts I was having about my choice.

  When I run my tongue across her soft lips, they part, and she lets out a soft moan as I slide it inside. Her mouth tastes like wintergreen mint, refreshing like a cool pool on a hot day.

  Wanting her to feel it, to know without question this is real and right, I put everything into our kiss—all the years of longing and love.

  Her hands paw at my back, latching on to me as if this kiss is her lifeline—as if I’m her lifeline. Nothing else matters in this moment. Who we are, where we are, our past, our future—it’s all lost in this free fall of ecstasy.

  With reluctance, I break our kiss, both of us panting as I rest my forehead on hers. When I catch my breath, I lift my head and open my eyes, snapping a picture of her with my mind. I never want to forget this moment or the way she looks right now—her eyes closed, cheeks heated, lips plump.

  “Hey, open your eyes,” I plead, caressing her cheek with my thumb.

  She takes a deep breath before obliging my request, and the overwhelming emotion behind her stare nearly brings me to my knees.

  “Stop thinking and just feel, Jules. You can’t find the truth in my words and actions alone. You have to feel it. Could you feel it?”

  She nods as tears stream down her face. Attempting to wipe away her tears, my chest tightens with panic as she pulls out of my arms.

  “Jules?”

  Her head falls as she sighs, and she turns away from me. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  I freeze, watching in horror as she walks away.

  Had I pushed things too far too fast and lost her?

  TRIPPING

  February 13th

  Brenden’s voice sounds heated and a little hurt as I close the door to my old bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I look around the room. This day is threatening to break me. With Christopher causing a scene by showing up here drunk, Brenden and Lizzy acting all weird, and the mess I left with Eric back at home looming over me, I don’t know how I’ve managed to hold it together.

  Being back here, in the home I shared with the man I was married to for seven years, is so strange. Nothing about this place feels like home. It’s as if I’ve been living someone else’s life all this time. There are no traces of me anywhere—not the real me. I hate everything about his house. How is it possible I hadn’t noticed any of this before? How did I get so lost? Have I been a ghost all these years?

  If that’s the case, I know what or who brought me back to life. Eric. My hand instinctively moves to my lips as the memory of our kiss heats my body. I haven’t been able to shake that kiss. God, that kiss was better than any one word could possibly describe. It was a chocolate bar when you have a bad case of PMS, a sunny day after days of rain, and a hot bubble bath with a glass of wine after a long day.

  Kissing Eric felt better than anything I’ve ever felt.

  His kiss was like a key unlocking my boxed-up emotions, it opened something inside of me that allowed me to feel.

  And I felt it—his love for me, it was beautiful, overwhelming, and utterly consuming. It terrified me, and I did what I do best. I ran.

  Wiping away a stubborn tear with vigor, I make my way into the master closet in search of the reason I came back up here in the first place—my memory box, the place where I stored the mementos of the life I had and the person I was before the night that changed everything.

  Finding it still hidden in the back where I’d left it, I let out a sigh of relief, grab it from the shelf, and plop down on the floor to open it. A smile spreads across my face as I file through the letters and pictures inside, my heart fluttering when I come across a photograph of Eric. Trying to cover himself with his arm, all you can see is the big smile on his face. My memory of this day is so fresh, it seems like yesterday. We were waiting for Algebra class to start, and he’d snapped a picture of me when I wasn’t paying attention. Every time I tried to get one in return, he would block his face, but I kept taking them anyway. We were laughing so hard, we gained the attention of everyone in the room.

  Those bracelets around his wrist were mine. He’d stolen them from me earlier that day while I’d been lost in the crisp blue sea of his stare. Every day he’d take something from me—a bracelet, my hair tie, a pencil—and carry it with him all day. In truth, I loved it. It was like his way of keeping me with him—like he needed that little token of me to get through his day.

  Behind the picture, I find the note Eric gave me at graduation. My hands shake as I pull it out of the box and gently unfold it.

  Staring blankly at the piece of paper, I try to understand why it feels like I’m reading it for the first time. I know I read this the day he gave it to me, but these words and the meaning behind them seem foreign to me. This is a note from a boy in love with a girl he’s terrified of never seeing again. The note I remember was nothing more than a platonic farewell from a friend.

  Eric has loved me all this time, and I’ve wasted it. It makes me wonder what my life could have been—what it could be—if I hadn’t been too blinded with stupidity and insecurity to see what was right in front of me. And here I am, letting history repeat itself.

  The knock on the bedroom door causes me to start, and I shove the letter back in the box before closing it as I jump up off the floor.

  “Yeah? Come in,” I call, walking out of the closet.

  When Lizzy opens the door, she looks noticeably upset, her shoulders slumped and red brimming her eyes. Chewing on her bottom lip, she steps inside, avoiding eye contact with me and hugging herself.

  “Do you need any help in here?”

  Placing the box on the bed, I approach her, placing my hands on her arms. “Is everything okay? What just happened? You can talk to me.”

  I’m such a hypocrite, pressing her to talk to me about Brenden when she has no clue about Eric.

  She meets my gaze and sighs. “It isn’t right for you to be worrying about me today. I’m a horrible friend,” she whines.

  “Oh please, I’d much rather be talking about you than me,” I reassure her. At least that’s one thing I can be honest about. “Now, sit down and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pat the spot next to me. She smiles as she shakes her head and sits with me.

  “I screwed everything up,” she cries, her eyes welling with tears as they meet mine. Averting her gaze, she tries to blink them away, only for them to streak down her face.

  Her words are rushed and her voice quiet as she begins her story. She tells me how she’d gone over to his room ready to act on her feelings, only to run out of there when those feelings became too intense. As I listen to her recount the events of last night, my gut twists with envy over her ability to be so open. All my relationships suffer because I keep everything bottled up inside. I’m an island. My outer edges are tranquil and beautiful, but ugliness is hidden away in the darkness of my depths.

  “Everything is going to be fine. You need to be honest with him. If you apologize and explain what happened and how you feel, I know he’ll understand.”

  My words echo back to me in my head as she nods, and I decide it’s time I take my own advice. I’ve been avoiding Eric because I’ve been plagued with worry over my outburst of tears after he kissed me, wondering what he must think of me. It won’t be easy to describe what happened, the overload of thoughts and emotions that coursed through me in that moment. Not without telling him more than I’m willing about my past. But I should at least try to explain things. He deserves to know how I feel about him.

  BE MINE

  February 14th

  The screen on my phone
lights up revealing only my background image, and my grip tightens around it. Groaning, I slam it down on my couch before hopping to my feet and pacing the floor, needing to find a way to relieve some of this nervous energy.

  Julianna should be back by now. I’m trying to give her space, but we haven’t had a real conversation since she walked out after our kiss. I’ve called her several times, but she has ignored all of them. Friday evening, I opted to send her a text begging her to at least let me know she made it safe. She responded with two words: Here. Safe.

  After that, I was sure I fucked things up, but then I got another text from her last night saying we needed to talk when she got back today and she’d let me know when she was back. I’ve been a mess all day, waiting and watching for her call. Since I overplayed my hand with that kiss, that’s all I can do.

  My heart slams against my chest as my phone begins to ring, and I stumble all over the place rushing back over to it. Snatching it up, I answer without even looking to see who it is.

  “Jules?”

  “She still hasn’t called yet, huh?”

  “What the hell do you want, Red?” I growl, running a hand through my hair.

  On Friday, when I was on the verge of losing my mind, I broke down and told her everything. My confession started with my schoolboy crush turned obsession, then our disastrous friendship and my broken heart. By the time I got to our kiss, she was squealing with excitement. I seriously need more male friends.

  “Hey, you’re not the only one anxiously awaiting her return. This ‘will they, won’t they’ drama has me on the edge of my seat.”

  “It’s Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t you be busy getting wooed by some guy?”

  “Screw Valentine’s Day. It’s a stupid holiday made up by corporations who profit off women’s insecurities,” she spits out.

  Roxy is beautiful, smart, and funny—the full package. Every guy who crosses her path takes notice of her, except the one she wants: my idiotic baby brother.

  “Well, I won’t disagree with you there. You deserve someone who will show you they love and appreciate you every day of the year. Now, don’t call me again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She huffs in protest as I disconnect the call then collapse on the couch. Laying my head back, I stare at the ceiling, playing the different scenarios of what Jules is planning to say out in my mind. Things could go either way, and I need to prepare myself. I know she enjoyed kissing me as much I did her, but it doesn’t change the fact that she ran and has been avoiding me since then.

  It’s clear she’s dealing with some demons, though she’d never admit it—ones that go much deeper than getting a divorce. The fear in her eyes that night at the bar and the terror in her screams as she was dreaming still haunt me.

  I’m suspended between wakefulness and sleep when there’s a knock on my door. Startled, I sit up with a jerk and blink away the spots in my eyes as I try to process what’s happening. There’s a second knock—louder and more urgent. I scramble to my feet then toward the door.

  “Red, I swear to God,” I grumble as I open it. Only…it’s not Roxy standing on the other side. “Jules?”

  “Hi.” Her voice cracks and she gives me a nervous smile before clearing her throat. “I brought pizza, beer, and a movie.” My eyes travel over the items in her hands, while the rest of me remains still and silent. Am I dreaming? “I should have called. Do you have plans? I’ll just go.”

  She turns to leave, snapping me out of my catatonic state, and I grab the beer from her hand.

  “Don’t you dare.” I smirk as she looks at me in surprise. “I’m starving. Get your butt in here.”

  A smile lights up her face as I step back and wave her in. She’s quiet and visibly tense once we’re inside, her eyes combing over my apartment as she follows me to the kitchen.

  “This is a pleasant surprise. I’d only been expecting a phone call,” I tell her, placing the beer in the fridge before grabbing one for each of us.

  Nodding, she lays the pizza on the counter and her bag next to it before locking her eyes on me. “I thought it would be better to talk in person.”

  My pulse races as I twist the top off her bottle and hand it to her, then do the same with mine. “I agree. Did you want to talk now or…? We could sit. Did you want to sit?”

  She chuckles and bites her bottom lip as she puts her beer down. Glancing away, she takes a cautious step toward me, then another, closing the distance between us. My heart stutters when she looks back up at me through hooded eyes, my body twitching with need to touch her. Her eyes fall again as she launches herself forward and wraps her arms around me.

  Placing my beer next to hers, I return her embrace and kiss the top of her head. “This is my kind of conversation right here,” I joke. Her body vibrates as she laughs, sending a wave of warmth through me.

  She leans back, a soft smile on her lips as she searches my face. “You fell in love with me in high school.”

  Her words come out as a statement instead of a question, and I wonder what finally made her come to that conclusion.

  “No,” I answer, smirking as confusion and embarrassment cross her features. “Fifth grade. I’ve been in love with you since fifth grade. I remember the exact moment. You were wearing that blue Adidas shirt with the matching shorts and those black Adidas shoes. Mrs. Tillman had just reassigned seats, and you ended up sitting next to me. When a shy smile crossed your face and those brilliant blue eyes locked on mine as you said, ‘Hi,’ I was done for.”

  Her forehead creases. “But you didn’t even speak to me until high school.”

  “You terrified me,” I admit, chuckling. “It took time to build up the nerve to talk to you and even longer to tell you how I feel—which I probably wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t disclosed your feelings to me first.”

  Her cheeks redden and she looks away, taking a deep breath before meeting my gaze again. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do. You make me feel safe, whole, and happy. I think you deserve someone better than me, and I can’t promise you I won’t royally screw this up, but I do want this. I want you. It’s always been you. I need to take it slow, though. Okay?”

  My lips curl as I begin to bob my head enthusiastically, tightening my hold on her to keep from fist pumping the air. It’s more than okay—it’s freaking fantastic. I’d do about anything for the chance to be with her. I’m getting off easy with her request.

  “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where you said you want me?” She swats at my back and smiles. “It took me five years to talk to you and almost twenty to tell you how I feel, I’m like the king of taking things slow.”

  “Good point,” she quips, squeezing me.

  “So, what movie are we watching?”

  “Hackers.”

  My lips curl as my mind wanders to the first time we watched that movie together, and her eyes light up with mischief telling me she’s thinking about that day too.

  “The last time we watched this together, I wanted to kiss you so badly, I spent most of the movie focusing on you instead of it. It was the best kind of torture.”

  Grinning, she presses her body into mine.

  “Well, if you get that urge again tonight, don’t hold back on my account.”

  Pride swells in my chest as she tilts her head and licks her lips, almost begging me to kiss her again. Leaning in, I bring my mouth as close to hers as possible without connecting. The heat from her quickening breaths brushes across my lips as I inhale her floral scent, nearly losing my resolve.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I breathe, rubbing my nose against hers before releasing my hold on her and quickly stepping away.

  She gapes at me with wide eyes as I pick my beer up from the counter and take a swig, feigning total composure. Taking things slow could be fun. They say delayed gratification is the best kind, right?

  MOVING OUT, IN, AND ON

  February 20th

  “I can’t believe you’re moving out alrea
dy,” Lizzy pouts, fidgeting with her coffee cup.

  “I never really moved in,” I counter. “Well…it probably seems that way after two months, but it’s time for me to get out of your hair.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve loved having another adult around to talk to and help with the kids.”

  Her tone is chipper and there’s a smile on her face, but the underlying sorrow in her statement clutches at my heart. Although it’s been nearly three years since her husband was killed in a car accident, I imagine that loneliness still resonates with her every day.

  “You could always have Brenden around more,” I tease.

  The two of them finally moved past friendship while we were in Pennsylvania, but she still seems to be holding back. They haven’t seen each other since last weekend. I tried to tell her she should spend the weekend with him, but she insists on helping me get moved. I know she feels guilty for being happy with Brenden, but it’s what Xander would want.

  Her cheeks turn pink as she shakes her head. “I don’t think either of us are ready for that.”

  “The two of you are dating now, you’ll have to bring him around eventually.”

  “I know,” she sighs, her eyes falling to the table. “I’m just worried Maddie will feel like I’m trying to replace her father. I want to be sure of where things are going before I bring him into my kids’ lives. They’ve already lost too much.”

  Something tells me her concern isn’t only for them. She’s scared of going through what she went through with Xander again. I can’t say I blame her, and I’m not exactly the person to give advice when it comes to not letting fear hold you back.

  Placing a reassuring hand on her arm, I bring her attention back to me. “Brenden is crazy about you. I’ve seen that since the first time I met the guy. He isn’t going to bail on you guys, and Maddie already gave you her blessing. This is a good thing. Allow yourself to be happy. You deserve it.”

 

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