Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  I head back to the bed and hope like hell she’s already asleep. When I slide back into bed, she instantly curls up at my side, taking the same position from a moment ago.

  Shit. What if I’ve just fucked up the best friendship I’ve ever had and took advantage of—

  “Hush.”

  I stiffen in alarm. Is she talking to me? Or did she already nod off, and she’s talking in her sleep?

  When she raises her head to peer at me in the darkened room, I try to gauge her reaction and come up empty.

  “Hush?” I repeat, unsure.

  Her lips flatten. “You’re freakin’ out.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. “And you’re not?” I grind the heels of my palms to my eyes with a groan. “I just took advantage of my best friend.” God, I’m so fucked.

  “Well, you’re in good company since I did the same thing,” comes her quick reply.

  I drop my hands from my face to stare at her. How can she be calm about this?

  “Magn—”

  I’m stopped by the kiss she dusts on my lips. She offers a satisfied, sleepy smile before curling up at my side and resting an arm over my chest. Instinctively, I curl an arm around her, holding her tight to me, and drop a light kiss to the top of her hair.

  Her voice slurs as if she’s already half asleep, and she whispers, “Love you, Hollis.”

  The arm I have around her tightens a fraction, and I realize for the first time the words won’t come.

  The sound of her steady, even breathing is a welcome relief, letting me off the hook.

  Because no way in hell can I say, “But not like that.” Not this time.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to say it again.

  Magnolia

  I wake up in bed how I normally do: burrowed beneath the covers, from head to toe. My mother used to panic when I was little, telling me I’d suffocate.

  Clearly, that never happened.

  Awareness settles in, bit by bit, and I realize I’m curled up, half-lying on top of a hard, warm, very male body.

  And then it hits me.

  I made out with Hollis Barnes last night!

  Wait, no. That’s not quite right. I dry humped him, and he showed me the world of orgasms and how magical they can be.

  My cheeks heat, and a mischievous smile threatens to form until I realize the full extent of what I did last night.

  I crawled on top of my best friend and rubbed myself against him. Granted, he seemed to enjoy it, but what guy wouldn’t? It doesn’t mean anything. Plus, he’s always done whatever it took to make me happy.

  I admit, I let the alcohol take hold and free my inhibitions last night, but I wasn’t completely drunk. Just a little tipsy.

  Then I took advantage of my best friend. The same one who saved me from a jackwagon of an ex-boyfriend. The one who’s lying here while I snuggle against his hard body, my leg thrown over his.

  I groan and bury my face against his chest as mortification fills me.

  What if I’ve ruined our friendship?

  No. Absolutely not. I won’t allow it. I’ll set things right somehow.

  “You done suffocatin’ yourself under there?” His husky voice teases me from above the covers.

  “Mmm, not quite,” I murmur, the remnants of sleep still evident in my voice.

  Silence hangs between us for a long moment before I finally work up the courage to speak.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice is tiny and not the least bit confident. I’m a coward of epic proportions, because I’m still hiding beneath the covers.

  His body goes rigid before he tentatively asks, “For what?”

  “For…takin’ adva—”

  I’m interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the lock seconds before I hear it swing open. I tense, but Hollis goes impossibly rigid.

  “Hey, I’m just grabbin’ some stuff and headin’ back out.” Preston’s voice is tentative, almost like he’s asking Hollis for permission. He’s probably heading back to the frat house.

  A part of me wonders if he hooked up after I left. Oddly enough, that idea doesn’t bother me. I just hate that I wasted so much time with him.

  “Oh, whoa. Sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone over.” My ex-boyfriend’s voice is hurried and nervous. Guess he noticed the large lump beneath the covers next to Hollis.

  Boy, am I glad he gathered up my clothes and put them in his closet. Although my sandals are by the door—ones I’ve worn plenty of times while Preston and I dated—but clearly, he’s not one for noticing details.

  The sound of items being shoved in what I assume is some sort of backpack or duffle bag hits my ears before he tells Hollis, “I’m out of your hair till Monday.”

  Hollis finally responds with a simple, “Got it.”

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the door closes and leaves us in complete silence. Only now do I let it out with a slow whoosh.

  “That was close.” His low voice sounds different. He’s probably panicked about getting caught with me here. “No doubt that would’ve been rough.”

  I need to try to salvage this before I make my escape as dignified as one can when not wearing a shirt—I’d never put it back on last night. Quickly, I toss back the covers and scramble over him and off the bed. Without making eye contact, I grab my clothes from the closet and head for the bathroom, tossing over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as I click the door shut and lock it, I exhale slowly. The person staring back at me in the mirror looks different. Mussed hair, a faint tinge of redness around my mouth from his scruff when we kissed. Even my eyes appear a little dazed, with mascara flaking beneath them. All in all, I look like I was thoroughly ravished last night.

  Can you imagine what it would’ve been like if he’d done more? If we’d gone all the way? It feels as though I have a devil perched on my shoulder whispering this.

  I force myself to snap out of it and shove away those errant thoughts before I quickly dress in last night’s outfit. I’ve never done the walk of shame, and I certainly never expected to do one after a night with Hollis Barnes.

  Once I’ve tidied my appearance as much as I can with limited resources, I emerge to find Hollis sitting on the bed, bare feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his knees. He appears lost in thought with his gaze on his feet until he hears me approach. His brown eyes rise, and when they lock with mine, I can barely suppress the cringe at the uncertainty and nervousness in the depths.

  He regrets last night.

  Being faced with his obvious regret feels like someone’s just stabbed me in the chest. I force a smile and reach for my wristlet.

  “I should get out of your hair. I want to—”

  “Magnolia, I—”

  We both speak at the same time, but Hollis’ cell phone interrupts us. He grimaces, looking like he resents the intrusion, but the moment he glances at the caller ID, an odd expression crosses his face.

  “Hello?” His face is impassive now, his tone polite but curt. “Yes, ma’am. She’s right here.” With a shuttered expression, his eyes flick to mine, and he hands me his phone. “It’s for you.”

  Cautiously, I accept it from him and glance at the screen only to have every fiber inside me tense in alarm.

  Does she have some odd sort of radar? And why is my mother callin’ Hollis? I didn’t even realize she had his number.

  “Hello?” I say warily.

  “Magnolia Mae Barton! Young lady, are you tryin’ to send me to an early grave? I’ve been tryin’ to get a hold of you for hours and hours now. Why, I was about to call the local police and file a missin’ person’s report.”

  Always dramatic, that’s my mother.

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” I wince, realizing I put my phone on silent in case Preston tried to call me. I’d never bothered to check it, not wanting to deal with everything last night.

  I unzip my wristlet and withdraw my phone, horrified to see just shy of one hundred missed calls
. A fraction of that horrified feeling breaks off into fury when I see how many of them are from Preston.

  It’s only exacerbated by my mother’s next words.

  “Preston was worried sick about you and called to let us know y’all had a little spat. He said you ran off.” When she tacks on, “With that Hollis boy,” her nasty snarl is unmistakable.

  “My word, Magnolia! You really must find a way to break ties with him. He’s comin’ between you and Preston, and that just won’t do.” She sighs, and her tone turns into something that sounds almost dreamy. “Preston is such a nice young man. And he comes from a wonderful family.”

  “Do you know what he did over spring break?” I challenge.

  She sighs. “Now, Magnolia.” Her condescending tone is much like the one she used when I was a small child. “You know how men can sometimes be when they get together and there’s alcohol involved.”

  At her at-the-ready excuse for him—for all men who cheat, really—my lips flatten in anger. “So, if it were Roy, it would be acceptable?” My question comes out far sharper than I intended, but I can’t help it.

  “You watch your tone with me, young lady,” she warns. But she doesn’t answer my question.

  “Now, you listen here.” She barely takes a breath before starting in again. “Roy and I have discussed this, and you and Preston will mend the relationship. There’s too much at stake right now. Stop being so selfish and get over this little hissy fit.”

  Too much at stake? My eyes fall closed as the realization hits me. Without opening my eyes, I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose, the sign of an impending headache already beginning to throb at my temples.

  “Too much is at stake, meanin’ Preston’s father and Roy have some sort of agreement,” I state dully.

  I don’t bother to phrase it as a question. I should’ve known. Heck, I should know by now how things work. Nothing in my life is truly mine.

  I was the idiot who introduced him to them. This is my fault.

  “Preston’s ready to make amends. He feels just awful about the way everythin’ played out. He was on his way to you this mornin’ to apologize.”

  Right. And how much of the apology was based on him actually wanting to and not these adults playing puppet master?

  “I need to go.” I hate how defeated I sound, but I’ve been backed into a corner.

  “Do the right thing, Magnolia.”

  My mother’s final words aren’t I love you or I miss you, sweetie. I may no longer be a child, but even though I know I’ll never have one of those mothers who hugs you like she never wants to let go, wants to know about exciting things that happen in your life and celebrate them, and who doesn’t try to stifle who you are but helps you shine even if you have countless imperfections and idiosyncrasies, I still yearn for it.

  She doesn’t wait for me to respond before she ends the call. Wearily, I open my eyes and hand the phone back to Hollis.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize.” He studies me carefully. “You okay?”

  I take a step back and force myself to look him in the eyes. “I owe you an apology for last night.” When he starts to protest, I hold up a hand to stop him. “That was inappropriate on so many levels. You mean the world to me, Hollis.” My voice cracks on the first syllable of his name, and I press my lips thin to battle against my turbulent emotions. “I can’t bear the idea of ruinin’ our friendship, and I promise to never put you in that position again.”

  His stare is heavy, expression indecipherable. “What’d your mom say?”

  I swallow hard past the lump in my throat and let out a derisive laugh. “Apparently, they have an agreement with Preston’s father and have coordinated us gettin’ back together.”

  Jaw clenched, his nostrils flare before he turns his gaze to the ceiling and grips the back of his neck with his hand. I reckon he doesn’t want me to get involved with Preston again. Especially after what went on last night.

  Lord knows I feel the same way.

  I force myself to ask, “Are we okay?” Please say we are, please say we are, I internally beg.

  Hollis drops his hand and studies me for a moment before giving a quick nod. He must notice the mix of frustration and anguish on my face because his features soften, and he stands and opens his arms for me.

  As soon as I step into his embrace, I’m engulfed by a sense of comfort, setting me at ease the way only he can. I know it’s a brief reprieve, but I accept it wholeheartedly.

  “We’re always okay, Shortcake.” His voice contains a tinge of huskiness, and he presses a light kiss to the top of my head.

  In the recesses of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if we really are.

  Hollis

  FINALS WEEK

  May

  I’m confident about how I’ve done so far on my final exams, even if my heart wasn’t really in it.

  Dad wants me to be the first college grad in the family, but I feel like I’m wasting the partial scholarship and racking up student loan debt for nothing. I still don’t have a clue what I want to major in, let alone do with my life. I picked business because of his suggestion, but I can’t say I’ve ever had wet dreams about opening up my own place or anything.

  With just one more exam left to take in an hour, it’s hard to believe I’ll soon have one full year of college in the books.

  Mr. Ted offered me a summer job, helping him in his shop, doing some of the body work. He said he knew of a cheap place for rent, but I haven’t made up my mind. I miss Dad, but with the long hours he works, it would mean being around Mom more, and I’m not sure the country club can give me enough hours to get me out of the house. Regardless, I still want to head home and spend some time with him.

  I’ve packed up the bulk of my stuff from the dorm and stowed it in my truck. I plan to hightail it home right after my last final. I toss a few last-minute things into my large plastic laundry bin I’m now using as a catch-all just as my phone vibrates on my desk next to my wallet and keys. I wonder if it’s Magnolia wishing me luck on my last final.

  I reach to grab it, only to see it’s from home. I’d normally dismiss it, since Dad always calls when he’s at work and away from Mom, but something urges me to answer this time.

  “Hello?”

  As soon as her familiar voice explains the reason for the call, my knees give out, and I drop to the floor so hard the impact rattles from my ass all the way up my spine. The phone clatters to the floor beside me. It feels as though a herd of elephants are stomping on my chest, making me gasp for breath.

  I finally manage to shake off a fraction of the shock, and I drag myself upright, clutching my phone in my hand. Quickly, I scoop up my wallet, keys, and the laundry basket with my things tossed inside, and rush for the door. It opens seconds before I reach it, and Preston enters.

  “Hey, man, I—” He stops, his eyes going wide. “What happened?”

  I grit my teeth as I push past him. “My dad died.”

  Magnolia

  Once I finish my last final, I feel like I’ve been sucked dry of any remaining brain power.

  I try calling Hollis after I finish, but he doesn’t answer. I sent him a text earlier to wish him good luck with his finals, and it still says Unread, which is unusual for him. Normally, he sends a quick response.

  An uneasy feeling churns in the pit of my stomach, so I decide to stop by his room on my way back from the PolySci building before I grab the rest of my things and drive home for the summer.

  I step up to the door and knock, and Preston answers with a hopeful-sounding, “Hey.”

  I get the feeling he expects me to pop up out of the blue and confess that I want him back and forgive him. That’s never happening—not even with the pressure from my parents and his father.

  After everything happened in March, I told Preston I’d be civil toward him for appearances, to tide my parents over and get them at least somewhat off my back, but made it clear the chances of us gett
ing back together were as good as the chances of another hurricane never hitting the Gulf Coast.

  In other words, zero chance. My mother might think it’s fine for me to turn a blind eye to a cheating boyfriend, but this is one area I refuse to budge on.

  “Hi.” I dart a glance past him, looking for my best friend. “Is Hollis around?”

  His brows knit together. “I thought you’d gone with him.” He must see the confusion written on my face because he pales and appears almost nervous. “Uh, he rushed out of here about an hour or so ago.”

  Wait a second… That means he missed his final exam.

  Now, I’m really confused. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  Preston runs a hand over his hair in obvious agitation. “When I asked where he was goin’, he said his dad…died.”

  The hallway sways, and he instantly reaches out and grasps my upper arm to steady me. Vaguely, I recognize that I’m allowing him to touch me only because shock has taken hold. In any other instance, I’d shrug him off.

  Oh, dear Lord. Hollis has always been so close with his father. And to me, Mr. Jay has been so much more than just a neighbor, more than just my best friend’s dad.

  My heart aches deep within my chest, and I press my hand to my lips to restrain the sob threatening to break free. I turn, my vision hazy at the edges, but the desperation to rush to my room and grab my things is urgent. “I need to go.”

  My feet somehow carry me down the hall, and I don’t register Preston’s voice calling out to me. Hollis needs me. I have to be there for him. My chest feels like a cavernous hole has been hollowed out at the grief he must be experiencing.

  Everything passes in a blur. I absently recall Stephanie snagging our residential advisor so I could scribble my signature on the final checkout sheet. Then my roommate helped me pack my car with the rest of my belongings.

  Thankfully, the sun high in the May sky with no rain clouds in sight means clear roads for the drive home. It takes me about three and a half hours, which is a blessing since, at other times, I’ve gotten stuck in what seems to be never-ending construction traffic on both I-85 and I-65.