Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1)

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Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1) Page 6

by Tess Keeler


  “That’s so cool!” She was grinning at me after taking in the landscape surrounding us. Her eyes were lingering on my face, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “Speaking of my blog…” She lowered her eyebrows, her eyes squinting at me in the cutest, most playful way. God, she was adorable all the time. “Did Blake give it to you?”

  “Mason found it through your Instagram. I should’ve asked you for it first. Is it okay that I read it?” My nerves were rattling my insides. I tucked my free hand into my pocket.

  Side-stepping my question, she countered with her own, “Is it okay that I spoke about you?”

  “Of course. I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.” I raised my eyebrows, my expression softening. “Are you going to write about tonight?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  I nodded, admiring all the details of her face in the dwindling sunlight.“If it inspires you, yes.”

  She wet her lips, and I enjoyed getting the quality time with her without any interruptions or anyone else around. “It does.” Her words trailed off, and I pressed my lips together.

  “I can’t promise I won’t write a song about how I’m feeling tonight. Is that okay?”

  “Please do.” Her tone was encouraging, and I appreciated that she knew how important inspiration was to the process. “I hope I get to hear it one day.”

  “You’d be the first person I would share it with,” I admitted, feeling my heart expanding more and more with every exchange.

  Her smile pulled further, showing off her beautiful teeth, “Good.”

  I stopped her, squinting slightly until I saw the line that separated the states. “There it is.” I said quietly, motioning with my head. “We can be in two places at once.”

  It was only about ten feet until we were standing on the Nebraska side, smiling at each other as the pinks and purples slowly turned into dark blues. The lights of the bridge were our main source of light before the moon’s glow made its appearance.

  With a step, I moved into Iowa territory and I smiled at how giddy Harper looked under the pale moonlight. I was grateful for the lack of traffic on the bridge. It was perfect for what I wanted to do next.

  My hand still held hers, and I pulled her into me with each of us in the opposite state. Her smile was shrinking, her eyes wide and curious as I lifted my free hand to her chin again— much like I did when we said goodbye in Chicago.

  My heart was drumming against my ribcage so heavily that I thought she would be able to hear it. The soft sounds of the water and nature disappeared as our eyes connected, and I saw her chest rise with a deep breath as my hands moved to rest against her lower back after directing hers around my neck.

  Slowly, I began to sway with her, a small smile painted over my lips as she realized what I was doing. Her head rested against my shoulder, our bodies pressed together as we slow danced under the stars. There was only one thing missing.

  Softly, I began to sing one of my favorite Dan + Shay songs— “Speechless”.

  “It started when you said hello

  Just did something to me

  And I've been in a daze

  Ever since the day that we meet

  You take the breath out of my lungs

  Can't even fight it

  And all of the words out of my mouth without even trying”

  Wrapped up in each other, I finished the song as quietly as I began. My hand smoothed over her back, meeting the other at the curve of her hips. She lifted her head as the last line of the song played on my lips. Her eyes were sparkling underneath the bright outline of the bridge we were standing on, and there, in the middle of the bridge, both of us in different states but on the same page when it came to us, I got up the courage— I leaned in. My lips brushed hers as my fingers tilted her chin. A smile threatened my lips as they made contact with hers, and we stood there together, lost in our first kiss— gentle, lingering— under the clear night sky.

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER SIX

  Harper

  Nixon and I slept together. Not in the raw, passionate way my throbbing center hoped for, but in a romantic way I had only dreamt of. We had slept in the same bed, warm bodies with all of our clothing on, an utmost respect for the other as we held each other under the fluffy comforter. When he told me that he wanted to take it slow, I never anticipated the self control he would have to stick to that stipulation. Surely he liked sex, right?

  Our first kiss had been perfect—I was still thinking about it as I watched his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths. I could still feel the goosebumps decorating my arms after he sang to me. Nixon was what every man should hope to be. Even though we weren’t anything close to being official, I was damn lucky to be living in these moments with him. If nothing else, he would be the most powerful learning experience of my life: never settle for anything less than what I deserve. Could I love anyone else if I ended up loving him?

  Grace hated the way I treated myself when it came to men, or so she constantly reminded me. I always went back to the same type. They loved my independence. They either tried to rip it away from me or trail behind me, mooching off of my success and drive until I was dry. Too bad I never learned—until now?

  I turned over quietly in the darkness, trying not to wake him as I faced him. He was on his back, his right arm extended out over the side of the bed opposite of me. The hand closest to me rested on his left peck, relaxed and curled naturally. Was it morning or had we just gone to sleep?

  I lifted my hand and ran my fingers through his hair, tracing the outline of his face and jaw once through the curls, his eyelashes fluttering in response. I didn’t want to wake him, not purposely. I wanted to relish waking up to him.

  Cupping his face, I stroked his chin with my thumb and watched his lips part with a deep breath. I loved the small indent; it was cute as hell. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and I felt his face lift with the smile I watched form.

  Before I could register that he was moving, he had his strong arms wrapped around me and he was pulling my body against his. He buried his face in my hair, and the hot air escaping from his lips made me shiver in his grasp.

  “Morning,” I whispered.

  The pajama pants he had changed into before bed didn’t protect me from feeling the evidence of a good night’s sleep against my bare thigh. I swallowed the lump in my throat as his hoarse voice invaded my ear, “Good morning.”

  I hummed as my body actually began to tremble. Adrenaline was pulsing through every inch of my body when I cleared my throat and spoke, “Nixon?”

  The weight of his face disappeared as I leaned back just enough to look at him, reading his relaxed gaze. He had no idea what he was doing to me. Maybe if I kissed him, it would ease the tension I felt between my thighs. Probably not. But it was worth a try.

  I didn’t say anything as his eyebrow lifted, questioning my use of his name. Our foreheads met just before our noses pressed together, and I kissed him slowly in an attempt to transfer my swelling heart to him. I was still high off the night before, giving me the confidence to part my lips against his deeply, tasting him in a way I hadn’t yet. We exchanged air from our lungs like we had done it a million times before.

  The hand on his face slid to his chest, lingering over his heartbeat. It was alive beneath my palm, much like the rest of him. I broke the kiss gently and sighed. I blinked every soft curve and hard edge of his face into clarity, my lips savoring what was left of him on my lips.

  “Do you need to go workout?” I asked.

  He nodded, his fingers tracing circles in my grey tank top. “Are you going to hang out all day?”

  “For as long as you’ll have me.”

  ————

  I didn’t always know where Nixon would be for the night, but I was aware of his month-long expedition overseas. We were three weeks in already, and we had last seen each other almost a week before he had left. A month since I last kissed him. Two
months since I had met him. That wasn’t long at all, yet I was moping about not having the chance to run into him somewhere. That was the good thing about our professions—sometimes events like Omaha would happen just because we crossed paths.

  Currently, I was taking a break after completing my west coast assignment. My parents were on vacation in Florida, a place I hadn’t touched foot in, so I had the house to myself. I planned to take my van in for routine maintenance. I also had some time to catch up on the small places I had been in between the major attractions. I typed up a bunch of small blog posts and scheduled them throughout my break, sending them to each of my social media accounts at the same time. The less time I spent on my blog day-to-day, the more time I had to interact with my followers between movies, snacking, and FaceTiming Nixon.

  The peace was good for me; the road was numbing after a while. I felt more human when I could spend time shaving my entire body before scrolling through the internet for hours at a time. Ridiculous, huh?

  Even though I was an okay cook, I decided to order pizza for my first night of laziness. What better way to celebrate an active and exciting time in my life?

  Big Bang Theory was playing on the big screen in my family’s living room. Nixon had told me it was his favorite, and I was missing him. The time difference meant he was playing in the middle of my day, and it was weird adjusting to the sleep schedule he was on. Being the incredible man he was, he tried his best to give me attention no matter how busy he was. That part made it feel like I was his, even if he still hadn’t asked me to be.

  Maybe he was embarrassed of me?

  I wasn’t a part of his world as a celebrity. I was heavy chested and carried extra weight around my hips and thighs. I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but maybe he couldn’t be seen with me. I could ruin his image. The overall uncertainty disrupted my lifestyle.

  Eating my weight in pizza probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was too late. There were only thirty achingly long minutes left until Nixon would be at his phone again. If I invited Grace over, I would miss my window to talk to him before he passed out. I sighed and gave in to the notifications on my phone, starting with Twitter. It was the fastest one to get through. Nixon had retweeted a picture from a fan account before the show. It was a damn good shot. Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the fan page to get my fix.

  The first few tweets were the account holder freaking out about Nixon retweeting them. The picture was taken from Mason’s Instagram. I recognized the photograph style, even if I hadn’t seen him post it. Was it from today? Below it, there were some all cap updates asking about a possible girlfriend, and I felt my heart speed up. He was finally talking about me—I wasn’t a secret anymore. I scrolled through them all, and there were so damn many. Then I saw the picture.

  Beep. “Nixon Brooks, call me back.”

  I called him again, even though I knew he couldn’t answer. I was fuming, the anger already producing tears to form at my waterline. That only made me angrier.

  Beep. “Seriously. As soon as you get off that stage, I need to talk to you.”

  The girl’s face was seared into my mind, haunting me. Perfect blunt blonde bob surrounding a strong jawline. And not in a manly way. Her lips were too plump, and her eyes were locked on Nixon as he grinned at her. I couldn’t see how close their hands were, because they were sitting at a table together. Having lunch or dinner, possibly? Breakfast?

  My neck and shoulders tensed as I thought about him being friendly with someone other me.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Hey, babe,” he greeted, slightly out of breath but all smiles.

  “Don’t ‘Hey, babe’ me, Nix.”

  I think I took him off guard, because he asked me, “What?” There was a laugh there, but it didn’t light me up like it usually did.

  “Are you ashamed of me?” I asked, my lips tight.

  “No.” He answered quickly, and I didn’t know if that was good or bad. “What would make you think that?”

  “The entire world thinks you have a girlfriend, and she doesn’t look like me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he laughed. “Who might that be?”

  “You tell me, Nixon. You got caught with her.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He still sounded so kind, and I didn’t know how to move forward. Was he playing me? Was he that good?

  “You’re in the middle of a cafe, under bright lights, and grinning at some skinny blonde girl.” I took in a staggered breath. “Why sneak around with me if you’re going to be obvious with another girl?” I didn’t let him respond yet, because I was fired up. “I don’t want to be a side piece.”

  “What kind of guy do you think I am, Harper?” The happiness had faded, and he was with me now. “I haven’t said anything because I want to protect your privacy.”

  “I thought I had found a good one.”

  “I need you to elaborate on what you just said.” How could someone sound so patient? I wasn’t being kind, but here he was, maintaining his image.

  Blake was next to him. I could hear him telling Nixon that it was time to go.

  “Wait,” Nixon snapped at him. “This is important.”

  My face was overheating and my stomach was sitting in my throat. Oh man, I was freaking out. I had regretted all of that pizza sauce and cheese as I fought it to stay down.

  “Harper?” he asked, the tone instantly gone when he addressed me. “What did you mean by that?”

  “You’re supposed to be different.” I sighed. “It’s not adding up. Me. You. Her…”

  “Was Mason in the picture?” Nixon asked. “We both went out with my opener for lunch earlier.”

  “Mason wasn’t in the picture,” I said.

  “There’s no one else,” he said, a little irritation sneaking into his words. “This is what I was afraid of.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, trying not to rip his head off. I didn’t want to do that.

  “Of hurting you without even trying.”

  His words settled deep in my stomach. Could I have possibly fallen for the social media trap? The rumor mill?

  “You’re not mine,” I said sadly. “It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.”

  “I am yours, Harper,” he sighed, sadness taking over his words too. “But there’s always going to be pictures like that, or rumors circulating that insinuate false things. I don’t expect you to be immune to getting hurt from it, but that’s what comes along with being with me.”

  “It’ll get easier.” I took a deep breath, my fingers gripping at my thigh. I needed to find my center. “I don’t usually look at your stuff.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me. You know me. I would never do anything to hurt you knowingly.” I looked up at the TV and then around the room. I was almost feeling normal again. “I don’t do this. But, I really like you. I want this to work.”

  “I really like you, too,” I replied. “I think what hurt the most was when I read your fans talking about a girlfriend, I thought it was me.” I pursed my lips a second. “Not that I am, but I just thought I was the obvious choice. If you’re not with your crew, you’re with me.” Hmph. “Never mind.”

  “I can understand why that upset you, and I’m sorry for that.” He paused, taking a slow and steady breath before continuing. “I want to be exclusive, Harps. But I wanted to ask you in person, not like this.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” he said a matter of fact. “I was going to invite you to Tulsa, to meet my family.”

  “You want me to meet your family?” I couldn’t believe I was mad or that I let a fan make me question Nixon’s loyalty.

  “Yes.” There was some shuffling on his side, and I could hear him groan a little under his breath. “Blake is fuming. Can I FaceTime you when I get back to the hotel?”

  “Of course,” I answered, feeling ten times worse knowing I was putting him in a position to be in trouble with his manager.

  �
�Are we okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, Nixon. We are.”

  I washed my face and brushed my teeth during our intermission. My bed hadn’t been used since Christmas, I was sure. For Nixon’s show, I had stayed with Grace the entire time. It was just as firm as I remembered, but at least it was mine. I climbed beneath my white sheets and comforter with my phone in my hand, waiting for it to go off. Any second now. The light in my room was off, only the twinkling lights tangled through my wire headboard giving me something to work with. It was still light out, but I had blackout shades to fool me.

  The noise my phone produced scared me, like it always did. I answered the video call as soon as I saw Nixon’s name.

  “Not that many fans tonight?” I asked as he laid his face against the fluffy white pillow of his hotel bed.

  “Your brother cut all of that short.” A small smile pulled at his lips, showing off the bags shadowed under his eyes. “It’s okay, though. I had somewhere to be.”

  I tried not to look at my small square in the corner out of habit when I responded to him, an equally small smile mirroring his. “That you did. I’ve been waiting very patiently.”

  His smile widened. “Thank you for understanding.” He looked over my face before he spoke again, “May I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  Even in the dim lighting, I noticed his cheeks turn pink. “Who hurt you?”

  I laughed awkwardly, shoving my hair behind my ear. “That obvious, huh?”

  “We can see our own.” His words settled like a boulder in my stomach. He was intuitive.

  He played with his curls for a moment, all resting thickly on top of his head, threatening to fall into his eyes. I loved his hair. With a deep breath in, I expelled my past’s pain on the exhale, “I have a mile long list of mistakes, but the most recent one’s name was Cameron. I wasn’t myself when I was with him, but he had broken me down slowly. Effectively.”

 

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