Meant for More

by Liza James

  "Bloom," he speaks quietly, and the corner of his mouth tips up in a beautifully crooked smile. He stalks us forward, but he moves so quickly I almost stumble and grip onto his biceps in order to keep myself steady.

  Suddenly, he's leaning in close, his lips brushing against my ear while he whispers, "We need to talk."

  I pull back and meet his eyes, my eyebrows pinching together in confusion at what he would need to chat about. But then I remember Liv, and the way she's been looking at him lately. It's in her energy—in their energy. So, I assume that must be what he wants to talk about. The tiniest stab of something unrecognizable instantly hits my chest, but I shake the sensation off and quickly gather myself.

  Pushing out of his arms just a bit, I nod my head in agreement and turn around to find Liv standing in the middle of the kitchen. She's pouring drinks from the keg and Benj is hovering at her side, taking each filled cup she passes his way.

  I release the breath I was anxiously holding when I step into the kitchen and up to Benj, taking a drink from him and passing it back to Carter as he steps next to me. He leans in behind Liv and drops his hand to her waist, pulling her back and pressing a kiss against her cheek in greeting.

  This isn't the part of him that makes me think he has feelings for her. We've all welcomed each other with quick kisses for years now. It's in the way he watches her sometimes, in the moments she's looking away or laughing at someone else's joke. It's in the intensity of his gaze when she's off on her own. He's always watching her, in different ways than he usually watches me.

  She looks back over her shoulder and quickly turns to give him a hug, and Benj passes me another cup—this time with water—because he already knows I don't drink at these parties.

  I smile up at him, feeling my heart beat a little quicker in my chest. I don't know why I'm nervous right now, it honestly makes no sense to be feeling this way. "Thank you," I say, taking a step away from Liv and Carter to stand beside Benj.

  "Always, flower girl." He uses my nickname as well. I've always been called flower girl, because of the fact my actual name is Bloom. My mother was a florist when I was born and she’s always been drawn to the beauty of flowers.

  I notice Carter glance our direction, but he turns back toward Liv and continues their conversation. "Were you at the studio tonight?" He motions his cup toward my outfit, and at first, I'm confused because I didn't wear this to the studio. But then I remember how my outfit is splattered with clay and wild colors, it makes sense he would think I was.

  I laugh and look down before meeting his eyes again. "Ah, you'd think so with this outfit, huh? But no—I mean, yes—I was. But I didn't wear this there." I stutter, and for a second I want to slap myself in the head for how ridiculous I sound.

  Come on, words, Bloom. Words.

  He pinches his eyebrows together in confusion and looks down to my overalls again. Oh god, he thinks I'm just throwing on filthy clothes?

  "Oh no! No. These are clean, they're just—stained. Wow." I can feel the red heat on my cheeks and I already know my chest is turning blotchy. My heart is racing again and my stomach feels like it's twisting in embarrassment. "I like them this way. That's what I was trying to say." I finally spill the words and force myself to straighten my shoulders, because I do. I love the way the studio and my art are carried with me even when I'm not actually at work.

  He laughs and leans back, but his hand lifts up as he brushes a stray lock of hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. I still, completely, and my eyes watch his movement with an intensity that scares me.

  Holy shit, he's touching me.

  And why is that weird? Guys have touched me before. Of course, they have. I may not have never slept with someone, I’m still be a virgin, but guys have touched me.

  I may not have gotten off before though, so I haven't had an actual orgasm that wasn't self-induced. And Benj, shit. He's got these hands...strong and powerful. Long fingers with veins spiraling up his thick forearms.

  I glance to the right, attempting to distract myself, and catch sight of Carter’s eyes completely focused on Benj’s touch. He’s watching us, and I can’t say I understand the expression pulling across his face. His eyes are heated, in a way I haven’t seen before and the strangest roll of apprehension twists in my stomach. I choose to ignore it though, my eyes scanning back over Benj and taking in his appearance again.

  He's seriously hot. The muscular, talented, football star, kind of hot. He also knows what the hell he's doing. Him, Carter, and Lucas all have a reputation on campus. Carter a bit more than the other two, but it doesn't detract from the fact that they are all known for being wildly talented on and off the field—if you know what I mean.

  I can't help it, a shiver works across my shoulders in a split second and he absolutely catches it as it happens. His eyes fall to my chest as he watches, and God, I honestly couldn't be anymore embarrassed in this moment. For fuck sake, if my body would get itself under control that would be fantastic.

  "Honestly, ignore me. It's a natural response, my body is just warm, and your hands are cold from the beers so of course—" The words spill from my lips uncontrollably and I immediately begin stepping away from our little group, but before I can gain any actual distance, Benj's hand launches forward and grips my waist before pulling me back toward him.

  "Calm down, little girl," he laughs and his head falls back in a glorious show of humor. His long dark hair is tied up on his head and he's wearing a long-sleeved black Henley that pulls tight across his chest. I can't help but watch his entire body as he laughs—the way his wide shoulders fall and rise with each breath.

  Carter clears his throat, and I look his away again to find his shoulders tense and his foot tapping incessantly on the floor. Something’s bothering him, but I can’t hear his and Liv’s conversation to figure it out.

  I look back to Benj and he releases me for a moment as he shifts to slide his sleeves up his forearms. His eyes meet mine again and the same bright smile pulls across his lips. "You act as if you don't me. As if we haven't been friends for a few years now, Bloom."

  Jesus Christ. Son of a bitch knows exactly what he's doing. My eyes fall down his body again and something twists in my lower stomach.

  "Earth to Bloom. You need to go take care of some shit by yourself?" Carter's deep and irritated voice rings out beside me and it takes me a moment to realize what he's actually said.

  My head twists toward him as anger and embarrassment run through my chest. What the hell did he just say? "Excuse me?" I ask, meeting his bright blue eyes head on with my own.

  Suddenly, every ounce of nerves have fled my mind, and all that's left is surprise and anger toward my best friend. But his eyes widen at my clear reply, and he crosses his arms over his chest as Liv anxiously glances between the two of us.

  "You're practically drooling, Bloom." He laughs, but his body goes rigid and the air feels a bit cold. "It's kind of ridiculous watching my practically-sister flirt with my best friend."

  "Carter," Liv's surprised voice breaks out beside him and she grabs his arm tightly. He doesn't even look her way though, instead his eyes stay focused on me as he awaits my response.

  "Clearly, you've already had a bit too much to drink," I start, gearing up to unleash the stream of curse words I'd like to when Benj's hand quickly falls to my waist and he pulls me against him. My shoulder rests against his chest and his fingers slip into the belt loops on my side. He widens his stance so I'm tucked in between his legs as well. Benj and I are never this close, but I have a feeling he's trying to prove a point to Carter by staying united with me.

  I could be wrong, but I swear I can see a visible tick settling in Carter’s jaw as if he’s trying to seem unbothered, focusing all of his frustration into the tiniest movement instead of giving it away.

  I don’t understand. This doesn’t make any sense, this isn’t how Carter usually acts.

  "He doesn't know what he's talking about," Benj replies, his voice fir
m and solid as Carter's eyes shift to his. It looks like they're having some kind of silent interaction, something neither Liv nor I can translate in this moment.

  It takes a few brief seconds, but Carter's eyes quickly shift away from his and he lifts one hand to brush through his hair. He sighs, clear frustration in his tone when he quickly glances back and reaches for Liv's hand. He gently tugs her behind him as they step away from us, "Just don't make out in front of me? Okay? Because this is just fucking weird."

  I want to shout out at him. I've watched him make out with a million girls over the course of our friendship. He doesn't censor himself around Liv or I, so why would I have to? But Benj laughs and I move away from him, choosing to ignore Carter's comment as he walks away.

  Asshole. He usually isn't like this when we're all together and I don't understand what could have him on edge already.

  "Perfect," Benj's velvety voice catches my attention and I turn toward him, taking a sip of my water while his expression evolves into something dark and tempting. "Now I have you all to myself."

  Get your shit together, Carter.

  I wish I could explain entirely what's running through my head. But I can't, because I can't make sense of it to myself.

  Bloom is always the independent one. She's the girl everyone watches, but doesn't hit on. I don't know why exactly—she's beautiful. Long dark hair hanging in wisps around her face. She has these short, shaggy bangs that sometimes slip into her chocolate eyes and she has to shake out of the way.

  She's curvy, her figure short and fit. She even has a few sporadic tattoos on her arms, giving her a different edge compared to every other girl here on campus.

  I haven't thought of her as anything other than my best friend and almost sister. We've known each other since we were kids, and we've been in each other's lives for a lot of shitty experiences growing up.

  Now, I'm on my way to getting drafted, living out my dream as a pro quarterback for ideally one of my all-time favorite teams. Bloom is doing what she always does, living her best life in her art, her intelligence, and independence.

  And Liv is working her ass off in fashion. She’s actually the one who recently started grabbing my attention, and while she follows behind me as I move through the crowded room, she's still the one I'm usually thinking about.

  So, why is it such a big fuckin' issue Benj is into Bloom?

  "What's going on, Carter? What's the big deal about Benj?" Liv mirrors my thoughts as she leans forward and tries to shout over the loud music at my shoulder. I drag us back to the other side of the room, where we are far enough away I can't actually look for the two people who keep preoccupying my mind.

  "Nothing is going on. I just don't know if I trust Benj with her. He's a wild card," I admit, because I have no other reason to feel this way. He's my closest friend, we live together for fuck’s sake, but it's because of those reasons I know him best.

  "You don't trust him?" She laughs and drops one hand on my shoulder while she takes a sip of her beer. I do the same and end up chugging mine in the process so I can rid myself of carrying this cup. I look to the side and find a trash can, tossing it in before resuming our conversation. "It's not your job to trust him. Bloom knows him, dude. We all do. We've been friends for a while now, remember?" Liv explains logically, but I can’t help noticing the tiniest strain to her voice as she says it.

  Fuck. She's right though. It's not like Benj is this new guy hanging around. We've all been there for his hook-ups, break-ups, hung over morning-afters. As much as I hate to admit it, Bloom knows what she's doing and I have to trust her.

  I want to ask Liv about what the guys and I talked about after practice. But I've been enough of an ass tonight and I don't want to disrespect Blooms privacy like this. Hell, it's none of my business really. I don't know why it's scraping against my insides like this anyway. A constant, ceaseless rapping against my mind.

  "You're right, okay?" I sigh, defeat and surrender lacing my blood. I pull Liv against my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist while she laughs. "You're fuckin' right."

  "Such a protective big brother you are." She leans back and slaps her hand against my chest sarcastically. Tilting her head to the side, she steps back and pulls me with her, swallowing the rest of her drink and dropping it in the trash as we move to the dance floor. "Dance with me, broskie?"

  "Seriously, stop calling me your brother." I grind out as I fight back the smile threatening to pull across my lips.

  "Then stop treating me like your sister," Liv taunts me, pulling us deeper into the crowd of heated bodies. I step toward her, lightly treading this thin line between our friendship and something more. We've been dancing around each other for a couple of months now. Feeling things out, trying to decide if hooking up or attempting something more would be worth the risk of losing what we have already.

  I still don't have the answer, but when I pull her up against my chest and I let my hands fall to her waist, I can't help but love the way her body moves against mine. I'm comfortable with Liv. No one aside from Bloom knows me as well as she does. So, this? Dancing, the idea of something more, it's easy to imagine most days.

  She already knows how crazy my football schedule is. She knows I prioritize my team over everything else. The understanding of football and the draft coming first isn't even a conversation we would have to have and God, that sounds easy and convenient as hell.

  Liv's hands wrap around the back of my neck and I watch as her eyes fall between us, watching our bodies move against each other to the beat of the music. Her silky blond hair falls around her face in perfect strands and I absently wonder how it's possible to look as good as she does in the middle of a raging college party.

  Suddenly, I hear Lucas's voice shout over the top of the music. I look up and see he's drunkenly climbing on top of the kitchen counter holding another beer cup. "To the Titans! Fuck Yeah!" He throws his hand up in the air and beer sloshes out of the cup, spilling down his shirt and across others cheering below him.

  I laugh and scream out with him, punching my fist high while Liv laughs against my chest. "Titans!"

  Everyone is shouting, cheering the entire team on in ways I don't think I'll ever fully get used too. I fucking love this.

  The energy the students have for their teams. The way everyone stands on a united front when it comes to football and other sports here at Burnhardt. The Theta Si sisters and their fundraising every year is an insane benefit to the entire school.

  But it's times like these when I remember this won't always last. Far sooner than I'd like to admit, we'll be going our separate ways and moving on with our lives.

  I can't imagine being without any of the guys on my team. None of them, but especially Benj and Lucas. I wish more than anything we'd get drafted to the same team, but Benj has another year left and I'm not even sure if Lucas wants to go pro at the end of this year.

  In another moment, someone starts pushing through the crowd while everyone chants our team name. It's a guy, and he's taller than most everyone here, holding a bottle of tequila as he seamlessly moves through people and pours shots down their throats. It's a mess, and alcohol is spilling all over everyone he passes.

  But we all love it. I can tell, and people are laughing and also gagging at the taste of tequila because—fuck no.

  He makes his way to us, and I realize he's a kid in my French history class. He's cool, quiet, usually keeps to himself. But he's clearly letting loose just like the rest of us. I reach out and fist bump him just as Liv tilts her head back and opens her mouth wide in order to take the shot. He pours it in and offers it to me as I do the same.

  Liv's eyes squeeze tightly shut as she forces the taste down her throat. It's nasty, but my head is already feeling heavy from what I drank earlier, and I know Liv is feeling the alcohol as well. Shit, I didn't plan on getting this drunk tonight. We have guidelines about drinking during the season, but this event is one of our only passes simply because Theta Si plans it and fundr
aises for the team leading up to this party. Don’t get me wrong though, the team still parties and drinks minimally throughout the season. They aren’t great at following rules.

  My hand is absently resting on Liv's waist when I glance up and see history kid is standing by Bloom on the other side of the room. He's motioning the tequila toward her and she's raising her hands in front of herself as if telling him no. But he moves closer, and the guy is so damn tall that he's practically crowding her against the wall. I quickly look for Benj, but can't find him anywhere near her.

  The guy shifts forward again, this time reaching his hand toward her and placing it on her chin as he tries forcing her head back for him.

  My heart pounds, and before I can decide otherwise, my feet are moving of their own accord in the direction of Bloom. She pulls away and the guy drops his hand to her upper arm. She glances down before looking at him again and presses her palm against his chest.

  "Bloom!" I shout, but the music is too loud and she can't hear me.

  Mother fucker, she doesn't fucking drink.

  My steps are a little unsteady and I'm not sure if it's the fact that my adrenaline is pumping through my veins or if I've really had quite a bit too much to drink already, but everything starts spinning a little quicker as I move.

  I vaguely hear Liv's voice shout behind me, but if she could see what I can, then she'd be right by my side while I stalk toward them.

  Finally, I reach the two of them and launch my hand forward while my fingers twist into the back of history kid’s shirt. I yank him backwards so quickly that he stumbles and falls on his ass, and Bloom is already stepping between us and shoving her hands against my torso.

  "She doesn't fucking drink, asshole," I tell him through gritted teeth. He's resting back on his elbows but he lifts his hands in mock surrender while a lazy smile crosses his face. He tilts the tequila back and spills it into his own mouth before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He's fucking full of himself, and I'd like to teach him a lesson right here, right now.