Give Me This (It's Kind Of Personal Book 6)

by Anna Brooks

  GIVE ME THIS

  ANNA BROOKS

  Give Me This

  Copyright © 2016 Anna Brooks

  Published by Anna Brooks

  Cover design by Cover to Cover Designs

  Editing by Editing4Indies

  Formatting by Champagne Formats

  Proofreading by Vivid Words Editing

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  A letter from the author

  Sneak Peek of Easy Sacrifice

  Other Books by Anna Brooks

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To Kelly, Marianne, and Megan.

  You girls have been with me from the first step.

  You’ve held my hand, encouraged me, given me advice, and supported me.

  When I say I couldn’t do this without you, I mean that. You three are as much a part of my books as I am.

  I love you all so much and am so blessed to call you friends.

  #theawesome

  Chapter 1

  Declan

  Sixteen years old.

  SHE DOESN’T SEE ME watching, but I’m looking at her. For the past four weeks since I’ve started coming to the YMCA, I’ve been unable to keep my eyes off her.

  Her laughter caught my attention first, and I was like a moth to a flame trying to figure out where the beautiful noise came from. She walked past me and I was instantly infatuated. I don’t know what’s stopped me from talking to her, but I’m hesitant… scared, even.

  She’s pretty. Everything about her is pretty. She has some unruly blond hair that I’d love to touch. Her smile is bright enough to light up a room, and even though she’s in a pair of khakis and a red polo shirt, I can tell she has a great body.

  Every time I see her, she’s talking to someone. Guys, girls, kids, adults. Everyone loves her. The other day I walked out behind her, and a little boy was coming in. He ran up to her and grabbed her leg then looked up and smiled at her like she was a super hero. She hugged him back and then messed up his hair.

  The moment I saw that, I knew I wanted her. She kissed his cheek, and I was jealous of a fucking four-year-old. It scared me when my mind drifted to thoughts of her as the mother of my own kids. Yeah, I had it bad.

  Right now, I’m trying to tell if this dude behind the desk is her boyfriend or not. They have a great time working together, always laughing and being goofy.… I want to punch him. Then again, I want to punch everyone because she acts like that with each and every person who crosses her path. And I’m not a violent person, normally. I haven’t even touched her yet, but I already feel possessive of her. I want to be the one to make her smile and laugh like that.

  The old men stand around and tell her stories. It cracks me up when they compete for her attention, as if they’d have a shot with a girl who could be their granddaughter. The rowdy kids stop bouncing the basketballs when she gives them just a look. And the guys, even the married ones, stare at her, wanting her but knowing they’ll never have her. Because she’s mine.

  A smack against my head brings me back to now. “Just fuckin’ talk to her.” My friend Nik laughs, wiping his sweaty face with a towel.

  I’m standing by the water fountain, pretending to get a drink, holding my bottle of water. I can watch her here and not look like a total stalker.

  “I will.”

  “You’d better do it soon,” he warns.

  “Why?”

  “She’s not gonna stay single for long.”

  “How do you know she’s single?” I turn, and we begin walking back to the crowded weight room. This definitely isn’t the best gym in town, but the wall-to-wall views of the lake, and well, Amie, are here, so I come here instead of the fancy one closer to my house.

  Nik drops his towel on the floor, and I toss my water bottle next to it as I sit on the weight bench. “’Cause she goes to our school, dumbass.”

  I lift my head to study her a little more. “No way. I’d have recognized her.”

  “She’s quiet, and she doesn’t do any sports. Usually sits at the back of the class, not many friends.”

  “How is that possible? She’s like a damn queen in this place, a freaking social butterfly.” It doesn’t make sense. No way would I have not noticed her. “What grade is she in?”

  “Junior.”

  “Our class? No way. Did she just move here or something?” That’s the only reasonable conclusion I can come up with.

  “No, dude. You seriously didn’t know she went to our school?”

  “No!”

  Nik laughs and shakes his head as he walks around the bench to spot me.

  I’m over trying to play it cool. Besides, I’ve been crushing on her in front of Nik for too long to pretend I just think she’s hot. “How do you know she doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

  “Pete was asking about her the other day in biology.”

  Anger rises in my chest, and I use the frustration to lift the bar. “Fuck that.”

  “Well, she may be quiet, but other people notice her, Dec. Better step up your game if you wanna ask her out.”

  My mind is reeling for the rest of our workout, and when I’d normally walk out with him, I head to the locker room. I’m sweaty from the workout, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m nervous for what I’m about to do, too. I splash some water on my heated cheeks and dab it off with a towel then open the door and head to the desk.

  Amie

  The first time I ever saw Declan Kelly was two years ago at freshman orientation. He gave me butterflies in my stomach just by walking past me. For two years, I wanted him to notice me, but I was deathly afraid of how I’d react if he actually did.

  He’s in the popular crowd and rolls with all the other athletes and jocks. Since I just kind of fit in, our paths don’t cross. I’m not into sports, and I don’t participate in any extracurricular activities offered by the school.

  Last month, though, things changed. He started coming to the Y, where I work at the front desk. I peek at him through the glass and watch him work out. He always wears either a plain white tank top or one that has a red cross and says Lifeguard on it. I’ve come to know his schedul
e and position myself so I can see him.

  He’s always friendly, saying hi and bye, but nothing more, really. I don’t even think he knows we go to the same school. I bet the nametag I wear is the only reason he’s aware of my name.

  For some reason, someone didn’t throw away a ripped basketball this morning, and it’s in the office behind the desk. It’s late now, and the gym is almost empty, so I cut the ball in half and put one of the halves on my head.

  “Hey, Gary,” I call to the other guy I work with who happens to be an old neighbor of mine. “Like my hat?” I curtsy and twirl, modeling the orange half-ball on top of my head.

  “Oh yeah, that’s a fashion statement.” He laughs.

  “That’s me, a fashionista.”

  “Cute.” A voice that isn’t Gary’s comes from behind me, and I suspend my movements, already knowing who it is.

  Right before I turn around, I take a breath and avoid his eyes while I try to get myself out of the awkward situation. “Ha. Yeah, I was bored.” I try to act normal around the hot guy in front of me, but I can tell I have a dumbfounded expression on my face.

  Declan turns his hat around and leans on the counter. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “Huh?”

  “Hanging out with your boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  He looks at me, glances over at Gary, then back at me… and I’m still wearing the stupid basketball hat. My hands quiver as I reach up and take the damn thing off.

  His lips tilt upward as he watches my movements. “Wanna hang out?”

  “What?”

  He smiles fully now. “Wanna hang out with me this weekend? Go out to eat, maybe see a movie?”

  He’s asking me out? Oh my God. I don’t want to jump up and down and scare him off, so I settle for, “Uhh. Sure.”

  “Cool. Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

  My hands are still unsteady as I grab a sticky note and scribble my number on it, then hand it to him.

  “I’ll call you.”

  My reply is a dorky wave, and he turns his hat back around and nods at me before walking away.

  I can’t tell you what happened the rest of the week because it was a blur. I never thought the guy I had a crush on would want to go out with me. Nothing else has mattered this week. Until now. Tonight. When Declan’s going to pick me up in five minutes. My nerves are on speed because I can barely swallow. I zone out, staring at a picture on the wall to pass the time. When a car door slams, I move to get up and peek out the window but then remind myself not to look desperate.

  The doorbell rings, and I yelp. I was filled with nervous anticipation, but now that he’s here, I’m about to puke. I’ve gone on a couple of dates before, but none with a guy who made me feel… special, just by talking to me. Of all the girls out there, he wants me. Boring, plain old me. I don’t know how to even describe the feeling. Magnificent. And no matter what happens tonight, no matter what comes of this, I’ll always remember how I feel right this very moment.

  He takes me to dinner at Applebee’s, and considering I feel like I’m going to pass out from nerves the entire time, I think it goes okay. Since he just realized we go to the same school, we mostly talk about teachers and our classes.

  When I try to pay for my portion of the meal, he puts his hand over mine. It’s the first time he’s touched me, igniting the spark simmering under the surface. My skin tingles, and I gasp at the unfamiliar feeling. He runs his thumb over the top of my hand and says, “You’re with me, and you’re not paying.” His fingers entwine with mine. “And you’re gonna be with me a lot from now on, so you’d better get used to it.”

  Because I’m too dumbfounded to speak, I simply nod. He smiles and gives my hand a squeeze before putting some cash under the receipt.

  Now, we’re walking along the beach. He left his shoes in the car, but I’m holding my sandals in one hand and his hand in the other. We haven’t said much, but for some reason, it’s not like an awkward silence or anything.

  “Look,” he says pointing at the horizon. “Sun’s setting.”

  “It’s pretty.” I inhale the unique scent of Lake Michigan and smile at the familiarity of the comfort it brings.

  “Not as pretty as you are.”

  I giggle at his compliment and can feel my face changing colors. “Thanks,” I mutter, too embarrassed to look at him.

  Declan stops moving and gestures for me to hop up on a rock. I settle in front of him, and his legs and arms encircle me. A contented sigh passes through my lips while his warmth takes away the chill of the night.

  “Thank you for coming with me here,” he says against the top of my head.

  “Thank you for bringing me. It’s really beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you are.”

  “Stop.” I reach up and slap at his arm.

  “It’s the truth.”

  He can’t see me, but I roll my eyes.

  His arm leaves me for a brief moment, and his fingers take hold of my chin. He gently turns my head and slides the palm of his hand against my face. As his lips descend on mine, he whispers, “So beautiful.”

  His lips press against mine, soft and sweet, but it’s too quick before he pulls away and looks into my eyes. Our foreheads touch and he trails his finger down my cheek and smiles. I smile back and cuddle in to him a little further as we watch the sun dip below the horizon.

  Not only am I excited about being with him, but he also makes me feel safe and protected. Like nothing could get through his arms and harm me. I’m excited, I’m nervous, and I’m happy.

  I lied to myself earlier. I will never ever forget this feeling.

  * * *

  Seventeen years old.

  As I lie in my semi-dark bedroom, my head throbbing as if someone is inside hitting it with a mallet, I let the tears roll out. My normal medication isn’t working well, and this migraine is a bad one, a really bad one. Nothing has helped, and I know I just need to wait it out. My mom is downstairs trying to stay quiet, since every noise is like an ice pick directly into my eyeball.

  Speaking of ice, the pack I had on my right side has melted, but I’m too weak and in too much pain to get up and replace it. I think it’s been about an hour since Mom has checked on me, but if I try to focus on the numbers on the clock, it’ll be like looking directly into the sun, so I choose to guess the time. Hopefully, she’ll be coming up soon.

  When my door creaks open a few minutes later, I groan. “So loud,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Sorry, honey.”

  “Dec?” I try to sit up, but the discomfort is too much, and I don’t end up moving at all.

  The bed dips next to me, and his fingers grab my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” His whispered voice is killing me, but I try to hide it for some stupid reason, and he keeps talking. “You were fine this morning in history.”

  He’s right—I was. This year, we finally got a class together, and seeing him right before lunch is the highlight of my day. But as soon as I finished eating, the telltale light sensitivity and tingling in my head started, so I called my mom to come get me right away. I was in the office already nauseous when she got there.

  “It hit me fast.” I wince as I talk.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “I want to.” He leaves no room for argument.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Mimi, you’re crying.”

  I love it when he calls me that. When he first introduced me to his little sister, she accidentally called me Mimi. Declan corrected her and he’d joke around with the name at first, but now it’s turned into an affectionate term.

  He sees through me, so I don’t try to hold back anymore. “It hurts so bad.”

  “What can I do?” His voice is frantic, something completely abnormal for him.

  “Ice,” I moan through the pain.

  He grabs a pack t
hen kisses my forehead, and I unintentionally pull back, which rattles the pounding even more. “Fuck, sorry. Here, your mom gave me a new one to bring up.”

  He sets the ice on my forehead, and the cool pack feels like heaven. I let the seconds of tolerable pain register and squint open an eye to find him watching me with tightness outlining his handsome face.

  “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

  “I don’t like it, either.”

  He presses his lips together before exhaling through his nose. “You sure I can’t do anything else?”

  “No, I just need to sleep it off.”

  “Okay. Go to sleep then.”

  “’Kay.”

  I close my eyes again and expect to feel his body heat vanish. Instead, it increases as he lies next to me and wraps his arms around me. One of his hands lightly strokes my hair, and although I don’t normally like to be touched when I have a migraine, his touch soothes me, and I fall asleep.

  When I wake up my room is darker than it was when I fell asleep. Declan’s arms around me flex as I roll over. His eyes flutter open, and I offer a weak smile, feeling much better than when he first got here. The clock on my nightstand reads 2:37, and I say a thankful prayer that I can focus on the numbers again.

  “Hi,” I whisper.

  “How do you feel?” He pushes some hair off my forehead gently.

  “Better.”

  “Good.”

  Our heads are on the same pillow, our faces almost touching. I scoot closer to him and kiss his lips. “Thank you for staying.”

  “Of course.” He kisses me this time. “Next time, tell me, though, okay? I was worried when you didn’t show up after school.”

  “Sorry, I—”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I had no idea you got this bad.”

  “It doesn’t happen often, and usually, my medication makes them bearable, but this time was bad.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, thanks. Just you being here helped.”

  He kisses my forehead. “I’m gonna go. I told my parents I’d be home around midnight, so they’re gonna kick my ass. But it was worth it to hold you that long.”