Reaching For You: A New Adult Contemporary Romance (Anything For You Book 2)

by Hopkins, Faleena

  “Sorry. I’ll try to be less funny.”

  “No, I need it. I need to laugh.” We share a look that we both understand. I rise up, my hand held over the area of my wound. Again comes the feeling that she’s the only one who gets it, because we went through this together. It’s bonded us. Maybe that’s what Rebecca saw. Maybe that’s what this feeling is. Maybe it’s just the connection two people have when they’ve been in a life-threatening situation, like survivors in an airplane wreck, or a bombing; that’s probably it.

  So I let my guard down.

  “Tell me what it’s like to be out there in the real world.” I walk back to get in the bed. She doesn’t help me, which I appreciate. I can see she’s watching me closely, so the restraint is on purpose. That’s very interesting. Does she know I want to do this on my own?

  “Well, I went to the police station and gave them the report.”

  Lowering myself as normally as I can, I throw my legs up, trying to act like I’m not in pain. “Oh yeah? I’ve never been down there. What’s it like?”

  “It looked just like the station on Law & Order. They must have researched those places for the show,” she says, matter-of-factly as she watches me to pull the blanket up. “Oh, covering up those legs. What a shame.”

  I chuckle and hold the blanket up for one last gander. “Look at that, huh? What do you think?”

  “Perfection.” She grins and continues, “It was pretty much a carbon copy without the good lighting and makeup people prettying all the cops up.” She walks over and puts her purse down next to my jacket, a little bounce in her step. My eyes are on her shape, how those black slacks over her curves remind of a cello. I’m about to tell her this, when I see her eyes change.

  “Oh, you got your jacket back.”

  “Yeah, Rebecca brought it to me.”

  I watch Annie’s expression closely to see how she reacts. I’m fully expecting prying. But she turns and walks to sit on the bed next to my hip, laying her hand on my thigh with a comfortable, light pressure as she moves her hair away, over her shoulder. She looks down at her hand on mine and says nothing about Rebecca. The soft warmth of her skin feels good. And when she looks up, even though I’m looking hard for one, there’s no plan behind her pretty blue eyes. She’s just gazing at me. It’s unusual, this behavior, and I’m not sure what to do with it, so I stay silent and hold the look. A part of me wants to glance away, like it’s too much, but I breathe in and out and stay where I am, to see if I even can. There’s something raw going on down deep in my gut. I feel excited now that she’s here. It’s impossible to deny, though I’m giving it my best shot.

  “They said there haven’t been any other robberies like that in the neighborhood, so that’s good,” she says, quietly.

  “Ah,” is all I can say with her eyes on me like this.

  “Tell me about you, Brendan.” She looks down at my leg and runs her fingertips slowly from my knee up to my hip. She stops, and then runs it back down to the middle of my thigh.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Her eyelashes fall as she bites her lip and looks at my chest. “Everything.” A playful smile spreads her pink lips. I want to suck on them so badly that I almost launch myself forward to do it.

  I’ve got on a fixed stare that’s taking in everything she does and when she glances up, I say, “Probably should narrow it down a tad.”

  “Okay. Probably a good idea.” Her eyes focus on my lips, too. “Steak or burgers?”

  Feeling a pull down below, I smile at the simplicity of the question. “Depends. On the weekends, burgers. If I’m on a date, it’s probably steak. To impress her.”

  Annie’s pretty white teeth flash, and she bites her lip again, covering her smile to answer seriously, “I’m impressed by burgers.”

  My eyebrows go up. “Never in for a good steak?”

  Her eyelashes whisk to the wall and then back again as she shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes, sure. But I think the company is better than the place. Make sense?”

  “Total sense.” I glance to her hand and reach over to pick it up and hold it. She wiggles her fingers out to run them up from the base of my palm to the very tips of my fingers, tickling me with her light touch. “That feels good,” I murmur, arousal pulling at me, filling me up.

  She looks over from the corners of her eyes. “Michael Keaton Batman or Christian Bale Batman?”

  I suck in a deep breath through my teeth. “That’s tough. But…Michael Keaton Batman.”

  She turns her head, surprised. “Really? Me too.”

  Our palms come together, like in prayer. “Okay, my turn.”

  “No.” She shakes her head and looks at our hands, watching me weave our fingers together. “This is my game. Don’t think you can strong-arm me with these big hands of yours either.”

  I give her a look. “I’ll do whatever I want to.”

  She looks at my mouth and her eyes go sultry and sensual. “I like that.” I can guess what she’s thinking from the way her tongue comes out a little, resting on her bottom teeth, her lips just barely open.

  “You should like that.” With effort, I pull her closer to me and she scoots in to help. With her not even a foot away, it occurs to me. “I need to brush my teeth, don’t I?”

  She cracks up. “You might. You might need to do that.”

  Leaning back, I say, very seriously, “I like how honest you are.”

  Her smile fades and a crease blinks across her forehead, gone almost before it even got there. “Of course. Honesty is crucial. You know what? I think I have to use the bathroom.”

  “You can use mine.” I point my chin to the one in the room.

  She glances to it, and releases my hand to stand up. “No. I’m going to use the one out there. You go brush those teeth of yours because phew! Man! You are ripe.” She grins and walks to the door.

  “I smell like a caveman – what?”

  She says over her shoulder, “Please don’t brush away the caveman. I really, really like the caveman in you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She sticks her ass out and winks at me over her shoulder, her long ginger hair hiding half her face. “Oh yeah. And I mean… ohhhhh yeah.” She walks out of the room and I stare at the door, irritated that I can’t run after her, tackle her and throw her down on the bed to take her.

  As I walk into the bathroom, it occurs to me that I didn’t want to run after Rebecca. And once again, her words come back to haunt me.

  Chapter Eight

  Annie

  Corridor Tile: flashing by my feet. Heart: confused and aching. Smile: gone. gone. gone.

  I know I have to confess who I am to him. I have to. Before it’s too late. But what if it’s too late already? What if he doesn’t forgive me? Things are calm now. Rebecca must have left, because he’s not acting like she’s coming back, or like she might walk in at any moment again. I have to assume she’s gone. For good? I hope so, but that would be wishful thinking. She doesn’t look like the type to just give up on anything. A head held that tall spells pride. I know women, they can be mean. Sophia consistently and deliberately ate at the connection Christiano and I have, all the years I was with him.

  But Brendan seems relaxed. It feels like we finally have some time to just be us, to get to know each other. He likes me. It’s all over his face. He’s smiling like he used to when he was in those first years of college – when he was with Sara and he was happy. It’s that same carefree, unguarded, happy smile I just saw on him, only this time that smile is for me. I can’t believe it, but I saw it with my own eyes and everything inside me is saying that what I’ve always hoped, is really happening!

  What if my confessing takes that smile away? I can’t do that! I just can’t.

  It would break my heart.

  Looking up, I gasp to see Mark walking toward me with a look of concern. “Hey, I remember you. We met… you were working… at that new place.”

  We stop and I nod and say, a bit nervou
sly, “Le Barré. Yeah. That’s me. I’m Annie.” Before I can stop myself, I ask, “And you are?”

  He holds out his hand. “I’m Mark. Brendan’s roommate.”

  Shaking his hand, I push my hair back from my forehead, totally aware I’m digging myself deeper into the abyss. “Oh. Mark. Nice to meet you. It’s good to… yeah.”

  His light brown eyes search my face. “You were there when Brendan got shot. Are you okay? I don’t know what went down. I was just headed there to see him.” He points in the direction of Brendan’s room and we shift our bodies.

  “Yeah. It was the night you came in. You haven’t heard?”

  His hands push into the pockets of his gray jeans and he shakes his head, a thick chunk of his sand-colored hair falling over his forehead. “No. I just found out. I’ve been calling Brendan, but…”

  “He didn’t have his phone,” I offer, wishing to escape, and speaking quickly. “Yeah. I know. He just got it back… but I’ll let him tell you the story. I was just going to the bathroom, but… I think I’m going to go get some coffee, too. Could you tell him for me that I’ll be back in a little bit?”

  Mark’s eyes flicker, understanding instantly I’m leaving to give them catch-up time. “Yeah, I’ll tell him, Annie. Thanks.”

  I clap my hands together and bounce on the heels of my flats. “Great. Okay. Great. I’ll be back then. Nice to actually meet you… Mark.”

  We keep going in the opposite directions we were headed and I mentally kick myself. Hey Mark, I used to sit next to you in Art History, but you wouldn’t know that because I sneered at you whenever you looked my way. Why? Because I thought you were a womanizing creep. But I guess I had you pegged wrong. Sorry about that.

  Yeah, I’ll just turn around and tell him that right now.

  Oh man.

  Chapter Nine

  Brendan

  Breath: breathable, and better yet, kissable. Mark: Not the person I was expecting to see.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I’m holding the IV pole, and Mark takes one look at me. I hold up my hand. “Stop. Don’t even say it.”

  “Nice dress.”

  “Fuck. You said it.” I shake my head and finagle myself into the bed again.

  Mark watches my slow progress with his arms crossed in front of him. “Dude.”

  “I know, right?” Leaning to get the blanket and pull it up, it takes me longer than I’d like it to. “Don’t help me.”

  “Do I look like I’m moving?” His eyebrows go up.

  I squint at him from the corners of my eyes. “Well, you could try to help.”

  He laughs and stays put, knowing I’m messing with him. “So, what happened?”

  With the blanket finally where I want it, hiding my naked, humiliated legs, I lean back on the bed. I’ve been keeping it tilted up for back support pretty much all the time, lowering it only to sleep. I feel better upright. More strong. Less like a victim.

  “How was New York?” I throw back.

  He walks over and grabs the chair, sees Annie’s purse on it and moves it to a table while he says, “Oh, I saw Strawberry in the hall. She said she was going to get a coffee, but since this is here, I’m guessing her money’s in it.”

  “She’s not coming back?”

  He looks over at me, pausing, and considers my face as I cover and transform it to blank apathy. “She’ll be back in a bit,” he says with a calculated look in his eyes. “I think she wanted to give you a chance to tell me… oh, I don’t know – how the fuck you got shot!” His volume elevates at the end, comically, and he plops down in the chair, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. “Now what happened?”

  I tell him everything, intercepting questions and statements from him as I go, like, “In the bar? Nice,” and, “He came in when you were naked? Holy shit,” and, “You saw him about to pull the trigger? Fuck,” and, “Wait a minute. Wait a minute – how’d she get the gun away?”

  And finally, “Rebecca walked in on you guys??!!” Mark whistles and leans back. “I bet that went over well.”

  “Not at all.” We stare at each other and when I see the laughter sneak into his eyes, I can’t help but join him and soon we’re laughing pretty hard, with me holding my bandage and trying to control my shaking gut. “It’s not funny!”

  He says, through hearty laughter, “It’s really not. But it so is.”

  Struggling to control myself, I switch the subject, “So New York went well?”

  With a grin, he nods, wiping his eyes. “Couldn’t have gone any better. I still have to find an investor for my app, but it’ll work out. I know now that it’s desirable. The investor I was meeting with?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He wanted it, but I turned him down because he dicked over one of Nicole’s friends.” Mark leans forward to twist around and move my jacket, flatten it out so he can lean against it more comfortably. “It’s not worth it. I’ll find another one.”

  I nod, once again admiring my friend for his integrity. It’s something I’ve always used as a barometer – would Mark do this? – then making a decision based on if he would or wouldn’t. It’s gotten me far. My dad was a good guy, but he wasn’t a lady’s man – he was with just my mother his whole life. Plus he was an introvert, something Mark and I definitely are not.

  “Someone’ll come through for sure.”

  “Yeah. So…” He looks at me, waiting.

  “Don’t even start.” I look away. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “This Annie is pretty good for you, isn’t she?”

  Shaking my head that he went there, I won’t look at him. I’m looking at the blanket, fixing it, looking at the window through the shut curtains, at the IV pole, pulling on the cord like I’m checking it. “What? She’s nice. We went through a lot so...”

  Mark doesn’t say anything until I look at him again. “She’s nice,” he says, his lips pursed. “Welcome to the club, I’m just saying.” His hands go up.

  “She’s just a woman like any other woman, Mark. Let it go.” I close my eyes.

  “There’s nothing wrong with…”

  Peering from behind tiny slits, I interrupt him. “Just because you fell in love doesn’t mean it’s contagious. Don’t get all foofy on me. Come on.”

  He runs his hands through his hair as a slow smile builds. “Foofy?”

  With my left hand, I reach back behind my head and throw my pillow at his smirking face.

  He catches it easily. “Careful now, gimpy.”

  A knock at the door turns my head, and I make the mistake of looking too fast, and with a little too much interest. He points at me, his chin lowered with a look that says, I saw that.

  Annie pokes her head in with a smile and I can’t deny it – seeing her does something to me. Something I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever. I don’t remember wanting to see someone as badly as I want to see her. Suddenly I wish he wasn't here. I want to be alone with her. Kiss her. Talk with her. Find out why she has this pull on me. Get to know her. Anything.

  “Hi. Did I come back too early? I forgot my purse… so I was just waiting out there with nothing to do. Felt kinda dumb.” She looks from one of us to the other, half of her still out in the hallway. “Do you need more time? I can just grab that,” she points to her purse on the table, “and come back later. It’s really no biggie.”

  Mark’s clocking me and he rises up out of the chair, still holding onto my pillow, which I want back. “No, come in. I was just leaving. So hey, B-man, did they say how long you have to stay in here?”

  Annie walks in and closes the door, standing beside it. I want her over here.

  “Yesterday, the doctor said I could probably go home tomorrow, but I’ll need to come back a few times and check how it’s healing. They’ll want to take out these Frankenstein-like metal staples they’ve got keeping me together.”

  Mark nods, thinking. He hands me my pillow as he looks to Annie. “Brendan tells me your bar’s getting repaired, yeah? Coo
l place, sorry to hear about all that.”

  I situate the pillow behind me, staring and wondering what his game is. He’s got that friendly, I’m-gonna-make-the-world-a-better-place face on.

  Annie smiles, glancing to me. “Thank you. The contractor is meeting me there tomorrow.”

  Mark purposefully avoids my eyes. “Well, I was just thinking, since the bar’s in limbo, and you’ve probably got some time on your hands, maybe you could drive my buddy home tomorrow? And maybe get him back here for check-ups, stuff like that. I have to work nine to five, so…”

  Annie’s eyes dart over to me again, but quicker this time, making me think she doesn’t want to do what he’s asking. He’s putting her on the spot, and she’s not interested in carting around a virtual stranger. “Oh, umm…”

  “Mark!” His eyes cut to me. “You don’t have to, Annie. We just met. I get it. He’s just being a…”

  She cuts me off, her hands flying up. “No! I want to! If you want me to help, I’d love that. I just didn’t want him talking for you.”

  Mark laughs and I can’t help but grin, relieved and very, very amused at her frankness. “You see that! She gets it better than you do!”

  He holds his hands up, surrendering. “Okay. I was just trying to look out for you. So do you want her to help?”

  He looks at me, waiting and loving every fucking second I'm squirming. They’re both looking at me. I’m on the spot and the fact is, I can’t say no or twist his game around on him, because… I want her to do those things. The excuse to spend time with her is exactly what I want.

  I shrug. “If you’re not too busy.”

  “She just said she’s not busy, B.”

  I cut my eyes to him again, telling him to shut his trap. Glancing back to Annie, I see her waiting with her body tight, her hands held together in front of her. She’s nervous. The sight of it makes me relax. “I'd really like the help. Please. I’d appreciate it.”

  Mark reaches down, smacks my leg, grabs my knee, and shakes it. “Glad you’re not dead, B-man.” He looks at me like he’s not talking about the gunshot. “I’ll catch you back at home tomorrow night then.” Like an innocent man, he walks over to Annie and grabs the door. “I’ll be seeing you.”