by Rachael Wade
Her words wrapped around me and cut into my skin, pricking at me with razor sharpness. The words came out in a rush, before I could whip them into submission. “I need you, too.”
“Does it help any if I tell you that we’re taking our time with the wedding? We’re not rushing into it. We set a date for May next year. We’re going to try and take things slow. He knows I need time to process everything and that we need time alone, time to move past all that’s happened. He’s so sorry for what he’s done. I didn’t make things easy on him, either, being away in St. Lucia and all that. We both played a big role in everything that happened.”
“Yeah,” I huffed. “Okay, sure.” She played a role in him showing up at that sex haven he used to frequent? She played a role in him winding up in a room with that vicious, vindictive blonde?
Right. And I was the Prince of England.
Kate began to sob, and the sound sliced through me. I hated that damn sound. Always have, always will. “Please don’t push me away,” she said.
I blew out a stream of smoke and leaned back against the hallway wall, tipping my head back and taking another drag. “I’d never push you away, Kate. I mean, I won’t anymore. Okay?”
“Can I come see you?”
“What?” I almost choked. “No, no you can’t do that.”
“What? Why not?”
“Why not?” I laughed, shaking my head. Was she serious? I might’ve been ready to talk to her again, but there were still thousands of miles separating us. I needed those miles. “Because, I’m not…I’m not ready for that.”
“Please don’t be angry at me anymore, Carter. I don’t think I can take it.”
“I’m not angry.”
Silence passed between us.
“Okay, I’m angry at him,” I clarified. “But you…with you, I’m just…God, I don’t know.” I did know. I was mortified that I kissed her. Mortified by the rejection. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not yet. She had to know already, anyway.
I finished off my smoke and turned for the door. “Look, I have to go,” I said. “Some friends are waiting on me. I’ll call you back later tonight, okay?”
“Wait, I want to know how you’re doing out there. I want to hear all about your new life, please.”
“You will. I promise I’ll call you back.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay. Bye.” Hallelujah, I’d done it. I’d finally spoken to her. My mind signaled that I should feel relief, but the unease in my gut wasn’t having any of that. Because it knew what my mind didn’t want to face just yet.
There would be no relief—no real relief, anyway—until I told Kate the truth.
Told her everything. Spilled every single little detail, from the way she rendered me a complete lovesick mess from the second I met and spilled coffee on her, to the night I found her rolling around in the sheets with Ryan, to the night I kissed her and she decided to kiss me back. I needed to get it all out, even though she already knew most of it by now. I needed to speak my mind so I could move on.
But what good was it speaking my mind, when it wouldn’t make any difference, anyway? The words would be spoken, the raw truth would be out, but that wouldn’t change reality. She’d listen, and look me straight in the eyes. Maybe even hug me and tell me how much she loves me—again, as just a friend.
But I’d still be invisible.
Chapter 4
Competition
Hanging up, I slipped my phone in my pocket and walked back into Emma’s apartment, careful to close the door quietly behind me. As much as I wanted Emma to finally emerge from her bedroom, I didn’t want to wake her if she really did need the sleep.
I stilled when my gaze landed on Whitney. She was in the kitchen, wrapped only in a small white towel, her back to me as she reached for a glass from the cabinet. Her toned , tan legs begged me to drink them in, and her long, wet dark hair only added to the mouth-watering sight.
Well, fuck me.
There was so much smooth, beautiful skin exposed, my eyes weren’t sure which part to focus on.
“Oh!” she squeaked, turning when she felt my presence. She tucked the towel tighter around herself and pointed to the glass. “Emma actually unlocked her bedroom door! She asked for some water. I’m just bringing her a glass. I’ll be right back.” Her cheeks went rosy and she darted off, leaving me standing there a gaping mess. I was instantly hard. So not ideal when I was here, trying to help her out, trying to be her friend.
Just a friend.
Kate’s words from earlier pierced me. I dropped my cigarette pack on the counter and checked on the boiling pasta, ready to drain the noodles. Now was a good time to forget that a hot chick wearing nothing but a towel was just a room away.
I’d taken advantage of Kate when she needed me. I wouldn’t do that to Whitney, someone I’d just met, when she needed my help.
Whitney returned looking cozy in blue striped pajama pants and a baby blue tank top. I spooned some sauce into a bowl and tasted some before dishing out the noodles next. “A little early for PJs, isn’t it?”
She grinned and poured herself a glass of iced tea. “Who cares? I’m not going back out tonight. If I ruled the world, I’d demand everyone wear PJs all day long.”
“You would, would you?”
“Yup.” She inhaled the sauce’s aroma with deep appreciation, sticking a finger in the pot to swipe up a taste. “Mmmm that smells so good.” She popped her finger into her mouth. “Tastes good, too.”
“Chef Montgomery, at your service.”
“Is that your last name?” She hoisted herself up onto the counter, taking the whole bowl of steaming pasta and setting it on her lap. She picked carefully at the noodles, avoiding billows of steam, blowing on one after the other before tossing them in her mouth. Watching her eat like that turned me on just about as much as the barely-there pajama top she was wearing. The light blue material was sheer and super thin, showing off her pert nipples as they strained against the cloth.
“Yes, ma’am, it is. Careful, those are hot.”
“So Montgomery,” she said, ignoring my warning and sucking another noodle in between her lips, “will you dance with me?”
The wooden spoon scuttled from my hand, bouncing on the counter. I scrambled to keep it quiet, my nervous hands darting to grab at it. “What? Dance with you?”
“Yeah,” she shrugged, setting aside the bowl of noodles and hopping down from the counter. “Dinner can wait 10 minutes. I want to dance, come on.” She reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me out into the living room area.
“Uh…isn’t Emma trying to sleep?”
“That’s the point, come on.”
As soon as she was happy with me standing in the center of the room, she turned to the radio and pressed a few buttons, filling the apartment with something I’d never heard but instantly loved. She cranked it up and began to move, reaching for my hands. I let her take them and began to hop around, getting a kick out of her enthusiasm. “Who is this?” I asked over the noise. “I love it.”
“You should! It’s Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros. It’s called ‘Home.’” She laughed as the chorus picked up, jumping, twirling, and swaying into me. She rolled her hips and pretended to tip a hat in my direction, mouthing the words. Her lips curled into a flirty pout, her shoulders bouncing up and down while she shifted her weight from left to right.
“I have to tell Dean about this song. He’d love to cover it with me.”
“Huh?” Whitney leaned into me, shouting out over the music. “Who’s Dean?”
“My best friend back home.” Damn, did I miss that crazy wanker.
“Oh.” She nodded and pressed her back to me, wiggling her hips. “He should come visit you.”
“Yeah,” I said thoughtfully, “he should.”
She spun around and grabbed my hands, planting them on her waist. We both glanced down, watching each other move in unison. “I like you like this,” she said, smiling up at me.
“Like what?”
“Loosened up a bit.”
“Am I not loose?”
She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Meh.”
“What kind of answer is meh?”
“You’re laid back, alright. But you’re….meh.”
There was that word again. Wait, it wasn’t even a word, so what the hell did it mean? “Should I be insulted or feel complimented?”
“You need to have a little fun, that’s all. I think you hold back.”
“Hey, I have tons of fun. And you just met me.”
“But I’ve been watching from afar. At Pete’s.”
“You have?” Holy tea and crumpets. She’d been watching me?
“Uh huh. You hang and laugh with the guys, but you hide in the shadows.”
“You’re telling me I’m a creeper.”
She laughed and smacked my shoulder. “Not like that! You just….blend in. I don’t think that’s you.”
“You must have some serious psychic skills to know that about someone you just officially met.”
“I could tell, when you were playing that song on the dock for me yesterday. You’re quiet and reserved, but you were really meant to be heard, you know.”
“Yeah, nobody wants to hear me. Not unless they’re drunk and they fancy a good Nirvana cover at a hole-in-the-wall bar on a Friday night.”
Her laughter and the sparkle in her eyes suddenly turned serious. My own smile fell as I took in her earnest tone. “That’s not true.”
“It’s cool,” I tried to shrug it off with a crooked grin, “honestly, I don’t wanna be heard. I mean, I’m content with the way I am. I’ve always been the quiet kid. It’s just the way it is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being quiet, but…you really don’t want to be heard? Like, at all? You have so much to offer. You’re insanely talented.”
“I do want to be heard…just on my own terms. I find that in performing. When I’m on stage, I’m in my element. I find what I need there.”
Not only had her laughter and smile died, but now her hips came to a halt, her dance moves stilling as she rested her hands on my shoulders. “But you left your band back home, right? You can’t stop performing if it’s that important to you.”
“I won’t.” I gave her another shrug. “I’m sure I’ll find a place to play around here every now and then. And I’m sure I’ll go home at some point. The band and I will play out for old time’s sake. I’m not looking to make music a career, really. I considered it for a while, but it’s not what I want.”
“But it’s your outlet,” she said thoughtfully, chewing her bottom lip. “Career or not.”
“Hey,” I playfully pulled on her shoulder, urging her hips to resume their swaying. “Come on, show me your moves.”
“Oh?” She snapped out of her contemplative moment and brightened the room with the reemergence of her smile. “You show me your moves, sir. Come on, bring it!”
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t really dance…I kind of suck. I hop around, that’s about it.”
“See?” she pinched my cheek. “You need to have a little fun. And you could use a confidence boost, too.”
“Says the girl who was blushing in front of me not 10 minutes ago.” I cocked a brow with a grin.
“Hey,” she tapped my shoulder, “I was half naked when you walked in. I thought…you left or something. I wasn’t expecting you to see me in all my bare glory.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, what glory it was. “You think I’d leave without saying goodbye?”
“Lots of guys do.”
“I’m not lots of guys.”
“No.” She narrowed her eyes and there went her cheeks again, turning pink. “I don’t think you are.”
I couldn’t resist. I leaned in, bringing my mouth to her ear, tilting my head to watch her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. “You’re blushing again,” I whispered.
“I am not,” she said, looking away.
“Your cheeks say otherwise.”
She scoffed lightly. “You make me nervous or something, I dunno.”
I kept my eyes on her, and I felt that damn uncontrollable grin spring up again—I couldn’t seem to control it when I was near her. This girl amused me. Me, make her nervous? “What? Why’s that?”
“I don’t know, because youuu—” Oh dear God, she was even more fucking adorable when she stuttered. “You just do, I don’t know. I feel…self-conscious around you or something. It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with. Usually when I see something I like, I just go for what I want. I speak up and say so. Easy as that.”
“You? Self-conscious? I don’t get that impression of you. Not at all.”
“Well, I guess we both need a little confidence boost,” she confessed, slowly bringing her eyes back to mine. “I just hide my shortage better than you do. All of this?” She gestured to her dance moves. “It’s a front.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“See?” She beamed, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck as she continued to move, “I hide it well.”
The feel-good, folksy tunes plumed around us, and I got lost in the dance, lost in those crystal clear green eyes staring up at me. I could feel my phone buzz in my pocket, but I ignored it, not wanting to interrupt the moment. It felt too fucking good, and I needed a few minutes to process exactly what was unfolding here. I was attracted to this girl, no doubt about it. I’d bang her into next week if she’d let me.
And then some.
But there was something else about her that drew me in. Something uninhibited and wild and free, despite her self-admitted shy streak, which, according to her, miraculously surfaced around me. I made her feel that way? Well, the feeling was mutual. She made me drop spoons, gave me shaky hands, and made me desperate to smoke like a chimney.
Tightening my hands on her hips, I decided to muster up some bravery and feel her out some more. “So does this mean you see something you like?”
Her cheeks went from rosy pink to fire engine red. “Please,” she scoffed again in disbelief, “don’t play that game with me.”
“What game?” This was flirting—wasn’t this flirting? Wasn’t it common knowledge that flirting was one big game? Then again, it was quite possible that my perception of flirting was completely off base. I did dress up in a top hat, pretend to be British, and geek out on BBC television in my spare time, after all.
See? Mad flirting skill knowledge, right here.
“You know you’re sexy. So just cut through the bullshit. I bet you drop panties from here to the Pacific Northwest.”
Okay, now I was really laughing. Like, bursting with face-splitting amusement. “That isn’t often an adjective used to describe me.”
“No? Then what is?”
“If you seriously want me to answer that, we could be here all night.”
“I’m in no rush.” As she said the words, the music suddenly switched off, and she whirled in the radio’s direction to find the source of the interruption. “Finally!” she shouted when she clocked Emma standing there, wrapped up in a fluffy robe.
“What do you think you’re doing, Whit?” Emma’s voice was flat and lifeless. Tired, just like she appeared to be. From the looks of her, I’d venture to guess she wanted nothing more than to return to her room and crawl right back into bed. “I’m trying to get some sleep.”
Whitney moved away from me and walked up to Emma, hands flailing every which way as she spoke. “You’ve had enough sleep, Em. You’ve been sleeping all day. I blasted the music to force you out of that hole of a room.”
They started to spar, Emma’s responses equally as snarky but with a lot less fight behind them, when a pounding began at the front door. I left them to it and moved to answer the door, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I pulled it open.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a low, smooth voice hit me, and I was forced to drag my gaze upward, over the tan, big wall of muscle standing in front of me.
“Ruben, hey,” I said, confused by his displeased glare. I’d met Jackson’s friends, including Ruben, and had made a habit of playing pool with them at Pete’s. I knew him from association but that was about it. He’d never acted this way toward me. What was he so pissed about?
“I’m looking for Whitney. Jackson said she was probably here, with Emma. So what are you doing here? Since when do you hang out with Emma and Whitney?”
I blinked, still stunned by his sudden icy demeanor. What was this dude’s problem? “Well, I met Emma recently, and now I’ve met Whitney, so…I’m just here helping them out.”
“Helping them out?” Ruben scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, dude. Right. Whatever, where is Whitney?”
“Right here,” Whitney’s voice came from behind me. She sounded less than pleased, and when I stepped aside to give her room at the doorway, she didn’t look too happy, either. “What do you want, Ruben?”
“You know exactly what I want.” He spread his buff arms out and placed his big hands on either side of the doorway, casually leaning against it. “I want to talk about us and why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder.”
Whitney laughed darkly, crossing her arms and popping a hip. “Did you miss the memo? There is no us. Never was, and there won’t be. I’m not interested.”
“You seemed pretty interested when you had your tongue shoved down my throat the other night.”
Whitney’s body turned to steel, her jaw flexing and cheeks flaming. Her eyes darted to mine and quickly flicked away, the red tinge to her skin deepening. “That was a momentary lapse in sanity. It won’t happen again.”
“You want it to happen again. Why deny it? You want this, baby.” He flippantly waved his hand in front of him, and I almost gagged a little at the gesture. Ruben was just as cocky as Jackson, maybe even more so. I’d heard him gloat about all the girls he’d been with and how blessed he was in the sack, so seeing this attitude wasn’t new, but seeing it on full display and seeing it delivered to Whitney grated on my nerves.