Time To Learn (Believe Book 3)

by Karen Ferry

  “Yep, fit as a fiddle,” I lie through clenched teeth.

  “Are you sure?”

  My stomach turns just as the words leave his mouth. I sway on my feet as I feel the warmth of his touch on my shoulder, and I put a hand over my mouth.

  “Oh, no,” I mumble.

  Trish takes one look at me, her eyes widening in understanding, before she hauls me to the ladies’ room.

  “Come on, babe, I know that look. As much as I love you, I don’t want you vomiting all over my car.”

  She pushes the door open, and in the blink of an eye, I’m at the nearest toilet, puking my guts out.

  “Laura?” Kristian asks behind me.

  I groan while my body shudders.

  “Go away,” I cry.

  “Yes, do go away, Kristian,” Trish calls out while she does her best to make sure I don’t get puke all over my clothes and strands of hair.

  “Ugh, this is so humiliating,” I groan as dry heaves take over my body.

  My best friend chuckles behind me while rubbing my back. Her touch is soothing, just like always.

  “Aww, don’t worry,” she coos. “I’ve got you. Hey, this is just like old times, eh?”

  I narrow my eyes at her poor attempt at a joke and clench my teeth.

  “Does that mean you’ve got a spare toothbrush and toothpaste in that clutch of yours?”

  “Of course,” she laughs. “Old habits die hard.”

  I nod and spit out, trying to free my mouth of the horrible taste.

  “I’m never drinking again,” I groan. Keeping my movements slow and steady, I stand. My legs are shaking like mad, and I feel so tired. I’m afraid I could fall asleep right next to the toilet.

  Eeww.

  Trish helps me up. “Just like old times,” she smiles as she repeats her words, winking at me.

  “Ugh. I’m too old for this crap,” I groan.

  She turns to flush the toilet, a firm grip on my arm.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then I’m taking you home.”

  Yawning, I turn around, but freeze on the spot when I find Kristian leaning against the door, hands in his pockets. My eyes trail over his chest, up to his hair, and I swallow hard when I take in his tousled hair.

  It’s got just-got-shagged written all over it.

  “Please don’t tell me you just heard that?” I whisper, locked in place by the worry in his gaze.

  His frown doesn’t let up even when his lips tip up at the corners.

  “No comment,” he whispers.

  Oh, somebody shoot me now!

  “Dead,” I groan, slumping back. “I’m dead.”

  Trish’s laughter pulls me out of my stupor. Still drunk, and still very much mortified, I take a couple of steps, but then the room spins.

  “I’ve got you,” Kristian says as he clamps a hand on my arm, pulling me close to him. I try to turn my head, squirming in his arms.

  “Don’t,” I beg. “I’ve got vomit breath.”

  “I don’t care,” he rumbles, his breath fanning across my cheeks.

  He smells so good.

  I blink a couple of times as he turns me around, keeping his hands on my shoulders. His hold is firm, but gentle, when he leads me to the sink. I’m taken by surprise completely. How can a man like him not care about vomit breath?

  I don’t understand it at all.

  I don’t understand anything anymore.

  I cringe when I stop in front of the sink where he shagged someone else less than half an hour ago. I gag as the images assault me, peeking up at him. I wave him off when his intense eyes meet mine.

  “I’m okay, thanks,” I mumble.

  Trish hands me the things I need to wash the ugly taste of vomit away. I gasp when I look at my reflection, even more embarrassed than before.

  “Crap,” I whisper. “I’ve got the meanest panda eyes ever.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Trish mutters as she hands me some Kleenexes. “After you’ve brushed your teeth, get rid of your make-up. Well, what’s left of it, anyway.”

  I nod, trying my best to ignore the very silent, very delicious man next to me as I do as Trish says. It’s not an easy task—my hands are shaking as if I was some junkie waiting for her next fix—and after I’ve fumbled with the cap of the toothpaste for a while, Kristian stills my hands.

  “I’ll help you,” he murmurs.

  My mouth falls open, and I can’t stop gaping at him as he helps me.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble.

  He shakes his head. “Don’t be.” He flashes a grin at me. “I’ve been where you are now, once or twice.”

  I turn to Trish as I feel the touch of her hand on my shoulder.

  “Will you be okay for a bit? I’m just going to go and pay for our drinks, and then I’ll be back.”

  I nod, grateful.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Always,” she whispers back.

  “Here,” Kristian’s voice pulls my attention back to him, and I take the toothbrush from his hand, careful not to touch him.

  In silence, I brush my teeth, avoiding his intense gaze I can feel burning my cheeks. After I’ve finished, I grab the tissues Trish left at the sink and lean closer to the mirror.

  Feeling more steady, I wipe at the smudges underneath my eyes and on my cheeks and neck.

  “Ugh,” I mutter. “I look horrid.”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  I blink at his whispered words.

  “What?” I gape at his reflection, unable to keep my eyes from his anymore. “Have you gone mental?”

  He gives me a small smile.

  “It’s true. I promised I’d never lie to you, remember?”

  I snort, shaking my head. Turning around to face him, I point at the scar on my cheek. “Have you seen this?”

  He wets his lips as he nods.

  “Well,” I continue, tossing the tissues in the bin underneath the sink, “then I know for a fact that you’re lying to me already.”

  He grits his teeth. “I’m not.”

  “Scars make you ugly, Kristian,” I sigh, overcome with sadness. “They leave you undesirable…the air that surrounds you when you have them leaves you feeling unwanted, unappreciated. People never know how to look at me, without seeing that ugly thing marring my skin, but it is what it is. I’m used to it now.”

  Kristian takes a step closer, invading my space.

  “Don’t for one fucking second believe that that’s what I see when I look at you, Laura,” he spits out.

  His anger fuels my own, but I try to tamp down my temper.

  “Really?” I scoff.

  “Yes, really. You’re so much more than the scars on your body.”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “And you know all this about me because you know me so well, do you?” I goad, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “It doesn’t take a lifetime getting to know someone,” he growls. “Sometimes, it only takes a moment. I may not know all your secrets, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see your beauty.”

  The angry retort on my lips vaporises into the air, and I feel like I’ve been hit in my stomach—winded, overwhelmed…surprised.

  Who is this bloke? How can he be so wise when he’s so young?

  “Now,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “are you going to stop talking nonsense?”

  “I’m not done,” I mutter.

  He blinks at me.

  “Now what?” The shuttered look in his eyes makes me want to hug him, but that’s too weird.

  Weird and creepy.

  “Are we still going to try to be friends?” I ask him.

  He takes a step away, easing the pressure on my chest. I feel saddened by his distance, but, at the same time, I know it’s necessary, for both our sakes.

  “Do you want to?” he asks, his voice quiet.

  I hesitate, but then shrug. I could always u
se another friend, couldn’t I?

  “Of course.”

  He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.

  “Okay, then.”

  “Do you think you know how to be friends with me?” I blurt out.

  The frown returns on his forehead, and I don’t blame him. I sound utterly bonkers.

  “I’m not sure I follow you?”

  I wet my lips, trying to make sense of my befuddled thoughts to both myself and him.

  “I’m…I’m a very guarded woman, Kristian.” I cross my arms, feeling a chill in my bones. “I don’t talk about my past, and I have my reasons.”

  “Well, I don’t talk about mine, so I think we’re on common ground there.”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t talk about the future, either.”

  His eyes shoot up, and I give him a small smile.

  “I’m…complicated,” I whisper.

  “So I’ve noticed.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to finish, but I don’t have the energy to explain further. I feel weary, sort of drunk, and so tired I think I could sleep for days.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying,” I mumble, suppressing a yawn.

  “Friendships aren’t meant to be complicated, Laura,” Kristian says as he takes my hand, pulling me after him and out to the pub. “They just have to be real.”

  I nod at his back.

  “True.”

  “Let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”

  The smile he throws my way as he looks over his shoulder almost makes me trip over my feet.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Maybe I’m overanalysing things, so I’ll stop obsessing about it until tomorrow.

  Maybe.

  I crane my neck as I look everywhere for Trish, but I can’t find her. I don’t see Alex, either. How odd.

  “Let’s go outside, get you some fresh air, before we get you home?”

  I stop nodding when he says, “we”.

  “Hang on,” I start as he drags me outside. “What do you mean by we? Trish is taking me home.”

  He doesn’t answer, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

  Surely, he can’t mean that he’ll come home to the farm with me?

  “Kristian, wait,” I mumble, tugging hard on his hand, but he won’t budge and keeps ignoring me. We leave the pub, and upon feeling the crisp night air hit my skin, I begin to shiver at once.

  “Where the hell are they?” I look up at Kristian and then take in our surroundings. The street is busy, filled with people in various degrees of drunkenness. The spinning in my head intensifies, and my teeth chatter.

  Kristian glances at me and curses under his breath.

  “Come here,” he says, dragging me closer to his body.

  Oh, gosh, he smells even better now.

  “I-I’m o-okay,” I stutter, but I can’t resist snuggling deeper into his warmth.

  “No, you’re not,” he grits out, wrapping his other arm around me. His body shifts, blocking the wind from hitting me with his body, and soon, the shivering ebbs away.

  “Thanks,” I mumble against his chest, burying my nose in his T-shirt. I try to be subtle as I breathe him in. There’s a hint of sweat mingled with his clean, woodsy scent, and I take another sniff. It feels nice to be held like this. The warmth from his body seeps into my cold bones, and I relax a little as I close my eyes.

  I wish I could stay like this forever.

  “Alex!”

  I jerk in Kristian’s arms, surprised at the shout, and turn to stare up at him.

  He jerks his chin at something behind me, but I can’t look away from the tattoo I now see peeking up his neck. It’s small, and I squint as I lean up on my toes, trying to see it better. It’s too dark to make it out, though.

  “What’s that tattoo?” I whisper, trailing my fingers over the neckline of his shirt. Kristian’s arms jerk against my waist, holding me tighter for a beat.

  “Just an anchor,” he answers. I glance into his eyes, and immediately lean away when I notice the intensity as he stares back at me.

  I swallow the lump in my throat, silently ordering the butterflies wreaking havoc on my insides to settle down. Kristian smiles at me, and at the sight of his dimples, I bite my lip.

  “It’s pretty,” I whisper, my breath hitching.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how many tats I’ve got?” he laughs.

  Oh, no, definitely not.

  “Or if I have any piercings?”

  I blink.

  “What? You mean, you do?” I gape at him.

  As he winks at me, his smile deepens. He’s enjoying this far too much.

  “I do. Three, to be exact.”

  “But…where?” I frown at him, completely lost.

  He bends his head and whispers in my ear. “All in places you won’t see unless we’re naked. Or kissing.”

  What?!

  “Oh, boy,” I whisper, overcome as tingles shoot all over my body.

  His arms squeeze me once as he lifts his head, and I gasp at the naughty glint in his eyes as they meet mine again. He must know that I’m dying to ask him where they are, but I can’t give in. I nibble on my lips, forcing myself to stop blurting out the question.

  “You have to stop flirting with me,” I warn him. “Otherwise, this friendship thing won’t ever work between us.”

  He nods once, a sheepish glint in his eyes.

  “I’m kind of drunk, so I can’t exactly be held responsible for whatever comes out of my mouth right now.”

  “Oh,” I mouth at him. Somehow, it had slipped my mind that Kristian’s been drinking all night, too.

  I have a good imagination, and, right now, I need to get home and get my bullet out. No longer sleepy at all, I’m yearning to get some relief.

  Must. Stop. Drooling.

  I have to say something. Grasping at straws, my eyes dart everywhere only to settle on Kristian’s again when my mind comes up blank. He quirks an eyebrow, but I just shake my head at him. Finally, I manage to tear my eyes away from his and look over my shoulder. I breathe a long sigh of relief as I see Alex is walking towards us, an arm around Trish’s waist.

  “Just had something to settle,” Trish laughs at me as they draw nearer.

  Confused, I narrow my eyes at her as I step out of Kristian’s embrace. I try my best to ignore the way his fingers trail down my arm, as if he’s as reluctant to let me go as I am him, but I push the feelings aside. Trish grins as she hands me my jacket, looking awfully smug. Her lips are swollen, and as I take in the intimate glance she gives Alex, understanding fills me. It makes even more sense when I notice the smirk on his face as he looks down at her.

  “I see.”

  I turn to Kristian, unsure of the correct way to tell him goodbye. Do I hug him? Kiss his cheek?

  No. No kissing. Bad, bad idea.

  He takes a step closer and takes my hand.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  Warmth settles around my heart at his concern.

  “Of course. But thanks.”

  He tucks some hair behind his ears, never once letting go of my hand.

  “Text me tomorrow? Just, you know, to let me know you’re fine?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t have your mobile number.”

  He nods as he smiles at me.

  “I know, but…” He stops as he pulls his iPhone out from his jeans pocket. “Give me your number again? I’ll text you instead. That way, you’ll have mine.”

  Hesitating, I glance at Trish, unsure if this is a good idea. As her smile grows bigger, I shrug.

  What’s the harm?

  “Okay, then,” I mutter and glance back at Kristian. Quickly, I rattle off the number and nod as he turns the phone to me, silently asking me to confirm that he got it right.

  “Well, then…” I take a step back, laughing nervously as he still doesn’t release my hand. “Goodnight, Kristian.”

  He squeezes my hand once, and I loo
k down at my feet, feeling like a shy schoolgirl all of a sudden. It’s completely ridiculous.

  Finally, he lets my hand go, and I lift my head as I back away. His eyes are warm and gentle as he bids me goodbye.

  “Goodnight, Laura.”

  His low, seductive voice does funny things to my insides. I bump into Trish who giggles once as she links her arm with mine.

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” Alex rumbles after us. I watch Trish as she turns to smile at him, and I wonder if she’s going to let me in on what’s going on between the two of them.

  Mind spinning, I take one last look at Kristian as we walk to the car park. His hands are in his pockets, a small smile graces his lips, and as he gives me a chin lift, I take a deep breath.

  Looking straight ahead, I murmur, “What a night.”

  Trish nudges my shoulder.

  “You’ve got that right, sweetie. I think we’re in for quite an interesting time, don’t you?”

  Crap, I hope not. My world is made up of order, routines, and my daughter. A distraction like Kristian is the last thing I need.

  Good thing we’re only friends.

  On the way home to the farm, I can’t switch off my thoughts. They keep running around in circles, taking in the night—our conversations—when I caught him with that barmaid—and they all come back to the same moment. The one that overshadows everything else.

  The moment when he held me close.

  When Trish turns left at the farm, I turn to look at her.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” I whisper.

  She laughs.

  “I think you’re right. But I have a feeling it’s the good kind of trouble.”

  I open my mouth only to close it again.

  I don’t know. Nothing makes sense.

  Nothing.

  13

  Kristian

  How do you text a woman who’s put you in the friend-zone box, when all you can think about is fucking her brains out?

  Is there a protocol to follow? Some sort of text book to look up the right words to say?

  I shift on my bed and sigh as I open my phone and turn to Google. On a groan, I throw my arm over my eyes at my own stupidity, my phone dangling from my fingers.

  This is ridiculous.

  “It’s just a text, for God’s sake,” I grumble. “Not science. Or math.”