“I need to get back,” I tell her again.
“But I like Cleary,” she continues.
“And we need them to drive us home, so you have the whole ride ahead of you with him.”
“You’re no fun,” she mutters like a child. “He’s a bad kisser, huh?” I’m thankful she didn’t just say that in front of Sterling. That’s the sort of thing she’d do when she’s been drinking.
“How did you know he kissed me?” I knew she’d think something was up, but that was a little too fast, even for Jade.
“Your lipstick is smudged.” With a look of excitement in her eyes, she reaches over and runs her thumb under my lip. “There you go.” Now I can’t just stew over this myself tonight; I’ll also be getting drilled by Jade . . . well, unless Jade is too busy getting drilled by Cleary. Maybe that would be best for my selfish reasons.
We pile into the Jeep, back to our original seats since we’re now officially coupled off. By the time Sterling revs the engine, I hear kissing noises coming from the backseat. The sound of it crawls up my spine like a furry spider. I don’t know what it is about that sound that makes me crazy, but it honestly sounds like a dog licking its nether region.
While I’m trying to block out the growing volume of the makeout session going on behind me, Sterling’s hand falls gently onto my thigh—my bare thigh. The sensation of warmth from his skin makes me clench everything as tightly as I can, and I think he notices, as he glances over at me. The street lights glow within his eyes, and the sweetness he’s done his best to maintain throughout the night appears a little darker this time. It seems like there might be more going through his head than just a kiss, not that the thought isn’t mildly dancing through my head too.
“Where in town are you staying?” I ask, realizing we never discussed it.
“The same complex as Jade. I’m on the other side, though. There aren’t many affordable rental options around here.” I know what he means, which is why I’m grateful for Samantha offering me a room for the summer.
“Ah, so you enjoy a pull-out wall bed too, then?”
“I’m not sure how Jade managed to get so lucky with that feature in her apartment, but no, I have a two bedroom since I share with Cleary and our other buddy.”
I glance into the backseat, scared for what I might see, but curiosity got the best of my slightly intoxicated mind. Cleary has a hand up Jade’s skirt. Since she isn’t known for being quiet, if that goes much farther, we’ll all be enjoying the orchestra of her moaning.
“Looks like Cleary might be trying out that lucky fold-out bed in Jade’s apartment tonight.”
Sterling pulls his hand away from my goose-bump-covered leg and places it back on the steering wheel. “Well, if you want to tell those people you’re working for not to wait up for you, I’m happy to share my lucky bed that doesn’t fold out from the wall—with you.”
His question or inquiry forces more juicy clenching. It’s been so long, and my vibrator needs a break. Creating many seconds of awkward silence between his question and the answer he’s waiting for, I’m still in a debate with myself.
I’m stronger than the voice in my head and the pain between my thighs. I am. “I’m more of a third date type of girl,” I tell him, sounding breathless like I just worked real hard to come out with that answer.
“I can handle that,” Sterling says, sounding challenged. “How does tomorrow night sound for date number two?”
And there it is; the tightness in my chest—the feeling I get when anyone gets too close to affecting my heart.
After picking up the pieces when Mom left Dad, then all my dating debacles, of course, I can’t understand why people put themselves through the things they do for relationships—why risk that type of pain? Statistics suggest a couple is more likely to end up divorced than happy together until death, as the likely-to-be-broken marriage vows state. Chances of a marriage resulting in lifelong love and commitment are low, and I realize my experiences have made me cynical, but statistics don’t lie.
It’s not that I’ve ruled out marriage, but the thought of remaining single forever has crossed my mind more times than it should at twenty-two. I do feel like I know the type that will surely cause the pain I try so hard to avoid, but the twist is that Mom was a good wife and mother for most of my childhood. In addition, she was always perfectly dressed, beautiful—a ten, as Dad always told her—but the older she got, the more motivation she had to better herself. My forty-year-old mother was at the gym six days a week, the hair salon once every two weeks, the nail salon weekly, and she had a collection of makeup that must have cost more than a year of car payments. She’s the female version of “He’s Just Too into Himself.”
Then there’s Dad—a two-hundred-fifty-pound teddy bear who lost all his hair by the time I was fourteen. His smile is brighter than the sun, and his personality is one-of-a-kind. The man can make the saddest person laugh, and he’d go to the ends of the earth for anyone who needs him. Dad is the definition of a good man. Mom couldn’t see that, or she stopped seeing it, I guess. I’m sure she thinks beauty is skin deep, and I was lucky to learn how untrue that is at a young age. Who wants a pretty face when everything inside is hideous?
I haven’t made up my mind about Sterling yet. So far, I know he’s pretty, charming, and a very good kisser, but I need to know more about him.
“You okay?” Sterling asks. I try to refocus, forcing my thoughts to the back of my head, and I notice we are parked in front of Jade’s apartment.
“Oh—yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”
“So, tomorrow night?”
“Can I call you when I see what the day’s schedule looks like?” I’m sure he can easily sense the excuse, but I don’t have an answer yet.
“Of course, but you might want my phone number.” His words are soft and a bit despondent. I probably shouldn’t have let that kiss happen. “If this doesn’t feel right to you, you can be honest with me. I’m a grown man. I can handle it, Julia.”
I pull at a small thread coming loose from the hem of my dress, silently piecing my words together so they come out right because my thoughts aren’t making a whole ton of sense to me now. “It doesn’t feel wrong,” I begin. “I’m not sure what right is, to be honest, but I just got here, and I’m not sure I’m ready to fall into a routine outside of work yet, so I was kind of hoping to take things a bit slower.” I release the air from my lungs as if my mouth were the pinched opening to a balloon. I hope he understands, especially knowing that we’ll be seeing each other daily during Dylan’s lifeguard training.
“You’re doing right by yourself, and I can’t fault you for that when it’s all I’ve been trying to do for me. Take all of the time you need, but I hope it’s okay that I remain patient with a little hope because I truly like you.”
He’s breaking me down, and the little love devil in my head is about to push the wrong words out of my mouth. The way he’s looking at me, as if I were a delicate flower he’s too scared to touch, it’s making me melt. These hot guys and their goddamn eye magic.
“I just need a little time, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Dylan’s training, okay?”
Sterling’s hand sweeps against my cheek like he did earlier before he kissed me. Maybe he was quick to figure out the effect his touch has on me. In that case, he’s playing me like a fine-tuned instrument because I’m about to say yes to whatever he proposes, and if I don’t get out of this Jeep in a matter of seconds, I will end up in his bedroom tonight.
“I’ll be thinking about you and that bikini of yours tomorrow, doing my best to ignore your presence during training.”
My cheeks burn with a combination of embarrassment and excitement. “Sorry to make things hard for you . . .” Two seconds, that’s all it takes for me to realize the stupidity coming out of my mouth. Make things hard for you? Are you freaking kidding me?
Sterling shifts in his seat and tugs at his shorts a bit because I feel like I just made things more than a litt
le hard for him. I wonder how big he is. I wonder if—
“Hey, eyes up here, sicko,” he says with a cocky-sounding chuckle.
What is wrong with me? I was just staring at his dick, wondering if it was magically going to pop out of his shorts. Though, judging by the satisfaction stretching across the coarse, grizzly fuzz lining his jaw, I believe I just made his night.
“Good night, Sterling.” I couldn’t sound any more sheepish if I tried. I pull my chair forward to let Jade and Cleary out, but they’re not here anymore.
“They hopped out almost the second we pulled in. You were lost in that head of yours, probably daydreaming about something hard I’ll assume.”
Oh my—I can’t take anymore. I open the door, but Sterling’s arm wraps around my neck, and he pulls me in, planting his lips firmly on mine. His hand slowly falls from my shoulders, letting the tips of his fingers feather down the length of my arm as he pulls away. “Good night, Julia.” I can’t feel my mouth. I can’t feel my heart beating in my chest or air coming and going from my lungs. I step out of the Jeep feeling totally numb, and not so surprisingly; I tumble to the pavement.
I hear a seatbelt clink against the metal door, and Sterling flops over the front seats with his head poking out the door. “Are you okay?”
A snort louder than I intended follows an almost hysterical laugh from embarrassment. I’m fine, I think.
I yank myself up by the dark runner lining the opening of his car door and smooth my tight-as-hell dress over my thighs. Dammit. “I’m fine. It’s just really dark, and I stumbled over a hole in the pavement.”
“My lips do that,” he says with a wink. Dear God, I must leave now. I reach into my purse for my car keys and pull them out, tripping myself on the way to my car. Of course, I trip. Why not? “Drive safe,” is the last thing he says before I close him outside of my car door.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone taught me how to walk or if I just sort of figured it out on my own. The number of times I end up hurt in one day is a little unreal for a grown woman. I’m not sure I can fall under the definition of a klutz anymore. There needs to be a new word to describe the challenges I face to survive each day in one piece.
I’m seriously pressing my luck here. It’s like five before midnight, and I’m sneaking into this house like a teenage girl who’s out past curfew. Apparently, everyone is asleep, so at least there’s that. I slip off my shoes and pick them up to avoid any sound as I tiptoe up the first step.
“How did it go with Long Horn?” I nearly choke on own spit as his voice pierces through the dark, silent room. Long Horn?
Somehow, I manage not to fall back down the one step I’ve already taken. Instead, I clutch my chest. “You just scared me half to death. What the hell are you doing down here in the dark?” Really, why is he sitting in a dark room? What a weirdo.
“Waiting up for you so I can lock up the house.” I can only hear the sigh spilling from his mouth, but I’m sure there’s a matching look of annoyance to accompany the sound.
“Well, I’m here on time for my curfew, so you can lock up now.”
I see Liam’s dark shadowy figure stand up from the couch and walk toward me. “Thank you.”
“What is Long Horn?”
A laugh rumbles in Liam’s throat. “The boy toy you were out with—that’s the nickname he’s earned for himself around here.”
“And why do they call him by that name?” I’m rolling my eyes, but he can’t see, so it’s pretty much for my sake of annoyance.
“Oh, come on, a pretty girl like you should know what Long Horn means.” I could take some guesses, but that’s what Liam wants me to do, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll see you at seven, then, so I can teach you what an infant child instinctively knows how to do immediately after birth.”
I huff a quiet laugh at his insult. “I don’t need you to teach me how to swim, Liam, so don’t flatter yourself.”
I head back for the steps and gasp when Liam’s hand tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him. “I do need to teach you how to swim. I don’t feel like being responsible for saving your cute ass from big bad waves every day this summer, so meet me outside at seven. Got it?”
His words, the growl in his voice, the warmth of his hand pressed into my wrist—combined with the demands and mention of my cute ass . . . I think my heart is beating so hard he might be able to hear it.
It isn’t like me to buckle at demand. I like to be in control, but something inside of me instinctually folds my hand of cards, sprawls them out on the table face up and shows him how easily I cave. “O—okay,” I spit out, even adding a little stutter to my weakness.
His hand releases from my wrist, leaving behind a warmth only in the spot he was touching. I grip the railing tightly and pull myself up the steps, trying my hardest not to trip.
I close myself into my room and flip on the lights, finding my bed turned down and a mint on my pillow. Turn down service? If what just happened downstairs didn’t happen, I might consider this to be a peace offering, but he’s totally trying to screw with my head.
I take the piece of chocolate from my pillow. The small silver wrapper crumples in my hand because there is no chocolate, just an empty wrapper shaped like chocolate. I should have expected this.
I carefully pull down my sheets, now scared for what else I’ll find, as I should be. I let out a sigh of relief when I don’t find any surprises under the covers. It seems I’m in the clear for the moment. I slip into my cotton shorts and Indiana State t-shirt then head into the bathroom to wash up.
Ohh, okay. Super funny. So goddamn funny. Knowing there was nothing here when I settled in, considering Liam’s recent behavior, I’m only slightly shocked to find a silver tray lined with an assortment of condoms situated next to a bottle of hand sanitizer. Then there’s the mouthwash I didn’t bring or place on the sink. There’s a big sharpie-marked circle around the words, “Kills 99% of all bacteria.” Now fuming, I brush my teeth quickly, wash my face, leave the bathroom, and pace back and forth for a good minute before my anger gets the best of me.
I poke my head into the hall, looking for any sign of Liam, who’s probably waiting for his next chance to pop out of some nook to scare the shit out of me. The thought of this just infuriates me more.
I pad down the hallway and burst into his room without knocking. I should have knocked. Always knock before entering. You never know what’s behind closed doors. It could be a man with a body fit for a fitness magazine cover, covered in a tan and tattoos, wearing tight black boxer briefs. My breath has gone missing, and I just shake my head in frustration. Why the hell am I surrounded by the exact type of men I do not want to be around? He doesn’t even flinch when he sees me standing in the doorway.
Of course I’m gawking, just to make it worse. I’m seriously acting like a sleaze. This has to stop.
I just made out with one guy, and now I’m staring at Liam’s junk. I admit it is impressive junk. Does he have a boner or is that his “relaxed” stance? I should be able to tell the difference, right? What if that isn’t a boner? Why am I envisioning what his boner would look like? That thing is so long, it would puncture my freaking kidneys. Maybe there’s a sock in there. Why would he do that, though?
“Mind closing the door? I don’t need any other prying eyes.”
Doing as he asked, I close the door, staying on the inside, and I quickly realize he might not have meant for me to come in further.
I grab the door knob to undo what I’m doing, ready to get the hell out of here, and he casually leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest, then crosses his legs. “Do you need something?”
“I—ah.” I close my eyes since it’s the only way to prevent myself from staring at him, and I pull in a much-needed deep breath. I’m in here because I’m pissed off at him. I came to let him know.
I have to let him know it’s not ok
ay to do what he did. My eyes flash back open, finding him in the same position my eyelids briefly closed out. Wow, he’s not shy. I would think most people might try to cover up or something, but nope, it’s like he’s telling me, “Go ahead and look around a bit. Make yourself at home while you’re at it.” No, he’s not saying that, but he’s not, not saying that either. Okay, now. Say it. Say what you need to say. “Why did you put a plate of condoms, hand sanitizer, and mouthwash on the vanity in my bathroom?” There. That’s all I needed to say. Now I wait for his stupid answer, tell him to leave my crap alone, and go back to my room. Easy.
“I figured you might need it after your night,” he says, nonchalantly.
“You figured I’d need condoms after my night?”
“Wow, you’re not just a one-and-done type of girl? Impressive.”
“What? What the hell does that even mean?”
“Condoms. That’s the plural of a condom,” he explains his quick accusation.
“Whyyyy are you torturing me? Just tell me why. Is there something wrong in your life?” I could deal with him if I knew he had some deep-seated issues that he was dealing with. I’d even have some understanding. “Is it like a filter thing that you can’t control? Are you hurt? Are you mad at the world? What? Just give me something to go on, won’t you?”
Liam uncrosses his arms, pulls them up, and folds them behind his head, showcasing another layer of tattoos on the undersides of his arms and down the length of his ribs.
I’m trying so damn hard not to look at his dick, and it’s like just staring at me through his boxer briefs. It’s right under the glow of the hanging light as if it’s on display like a piece of artwork. What the hell kind of material is his underwear made from? Because seriously, cotton doesn’t shine like that.
He clears his throat, directing my attention, once again, away from his dick. Away, look up, he has eyes and a mouth. I’m just noticing his lips are pale in comparison to his tan. The contrast is . . . okay, I’ve already determined he’s hot. Maybe I could go ahead and move past this stupid thought now.
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