Cora. She’s walking toward me with a bag in her hand. She hasn’t spotted me yet, so I lean against the bike and cross my arms over my chest as I wait. When she’s only a few feet from me, she stops.
“Grayson?”
I stand upright. “Hi, Cora.”
“What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”
I shake my head and point up at the building. “You live here?”
She nods with her brows lifted, as if she’s saying duh.
“I had no idea. I was just riding and stopped here to get a drink. What are you up to?”
She holds the bag up a little higher. “Just went out to get some dinner. Hungry?”
“I just ate, thanks.”
“Are you sure? It’s my favorite. Chinese.” She smiles wide.
I laugh. “I just ate Chinese food myself.”
She giggles. “I guess that’s part of being a single millennial in the city, huh? Takeout life. Want to come up and watch me eat then? I’ll even give you a drink.”
I shake the water bottle in my hands. “Well, my water is almost gone.”
She nods toward the building. “Come on.”
I follow her inside and she shuts the door, locking it behind us. She flips on lights as she walks through the apartment, and I glance around to take everything in. I smile, realizing the entire place smells like her: warm vanilla and something that has a hint of spice to it. The hallway leading from the doorway to the living room/kitchen area is rather bare. There’s nothing but a blue rug, a table where she drops her keys and purse, and a few pictures hanging on the walls. The living room is more homey; it looks lived-in and welcoming. There’s a thick, fluffy gray couch, a matching armchair, and a table between them. The coffee table is littered with a few magazines and a candle. There’s a small entertainment center against the far wall that holds a TV with a few more candles, a picture frame, and a few knickknacks here and there. There’s another big rug under the couch and table, and light-colored curtains hanging over the big windows. I take a seat on the couch, which is so comfortable and soft.
“I’m going to make myself a plate. You sure you don’t want anything?” she asks, holding up the bag to me before ducking into the kitchen.
“I’m good, but thank you.”
When she walks into the living room, she has a plate in one hand and two beers in the other.
“Drink?” she asks, holding them out.
“Sure, thanks.” I take the beer from her hand, pop it open, and take a swig.
“So why were you really in my neighborhood?” she asks, sitting on the couch. She curls her legs up under her while she rests one edge of the plate against her chest and the other on her knees. She starts eating while waiting for my response.
It’s clear that I’m not going to convince her that I didn’t mean to come here. It was simply my heart being pulled to hers. So I lie. “I got to thinking about your list.”
Her cheeks flash red with embarrassment.
“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
Her brows pull together. “No, why?”
“I thought we could add it to your list and then you could check it off.”
“Isn’t that cheating?”
I shrug. “It’s your list. Do you think it’s cheating?”
She thinks it over for a minute.
“Look, the list is full of things you haven’t done, right?”
She nods.
“Well, you haven’t ridden on a motorcycle. It doesn’t make it cheating just because you haven’t written it down yet.”
“Good point. I wasn’t exactly finished with it anyway.”
“So . . . write it down and then I’ll take you for a ride.”
She smiles. “Okay,” she agrees. “But you’re not going to kill me or anything, right?”
I laugh. “I’ve been riding about as long as I’ve been walking. My dad had one when I was growing up. I’m a pro.” I flash her my best attempt at a charming grin.
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “You’re just a pro at everything then, huh?”
I laugh. “Something like that. I can do all sorts of things, Cora.”
She doesn’t reply, but I see the way the pink in her cheeks grows more heated and I know she’s picked up on my insinuation.
After she finishes eating, she cleans up her mess and grabs a jacket. Her hands are noticeably shaking as she pulls it on, but I don’t mention it. I lead her back down to the street and climb on. She stands off to the side, looking at me, then the bike, with wide eyes.
I hold out my hand. “It’s really not that bad. It’s kind of fun, actually. Come on. Do you trust me?”
Her eyes flash to my outstretched hand. “Yes. I think so, anyway,” she replies.
Finally, she places her hand in mine and I help her behind me on the bike. I kick the motorcycle to life and it roars loudly. She automatically starts to giggle. I look back at her.
“It tickles my feet!” she giggles out and I laugh and shake my head. “Hold on tight,” I say, shifting into gear.
I check my mirrors then twist the throttle as we dart out onto the street. Her arms are around my waist and she’s holding herself against my back tightly. I can feel her breasts pressing against me and it makes my body come alive in ways it shouldn’t. This time, the wind in my face doesn’t do anything to cool my overheated body—not when she’s wrapped around me like this.
I drive around the city and she never asks me to stop or slow down. In fact, whenever I glance back in the mirror, I always see her smiling. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s having fun. We drive around for nearly an hour before we’re back at her house. I turn off the bike and she climbs off, then I follow behind her.
She’s wearing a wide smile. It nearly stretches from ear to ear. “That was awesome!” she cheers.
I laugh. “Glad you liked it. And now you get to mark it off your list.”
“Oh, I’m going to. Thanks for helping me, by the way. I don’t think I said that earlier.”
“You did not,” I reply.
She blushes. “Well, thank you.”
I nod. “It was my pleasure.”
She starts walking backward toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there,” I tell her, watching as she’s still walking backward.
“Okay, bye. And thanks . . . again.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I just smile and watch as she slips away behind the door. Since she’s no longer in sight, I climb back on the bike and make my way home.
Chuck is hard at work when I arrive. He’s still at his desk with his headphones on, so he doesn’t even hear me come in. I lock the door behind me, grab a bottle of water, and go straight to my room where I undress and crawl into bed. I turn off my bedside light and look up at the dark ceiling, reliving my evening. The smile on her face is burned into my memory.
In the morning at work, I go straight to the break room on her floor. I wonder how long it’ll take her to realize that this isn’t my break room and I only come here to see her. When I walk in, she’s already sitting at the table in the center of the room. She has a cup of coffee, some kind of pastry, and her notebook open in front of her with a pen in her hand.
She looks up at me with a smile.
“Good morning,” I say, stepping past her to pour a cup of coffee.
“Morning.”
I turn and lean against the counter. “So, did you cross something off your list last night?”
She smiles, picks up the notebook, and turns it around for me to see. My eyes quickly glance down the page and see that she’s written ride on a motorcycle and it’s slashed through. I also catch a quick glimpse of have an orgasm and see that it’s still there waiting. Thank God!
“Good. How’d it feel getting to mark something off?” I ask, moving to sit down at the table.
“Amazing. I don’t know why I didn’t do this before.”
“What? Ride
a motorcycle or start a list?”
She giggles. “Both.”
I reach over and take away the notebook. “What’s on here that we can do tonight?” I ask, looking over the list.
Go out to dinner and be honest with my date about who I am and what I like.
“How about this one?” I ask, pointing at it.
She reads over the line. “You want to take me out to dinner?”
I nod. “Sure, I gotta eat, and if it helps you out, why not?” As I wait for her answer, I add on. “What do you usually do on these dates, anyway? Lie?”
She smiles. “Usually. I . . .” she rolls her eyes. “I guess I’ve always been so desperate for people to like me that I said I liked things I didn’t. Like Jimmy. He was into football—like, watching it seven days a week into it. Well, once I found that out, I loved football too. In reality, I hate football. I don’t have a clue what’s going on or why they’re constantly stopping the game. I tried to understand it and truly get into it, but I just couldn’t.”
I laugh. “Fair enough, I guess. So, tonight? Seven work for you?”
She giggles. “Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” I take my cup of coffee and head out to get to work.
I have a long, boring meeting that lasts the entirety of the morning. By the time we’re all dismissed, it’s lunchtime. I grab a sandwich from the cart and go back to her break room. I find it empty and decide to go to her office instead. I knock on the door and she calls out from the other side. I open it and step in. She looks surprised to see me, and her fingers, which were racing across the keyboard, stop.
“You weren’t in the break room,” I say, taking the empty chair across from her desk.
“I have some work to finish up,” she says, turning her chair to face me.
“It’s lunch. You need to eat. Here, I’ll split my sandwich with you.” I take half of the sandwich and hand it over.
“Thanks,” she says, accepting it.
“So, where do you want to go for dinner?”
She takes a bite and shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s not like it’s a real date.”
I frown. “Sure it is. I’m picking you up, taking you to a restaurant, and paying. It’s a date whether you like it or not.”
She rolls her big blue eyes. “Fine. There’s this new Mexican restaurant down the street from me. I’ve always wanted to try it, but Jimmy hated Mexican food.”
“Mexican it is . . . and you know what that means.” I smile.
“What’s that?” she asks, confused.
“Tequila!”
She fakes a gagging sound and we both laugh.
When I get off work, I waste no time in going home and getting ready for our date. Chuck is still in his sweatpants on the couch when I get in, and he looks up at me with sleepy eyes. “How was your day?” he asks, taking a bite of his cereal.
“Good. I gotta get ready for a date.”
“Blondie?” he asks.
“You know it,” I reply, walking past him to my bedroom to get cleaned up.
Three
Cora
Riding on the back of Grayson’s Harley is the most exhilarating and dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life. The speed, the weaving in and out of cars in traffic, the fact that there’s nothing around you to save you if you wreck . . . it all brings me to life in ways I’ve never experienced before. Plus, being so close to Grayson isn’t bad either. I can feel the heat of his body. I can smell his delicious scent. He smells like clean rain and sunshine on a spring day.
I don’t understand why he’s suddenly so interested in me, but right now, I need a friend more than anything. Especially now that I’m the only single one out of all of my friends. I thought these days were behind me as the date of the wedding drew closer, but now I’m right back where I started. The difference is, I’m now enjoying myself much more and actually looking forward to tomorrow. There’s still a pain in my chest when I think of Jimmy and what we would be doing right now had he not left me, but then I think of Grayson and it all falls away.
I have to remind myself not to replace the pain of Jimmy with Grayson. Grayson isn’t mine. He doesn’t have any romantic feelings toward me and I don’t want to end up with another broken heart. I have to keep my heart guarded this time. Keep my distance.
After work, I come home and try to figure out what I’m going to wear out on my non-date with Grayson. I want to look good and use this as a trial run for a real date I might have in the future. So I dig into the back of my closet and find a black miniskirt. I pull the skirt on and search for a top, finally deciding on a black lace tank top that has a beige-colored fabric beneath it. Then I slide on a pair of low-cut boots. I curl my hair and tease it up to give it some volume, then proceed to put on some makeup. I contour my cheeks and nose, then bronze and highlight where needed. Next, I give myself a smoky eye with a lot of liner.
I stand back and look myself over as I apply a layer of deep-red lipstick. The darkness is striking in comparison to my ivory skin, but I look good. My eyes travel down my body as I turn this way and that in the mirror. My legs look long and thin thanks to the heels. The short skirt is tight and shows off the slight curve of my hips. My stomach is flat and so is my chest. Maybe that’s what I need: a boob job! I’ve never cared much for my thin, flat body. A new set of boobs would add to my womanly figure.
Someone knocks on the door and I get pulled from my thoughts, noting that I’ll need to think more on it later. I rush to the door and pull it open to find Grayson waiting on the other side. He’s smiling, but the smile falls and his mouth hangs open as he takes in my full appearance. His speechlessness makes me smile wider.
I spin in a circle. “What do you think?”
“I . . . I . . .” he shakes his head. “I think you look beautiful,” he finally manages to get out, making me giggle.
“I’m ready. Just let me grab my purse.” I turn away from the open door and grab it from the entryway table. I tuck it beneath my arm and step out into the hallway with him as I lock the door. When I turn to face him, he’s still taking me in. “Ready?”
He swallows and it makes his Adam’s apple bob and his jaw flex. “After you.” He motions for me to go on.
Outside, he opens the passenger-side door for me and I slide into the warm leather seat. I glance around his car and breathe in his scent as he rushes around to join me. His car is very clean for a guy. The all-black interior is spot-free and the floorboards don’t have a speck of dust on them. There’s air fresher in the vents, and when he starts the car, the cool air blows the new car smell right into my nose. It smells good, but I prefer the smell of his spring storm.
He starts the car and shifts into drive before pulling out into traffic. Once we’re driving down the road, I notice his eyes flashing in my direction, but he doesn’t turn his head. My cheeks heat up.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask, unable to hold back my nervous smile.
“What? I’m not staring. You just look really, really hot.”
I laugh even harder.
“What? You act like you’ve never heard that before.”
“That’s because I haven’t,” I confess.
He snorts.
“What?” I ask.
“You’ve seriously never been told you’re hot before?”
“No. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know. Probably because you’re hot.”
I roll my eyes.
“What kind of jackasses have you dated?”
“The really douchey kind,” I point out just as he’s turning into the parking lot of the local Mexican restaurant.
“Clearly,” he mumbles as he whips into a spot.
He shifts into park and shuts off the car. He quickly unbuckles then rushes out and around the car to open my door for me. This also makes me blush, but I don’t mention it as I climb out.
“Let me guess: no one has ever opened your door for you either
?”
All I can do is shrug.
He lets out a long, dramatic breath and shakes his head, then he takes my hand in his and leads me toward the door. Inside, we’re greeted by the host and taken back to our table. I can’t help but notice the way people are staring at us. There’s a table of women who look to have just come from work. They’re all sipping on cocktails, and when they see Grayson, they all start smiling, batting their lashes, and primping their hair. Then they see me and their smiles fade and turn into snarky looks. I’m sure they’re wondering what a girl like me is doing with someone as good-looking as him, but no one says anything, and of course, it’s enough to have me second-guessing the way I look even though Grayson seems more than happy with it.
We sit at a table in the back of the restaurant and the waiter hands us our menus before asking for our drink order.
Grayson takes it upon himself to order us both a frozen margarita and the waiter leaves. “Figured tequila would help you tell the truth a little better,” he says around a smirk.
I roll my eyes and pick up my menu, but I can’t focus with those four girls still staring in our direction. I keep glancing over at them and I feel like I’m on the spot—like I have something on my face or my hair is sticking up all crazy-like. So I move from side to side, smooth down my hair, and bite the inside of my cheek.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, picking up on how uncomfortable I am.
“Is there something on my face?” I whisper.
His brows pull together as he looks me over. “No, why?”
“Those girls won’t stop staring.” I flash my eyes over to them and he casually looks back.
He snorts. “They’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of me?”
He laughs. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Look at me and then look at them. They’re all thin and tall and have boobs and perfectly-done nose jobs. I’m plain.”
The F It List (Love You Forever Book 6) Page 3