The F It List (Love You Forever Book 6)

by Alexis Winter

  His blue eyes level on me. “You’re far from plain, Cora. You’re beautiful. And unlike those girls, you’re beautiful inside and out.”

  His sweet words make my heart flutter in my chest. My face heats up and I offer up a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  He nods once then goes back to looking at his menu.

  “Can I ask you a serious question?”

  His head pops back up. “Of course.”

  I take a deep breath and work myself up to it. “Do you think I should get a boob job?”

  He bursts out laughing. “I thought this was a serious question!”

  “It is!” I say, feeling embarrassed and annoyed.

  “Why the hell do you think you need a boob job?”

  I shrug and feel too embarrassed to look at him, so I look at the table between us. “I’m flat. I have the body of a young teenage girl. Nobody looks at me and thinks sexy.”

  “I do,” he says, causing my eyes to jump up to his. He’s wearing a sexy smirk that lights my body on fire.

  I laugh and pull my eyes away, face flushing again.

  The waiter is back and he places both our drinks on the table, along with a basket of fresh chips and salsa. “Do you know what you’d like to order?” he asks with a heavy Spanish accent.

  “I think I’ll have the chicken and rice,” I say, handing over the menu.

  “Just a burrito for me, thanks,” Grayson says, giving him his menu as well.

  When the waiter leaves to put in our order, I pick up my margarita and take a sip. It’s sweet and sour and blended so perfectly that I can’t even taste the tequila.

  “Mmm, this is really good,” I say, taking another sip.

  I look up in time to see him set his glass back down. “It is. Could use some more tequila though. How am I supposed to get all your truths out with this?”

  I laugh and shrug. “I guess I could just tell you.”

  “Okay.” He sits up straighter. “What are some of your favorite shows to watch?”

  “I like any hospital romance show or movie. There’s something about sneaking away to have sex in a supply closet that gets me,” I laugh out. “I also like horror, like Supernatural, The Walking Dead, and some of those new shows on Netflix. I pretty much watch any show that has 10 or more seasons. I like to binge watch for days.”

  “So you’d consider yourself a homebody then?”

  I shrug. “It just depends. If there’s something fun to do, I’ll do it. If not, I’m usually at home on my couch, usually reading or watching TV.”

  “What do you like to read?”

  “Romance, mostly. I also like paranormal. Regular life gets so boring that I like to spice it up with witches, vampires, and werewolves.”

  He laughs. “How do you feel about The Avengers?”

  I laugh. “I actually like those films.” I point at him.

  He seems relieved. “Good. Me too. I’ve seen them all a hundred times.”

  “I’ve only seen them once. After Jimmy and I got together, he wouldn’t let me watch them if he was over.”

  He snorts. “What did that asshole like to watch?”

  “Sports and movies about sports. Anything that was a true story about sports—especially boxing or wrestling. That kind of thing. He was also weirdly into documentaries. Like, he would skip out on work if he found one he hadn’t seen.”

  He shakes his head. “What did you and this guy even have in common?”

  I try to think of something but can’t come up with anything. “I really don’t know. Nothing, really.”

  “Then why were you so upset when the wedding fell through?”

  I take a deep breath and give the answer a lot of thought. “I wasn’t in love with Jimmy. I see that now. I was in love with the idea of who he could be but probably never would be. My whole life, all I wanted was a family of my own. I wanted to fall deeply in love. I wanted to be the whole world for some guy, and I wanted him to be that for me. I wanted to get married and move into a little house in the suburbs. A house with a front porch and a swing. A picket fence. I wanted to sit in that swing with my husband and watch our children play in the yard. I wanted to sway there and watch the sun rise and set. I could see myself aging on that swing—my blonde hair turning gray, wrinkles developing on our faces. I could see the kids aging from babies, to toddlers, to children who would eventually grow up and move off to college. I saw them getting married, having children of their own, and bringing them over to have big birthday parties and Christmases. I’ve just always been in love with the thought of love.”

  “Well, that’s a nice picture and all, but did you really see Jimmy being that type of guy?”

  “I thought he’d change—that I could make him change.”

  The waiter returns and sets our food in front of us. The conversation drifts away, but I’m still thinking about it. I see now that Jimmy never would’ve changed. I know this because in our more than three-year relationship, I was the one who did all of the changing. If we’d gotten married, I would’ve been the one who continued to change, and he would’ve remained the same. I probably never would’ve gotten half of what I want my life to be. Suddenly, I’ve never been more relieved that Jimmy ran off. He did me a favor.

  I take a bite of my grilled chicken breast on a bed of rice and my eyes close at the delicious taste.

  “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

  I giggle and nod as I chew and swallow. “Worth the wait,” I tell him.

  “And the company?” he asks, looking nervous.

  “Worth the wait too.”

  After we finish dinner, he takes me back to my place and I invite him up for a drink. It’s the least I can do considering he’s helping me with my Fuck It List, plus he did buy me dinner after all.

  I grab us both a beer out of the fridge and go to sit next to him on the couch. “So is there anything I need to know to prepare myself for golf this weekend?”

  He takes a drink and thinks it over. “Golf just takes practice. You have to perfect your swing and the amount of force you’re applying to the ball. Then you have to factor in distance and wind. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  “So I’ve been looking up campsites,” I say, grabbing my laptop. “I’m thinking Camp Bullfrog Lake. It isn’t far and they have a lake for fishing and boating, not to mention trails to hike. What do you think?” I show him the website and he looks everything over.

  “Yeah, that looks good to me. You should make a reservation.”

  “Yeah? When are you free?”

  He shrugs. “Every weekend. We’re going golfing this weekend, so why don’t you make it for next weekend?”

  “Yeah?”

  He nods. “Yes. I think I have most of the gear too.”

  “You do?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t peg him as the outdoorsy type.

  “I have fishing poles and a tent. Oh, and a cooler. So all we’ll really need is food and some cookware.”

  “I’ll get that if you’re bringing the rest,” I tell him, clicking around to book our trip.

  He holds up his beer bottle and I clink mine against it.

  The rest of the week goes by pretty quickly considering all the work I had to do. Grayson and I are becoming quick friends rather than just work friends. He’s even helped me knock a couple more things off my list—easy things like getting drunk on a work night. I felt like shit the next day, but so did he, and he made me laugh every time I bumped into him and he pretended to be a zombie. We’ve spent the entire week together and it no longer feels weird or forced like I thought it would. Grayson doesn’t make a big deal out of things, so oftentimes I forget he’s only around to help me with the list. Now he’s just another friend who makes life more fun.

  Tomorrow is Saturday and our golf date. He’s forcing me to get up at the butt crack of dawn and I’m the furthest thing from a morning person. If I have to get up that early, I have to go to bed before the sun goes down, which was exactly my plan until he arrived on m
y doorstep with a pizza in hand.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask when I open the door.

  He holds the pizza up higher. “Dinner. Duh.” He walks right past me into the living room, where he sits on the couch and puts the pizza box on the table. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, then opens the box and pulls out a slice of pizza.

  I follow him down the hall and into the living room. “I already ate,” I lie.

  He looks over at me and I see his eyes look me up and down. It’s only now that I realize I’m in a tiny pair of cotton shorts and a tank top with no bra on since I was getting ready for bed. “No, you haven’t. Come on. Come eat.”

  I let out a long, annoyed breath even though I’m anything but annoyed. I flop down on the couch. “You know, if I have to get up before the sun, I have to go to bed early.”

  “You’ll get plenty of sleep. Come on . . . eat and watch some TV with me. I’m bored as fuck and my roommate is out on a date. I don’t have anyone to hang with. I’ll let you pick the show,” he offers.

  I take the remote from him. “I didn’t know you had a roommate. Does he work with us?”

  “He did over a year ago when he got his dream job in the design department, but since then, he’s quit and has been doing it on his own. He makes a lot of book covers and magazine covers, plus he does some freelance work. He’s pretty good, actually.”

  I settle on a channel and put down the remote to pick up a slice of pizza. “That’s cool. What’s it like living with someone else? I don’t think I could do it.”

  He shrugs. “As long as you have respect for each other, it’s not bad.”

  “I think I’d kill someone,” I joke.

  There’s a long silence as we both eat and stare off at the TV. “Is this how you spend your Friday nights? No hot date?” I ask, stealing a quick glance at him.

  “Not usually. I don’t date much.”

  “Why not?” I ask, surprised. I figured a guy who looks the way he does would have a different girl every weekend.

  “I mean, I used to. Back in college. But then I just got tired of the same shit over and over. Every girl I dated just wanted to hook up, and there was always so much drama. So I got tired of the whole song and dance and decided I’d only date someone after I got to know them. That meant fewer dates, but the quality was better. I’m not interested in dating every girl I can. I’m only interested in finding the one who will stick.”

  “Wow, so you’re a romantic too, huh?”

  He chuckles. “I guess you could say that. My roommate would definitely say I am. He’s more of the dating-for-fun type and he gives me shit all the time because I’m not.”

  “I think it’s sweet,” I say, turning my attention back to the screen.

  “What is?”

  “That you know what you want and aren’t willing to settle for anything less. That’s what I need to do. I just have to keep reminding myself. It’s like there’s something broken inside of me and I’m willing to do anything for a person who pretends to not see it.”

  “There’s nothing broken in you, Cora. You’re a good person who’s listened to too many assholes. When it comes to the people who have treated you like that, you realize it says more about them than it does about you, right?”

  I look over at him now and our eyes lock. I can feel the tension between us. It’s thick, hot, strong. I swallow down my fear. I have to say something or I might just lean in and kiss him, and I’m sure that would put an end to this new friendship. “I know. My mom used to tell me that all the time.” I say the words but they come out in a whisper.

  “Stop trying so hard to make people like you. If they don’t like you, they’re stupid, and nobody needs stupid friends.” He gives me a goofy smile and I laugh.

  I shake my head when my laughing dies down and turn my attention back to the TV. There are butterflies soaring in my stomach right now and my heart is racing a million beats a minute. I don’t know what this feeling is or why I’m feeling it. Grayson is cute, sure, but he’s never shown any real interest in me before. And yes, he’s said a bunch of nice things these last few days, but I feel like it’s part of the role he’s playing in order to bring me back to life or something. My real question is: Why does he want to help me with this list so badly anyway? What’s in it for him? That’s the question I can’t answer and am too scared to ask.

  The two of us sit around and polish off the pizza. We watch TV for a little while, then he leaves so we can both get the rest we need to play golf in the morning. I lock up the apartment, turn everything off, and climb into bed. In the darkness, I can’t help but relive that feeling I had earlier. I let my imagination run wild, pretending that I gave in to my urges and actually kissed him. I can feel his soft lips against mine and feel his hot tongue as it slides into my mouth. I feel the way my breathing hitches in my throat and the way my heart nearly beats out of my chest. This sick feeling fills my stomach, but it doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t make me want to puke. Instead, it makes me want to kiss him for real—to experience a real kiss from someone I actually feel pulled toward.

  Even though I’ve dated and kissed many guys in my lifetime, I never really wanted them. I was drawn to them because they pretended to want me. But I never just saw a guy I wanted and reached out and took him. But with Grayson, that’s exactly what I want and exactly what I can’t have. If I did that, I’d ruin everything and then I’d have nothing. I can’t go back to nothing. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

  In the very early morning, it takes me extra-long to get ready given how tired I’m feeling. I take a shower in a weak attempt to wake myself up, however, the warm water only makes me want to curl up and go back to sleep. I fight against the urge and force myself to wash off and get ready. After getting out of the shower, I brew a pot of coffee and take a cup to the bathroom so I can fix my makeup and dry my hair. By the time I’m getting dressed, the clock is going on 5:30 a.m., and I know he’ll be knocking on the door any minute now.

  I quickly throw on some jeans and a polo shirt. I’m not sure what people wear to play golf, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t activewear. I push my hair behind my ears as I sit on the couch to pull on some shoes. That’s when I hear the knock at the door. I stand up with one shoe on and go to unlock it and pull it open. He’s smiling and happy as he looks down at me.

  He points at my foot. “I think you forgot something.”

  “My shoe?” I ask.

  “No, your pants.”

  Fuck. I look down at myself and realize I’m wearing a pair of jeans. “Ha ha, very funny.”

  He laughs. “You almost bought it though.”

  “I did buy it,” I point out. “It’s too early. Don’t harass me.”

  I walk back into the living room and sit on the couch to pull on my other shoe, and he sits at my side.

  “Ready to learn some golf?”

  “Yep. Although I don’t understand why I can’t learn golf at noon.”

  He rolls his eyes. “The course will be full by then. And I have a feeling it’s going to take you a while. We don’t want to hold people up.”

  “Of course we don’t,” I say, adding in some fake worry.

  He picks up on my sarcasm and gently pushes my shoulder. “Let’s go have some breakfast at the golf course.”

  The place isn’t far away, but it takes a while with the early morning traffic. I almost fall asleep a few times, but every time my eyes drift closed, Grayson makes the car swerve, or he randomly screams to scare the shit out of me. I smack him at least four times on the ride over.

  We finally make it and are able to climb out of the car. The sun is rising high in the sky and it’s bright, but there are lingering clouds from last night’s rainstorm.

  He leads me into the golf club and we’re immediately seated and given freshly-squeezed orange juice that’s been poured into champagne flutes. “Here are your menus,” the waiter says, setting them down on the table and leaving.

&nbs
p; I pick up my glass and take a sip. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything. The eggs are light and fluffy and the pancakes are thick and sweet. This is my favorite place to eat.”

  “Really? It seems a little stuffy,” I say, looking around at all the brilliant-white perfectly-pressed tablecloths.

  “The food is worth it,” he promises.

  I end up ordering a stack of pancakes and some scrambled eggs with a side of bacon. And he’s right. It’s the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten. I savor every bite and then want to do nothing but fall asleep. But we have golf to play, and Grayson isn’t letting me get out of it. He rents a golf cart and two sets of clubs. He drives us out to the first hole with some kid riding on the back of our cart.

  I lean in and whisper, “Who’s this kid and how do we shake him?”

  He laughs. “That’s our caddie. He hands us clubs and puts them away.”

  I roll my eyes. “See, now why didn’t I get a job like that?” I ask, smacking him across the chest with the back of my hand.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “If you could live off of what he makes, more power to ya.”

  When we arrive at the first hole, he gets me set up and I’m handed a golf club. I walk up to the ball and look down at it with no idea how to start or how to get the ball from here to way-the-fuck over there.

  “Here, let me help,” Grayson says, stepping up behind me. My hands are holding the club and he places his over mine as his chest presses against my back. I’m somehow aware of every spot where we’re touching: his hands on mine, his arms going down the length of mine, his chest on my back, and my ass pressed right up against his groin.

  Oh. Fuck.

  “Now, bend over slightly,” he says, pushing down on me so I bend with him, and when he does, a lightning bolt of tingles shoots through my body. This doesn’t feel like how you hit a ball. This feels like the beginning of something else entirely.

  “Now, pull your arms back smoothly,” he says, moving the club back.

  I feel something twitch against my ass and my cheeks burn hot as a sweat actually prickles my brow and the back of my neck. I’m so focused on the way his body is touching mine that I completely miss the moment I hit the ball. By the time I’m paying attention again, the ball is out of sight and he’s removing himself from me.