Book Boyfriend Series Collector's Edition Boxed Set

by Erin Noelle

  Ash stood on our doormat looking as incredible as always. True to his surfer boy image, his long sandy hair was messy and he had on a white Billabong long sleeved tee with holey, faded jeans and flip flops. He smiled brightly at me when I cracked the door and the dimples were activated. I stopped breathing momentarily as the sight of him mixed with his masculine scent flooded my senses. I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to explain his sudden appearance.

  “I get my best night’s sleep when you stay with me, and I can’t wait for next Saturday to get fully rested, so here I am. We can stay here if you want or I can take you back to my house. Either way, I just need you to be sleeping next to me.” Ash said matter-of-factly.

  I opened the door wide enough so that he could come in, and once he did, the first thing he did was look down at my body. “I’ll go put some other clothes on; come in and make yourself at home,” I said.

  I had no idea what to think about Ash showing up at my door, but one thing was for sure—this was by far the strangest night of my life. I was exhausted and told Ash as much. I apologized for not being much company, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Not fifteen minutes after he had knocked on my door, we were lying in my bed, our bodies fit together like a puzzle, John Coltrane playing softly in the background. Sleep took over quickly.

  I woke up several hours later at the sound of the front door closing. I looked at my alarm clock—it read 3:30AM. Evie was home. Weird. I hoped everything was okay with her and Max. Then I heard their voices and realized that Max was with her. I tried to go back to sleep, but my thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the happenings of the last couple of days. I had gone from making out with and giving a blowjob to Mason on Friday night to kissing Ash later that same night to spending Saturday afternoon and evening on a date and making out with Dylan, to spending the night with Ash in my bed Saturday night. In 36 hours I had gone from little-miss-goodie-two-shoes to a dirty whore. Okay, maybe not quite a dirty whore, but having three different guys’ tongues (and other body parts) in my mouth in that short amount of time was definitely good practice in becoming one. But instead of crawling out of my bed and working to maintain some dignity by moving to the couch, I curled up into Ash’s body and felt overall bliss from head to toe as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close to his body. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Get some sleep, butterfly, it’s still early. Stop over thinking everything.” And I did my best as I drifted off again.

  Sometime later I awoke to a male voice whispering my name in my ear. “Scarlett, Scarlett, wake up.” My eyes shot open. Ash was leaning over me, fully dressed. What was he doing in my room? The events from the previous day rushed through my mind and I remembered his early morning arrival. I closed my eyes and groaned. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost ten. I’ve got to get home and finish a paper or I’d take you to breakfast.” His face was still mere inches from mine and I wondered how his breath could be so sweet after just waking up. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

  “Kay. I’m going back to sleep. Bye,” I murmured.

  He chuckled and reached down to kiss my forehead. A few moments later I heard my bedroom door open and close, followed by voices in the living area and the closing of the main door. Uggghh. I had hoped that he could’ve left without Evie seeing him, but no such luck. I buried my head in my pillow and waited for her.

  Evie did not disappoint. Less than a minute later, my door swung open and I felt her climb in bed with me. She didn’t beat around the bush. “Dare I ask why when I last saw you, you were leaving here on a date with Dylan and then this morning as I’m getting some water, I see Ash leaving your bedroom looking like he just woke up?”

  “I plead the fifth,” I mumbled, still hiding under my pillow protection.

  “I hope you know what you are doing, Scarlett. Contrary to the ninety nine percent of the books that you read and movies you watch, in reality, things don’t always turn out all wrapped up with a perfectly tied bow. I know we like to joke around about it and draw parallels of our lives with these fictional characters, but this is real life, Sam, and I’m really worried about you getting hurt.” Her concern was evident in her voice. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  I pulled my head out and proceeded to tell her about how wonderful the date was but how Dylan started acting all weird, and then how I had forgotten to let Ash know that I wasn’t going to Jacob’s so he got worried . . . again.

  “He was so worried he had to come check on you here?” She lifted her eyebrows in disbelief. “You expect me to believe that y’all are still just friends after everything I’ve seen in the last two days?”

  “Nothing happened, Evie. I swear. We just slept, he didn’t even get here until after one,” I tried to explain.

  She was quiet for a minute and then said, “Look, like I told you yesterday and the day before that, do what you feel is right for you. I’ll be here to support you no matter what. I was just surprised to see him.”

  I nodded, knowing that she wished I would stay as far away from Ash as possible. She was well aware of my weakness and vulnerability when it came to him, as was I. Remembering her coming home in the middle of the night, I asked, “Hey, why did you come home at like 3:00 this morning, and was Max with you? I thought y’all were staying at his place.”

  “I got a headache and I didn’t have any medicine on me, so Max and I decided to just stay the night here. He’s still asleep in my bed”

  “A headache?” I blurted out. “I thought you had stopped getting them since you got the glasses?”

  “Dude, chill out,” Evie waved her hand like it was no big deal. “It wasn’t too bad, I think I got it because I didn’t have any caffeine yesterday. You know, like withdrawals or something.”

  “Please promise that you will tell me if you start getting them again like before,” I pleaded with her. There was something strange about her getting all of these headaches in the last few months when I could count on one hand the number she had endured in her lifetime previously.

  “I will, I will. Jeez, Scarlett. And don’t try to change the subject to focus on me. I believe we were discussing you and your slew of gorgeous guys . . .”

  “There is no ‘slew.’” I interrupted. “And I’m really tired of thinking and talking about them and what it all means all the time.” I had developed a headache myself trying to analyze and scrutinize my relationship with each of the guys that had recently entered my life. I obviously felt something for each of them, but I wasn’t sure exactly what that something was. “So beginning right now, I’m imposing a boy-free Sunday. Let’s do a bunch of girly things together like we used to. You in?”

  Evie looked over at her closed bedroom door and then back at me. A slow grin crept across her face, “That sounds awesome, but first I’ve got to get rid of Max.”

  “Oh, that’s okay Evie. I forgot he was here. If you were planning on hanging out with Max today, we can do it another time.” I tried hard to not allow my disappointment show in my voice, but it was impossible.

  “No, I was actually thinking we needed to do a movie marathon with our favorite vampires and werewolves before the next movie comes out next Thursday night. You up for chillaxing today?” She asked already knowing what my answer would be.

  “I need to change into my Team Edward t-shirt.” My face lit up at just the thought.

  “Okay, give me an hour and I’ll meet you on the couch,” she said, already walking toward her room.

  Evie and I spent the rest of that Sunday just as we had planned, on our couch stuffing our faces with popcorn and candy as if we were at an actual theater. I welcomed the refuge from my thoughts about my own life that were getting more and more complicated.

  Later that evening, my mom called inquiring about my plans for Thanksgiving. I wondered aloud if she was serious, where else was I going to go? She then proceeded to tell me how I wasn’t the daughter that she raised, how she couldn’t b
elieve that I could be so rude and unappreciative to the people who sacrificed everything for me . . . that was about the point I tuned her out. I wasn’t in the mood to really get into it with her so I just let her bitch until she finished.

  I just replied, “Okay, mom, you’re right. I’ll be there the day before and leave the day after. I gotta go study, see you then,” and hung up. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it forty two hours in her house. Yes, I had counted the hours. As far as I was concerned, it was going to be as close to torture as anything I had ever faced. I was depending heavily on my grandparents and my brother and his family to act as a buffer while I was there. I figured if things got too bad, I could always retreat to Evie’s house. For the first time since I had stood up to my parents, I began to second guess my actions. When I had envisioned the whole confrontation, there was much less yelling and much more understanding on their part. But since that wasn’t the way it happened, I was faced with these awkward family moments that I had never considered before.

  After hanging up on her, I picked up my guitar and immersed myself in my music, reveling in the sweet release. It didn’t escape me that I had spent most of the day engaged in activities that kept me from focusing on questions I needed to answer about what I was doing and what I wanted. But I wasn’t quite ready to have that talk with myself, so I opted for more music and less thinking. I literally played until my fingers hurt, and then I showered and got ready for bed. I checked my phone one last time before laying my head on the pillow . . . nothing.

  The next several days passed quickly with classes and time spent working on a History project I had due the following week. When I woke up Monday morning, I had a text from Ash waiting for me, wishing me a good morning and telling me that he had finally got the timing down for a song he had been working on. We had a quick exchange of messages, and miraculously, everything seemed to be back to normal with us, or back to pre-Friday since I really wasn’t sure what we were was really normal. Mason made my Tuesday by texting the following morning when I was in class, and I couldn’t help but chuckle when I later re-read our conversation.

  Mason (10:43AM): Morning, angel. You in class today?

  Me (10:45AM): Morning, lose the angel, and unfortunately, yes

  Mason (10:52AM): You aren’t going to win this one, angel—let it go. What time do you get out?

  Me (11:00AM): I will win Rat boy, and 1:00 but I’ve got to work on a project this afternoon. Why? What’s up?

  Mason (11:04AM): I like when you call me Rat. Want to grab a bite to eat tonight? You have to stop to eat, right?

  Me (11:06AM): Don’t worry, that will be the last time I ever call you that.

  Mason (11:07AM): What’s wrong with rats? Templeton was a cute little guy . . . he was always helping out that girl and the pig.

  Me (11:10AM): What’s wrong with rats? ARE YOU SERIOUS? Whats wrong with rats? Rats are disgusting, disease-infested, repulsive rodents. Ewww

  Mason (11:14AM): Cartoon rats, angel! Sweet, fluffy cartoon rats . . .

  Me (11:17AM): Like Pinky and the Brain? Two sweet, fluffy cartoon rats . . . ha!

  Mason (11:18AM): Mickey Mouse

  Me (11:20AM): Splinter

  Mason (11:23AM): Remy from Ratatouille

  Me (11:25AM): Jerry, he was a mean little shit to poor Tom

  Mason (11:29AM): Fievel Mouskewitz

  Me (11:37AM): You really know Fievel’s last name? You should be hiding somewhere in shame right now. Just wait until I share that tidbit of info with the rest of Jobu’s Rum.

  Mason (11:44AM): Haha, blackmail does not become you, angel.

  Me (11:50AM): It’s not blackmail if I don’t want anything in return

  Mason (11:54AM): Are you always so giving? Never wanting anything in return for yourself?

  Me (11:57AM): I’m good, I don’t need anything

  Mason (12:02PM): You don’t think you need anything, but I can show you otherwise . . . come to dinner with me tonight, I’ll show you a little of what you’re missing

  Me (12:15PM): Pick me up at 6:00

  Mason (12:15PM): Cool

  As soon as my last class ended, I rushed back to the apartment, anxious to get started on my project so that I could finish up in time to shower and freshen up before Mason picked me up. I was excited to see him again, not having to wait until Friday after all; however, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being more than a little nervous. When I had messed around with him the previous weekend, I truly didn’t think I would ever talk to him again, much less be having dinner with him four nights later. I wasn’t sure what he was going to expect from me. A repeat performance? More? I shuddered in anticipation just thinking about it.

  Evie had gone straight from her last class to a study group session with one of her other classes, so I was left to my own opinions while getting ready. The only other time Mason had seen me I was wearing Evie’s clothes, so I was curious to see his reaction when I was dressed in my own style. I was in a blue and white striped casual summer dress, as it was still in the high 70s here some nights, paired with none other than my old faithful boots. I braided my hair into two braids since I was pressed for time, and at five ’til six, a knock on the door pulled me from my final inspection in the bathroom mirror. I grabbed my purse and greeted Mason with a huge smile and an open-mind.

  “Oh, wow,” he said, not hiding the fact he was looking up and down my body. “You look even better than I remembered.” His words made my heart flutter, and when he stepped toward me and kissed me softly on the lips, my stomach began a string of endless somersaults. He looked exactly as I had remembered—tall, strong, handsome, and dangerous. He was dressed similar to how he had been on Friday, dark jeans and a solid gray fitted t-shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. I wondered if we looked a little mismatched. He definitely looked the part of a lead in a rock band with all of his tattoos and piercings, and I looked . . . well I kind of looked like a farm girl.

  “Damn, angel, the hair and the boots . . .” He lightly tugged on my pigtails, his eyes sparkled mischievously. “Are you trying to kill me?” I guess he liked the farm girl look.

  I shook my head and looked down at my feet. “Is this okay for wherever we are going?”

  “You look perfect. Come on, I have something I want you to see.” Mason grabbed my hand and led me down the hall and out to the parking lot. I looked around for his car as we approached the visitor parking area, but didn’t see it. Instead, a brand new black Harley Davidson was parked in the first spot of the paved section. I stopped walking and looked at him incredulously.

  “Tell me you didn’t buy a motorcycle.” It came out more like a question than a statement, but I already knew the answer. It was staring directly at me. He smirked and replied, “Well, I hated to disappoint you, angel. I just got it today.”

  I walked closer to it, inspecting it like I knew something, anything, about motorcycles. All I could tell is that it’s black and shiny and a Harley. I was glad that at least he hadn’t gotten a crotch rocket; there was no way in hell I was getting on one of those. “Why?” I wondered as I looked up in his slate eyes.

  “Well, now I’m the total package, right?” He waggled his eyebrows at me and I couldn’t help but throw my head back in laughter.

  “Your package was just fine before the bike,” I replied.

  He stepped behind me, pulled my back to his chest by wrapping his colorful arms around my mid-section, and seductively said in my ear, “I’m glad you enjoyed my package so much . . .”

  Giggling, I turned around to face Mason and loved seeing the playfulness in his expression. I draped my arms around his neck and attempted the same sultry voice that he had used moments earlier, “It’s the most magnificent package I’ve ever seen.” And I pressed a light peck at the corner of his mouth. He groaned and pulled my lips back to his, demanding a longer, more intimate kiss. “Don’t say things like that Scarlett. We’ll never make it to dinner,” he groaned into my mouth.

  I pulled
back a bit and looked down out my outfit, wondering if I should change out of my dress to get on the motorcycle. As if he could read my mind, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the parking lot. “Don’t even think about it. One of the main reasons I bought this damn thing is to feel your arms and legs wrapped around me while we ride. And it’s even better if you’re wearing a skirt.”

  I knew better than to think that he wouldn’t have a line of girls waiting to snuggle up to his chiseled body, but I was flattered that I was going to be the first on his new toy. At least I was going to be his first something.

  “Seriously, why did you buy the bike?” I asked.

  Mason shrugged his shoulders as if going out and buying a motorcycle was an everyday occurrence. “I’ve wanted one for a while so when you said something the other day about how you were surprised I didn’t have one, it made me wonder why I didn’t. So, I got one.”

  “Well, of course you did,” I said sarcastically. “Did you pick me up a car while you were out?”

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “Uh, no. My parents thought if I had a car, there would be a better chance of me sneaking out at night or running away,” I admitted.