As we made our way through the airport, my mother’s elbow locked in mine, Dylan updated me on his new construction business and Karlie’s teaching job at the elementary school.
“Karlie has a way with those special needs kids,” Mom intervened. “I swear God put her on this earth to help them.”
It was strange to hear Dylan talk about a woman the way he spoke of Karlie. I had only met her one time before I left for boot camp, and at that time, they had only been out a few times. I had no clue it would lead to anything. In fact, before her, his love life consisted of a constantly revolving door of women. A different flavor for each week…hell, each day sometimes.
I rode with Dylan back to his place while Mom, Dad, and Trey went home. We agreed to meet for dinner later, after I had settled in and had a few hours to rest. When I walked into Dylan’s apartment, I did a double-take. Everything about it felt unfamiliar, like I had never been there before.
The entire place had been repainted. The tattered blinds had been replaced with sheer curtains. The Pink Floyd and Metallica posters on his living room wall had been replaced with canvas paintings. His pea-green couch, the one that I always gave him shit about because it looked like it had been transported through a time warp from the year 1968, had been replaced with a brand new, beige, faux-suede one.
“Where the fuck am I, and what have you done with my brother’s apartment?” I barked out my confusion.
He chuckled, “Same four walls, bro. Just a different interior.” He set his keys on the kitchen breakfast bar and went to the fridge to grab two beers. “Look,” he said, handing me a Coors Light, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
I clicked open my can and raised my brows. “Okay, but first…is that an accent wall, dude? Are you a closet interior designer or something?” I took a swig. “You are, aren’t you? That beer can pyramid and stop sign décor was just a façade to cover up the truth about you, wasn’t it? I don’t know man,” I joked. “I don’t know if I can be brothers with someone who has interior fashion sense.”
The corner of my eye caught a framed photo on the end table by the couch. I turned my head to get a closer look. Then, I reached out and grabbed it. “Uh…tell me if I’m wrong. But this looks like a professional portrait of you and Karlie. Like you actually went somewhere and paid money to have your picture taken.”
“That it is,” he said simply and took a swig.
“Wow, man, it’s pretty serious with you two, huh?”
“Yeah.” He smiled the kind of smile that people only experience when they’re truly happy. Truly content. He shrugged as if he could barely believe it himself. “I love her. I want to spend my life with her. I asked her to marry me, Matt. And she said yes. Can you believe that shit? She’s so fucking out of my league, and she said yes. To me.” He pointed to the photo, “That’s our engagement picture. And she lives here. She’s the interior decorator, not me.”
I almost choked on the air. My brother…living with a girl? Not only that but…getting married? Was he shitting me? Maybe this was his form of a weird-as-fuck prank? As I studied the look on his face, I could tell there wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in it. He was telling the truth. He had fallen in love.
That was the moment that the idea—the possibility—of marriage entered my mind. Only I wasn’t thinking about the marriage of Dylan and Karlie.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“I wanted to tell you a hundred times, but it seemed too important to say over the phone or in an email. She’s not like the rest, Matt. And waiting to tell you in person seemed like the right thing to do.”
I gave him a hug. “I’m happy for you, man. Congratulations.
“Thank you.”
“Is she cool with me staying here with you? I don’t want to impose. I’m happy to go back to Mom and Dad’s.”
“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s fine. She encouraged it, actually. Said we needed to ‘reconnect,’” Dylan explained, comically gesturing air quotes. “Her words, not mine. But I swear, if she catches you jerking off on the living room couch or some shit like that, consider yourself homeless.”
~~~
I’d been home for a week before I saw Maya face to face. We had texted a few times, but my actual calls to her had gone ignored. Talk about a punch in the gut. In my desperate attempt to hold onto what we used to have, I came to a point where I found myself at the local jeweler to pick out an engagement ring.
Because there’s no better way to win back an estranged ex-girlfriend than to prove your commitment to her with a marriage proposal…right?
God, I was such an idiot.
The forty-something saleslady in the black pant suit and pinned-up, fire-engine red hair asked me all kinds of questions about Maya’s personality and the kind of jewelry she liked before pointing out the perfect ring. When she took the perfectly-sized, round-cut diamond with the silver-colored band out of the glass case and held it in front of me, I knew right away that Maya would love it.
Classic yet elegant. Modest yet striking.
Just like my girl.
After signing the paperwork for the payment plan, I followed Beth, the saleslady, to the register to pay the deposit.
“Thank you for your business, Mr. Langston,” Beth smiled as she handed me the bag that contained a little black box with the ring and my paperwork. “Best wishes on the proposal!”
I took the bag and thanked Beth for her help, vaguely noticing the door chime in the background. Having something tangible in my possession boosted the hope that if I try hard enough, things just might work out with Maya and me.
All that hope dissipated the moment I heard her voice. Or maybe it was the moment that followed.
“Matt?” A confused Maya asked from behind me.
I looked at Beth to gauge whether or not my mind was playing tricks on me. Had Beth heard Maya too, or was I just losing my damn mind? Apparently, Beth heard it too because her eyes and smile were now focused beyond me, to the source of Maya’s voice.
I turned around to see for myself.
Soft brown waves of hair that I recall had just touched her shoulders, now cascaded down her back. She had lost some of the baby fat in her cheeks, which made her look a hell of a lot more sophisticated. Her eyes had lost their innocence.
Yet, despite these differences, she was still the girl who entered my mind every time I had needed strength in the last year. Every time I drove through a roadside bomb, heard gunshots in the distance, or bullets whiz by.
At that moment, my reason to fight no longer occupied only my mind. She stood motionless in the flesh…at the local jeweler…two feet away from me, eyes wide, and as beautiful as I remember.
And she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Ten
~Chloe~
Present Day
The sound of metal clinking stirred me from my dreams. As I transitioned to consciousness, the divine scent of woodwork and Matt filled my senses, instantly reminding me of exactly where I had spent the night.
As my eyes squinted open and the blur in them gradually dissipated, I soaked up the beauty of Matt’s craftsmanship, the rich mahogany color of the stain he used on his wooden bedroom walls and the intricate details of the moldings and rosettes, all of it even more brilliant with the morning sunlight streaming along their grain.
With the memories of last night vivid in my mind…on my skin…in my heart…I lazily shifted to my side, a smile tickling my lips at the thought of kissing him awake.
But when I reached over to his side of the bed, I found that it was empty. My fingers grazed his pillow as if doing so would make him appear.
Clink.
Metal on metal again, the walls muffling the volume of it. What was he doing?
I raised my arms above my head and twisted my body into a stretch, the movement eliciting a deep yawn. As I breathed it out and slowly forced myself up to sitting, the sheet slipped from my body, the air on my chest reminding me that we had fallen asleep toge
ther last night, skin against skin, my heart beating in harmony against his, the sum of my being exposed in every kind of way.
Clink.
I stood from the bed, the cool wooden floor welcoming my toes as I glanced around the room, assessing the mess of clothes and we had discarded to the floor in the heat of passion. When my eyes landed on his bunched-up t-shirt, I froze.
The last time I saw a man’s t-shirt on the floor, I had picked it up and worn it like the desperate stalker I had become in lieu of that man’s newfound “love.” I cringed at the thought of the clingy mess of anxiety that particular rejection had turned me into. I never wanted to be that person again.
The thing was…with Matt, I didn’t feel like I had to cling on to him to make him stay. Didn’t feel like I had to force myself into his heart. Sure, I wanted to be there, but I wanted him to be happy more. Even if that meant letting him go.
Love is selfless, Chloe. Logan’s words from that dreadful morning replayed in my mind. When it’s real, it stops being selfish.
I understood what that meant now. I had never felt for Logan or Ryan what I feel for Matt. Never felt the need to give more than take, like I do with him.
Last night was truly the best night of my life. And even though it killed me to think it, I knew that last night was also a goodbye. I could see it in the way his eyes confessed it, feel it in the way his body revealed it, taste it in the way his mouth disclosed it.
Today would be the day he’d tell me that he was leaving me. Today he’d say that it’s over between us. Yet, although the thought of not being with him crushed my insides and squeezed my throat, I could accept it. As long as he’d be happy.
~~~
~Matt~
Present Day
Five…four…three…two…one…
My biceps burned with a vengeance by the end of the rep, but I kept going until I hit failure, making a mental note to use a heavier weight next time. I caught my breath as I leaned down to drop the barbell to the ground. Even though I carefully released it onto the cement floor of my basement, it still made a hell of a clink. Maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe it was my passive-aggressive way of waking Chloe so we could talk. So I could tell her about my offer and find out what she’d think…what she’d say.
Aw, hell, who was I kidding? There’s nothing passive about it. Or me.
As if on cue, just as I’d decided to man-up and grow some patience, Chloe appeared at the top of the basement stairway, fully nude, every perfect inch of ivory skin exposed, except for her hand which held some kind of fabric.
Holy fuck, this woman did things to me. I gulped down my heart—which had just jumped to my throat—a useless attempt to calm my thoughts and my body. Every inch of my skin pulsed at the sight of her and only got stronger with each step she took toward me. Just as she reached me, I blurted, “Christ, you’re beautiful.”
A reluctant smile tested her lips, the kind that’s forced, and it didn’t linger for long. Her eyes were tense and lined in doubt as she stared hard at the thing in her hand.
“Whatcha got there, Pink?”
Finally, those crystal blue eyes met mine, but only for a second before she broke the stare. “Your shirt. I—I was going to put it on, but I didn’t know if—well, I didn’t know how you’d—”
“You want to wear my shirt?” I asked, wondering what the big deal was about that.
She shrugged, “No—I mean, I don’t have to or anything. It was just lying there on the floor, and it looked comfortable... I just thought I’d ask first.”
I wanted to say you look better naked. Or, we don’t need clothes in this house. I wanted to let my body have its way, take her, kiss her with enough euphoric passion, and make love to her with enough searing intensity to take us both to another world—just like last night.
But that wasn’t what she needed right now. I could tell by her trembling hands and shallow breaths that, for whatever reason, this was important to her.
So instead, I kissed her forehead and let my fingers lift her chin so that she’d look at me. “It’s yours, Chloe. You can have it, wear it, keep it…burn it for all I care. It’s yours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.” I pressed my lips together to stop them from making contact with hers.
God, she was close. I could feel the heat coming off her bare skin…taste the kiss I just gave her…smell the faint citrus fragrance that still lingered on her. Back away, Langston. Back up, before you make a dick move. This moment is hers…not yours. If she wanted me the way I wanted her right now, she’d have to make the first move. Not me. Not this time.
“My workout is done.” I turned away and grabbed the white hand towel from my weight bench. “I’m gonna hit the shower.” Cold shower. Ice. Cold. “It won’t take long. Make yourself at home.”
As I threw the towel around my neck and began to walk past her, I caught her smile. And this time, it was the authentic kind that reached her eyes.
“You want company?” she asked in a sultry voice that stopped me in my tracks and let me know her moment of insecurity had passed. Thank Christ.
~~~
~Chloe~
Present Day
We stayed in the shower, touching, tasting, cherishing every last moment we had with each other, until the hot water turned cold. After we dressed—him in black boxer briefs and me in just his shirt—we made our way to the kitchen to see what he had to eat because, let’s face it, the last hour had left us both famished.
I opened his refrigerator door, surprised to see it somewhat full. And with healthy food nonetheless.
“How ‘bout omelets?” I asked, eyeing the eggs, peppers, mushrooms, and onions.
Plates clinked as he pulled the dishes out of the cupboard. “You read my mind, baby.”
I bit my smile and grabbed the ingredients out of the fridge. “Will you ever stop with the pet names?”
He shrugged with a grin, “Hell no. I am who I am, baby. Love me or leave me.”
As I carried the omelet makings to the counter, our eyes met, the truth behind his words hitting us both, sucking the air out of the room. I already knew I loved him and that I could never leave him. Just like I already knew that he’d be the one to leave me.
I broke the connection and brushed past him, emptying the contents in my arms onto the countertop with a sigh. As much as I wanted to ignore the massive elephant in the room, I had to face reality. Matt had something to tell me, and I had put it off long enough. Now was the time to rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.
“It’s tomorrow,” I blurted.
“That it is,” he replied.
“Today is the day you tell me what you want to tell me.”
He leaned his backside onto the counter and crossed his arms. With a slight nod, he said, “Yeah.”
“Look, Matt,” I turned to face him, “I know you what you’re going to say, and it’s okay. I know what this is between us, and I know where it’s going, and I’m not going to latch onto you like some love-sick puppy. So you don’t have to worry.”
His face contorted to a mixture of confusion and amusement. He raised his brows as if to say, go on.
“What I’m trying to say,” I continued, “is that it’s okay. I mean, it’s okay to walk away from me if that’s what you need to do. Whatever it is, I’m not going to stop you or make you feel guilty, and I won’t be mad at you for leaving.” I’ll just be heartbroken as hell, that’s all. “I want you to do whatever it is that you want to do, and as your friend, I want to support you.”
In an instant, he turned angry and took me by the arms. He backed me into the fridge, pressing his body against mine, making me gasp at the enticing contact. “Is that what we are, Pink? Friends?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before any words came out, his mouth enveloped mine, sending my already-heightened libido into a delicious frenzy.
He pulled his wet lips away from my mouth and brought them to my neck, kissing and tasting h
is way up. After circling his tongue around my earlobe, he whispered, “Because that’s all I thought we were at first too. But that’s bullshit, isn’t it? You know it just as well as I do. We’re a little more than just friends, aren’t we, Chloe?”
With a soft moan, he grinded against me again, this time biting my ear. With only the fabric of his boxers and the t-shirt I wore separating us, I could feel just how turned on he was. Even after having him all night last night, and all morning this morning, I still wanted more of him. Apparently, the feeling was mutual. His hands found my hips, and his rough palms traveled up to my waist, lifting my shirt with them, exposing my bottom half.
He pressed against me yet another time, the pressure on my now-bare skin forcing a whimper out of my throat. Just as I was about to agree with him and tell him, “Yes, we’re so much more,” the doorbell rang. His muscles tensed, and he stopped, dropping his forehead beside me and against the refrigerator.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, removing his grip on my waist and pushing himself off me. “You need to get dressed.”
With his withdrawal, the t-shirt dropped back down, its fabric covering me. The disappointment in my voice was obvious when I said, “What? Why? Who’s here?”
That’s when he stared me in the eye, and I saw something in his expression that I had never seen in him before. Was it doubt? Concern? Hope? All of the above?
“Just get dressed,” he continued. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Okaaay?” I questioned. When he refused to answer me, I rolled my eyes and headed towards the stairs to his bedroom to do as he said.
On my way up the stairs, I heard him open the door and greet whoever it was. The voice that answered him brought me to a screeching halt.
“What the fuck, dude? Clearly you’re happy to see me, but Christ, I can’t even look at you until you put some fucking clothes on.”
Logan. What the hell was Logan doing here?
The Fragile Line: Part Two (The Fine Line #3) Page 8