by J. D. Rivera
I began unzipping my purse to retrieve my wallet, but Brad handed him his card. “What are you doing?” I questioned.
“Buying you a battery,” he answered with a smirk.
“No, you’re not. I can buy my own battery.”
He shook his head and nodded at the guy behind the counter to proceed. I huffed as the guy handed Brad back his card and gave him the receipt to sign. It was sweet, but I wasn’t a charity case.
Brad grabbed the battery and we exited the store. “You can buy me a coffee sometime or something.”
“Yeah. That sounds even,” I retorted, climbing back into his truck.
When we got back to Mario’s, Brad said, “Pop the hood,” and proceeded to change my battery. His sex appeal went up a couple notches as I watched him work under the hood. He’s so sexy. In what felt like a few short minutes but could’ve been longer, he was finished. “Start her up,” he instructed as he looked at me with one hand resting on the car. I got inside and cranked the car, bringing it to life. Thank goodness he was right about the battery. I really didn’t want to call my parents to ask for money.
I had always had a great relationship with my parents, until I got involved with Preston. After the night I wrecked my truck, it was never the same. They didn’t seem to trust me and I couldn’t blame them.
“I’ll follow you home,” Brad said as he leaned inside my open door. I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, he looked even sexier. Maybe it was because I had just seen him under the hood of my car, or maybe it was the grease on his hands, I had no idea, but I had the urge to kiss him. I shook my head to rid myself of that thought. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m following you,” he informed me before shutting the door and walking to his truck. I took a deep breath and pulled out of the parking lot. I needed to get a grip and quit thinking about Brad in a sexual way. He was just a nice guy and he didn’t know the real me—the idiot who always made the wrong decision.
My phone began to ring from the passenger seat where I had tossed it. I grabbed it and looked at the screen, wishing I had ignored it, but I couldn’t help but chuckle a little too. After Preston had called me the other day, I had programmed “Poco Richard” into my phone. I thought it was funny to use the Spanish word for little as the first name and knowing Richard shortened to dick made me giggle.
Even though the name had made me laugh, I felt like I was going to puke as I tossed my phone back onto the seat. I could feel my heartbeat start to accelerate and I tried to calm myself down.
I was clean and I needed to stay that way, I told myself, over and over again. Brad—the sexy guy who would never date an ex-user—was behind me, making sure I made it home safely. Treating me with kindness, something Preston hadn’t done in a long while.
I pulled into my apartment complex, finding an empty parking space. Taking one last deep breath, I grabbed my belongings and exited the car. Brad walked around an SUV parked beside me, his hazel eyes shining in the light from the lamppost. He was breathtaking. I want him so much.
“Thank you for the battery and the help. That was really kind of you,” I told him, looking down at the pavement.
He placed a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Are we friends?” I blurted without thinking.
Dropping his hand, he took a deep breath. “Sure. Remember, though, you owe me a coffee.”
“I have coffee.” Had I really just invited him inside? Holy shit, he was going to think I was some sort of slut. Wasn’t inviting someone in for coffee code for lets have sex? “I mean, actual coffee. Not that I would mind…yeah, I have coffee.” Oh my gosh. I was a dumbass.
He grinned. “That would be nice.”
Chapter 8
Brad
What the fuck was I doing? I could tell she was attracted to me by the way she was acting—weird one moment, then cute the next. She had no idea how mutual that attraction was. Fuck! This is going to end badly.
Her shocked expression told me she wasn’t really prepared for me to say yes. Neither was I. “Okay,” she replied.
I followed her up a set of stairs and waited for her to unlock the door. She opened the door and I wasn’t ready for the floral aroma that hit my nose. I glanced around and I swear every free space had a flower of some sort sitting there. What the hell?
“Umm. I hadn’t really pegged you for a flower girl.”
She laughed. “And why not?”
“I…I don’t know.”
She dropped her purse on the coffee table. “I’m not. That’s all my roommate.” She walked into the kitchen. “It’s late. Do you want something other than coffee?”
You have no idea. “Whatever is fine,” I replied as I took a seat on the couch.
“Do you like lemonade? I could make some really quick.”
I could fuck you really quick. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
She nodded and started digging around in the cabinets as I looked around the living room. It looked like her roommate had taken over the space. I didn’t see anything that looked like it could be Miranda’s. You don’t even know her. That thought was sobering, but true. I didn’t know anything about her except her taste in music and movies. Besides sharing a friend, we probably didn’t have much in common.
“That smell is overwhelming. How do you not live with a constant headache?” I asked.
“I guess I’ve just gotten used to it. I lived with Kristin last year in the dorms as well,” she said, mixing the lemonade. “Sometimes, the scent can be relaxing.”
“I’ll just have to trust you on that.”
She came back into the living room carrying two glasses of lemonade. Handing me one, she sat down on the couch next to me since I had sat in the middle. I didn’t really want to think about my motives.
“I really appreciate your help tonight.” She bit her lip then looked at me. “Are you sure you weren’t on a date?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “No. I wasn’t on a date. Do you really think Sally would be my type?” Sally was nice, but not that attractive.
“I don’t know. Maybe she has a really good personality.”
I took a drink and shook my head. “She could probably drink whole milk if she wanted to.”
Her eyebrows bunched in. “What? ...Napoleon Dynamite. I totally forgot that part.” She started giggling and it was seriously the best sound in the world.
“That took you a minute,” I said, trying not to smile. Just being around her made me feel…happy and I had no clue why.
“Okay, so you know things about me—”
“Not enough,” I interjected without thinking.
“You still know more about me than I do about you. I think it’s my turn to ask all the questions.”
“I’m an open book.”
She leaned forward and grabbed an elastic hair band from the table. Her shirt inched up, displaying smooth skin I instantly wanted to touch. I fisted my hands as I watched her place her hair in a messy bun. “So, what do you want to know?” I asked as I took another drink.
She placed her finger on her bottom lip and tapped it. I took another sip in an attempt to control the urge to replace her finger with my lips. “What’s your favorite music?”
“I like everything I guess. I listen to a lot of country though, and hard rock.”
“Please tell me you’re not like Mackenzie and listen to that old country.”
I laughed. “No. Well, I mean, I do like some of it. You can never go wrong with a George Jones song.”
She bit her lip and it took everything in me not to tell her to quit messing with it. This girl was fucking with me in more ways than I could fathom and she had no idea. Instead, I focused on a seriously weird painting across the room. “I guess some of it is okay.”
“What the hell is that painting?” I asked, pointing to it.
“I have no idea. It’s kinda creepy. If you can’t already tell, Kristin d
id the decorating.”
“No shit.”
“Anyways, I already know you like Scarface—”
“Best movie ever.”
“Yeah. So, I know you’re a homicide detective. What else is there to know?”
What was there to know about me? I worked constantly and that was about it. I was boring. “I like—” The door banged open, interrupting me. A very angry girl marched inside, screaming, “I fucking hate Adam!” Her eyes went wide when she finally noticed me sitting there. “I am so sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Adam is a real douche.” I winked.
She sighed. “He so is. He’s an ass. An ass I can’t stop dating.”
I looked over at Miranda. Her big brown eyes were wide as she chewed the inside of her cheek, seeming at a loss for what to do or say. Her eyes darted to me, then back to her friend. “I’m sorry, Kristin. You’re way too good for him.”
“I know I am. But, apparently, I like to torture myself. It’s his chest. No, it’s his ass.”
“Okay…” Miranda interrupted. “I think…I have something…to show you, Brad,” she stammered out before grabbing my hand and pulling me up.
I smiled. “It was nice meeting you,” I told her roommate as I followed Miranda down the hallway.
“You, too,” I heard her say as Miranda shut the door behind us.
She leaned her head back and blew out a breath. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I looked around the room, which was the complete opposite of the living room and kitchen area. Not one flower in sight and barely even decorated. “So, you had something to show me?”
She cringed and her face flamed. She was adorable when she was embarrassed. “Relax. I was just kidding.”
“Oh.”
I sat down on her bed and stared at her. She was definitely gorgeous. Whatever guy finally got her would be a very lucky man. Why can’t that guy be me? Nineteen.
Sitting down beside me, she scooted back toward the headboard. “So, you were going to tell me about yourself.”
“I was?” I asked, scooting back next to her.
She laughed a little. “Yes. When’s your birthday?”
“It’s in two weeks. August thirteenth.”
“How old will you be?” Why the fuck did she have to ask me that? Too old for you.
“Twenty-nine.”
“That’s funny. Mine is August twenty-eighth. Two weeks and a day apart.”
I pushed a piece of her hair off her face and held her stare. “And how old will you be?”
Breathlessly, she replied, “Twenty.” I leaned in, only an inch away from kissing her perfect lips when her phone buzzed from the nightstand.
Abruptly, I pulled back. “You should check that.” I needed a second to get a hold of myself. I really wanted to leave, but after what had just happened, she’d know why I was bolting.
“It was just Gage. Nothing important.” A surge of jealousy came over me at the mention of some other guy’s name. I knew I had no right, but I couldn’t stop the reaction.
I nodded as if I didn’t care and glanced around the room. My eyes landed on the stack of books resting on her desk. “What did you say your major was again?”
“I…uh…want to major in education.”
“Ah, teach little kids?”
“Actually, no. I’d like to teach middle school or high school English. I love reading…but the real reason…” she trailed off.
“What’s the real reason?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She looked at the comforter and started picking at the seam. “I’d like to make a difference in someone’s life. Middle school is where things start to get tough, socially. I’d like to be the teacher who lets kids know they are worth something.”
Wow. Something told me that maybe she had been that kid once. I cocked my head to the side and studied her. She was such a mix. One moment, she’s full of life and joking, and the next, she seemed so lost and broken—which only made me want to get to know her more. “That’s wonderful.”
She shrugged. “Everyone has to do something, I guess. Why did you want to be a homicide detective?”
I shifted on the bed and lay my head on her pillow. It smelled like heaven. It was official: I had reverted back to being a teenager, hormones and all. “When I was younger, our neighbor was murdered. It was a home invasion.”
“I’m so sorry. That must’ve been traumatic.”
“I was close to him, so it was like losing a member of my family.” I smiled to ease the conversation. “That was a long time ago, though. I’m fine.”
“Good,” she replied.
We were both silent and I started thinking about the few conversations I had with her previously. We met for the first time months ago at a Chickie’s Chicken when Hayes and Mackenzie were still working things out. Miranda and I talked while Hayes and Mackenzie worked on their shit. The conversation that night had flowed, but we talked about things of unimportance, which still hadn’t changed. The only thing that had changed was my growing attraction for her. I had thought she was beautiful and special from the beginning, but now I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop wanting to see her and talk to her about all the little unimportant things.
“You’re in deep thought,” she said, breaking through my mental fog.
“Yeah,” I answered, remembering the conversation we had at the party. “Did you still want me to give you shooting lessons?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love it.”
“I have some land we could go practice at. It’s just south of here, not far at all.”
Her face lit up. “That would be great. I really want to learn. It looks like it’d be a fun hobby. Or a great stress reliever.”
Something in her voice was alarming. “Is everything okay?”
“Um…yeah. You know, school gets stressful and it would be nice to have an outlet.”
I took her hand in mine—I had no idea why—and squeezed. “You just seem like…there may be a reason you want to learn how to shoot.”
Her eyes fell to the comforter then back to me. “Besides it being fun? I guess it never hurts to be safe.”
That was true, but there was something else. Something she wasn’t saying. Not wanting to push, I said, “Okay,” dropping the subject.
“Do you wanna watch TV? Or maybe Netflix?” she asked.
“I’m always up for a good action flick,” I said, getting more comfortable.
She wound up turning on Netflix, finding an action movie for us to watch. The storyline was stupid and the special effects were awful. At some point, I must’ve drifted to sleep because the next thing I knew, I was waking up beside her. The feel of her body next to me felt nice—like it was meant to sleep next to mine. The clock on the nightstand read three a.m. I debated whether or not to leave, but in the end, I snuggled up closer to her and fell back asleep.
It wasn’t the smartest idea, but couldn’t find it in me to care. I’d deal with my guilt later.
Chapter 9
Miranda
The next morning, I woke up with a note laying on my pillow.
Sorry. I had to run.
It was nice talking with you last night.
-Brad
It was the brush off I had expected. Honestly, I was surprised he stuck around for as long as he had. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed last night. Waking up in the middle of the night with his arm draped over my body and his warm chest pressed against my back had made me feel more balanced than I had in years. I couldn’t explain it. Every day felt like more of a struggle than the last. Everything became about routine, going through the motions until it was time to go to sleep and do it all over again. And Preston showing back up in my life didn’t help anything. It actually made me feel worse…unsure, trapped. But with Brad, there was an ease in my mind. The weight I carried didn’t feel like the burden it truly was. It was only too bad I could never have that feeling permanently.
I audibly sighed and got up to make my morning coffee. Yawning, I pulled a muffin out of the plastic carton and started to peel away the wrapping as Kristin swept into the kitchen. “Who was the hottie?”
I finished peeling off the cup and took a bite. I chewed and swallowed before answering. “His name is Brad. He’s Mackenzie’s friend.”
“Not your friend?” she asked, grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet.
I took another bite then grabbed my cup of piping hot coffee, shaking my head. “No. My car was having problems and he helped me fix it.”
“Mmm, okay.”
“What does that mean?” I questioned, stirring the creamer into my coffee.
She shrugged. “It’s just that he went and hung out in your room last night and didn’t leave until this morning. If you don’t want to admit you’re having sex with him, you don’t have to. But if I were having sex with that hot ass, I’d scream it from the rooftops.”
I took a drink and shook my head at her. “Trust me, I wish I were. We just talked and fell asleep. Sorry to disappoint, but nothing else happened. He didn’t even tell me goodbye. Just left me a note.”
“Oh. What did the note say?”
I sighed. “That he had to run,” I told her, hurt lacing my voice. I cringed, hoping she didn’t pick up on it. But the truth was, his little note hurt. How hard would it be to wake someone up and actually tell them goodbye? I felt like a whore who didn’t even get laid.
“Are all guys assholes?”
“Yes,” I replied as I walked to the couch and grabbed the remote. I was going to veg out until I met up with Mackenzie. I turned on Netflix and picked out a TV series to watch. Netflix had become another addiction, but one I didn’t mind in the least.
“What’s this?” Kristin asked as she plopped down beside me.
“I don’t know. Some comedy.”
A few hours and one season later, I decided to take a shower. I had left my phone on my nightstand and noticed it was lit up as I walked into my room.
Gage: What’s up?
Why the hell was he texting me? Because he has a crush on you and flirting leads him on.