Oh no.
“Was it that bad?” he asks with a smirk. I’m not sure what has prompted him to ask that question, but I can’t speak. I can hardly breathe. When he reaches over and brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek, I realize that I’m crying—I’m crying, and his touch is so gentle, and I know I should move away from him but I can’t move!
Oh no.
“Addie?” he chuckles. “Please, say something.”
“That was—that was—great,” I barely manage. My brain is moving a million miles per hour. I wish I could offer him more, I wish I could tell him why it was so great, but I can’t! I’m far too distracted. My head is full of the most unexpected, scary, and potentially earth shattering thought.
I think I’m falling for him.
Holy. Crap.
I think I like him!
His hand falls away from my cheek and by the look on his face I know—I know I just said that out loud. Now, all the words in my head are gone except for one.
Shit.
“Do you hear it?” The sound of his velvety voice distracts me only for a second.
Maybe he didn’t hear me? I search his face, desperate to figure out what he’s thinking, and I pray that he didn’t hear me—that my thoughts were mine and mine alone. Only I can’t decipher the expression on his face. Suddenly, I want to be anywhere but here! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel like I might be going insane.
“Do you hear it?” he repeats.
“Hear what?” I ask, shaking my head at him.
“My heart.” He coughs out a laugh, but I can tell he’s not amused. “I think it might just beat right out of my chest.”
He heard me. I know that for sure, now. Even worse—I know now that Claire and Sarah were right. He likes me, too.
I feel like I might faint.
He doesn’t even have to say the words. I just know and it’s like a shock to the system. Admitting that I reciprocate his feelings is my confirmation that I’m going crazy—I must be, because I feel like my heart has just betrayed me. Knowing that I still love Beckham, and yet I’m here in this moment with Roman—
“I need some air.” I have no trouble moving now as I feel like I might throw up and then faint. I’m out of his room and headed for the front door in an instant. The second I’m outside, I plop down onto the cement step and drop my head between my knees. When I feel Roman sit down beside me, my stomach tingles and my heart breaks at the same time. When he rests his hand on my back, the tears come.
I cry harder—not simply because it’s happening, and not even because it’s happening while in the presence of Roman—but because it’s happening in the presence of only Roman. I’m having a private meltdown with Roman.
I’m so confused. Everything feels so jumbled. Since I can’t make heads or tails of what it is that is going on, I just keep crying. At this point, it seems like my best option.
When did this happen?
How did this happen?
Why did this happen?
What does this mean?
“Hey, Addie, it’s okay.”
“No,” I mutter. “I don’t know that it is.”
“Look at me.” I shake my head, but then he moves and kneels down in front of me. The sight of his bare feet takes me back to the first time we met. He’s always been so wonderful with me and my tears have never scared him away. When he reaches between my legs and finds the tip of my chin, he then guides my face up so that I’m looking at him. He’s handsome. I won’t deny that. I never have before and I won’t now—but I wish that the sight of him didn’t send me into a tailspin. I wish I could take it back—my feelings. But even if I took the words back—and, let’s face it, by the way I’m acting, he wouldn’t believe me if I did—the retraction wouldn’t change my heart.
My heart—the two-timing slut.
“We’re friends,” Roman says, pulling me from my thoughts. “That doesn’t have to change.” His words calm me down, but only enough to stop my tears. I’m still freaking out on the inside and I think he knows it. “Listen, it only has to get complicated if we make it complicated. You mean a lot to me and I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you, either,” I whisper. It’s true. I really don’t want to lose him because, like he said, we’re friends. He means a lot to me, too.
“Okay, then. That’s all that matters right now.”
I sigh, reaching up to dry my cheeks. I want to believe that’s true, but something tells me it’s not. “Maybe I should go,” I murmur reluctantly.
“Or—you could stay. I could teach you one of my songs.”
Just looking at him, I know that I should go—not because I want to run away from my desire to curl up into his arms and find comfort there, but because I want to do the exact opposite. My head is a mess and I need to sort through what’s going on up there. At the same time, I’m not sure if I have the power to conjure the will to leave. I came to hear him play and that’s what I want to do. So, I decide to shove all my feelings into an imaginary closet in my head and lock the door. I’ll deal with them later.
This semester is turning out to be a lot harder than I was anticipating. Sometimes I wonder why I was looking forward to it. The only answer I can come up with is that I didn’t know how hard it would be to balance school work and practice time and a grad school applications and a boyfriend—who has to juggle school work and grad school applications and football.
Ugh—football.
For most of my life, I could care less about football and then Sonny happened. I don’t know that I love the sport now, but I appreciate it; furthermore, I love my QB and I think watching him play is amazing. He’s such a great leader and seeing him out on that field, watching him as he surrenders himself to the game, it’s actually really hot. Not to mention his focus, dedication, and determination; honestly, I think football has taught him a lot and it’s helped shape him into the man that he is. I’ve come to understand that his sport, and all that comes with it, has been more of a parent to him than either Patrick or Rhonda have ever been.
All that being said, I think I liked football more when Sonny and I were just friends. Now I have to share him with it—his first love. I never thought I would be jealous of a pigskin ball, but I am. Over the summer, I got so spoiled. Sure, we each had work and he had practice, but it was still totally possible to see each other every day. Even if that meant sacrificing a little bit of sleep. Date nights were not something we had to go out of our way to plan—they just happened. Okay, maybe it took a little more effort than that; but in comparison to how it is now, it felt easier.
Mid-terms are next week and I can honestly say that I’ve never been more excited for the month of September to be over. I usually love fall time in Colorado and I relish every single moment that we get. The weather is perfect—not too hot, not too cold—and the colors that proclaim the end of another season are breathtaking. It’s like I live in the middle of a canvas where God just goes wild with all the yellow, orange, and red leaves that fall from the trees and blanket our wonderful town. And while I do find myself walking around campus slower these days, taking it all in, I can hardly wait for winter.
Every time Sonny has an away game, he’s gone for a couple of days. So far he’s left me for Idaho, Massachusetts, and this weekend, Nevada. Sure, that all on its own doesn’t sound so bad. He always FaceTimes me when he’s gone, which I think is so sweet. When he’s here, in study mode, he insists that we study together. Not that I need convincing. That’s just part of the struggle, though.
Some days, even though we live right next to each other, we don’t see one another. I hate text days—where all we can manage is a text here and there. Then, sometimes when we hang out, we’re just too tired to do anything. It’s the worst when one of us is tired or grumpy and the other one isn’t; that always seems to open the door for a stupid argument. We get over it, of course, staying true to our vow to not go to bed angry at each other, but it’s just…hard.
I get it. I get it that this is normal, that my relationship can’t be my whole life and vice versa. Sometimes, it just feels like we’re not on the same page—like everything else is getting in the way, only we can’t figure out how to stop it and so we grow apart just a little bit—at least, that’s what it feels like. There are gaps that are created, things we forget to tell each other and moments we wish we could share with one another but we can’t; it’s just hard to fill in the empty space.
Also, it’s quite possible that, given my sour mood, I’m completely exaggerating. It’s been a long week and all I want right now is to snuggle with my man and he’s not here. Plus, to make matters worse, I missed Sonny’s call this morning. When I finally got a hold of him later, he had about five minutes to talk to me. Knowing that I’m supposed to start my period any day, I’m aware that my frustration is easily peeked right now; but I can’t help but feel annoyed. Literally, can’t help it.
“Hey, what are you doing still hiding out in here?” asks Sarah, interrupting my thoughts. She’s standing in my doorway in her pajamas with a big bowl of popcorn. “Claire should be here any minute.” Tonight, we’re having a girls’ night. It’s actually kind of a relief, since I probably shouldn’t be stewing all by myself right now. Claire is coming over and we’re going to watch the CSU vs Nevada game on TV while we help her with wedding stuff. She and Jack finally picked a date for their big day and they’ll be getting married May thirtieth.
Sarah smiles at me when there’s a knock at the door. “Come on, sweetie, she’s here.” I set aside the homework I wasn’t doing and crawl off my bed, following her into the living room. I gasp when I see a plate of brownies on the coffee table. “Our cycles are synced,” Sarah says in response, offering me a wink. “I knew you’d be PMSing this weekend and that Grayson’s absence would make it worse.”
“You are incredible,” I tell her as I reach for a warm square of chocolaty goodness. “Marry me?”
She laughs as she opens the door. “I love you, but I’m not a home wrecker. You’ll just have to wait for Gray to ask you.”
“Gray to ask who what?” asks Claire in greeting. Her arms are full of magazines and her wedding planner binder; she’s also got a bottle of wine clutched in one of her hands. Her hair, which is getting longer since she’s decided to grow it out for the wedding, is pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She’s in a pair of baggy sweats—I’d bet anything they belong to Jack—and her Davis’s Future Wifey shirt. Seeing her attire makes me smile, because I’m wearing my O’Conner’s Shorty shirt, too.
“Ooh, I’ll take this and get some glasses,” says Sarah as she takes the wine and sets down the popcorn. “And I was talking about Gray asking Ave to marry him.”
Claire beams at me as she shuts the door behind her. “You’re next. I just know it.”
I blush and shove another bite of brownie into my mouth. I always imagined that Addie would be first. Marriage has been a conversation between her and Beckham for years; and even though they aren’t together right now, it still never really crossed my mind that I would beat her down the aisle. As scary as it might be to admit, I hope Claire is right. Not that I feel like it’s a race—I just really like the idea of spending forever with Sonny.
We haven’t really talked about marriage. Not intentionally. We know it’s something each of us wants, and it’s assumed that we want it with each other, but right now getting through the semester seems to be about all we can handle. Choosing to go to graduate school together is pretty big, so I’m okay with the fact that we haven’t discussed marriage in detail. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t thought about it. I think about it more than I’d ever admit to anyone. My thoughts and visions aren’t derived from an anxious or impatient place, it’s more like a dream state. I dream about life after college and the places he and I might go; I dream about living together and not having to say goodbye to each other at the end of the night; I dream about sharing the same space and taking care of each other…
“You know it, too,” says Claire with a giggle as she hip checks me. I didn’t even realize she had made her way across the room and I’m startled out of my thoughts at her contact. I watch as she dumps her load in the empty space on the coffee table and then sits down on the couch.
“We haven’t talked about it,” I mutter lamely after I swallow my all but forgotten bite of brownie.
“Please,” she scoffs, tugging at my wrist and pulling me down beside her. “You’re the air he breathes. Trust me, it’s only a matter of time. Besides, I’m sure he’s dying to get into those panties of yours.” I suck in a breath of air, surprised by her comment, and I swallow wrong. Claire bursts into a fit of laughter as I choke on my spit. “I’m teasing! Sort of.” When Sarah comes over with three empty wine glasses and the now open bottle of wine, she arches an eyebrow at Claire who starts laughing again. “Okay. Yeah—I’m not teasing.”
I cast a glare at Sarah, silently communicating my feeling of betrayal, and she shrugs as she pours. “Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you don’t want to rip his clothes off every now and again?”
My jaw drops as my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. I refuse to answer that question—even to myself. Okay, maybe I can admit to myself that my hands like the way his skin feels underneath his shirt and exploring his chiseled torso definitely intensifies a shared kiss between the two of us…but we have boundaries. So even though I’ve thought about taking his shirt off while in the heat of the moment, I never have. And even though I know without a doubt that he’s wanted to take mine off, he never has either. Mostly because I get incredibly nervous the more intimate he becomes and he knows it; but I also would like to believe that he’s simply keeping his promise to wait.
I shake my head and scatter my thoughts before taking a glass of wine off of the coffee table. “Can we talk about something else?”
Claire giggles, reaching for her own glass and the remote. “Sure.” She flips on the television and hunts for the channel where we’ll be able to view the game. “By the way, where’s Addie?”
“She went to church with Roman. She said she’d be here a little later,” answers Sarah.
The room grows silent as soon as the words fall from her mouth.
I sneak a peek at Sarah to gage her feelings on the matter, but I can’t get a read on her. She’s gotten very good at masking her thoughts when it comes to Roman. I know that at one point she liked him, but I’m not sure if that’s changed over the past several weeks. I hope that it has. I think she’s far too beautiful and sweet and intelligent to be left pining over some guy who can’t see what he’s missing.
Yeah. That’s who Roman has become to me. Some guy.
Honestly, it’s not his fault—but I can’t help the way that I feel any more than he can.
Apparently I was late to the party, but it was brought to my attention that Roman has feelings for my sister. I don’t blame him. In my opinion, Addison Jane Grant is a catch—only not his catch. I think for a while I didn’t want to see it, so I didn’t. Then one night a couple weeks ago, we were all at Cooper’s while he was working, and I watched Addie flirt with him. Suddenly, my eyes were opened. I happened to mention my observation of Roman to Claire one day and she confirmed my suspicions. Granted, it’s not like she knows firsthand, or anything, but when she told me that Sarah saw it, too, I decided that our opinion was as good as fact.
Addie’s feelings, on the other hand, are not so easily interpreted. I’m ninety percent sure that I’m the only one who sees it. Call it twin intuition. The worst part is, I’m not even sure that she sees it—but I’m pretty sure that she likes him. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Sonny, but I’ve definitely got my eye on them. She has been hanging out with him a lot lately.
In any case, the awkward silence that fills the room right now speaks volumes. Even if Addie’s feelings for Roman cannot be confirmed, her growing friendship with a man who obviously likes her is kind of a red flag
to every one of us. Not only do we have Sarah’s feelings—or, potentially, her lost feelings—to consider, but I know we’re all thinking of Hammy, too.
Yes—he broke up with her, but he’s still in love with her! I might not understand exactly what he’s going through or why he’s decided to walk along the path he’s chosen but, like Sonny, I trust him and I refuse to believe that he’s given up on them. On the other hand, I don’t trust Roman—which, I will admit, isn’t because he isn’t trustworthy; I just don’t know him well enough to trust him or his intentions. That’s exactly why I’m wondering what the heck Addie is doing! I don’t have much experience, but it seems to me that she’s treading in dangerous waters. It makes me wonder if she’s given up on her relationship with Hammy…I’m too afraid to ask. The answer has the potential to break my heart. What they had—and possibly still have—I’ve always admired. The way they love each other is so rare. I know, I just know, that they will never find a love like the one they have.
“O-kay then!” says Claire. “I’m over this awkward moment, how about everyone else? Do you want to look at my ideas for bridesmaid dresses?”
“Do we get a say in what you’re going to make us wear?” asks Sarah as she sits down on the floor and reaches for the popcorn.
“How about this?” asks Claire as she slips down to the ground with her. I join them and we all reach for a magazine. “If you hate it, you don’t have to wear it and I’ll pick something else.”
“Aww! I think you’re the nicest bride ever.”
When I submitted my initial applications for medical school, I said a prayer. Given that I’m in a season of learning to trust my heavenly Father, I decided to put my future in His hands and let it go. I can’t see the future or what paths are the smartest to take; I don’t know what’s going to happen between Addie and me and where we’ll end up next year or if I’ll be ready to man up and ask her to marry me, but God does. God does. I’ve learned to draw comfort from that, knowing that He loves me and no matter what happens, He’s got my back. As I rest in that trust, I believe that I shouldn’t worry about what schools will want me and what schools don’t. Wherever it is that I’m meant to go, I will go. Yet, it was easier to hold onto that faith a couple weeks ago than it is now. Now, I feel like I’m holding onto it for dear life.
The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) Page 43