I stare at her, narrowing my gaze. “Bullshit.”
She doesn’t mean to, but she looks guilty. “What? It’s true.”
“You have not been. You’re the one who encouraged me to take Ashley out.”
“She liked you,” she says.
“Well, so did you, apparently.”
She rolls her eyes and turns away from me. I go to her and touch her arm. She jerks away from me.
None of this is adding up, and now she knows I’m onto her. “What’s going on, Monica?”
She swipes at her eyes. “I don’t know. I never really saw you that way until you started hanging out with Ashley, then it was like, oh my god. It was weird seeing you with her like that. Then I took over as your tutor after you split, and I got to know this whole different side of you.”
The side she sees of me is the side I desperately try to keep hidden. I have no idea why stupidity would be endearing to her, but apparently it’s a thing since Ashley drew even closer to me when she found out about my dyscalculia. I don’t want to win Chloe with my learning disability. I don’t want her anywhere near it. I’m not a goddamned wounded puppy to be fixed and trained.
“The dumb side?” I ask Monica.
She jerks around toward me with a glare. “Don’t say that…ever again.”
“All right,” I concede.
She tugs at my shirt. “Guys suck. You don’t.”
While I appreciate the sentiment, I realize this isn’t about me at all. “Does this have anything to do with Dominick?” They broke up months ago.
She frowns. “No,” she says without conviction.
I raise my eyebrows.
She rolls her eyes and lets out an exhausted sigh. “He’s with Julia now. Julia. Can you believe that?”
I can, so I just shrug.
She tosses up her hands. “What’s up with that?”
“Do you want the truth?” I ask.
“Please.”
I sit so she has the high ground. “I think you were too much for him.”
She rests her fists on her hips, her face changing color.
I might as well go all in at this point. “It was too stressful for him. He told me.”
She widens her eyes. “What did he say?” She hits me on the chest for good measure.
“You’re like way hot and smart, and he’s this average dude. You’re a big personality. That’s tough for some guys.”
“So I’m supposed to be some shrinking violet? Fuck that.” She turns away, biting her thumbnail.
I stand up to face her. “No, you’re supposed to be yourself. It’s him with the problem, not you. Look, not all guys can handle being with a girl like you, but there’s plenty who can. And I know you. You won’t be satisfied with some twerpy little guy who can’t handle you.”
She turns back around to face me. “You know, for once I thought I’d try to go for a guy with some substance and not even care about looks and swagger and all that crap, and look where that got me.” She picks up a throw pillow off her bed and tosses it away. “Guess it’s back to our inner circle of conceited jocks.”
“Just ‘cause it didn’t work out with Dom doesn’t mean you have to date some douchebag you’re not interested in.”
She eyes me. “You know, I don’t get asked out as much as you think…not by guys like Dominick.”
“It’s because they’re afraid of getting turned down. Who do you want to ask you out?”
She collapses on her bed. “Nobody.”
I nudge her in the knee with my knee. “Who?”
Her face parts in a shy grin. “Nobody.”
I like her when she’s like this, letting her guard down—forgetting for a second she has to rule the world. “Monica…”
“You’ll laugh,” she says.
“I promise I won’t laugh.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve always sort of thought Kevin St. Charles was sort of cute.”
Skinny, little trombone playing Kevin with the hair that he’s always blowing out of his face pops into my brain, and I try to imagine Monica on his arm.
“Okay…”
She throws a pillow at me. “Quit it. You said you wouldn’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.” But of course, now, I’m laughing.
“Stop it! He’s cute. We used to have soccer conditioning at the same time they did band camp. He would smile at me.” Right now, she looks as innocent as a puritan.
“So why don’t you go out with him?”
“He never asked.”
I shrug. “So ask him.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know I could, but I want the guy to do the asking. I want to feel like a girl.”
I sit down next to her. “Maybe he just needs a door opened for him.”
“Yeah, but if I ask, then I’ll feel like I’ve got to be the one to put the date together and then I’ll be the guy. I don’t want to be the guy.”
“So tell him you wish he would ask you out sometime and walk away. Put the ball in his court.”
She lifts her eyebrows in consideration. “Really? You think that would work?”
“Trust me, I know it will work. Kevin may be a band geek, but dude’s got some confidence. I’d be willing to bet he just doesn’t know he can cross the social barrier to get to you. Let him know he can.”
She grins from ear to ear. “I think I will.”
“Cool.”
She rests her head on my shoulder and puts her arms around my waist. “Thanks, Landoni.”
She hasn’t used my childhood nickname in years, and this makes me smile.
“No problem.” My clenched chest has loosened, and I feel like all is right in the world again…at least in this pocket of the world.
She pats me on the back hard, and then pulls away. “We’ve got a quiz tomorrow, don’t we?”
“You don’t have to—”
“Just shut up and go sit at the computer. I’m going to go tell my dad to go on to dinner without me.”
I exhale a sigh of relief as she walks down the hallway. I think about Chloe and how I didn’t tell her where I was going tonight. I’ll eventually break it to her that I’m not the perfect guy she thinks I am, but I’m not ready to bust her bubble about me. I’m not prepared for that look of disappointment and pity…not from her.
I pull up the website and log in. I really wasn’t planning on doing math tonight, but as long as I’m here, and Monica’s canceling her dinner plans, I need to.
I feel like I’m cheating on Chloe with my math homework.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chloe
I drum my short fingernails on my sketchpad as I glare at the stairwell, waiting for him to surface. I check my phone for the ten millionth time. Nothing. Not one single text from him all night.
I can’t believe this is going down like this. All this buildup. All this intensity. The sneaking around. And he’s been off screwing some gorgeous girl he’s known his whole life.
Have they been fuck buddies for years? What was the point of me? A cruel joke? Let’s screw with Chloe. She’s already freaked out about another guy. Let’s really drill that screw all the way in so she’s sure to never want to fall for another guy as long as she lives.
The front door shuts, and I pray it’s not Jenna. Not that I don’t love her, but she’s not the one whose head I want to rip off right now.
I can tell from the sound of the steps coming up the staircase that it’s him. Jenna would be way faster and lighter. I wiggle in my seat, staring at my sketchpad. I run my pencil between my fingers like a baton and drop it as he appears in the doorway.
While my anger for him doesn’t lessen, my attraction and want for him seems to intensify on the spot. He’s even cuter now somehow, even more covetable with his shaggy dark
hair and those freckles on his face I want to kiss one at a time. What is up with that? I should want him less now, not more.
He looks down the hallway at our parents’ shut bedroom door. He puts his hand on the doorframe. “Hey,” he whispers.
Holy crap. How can he send shivers up my spine with just one word…even now when I’m so pissed at him.
I strengthen my resolve and glare daggers through him. “Hey.”
He stands up straight. “What’s wrong?”
I train my gaze on my sketchpad and start scribbling, but my pencil lead breaks. “Did you have a good time with Monica?”
Though I don’t look at him, he doesn’t seem to move. You could hear a feather drifting through the air.
He comes inside and sits on my bed. “It’s not what you think.”
I glare at him.
“What do you…know?” he asks.
Filled with incredulity, I widen my eyes as big as they will go.
He clenches his eyes shut. “I mean…just…was it my mom? What did she say?”
I don’t say anything as my stomach bubbles over, waiting for this nightmare to play out.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not seeing Monica, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s not the impression your mom has.” I realize he smells like perfume…Juicy Couture I think. Jenna used to wear it. I sniff of him. “I don’t think that’s your brand of cologne.”
He sniffs his shirt. “I was with Monica. But I’m not seeing her like that. She was helping me with something.”
I purse my lips and lower my chin.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Monica’s my tutor.”
I blink, processing his words. “Your tutor?”
He doesn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah. She’s helping me with my eligibility for my scholarship.”
“What…why do you need help? You’re really smart.”
His face colors. “I never said that. You just assumed.” His voice is lower, darker.
“Okay,” I say, trying to retrain my brain with this new information. “So all the books…”
“That’s reading. I can read.” The red on his face deepens, his expression tightening.
I shake my head. “I know you can read. I’m just…what subject is she helping you with?”
He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his temple. I’m not sure he’s going to answer me. After a long pause he says, “Math. I didn’t pass my math class. They let me walk the line, but I’ve got to take this online class to complete my graduation and become eligible for my wrestling scholarship.”
I sit up, renewed with this new knowledge as I process the fact that he’s not a terrible guy after all. “I’m actually really good at math. I can help you. What kind of math is it?”
He gives a firm shake of his head. “No way. Thanks, but I’m good with Monica.”
I recoil as if I’ve been slapped.
He walks over to the door and shuts it gently. He comes back to the bed and sits. “I’ve been down that road before, and it doesn’t work.”
“You haven’t been down that road with me. How do you know it wouldn’t work unless you let me try to help?”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not just bad at math.” He gets up off the bed and turns his back on me. “I have a learning disability.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
I catch his reflection in the mirror, and his nose is scrunched up in disgust.
I stand and go to him, resting my hands on both of his biceps from behind. “Hey, it’s not anything to be ashamed of. You know that, right?”
His lip snarls up in the mirror’s reflection, and he pulls away from me.
“Tons of people have learning disabilities. It’s totally normal,” I say.
He heads toward the bathroom door. “I’m going to bed.”
I follow him. “Landon, wait.”
He keeps walking and shuts his bedroom door behind him.
I stand in front of his closed door, my chest pounding as I process what just happened. I went from being ready to strangle him to wanting to hold and comfort him. I want to go to him now, but I force myself to stay rooted to this spot.
I sift through the conversations I’ve had with him over the past month. Why was I so convinced he was this brainiac? So he reads biographies. He said he was interested in history. And he said he was going to go to law school, I’m sure he did. I guess I just assumed…but we all know what happens when you do that.
I rework my image of him in my head. So my boyfriend’s not perfect. This is actually good news. It means I don’t have to be perfect. This is fantastic. I want to bust through this door and run in there, but I force myself to take a minute to think about how he might be feeling right now.
Screw that. I love him. He needs to know I’m fine with this.
I push the door open without knocking. He’s pulling a t-shirt over his bare chest, only his boxers on down below. I can’t help but want to mow him down onto that bed and have my way with him, but I take a moment to breathe and remember he’s probably not in the mood for that right now.
He meets my gaze, and then sits on his bed, rubbing his fingers against his forehead.
I go to him and sit as close to him as he’ll allow, pulling my foot flush with my thigh. “I’m sorry if I didn’t react the right way. It just took me by surprise. I had this other image of you and then…” I realize how atrociously my words are coming out so I stop talking.
I put my hand on his thigh. “I love that you’re not perfect. I’m so excited about it. It means I don’t have to be.” I brighten. “I had to have a tutor in geometry. I couldn’t get it to save my life. I got straight A’s in calculus, but needed a tutor in geometry.” I hold up a hand. “True story.”
He sits back on his pillow at the top of his bed, distancing himself from me. “You don’t get it. What I’ve got is called dyscalculia, and it doesn’t go away. I have to relearn basic math principles every time I sit down to do it. I can’t make change or play games like monopoly or card games. I can’t even read dice. I can’t figure a tip in my head or organize lumps of time. I can’t work a cash register, and I’m shit with directions.”
I swallow as my brain struggles to process all of this. He’s so visibly upset, revealing all of this to me. I think this is a much bigger deal than I can understand right now.
He pulls his knees up, closing himself off from me even further. “It might not sound like much, but you have no idea how seriously it affects my daily life.”
“But you’re great at your job,” I offer. “And that involves taking directions.”
“That’s because I know this place like the back of my hand, and I use GPS with earbuds when I get confused. It’s the reason my mom bought our house in this resort. She knows I’m comfortable here because we came here my whole life.” He turns to me. “Do you remember on our first date when you wanted to go to that Italian restaurant?”
I think back to that night, remembering how flustered he got when I pulled up that restaurant on my app and read off the address. “Yeah,” I say.
“I totally froze when you started throwing out all those numbers to me. I can’t understand directions that include east and west and stuff like that, and toss a handful of numbers in the mix and I’m a fucking two-year old.”
He cups his forehead in his hand and looks off to the other side of his bed.
I move closer to him. “I’m sorry.”
He bears his gaze into mine. “Don’t do that, Chloe. Don’t look at me like that.”
I let out an exhaustive sigh as I try to figure out how to communicate to him how I’m feeling. “I care about you, a lot. I don’t care that you have this thing that messes with your head. I hate it. I wish I could erase it from your brain. But it doesn’t make me l
ove you any less.”
He blinks, parting his lips.
I’m not sure I meant to say it, but it’s true. I do love him, and I’m not backing down from that now. I bear my gaze into his. “I love you…like crazy. I don’t care how many learning disabilities you have.”
He stares at me, wordless, his eyes searching mine. My heartbeat thuds as I wait for his response to words I’ve never given to any guy in my life. A piece of my soul left me when those words left my mouth, and my insides twist while I wait to see if he’s willing to take what I’m offering him.
He cups my face and pulls me to him, his mouth on mine in an instant. He pushes me backward on the bed and hovers over me, pressing kisses all over my neck, biting at my skin here and there. He rubs both hands up my arms sending chills through my core. He threads his fingers into my hair and covers my mouth with his. I wrap my legs around him, not able to get my body physically close enough to his.
He kisses down my cheek to my neck and all over my chest where my skin is exposed. He eases his hand over my breast, down my belly, over my hip, and to the outside of my thigh.
I rest my head on the mattress, staring at the stars on the ceiling while I take in his appreciation of my body, the sensation of his touch filling every possible vessel.
He tugs at the button on my shorts. “Do you trust me? I promise I won’t go too far.”
“Okay,” I say. But what I really want to do is beg him to go as far as he wants. All the way to the moon as far as I’m concerned.
He glances at the door to his room, which is shut, but isn’t locked. He gets up off the bed, locks the bathroom and bedroom doors, and then turns off the light.
Landon
I reach over to my nightstand and light the candle I keep there. I should have had it lit before so I could have seen her face in the candlelight, but there was no way I could have stopped myself once we got started.
While I wasn’t ready for her to know about my dyscalculia yet, part of me is relieved it’s out in the open. I can breathe better now, but maybe that’s because of what she said to me. She loves me. I know she’s not someone to toss those words around.
The Summer Before Forever Page 21