Addicted To You: A Last Chance Romance (You and Me Series Book 2)

by Penelope Marshall

  I took her tone to mean there would be no special treatment for me—not today. Not while Cooper, the prime choice USDA slab of meat was sitting right next to me, taking up all the attention.

  Cooper chuckled to himself as he watched me plop down on the chair next to him, rolling up my pant legs. Leaning back into the oversized massage chair, I flipped the switch to get the massage balls rotating over my back. I closed my eyes as soon as the rumbling of the chair started, allowing the soothing motion to lull me to sleep.

  The ladies cackled like hens all around Cooper, treating him like he was the crowned Prince of fucking Egypt. I paused, realizing I was letting the situation bother me too much. He was a single guy, and he was free to do as he pleased, with whoever he chose to do it with.

  Lisa leaned in. "Why don't you have a wife?"

  "Just waiting I guess," Cooper replied.

  "A man like you? I don't believe it." She walked away to grab her basket of tools.

  I felt a jostling at my shoulder. "Help me," he whispered.

  "That's what you get for being so damn good-looking."

  "Just do something," he urged in a low whisper.

  I smiled and took his hand, twining our fingers. It felt good to hold him, but I pushed that aside when the idea of losing him altogether crept into my thoughts.

  The woman came back holding her basket of tricks. I leaned in toward her, and whispered, "Just because I said he wasn't my husband, doesn't mean he isn't my boyfriend."

  The look of awkward embarrassment blanketed the woman's face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—"

  "No, it's my fault, I should've said something. I just like to make him squirm." I replied, leaning in to nuzzle my cheek against his.

  "Squirm—right," the woman echoed.

  Awkwardly she slunk away, leaving Cooper and I joined at the cheeks. I moved away as he peered down at our interlocked fingers, giving my hand a little squeeze before shifting his gaze back to me. Not even a thousand words could sum up the glow in his eyes.

  "Thanks," he said, closing his eyes as he leaned back into the chair.

  "Anything for you," I replied as my pedicurist began to massage my tired feet.

  "What do you think I should tell people I do for a living? I don't wanna tell them that I'm just a file clerk. How embarrassing! I was supposed to be the most likely to succeed for cryin' out loud, and what an awful title to make a kid have to live up to. That's like having a category called most likely to invent the cure for cancer, or most likely to discover the next planet. I mean, nothing short of a Nobel Peace Prize worthy achievement would even compare—just settin' us up for failure—must be the government trying to hold us down."

  "Seriously, Ella? A government conspiracy? I don't even know why you care what they think about you. But if you want to tell them the truth, just say you got your degree in journalism, and you're still exploring your options. Or, if you want to lie you can always say you're married to a surgeon, named Cooper, and you're a lady of leisure." He laughed. "I've heard the other doctor's wives in my department boasting about being ladies of leisure, so it must be a real thing."

  "A lady of leisure, huh?"

  "Oh, by the way, I have three surgeries tomorrow, so I probably won't be up when you get home from the reunion. But I want to hear all the details when I get home from work—especially if anything happens."

  "Do you really wanna hear about a bunch of twenty-seven-year-olds clawing tooth and nail trying to impress each other?"

  "Of course, I sat here through a pedicure, and I'm quite confident I was almost violated by at least one of these women. I think I deserve to know what happens."

  The ladies slid paper flip flops onto our feet when they finished and then angled a fan toward our toes to help them dry.

  "Oh no," I yelled, staring at the clock on the wall.

  "What?"

  "I think my claws needed more work than I thought. I'm late," I said, jumping out of the chair.

  "Wait for me!" he yelled, handing the manicurist four twenty-dollar bills, trying to catch up to me.

  "Hurry up, Cooper," I hollered as I shuffled my feet, making my way out of the door.

  He followed close behind as we ran down the street, but the paper flip flops were making it hard for him to keep up with me. By the time we got back to the apartment, I was already running about an hour behind schedule. Scrambling around my room, I rushed around, trying to get myself in tip-top shape.

  "Mr. Murphy strikes again," I shouted frantically.

  "Damn you, Mr. Murphy," Cooper chanted as he ran out of the bathroom, almost tripping over Monster.

  He was carrying my deodorant, lotion, razor, and some liquid in an unmarked travel bottle I couldn't even remember concocting.

  "Don't kill the cat, I'm not that late," I said, trying to shave my legs and put on deodorant at the same time.

  Unfortunately, in the rush, I ended up cutting a slice of skin off my shin, which resembled a thin slice of turkey from a deli slicer.

  "Ahhh! I cut myself," I hollered as I flung the piece of skin into Cooper's face almost hitting him in the eye.

  "Man, get that outta my face," he shrieked, slapping my hand away.

  The piece of skin fell on the ground, and Monster ran over to smell it. "Monster, no! Don't eat that," I scolded, shooing him away.

  "Throw it away. That's gross," Cooper said, cringing at the sight of it.

  "What kind of surgeon are you?" I asked. "I'm sure you see worse every day."

  "I'm the professional kind, and no I haven't. That was nasty." He laughed, wagging his finger at me.

  "Whatever! Can you brush my hair while I finish shaving?"

  "Brush your hair? Like you said, I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."

  I whipped my arm behind me, attempting to smack his leg, but I missed.

  "Abuser!"

  "Shhh. Just brush. Brush like the wind," I urged him, waving the brush in his face.

  He tried to brush my hair as best he could, fumbling, and yanking at my head while I attempted to apply mascara.

  "For a surgeon, brushing hair is obviously out of your wheelhouse."

  Viciously, he raked the brush through a tangle.

  "Ouch!"

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

  "Funny, Cooper. Funny!"

  "Ok, I think I've done all I can do," he said, laying the brush on the counter before he stepped away.

  "You're probably right. I'll take it from here," I replied, waving him off as I began to apply eye shadow.

  "Ok, I'll be right outside. Don't hesitate to call if you need me to bring in the power tools."

  "Okay, keep talkin'. You better sleep with one eye open from now on," I joked, frantically trying to finish brushing my hair while running a straightener through it.

  All the while, memories of how my clown hair used to invite hateful comments came flooding back, but tonight would be different; my hair would be different. No one would be able to say one bad thing about it.

  I was snapped out of my flashback by the smell of burning hair. My eyes widened when I saw what I had done in the mirror.

  "I burned off my ends!"

  The right side of my top layer was an inch shorter than the other. I dropped my hands down to my sides, slouching in defeat.

  "You did what?" Cooper yelled from outside the door.

  I shook my head. "Never mind," I yelled back, screaming silently at the ceiling to let out my frustration.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  I composed myself and continued finishing up my hair and make-up. Once finished, I bandaged up the gash on my leg then slipped on my beautiful dress which still fit like a glove.

  I took one last look in the mirror, smudging my black, smoky, eye shadow one last time, finishing off the look with a clear lip gloss to keep it simple.

  I cracked the door open and peeked out. "Close your eyes."

  Cooper closed his eyes and stood from the bed.

  I opened the door the re
st of the way and stepped out, readjusting my hair and dress, before I said, "Okay, I'm ready. What do you think?"

  COOPER

  I opened my eyes slowly, focusing in on the beauty that stood before me. I had no witty remark or funny one-liner. I was dumbfounded, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

  "That bad?" she asked with a frown.

  "I mean—you were beautiful before…"

  "Yeah?"

  "But you look like a dream, standing in front of me right now," I said, holding back the urge to take her in my arms and press my lips to hers.

  "Just stunning," I added.

  "Aww, you're so sweet, friend."

  The word friend snapped me out of my daze.

  Friend? Friend! There goes that damn word again.

  "Hmmmm—friend," I murmured under my breath as I watched her twirl in front of the full-length mirror.

  "Did you say something?"

  "Oh, nothing, I hope you have a lot of fun—friend," I quickly replied, unable to contain the added sarcasm that crept into my tone.

  Once again, I was reminded that I was destined to remain nothing more than a place holder, and that's when the resentment crept in.

  All those wasted years pining over a woman who had never seen me as anything more than a roommate, and a backup date when she had no one else to go out with. I was over being the good guy, and I was definitely over taking the high road. I turned and stomped out of the room, heading for the front door.

  "What's wrong?" she hollered.

  I didn't reply. I walked out the door, slamming it behind me.

  Chapter Six

  Ella

  I heard the door slam but was in such a hurry to get to the reunion; I didn't think much of it. I ran downstairs and hailed a cab, amazingly enough, and maybe because of my outfit, the very first cab screeched to a halt right in front of me.

  "Monroe High School please," I told the driver.

  "You look so good, what's going on there?" the cabbie asked.

  "My ten-year-reunion," I replied with a nervous smile.

  "Well, you are gonna knock 'em dead," he said.

  "That's so sweet. I really, really hope so. Thank you," I said, looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, noticing he was checking me out, which made me a little uncomfortable, but I shrugged it off.

  The streets leading back to my old high school brought back so many memories, all of which I had to push aside. Tonight would be the night I would take back my life, and leave the nerdy girl right where she should've been left ten years ago. Rounding the long archway that led to one of the side entrances to the school, the cab pulled up to a bustling crowd of well-dressed adults, standing outside of the gymnasium, where the reunion was being held.

  After handing the cabbie the money for my fare, I stepped out of the cab, one heel at a time. I waited a moment before shutting the door to the cab, wanting to make sure I could go through with the evening.

  "Are you okay, miss?" he asked.

  I almost jumped back into the cab, as the sight of the gym alone sucked away any confidence I might have had before I got there.

  "I'm fine," I said, taking a deep breath.

  As soon as I shut the door to the cab, he sped off, and all I could do was watch as my only means of a getaway faded into the bustling traffic.

  There's no turning back now.

  Walking through the crowd into the gym, insecurity took over, and I was beside myself with anxiety. Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, I quietly scanned the room, noticing the decorations were something out of an eighties disco party. Since I graduated in 2005, I couldn't decide if the reunion committee was broke and had recycled the decorations from a New Year's Eve after party, or if they were just trying to create some nostalgia—from the wrong decade.

  Other than the misplaced decorations, the gym hadn't changed one bit in the last ten years. The paneled floors still creaked under foot, the bleachers still hadn't been upgraded, and the wall still donned the Red Devil logo that was painted on the year before I graduated. The dusty red and gray championship banners still hung in the same place, with only a few new ones added on to the collection.

  Monroe High School had the best athletes during the four years I attended, and unofficially, still held the title for having brought home the most banners. Even the brainiac Academic Decathlon team had a championship banner taking up a coveted spot on the gym wall. Stopping at the sign in table to pick up my name tag, I lingered for a moment to peruse the remaining sticker name tags to see if Jay's name was there.

  "Hmmm, his name's not here. I wonder if he's not coming, or maybe he's already here?" I murmured under my breath.

  I shrugged and headed in to face the music. There were small crowds littering every inch of square footage in the gym; people chatting, laughing, and hugging. I had to admit; it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, and it was nice to see some familiar faces. Since I had transformed so much since high school, I did spend a good portion of each conversation trying to remind people who I was. Needless to say, once I brought up my hair and acne, it didn't take long before their memories kicked in.

  I got a lot of, oh mys, and a whole bunch of wows. Then there were those who just stood there, gawking at me. The compliments were a double-edged sword. I knew they thought I looked great now, but it reminded me of how awful I looked back then, which still for some reason embarrassed me.

  As I drifted from group to group, I kept an eagle eye out for Jay, hoping beyond hope that he would show up. The night wore on, and as I ran out of groups to drift to, I caught sight of him. There he was, just as handsome as ever, standing alone next to the punchbowl—hardly where I thought I'd find him.

  Age had not diminished his looks, and the navy blue tailored suit he wore just added to his allure. I took a deep breath and sauntered over to him, hoping that I wouldn't break a heel on the way.

  Thankfully, I made it over without incident. "Hi. I'm, Ella," I said, awkwardly pointing at my name tag.

  Ugh, did I just point at my name tag? Lame.

  "Hi. Jay Aston," he replied, holding out his hand.

  "I know," I said, shaking his hand.

  "Well, we obviously graduated together, but I can't place you."

  "Yeah, well, I looked a whole lot different ten years ago."

  "But I thought I knew all the pretty ladies our senior year."

  I giggled. "I don't think you would've considered me a pretty lady our senior year."

  "There is no way you could've looked anything less than stellar in high school if this is what you look like ten-years-later."

  "You'll just have to look me up in the yearbook if you don't believe me."

  He smiled. "I think I'll take you up on that."

  "I'll have to warn you—don't look at the picture in direct sunlight." I laughed.

  He chuckled. "It couldn't have been that bad."

  "Don't say I didn't warn you," I said, resting my hand on the lapel of his blazer.

  Am I touching his blazer?

  The DJ cut in, "Alright folks, grab that special someone and drag 'em out to the dance floor."

  Jay rested his hand on mine, and asked, "May I have this dance?"

  I could've died at that moment. Jay Aston had just asked me to dance. I nodded.

  He led me to the middle of the creaky wooden floor. "I just wanna let you know I can't dance," I said.

  "It's okay. I'll lead," he whispered in my ear as he backed away and twirled me around like a ballerina, the bottom of my dress floating mid-air as I spun.

  He tugged me toward him, placing his hand on the small of my back, pressing my body against his. Our eyes locked as we moved in unison in a small circle to the rhythm of the music.

  "You are so beautiful," he said resting his cheek against mine.

  "Not as beautiful as you," I replied.

  He chuckled.

  "I mean handsome. Not as handsome as you," I stuttered, pulling my face away so I could look in
to his eyes.

  "I know what you meant."

  Maybe subconsciously I knew Jay was never a possibility so my imagination never let me get this far into my fantasy, but I was definitely in uncharted waters at this point.

  Do I kiss him? Will he kiss me?

  I was so enthralled by the moment, I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to. Not that I did.

  Our eyes were locked as he leaned in, and wouldn't you know it, a split-second before our lips touched, the DJ's annoying voice cut in again.

  "Alright, alright, alright, folks. It's about that time. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

  A smile fell over Jay's face. "Well, I guess that's that."

  "I guess so," I replied, thoroughly disappointed the DJ had ruined the moment.

  "Too bad I didn't run into you at the beginning of the party."

  "You're tellin' me," I said rather disappointed we hadn't kissed.

  There was a burst of confetti, and a loud roar of clapping coming from the crowd as they started to make their way outside of the gym, leaving the two of us alone in the middle of the dance floor. He smiled at me then took my hand to lead me outside.

  "Are you ready?"

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "I don't know, but I feel like we connected a little and I don't want tonight to end."

  "I wish it didn't have to, either."

  "Oh no, it doesn't have to. We aren't in high school anymore, remember? We can stay out as long as we want." He smiled, grabbing my hand, as he led me to his waiting stretch limousine.

  "You're right!" I said, excited to spend more time with him.

  As we neared the limo, the driver opened the door and pulled off his hat. "Good evening Mr. Aston. Ma'am."

  "Why, thank you," I said, grinning from ear to ear, so impressed by his politeness.

  "You're welcome."

  "You know the only drivers I ever get are cabbie's that want to run me over."

  "Well, maybe we can change that," Jay chimed in with optimism in his voice.

  I couldn't believe how this evening was progressing, and all I wanted to do was prolong our little date, to keep from having to go back to my shabby little apartment, just to wake up again the next day as a lowly file clerk. Not after tonight. Not after experiencing the true romance I had dreamt of all these years. I felt like Cinderella, and I wanted her ending without all the drama in between.