by Erin Lyon
“I have to get going, baby. Logek,” he said, leaning over and giving her a quick hug, “always nice to see you.”
“You, too,” she said, with a somewhat speculative smile.
I heard Dave kissing ass—I mean saying good-bye—to my parents and Sandy and, with a final wave, he headed out the door.
* * *
My parents had left, along with Sandy, hours ago. Logek and I were sitting in my kitchen with a glass of wine.
“Congratulations, big girl,” she said, with a quick look around my new home.
I grinned. “Thank you very much.”
“How’s the head?”
“A little sore. Tell me the truth. Did my parents tell you to stay with me tonight and keep me awake in case I have a concussion?”
“That is one possibility.”
“I figured. Did you have plans tonight?”
She played with her wineglass … part of my mismatched set, now that my one complete giraffe set was busted all to hell. And her evasiveness meant one thing: Derek. Derek, as in the once love of her life, turned heartbreaker, Derek. Derek who breached their contract by sleeping with another woman Derek. And now he was back, full of sincere apologies and regret. And it seemed he was still Logek’s kryptonite.
“Logek. I’m not going to judge.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I’m judging myself.”
“Don’t. Old habits die hard.”
“And that’s why I’m still in love with him?”
Well, shit. I nodded.
“It feels like more than habit.”
“Did anything happen last night?”
“A kiss. One kiss, and I didn’t return any of Daniel’s texts today.”
Daniel was a new guy she’d recently started seeing, who was apparently about to further the stereotype that nice guys finish last. I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m a terrible person,” she said matter-of-factly.
“No,” I said.
“Yes. I’m going to break Daniel’s heart. For no good reason.”
“Come on. How serious could you really have been about Daniel if you were this ready to push him aside? Maybe it’s for the best that you figured this out now rather than stringing him along for another six months. And besides, maybe Derek is different.”
“He seems different. But we know I’ve never been a good judge of character when it came to him.”
“So take it slow. Text. Talk on the phone. Try not to jump back into a physical relationship with him. See how dedicated he seems.”
She took a long drink of wine and her blue eyes were shiny. I reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Why are you crying? The love of your life just waltzed back into your life and wants to be with you. It could work.” I wished I believed that. Prove me wrong, Derek. Please, please, please.
She sniffed. “It could.” I could hear it in her voice. She didn’t believe it any more than I did. Yet she accepted that she would get drawn back in, as though he were a hurricane she might not survive—brutal, dangerous, and beyond her control. Love sucks.
Her phone buzzed and she checked the screen. She tapped in a reply and looked up at me. She smiled. “I told him I’m on concussion watch.”
“I’m glad my clumsiness could be there to save you from yourself tonight.”
“Yeah, so what’s planned for tomorrow?”
I laughed. “We’ll think of something.”
“You know, I could ask you the same question. The love of your life wants to be with you. What’s holding you back?”
The love of my life, Jonathan, had turned my world upside down a month ago by informing me that he didn’t want to re-up our contract at the end of our seven years, which I’d foolishly taken as a given. I hadn’t even considered life without him. Apparently, he’d somehow convinced himself that I’d be willing to take a break from our contract for a few years and then reunite and grow old together, or something like that.
After a couple weeks of nursing my broken heart and planning for my new single-girl life, he threw me for another loop when he declared that he’d made a huge mistake and asked if I would sign with him again.
I looked at Logek and shrugged. “I have no answer to that. Having trouble letting go of the hurt and disillusionment, I guess.”
“I have no idea what that would be like,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm.
“Yeah,” I said with a grimace. “Sorry. Your breakup totally wins. Or loses. Whatever. So how are you over it?”
“Derek is my crack. Terrible for my health but irresistible. And I’m not over it.”
“But you’re still willing to give him another shot?”
“Did you miss my crack metaphor?”
* * *
Since I’d taken my spill at about 9:30 a.m., by 2:00 a.m. Logek and I figured I was safe from any concussion side effects and she went home (happy that I was now only five minutes away from her place instead of forty).
I climbed the stairs of my new apartment and went into my room. My bed was set up exactly where I would have put it, and all my trinkets were already perfectly arranged on my dressers. I’m not saying people should try to get a concussion at the start of moving day … I’m just saying, it’s crazy the way everything gets done perfectly with zero help from you.
After brushing my teeth, I climbed into my crisply made-up bed. Occasionally, I could hear the sound of a car passing down my street. Welcome to the city. No after-hours traffic in the suburbs where my parents live, that was for sure. But I wasn’t in the ’burbs anymore. And there was something exciting about that—about being back in the city.
Of course, that excitement contributed to me staring at the ceiling (and the clock) at 3:00 a.m. It was about 20 percent new-apartment insomnia, 30 percent work related, and 50 percent what-to-do-about-boys. And I missed Jonathan. In my own bed in my new apartment and I missed him more acutely than I had in the month we’d been apart. Whenever I was confused, he was always the one thing that just made sense.
I picked up my phone from the nightstand and stared at it, debating. Screw it. He won’t see it till morning anyway. No harm.
I started typing a text to Jonathan, then the phone buzzed in my hand with an incoming text (and it may have scared me enough to drop the phone—so sue me).
It was Dave. Naturally.
Hey beautiful. Can’t sleep tonight. Got home from the basketball game I was covering, worked out, watched some TV, thought about you. I know you’re probably asleep and won’t see this till morning, but just wanted to say I wish you were here. I think if I could wrap my arms around you right now, I’d be able to fall right to sleep.
I lay there in the dark, looking at that text, trying to make sense of things. Obviously sleep found me before any sense did.
CHAPTER 2
The next morning, I got up and started making coffee. There was a little door off the kitchen that led out to a small deck and a postage stamp–size backyard. I opened the door and let the morning air into the kitchen.
I poured some coffee into a mug and wandered from the kitchen into the living room and looked around. I’ve never lived alone. Logek and I were roommates up until I signed with Jonathan … then, from Jonathan, it was back to my parents. It is a little strange being a thirty-four-year-old woman who is just now living by herself.
There was a knock at the door and I looked at the clock above the fireplace. 9:15 a.m. I was in my usual yoga pants and a tank top—no bra. To open the door or not to open the door, knowing that I probably had more than a little nipple show-through happening. Screw it.
I opened the door, and shock undoubtedly registered on my face. Adam. Standing there, frowning a little, looking perturbed. And totally delicious. His hair was a little overgrown, just enough that you could tell he had a little curl in it, and his eyes looked so green against his tan skin. He was in a plain white T-shirt that clung to him in all the right places, jeans, and black leather shoes. His hands were tucke
d into his front pockets and he was looking down at me, which, when I’m barefoot, seemed like a long way down, even though I’m five foot nine.
“Good morning,” I said, cautiously. Not really sure what I did to piss him off. Well, aside from giving him the silent treatment yesterday.
“Good morning.”
And then some awkward silence.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked, finally, stepping out of the doorway.
He walked past me and looked around the living room, before turning back to me.
“Looks very nice,” he said coolly.
“Thanks.”
And silence. Well, this is fun. Apparently we were having a battle of wills to see who could be more stubborn. PS I suck at stubborn.
“You seem upset,” I said.
“Good guess.”
“Because I never texted you back yesterday?”
“Because you ran away Friday night and then ignored me yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“Care to tell me why?”
Nope. No desire to go there. “No reason.”
“Kate. You are a terrible liar. Don’t bother.”
I shrugged and, regrettably, felt a little choked up. Thinking about him. And that girl. And my stupid, stupid crush.
“Let’s sit,” I said. I sat on the sofa, leaning forward with my forearms on my thighs.
He looked at me a minute and his mouth quirked a hint of a smile. “You really can’t sit like that in that shirt.”
I looked down and realized I was giving a splendid view of the goods, clear down to my belly button. I immediately put my hand to my chest, holding the neck of my tank top in, and sat back on the couch. And then, as a bonus, I turned beet red.
“Oops,” I said.
“I’m not complaining. And I think I forgot why I was annoyed with you.”
I laughed, but I could still feel the heat coming off my face. Adam walked around the coffee table and sat down next to me, turned slightly so that he was facing me.
“I feel like there was more to say Friday,” he said. “But you just left. Then you stopped responding yesterday. I’m not okay with you just avoiding me.”
Big sigh. My heart started beating faster. It always does that when I’m about to be uncomfortably truthful with someone. Because the truth is scary. I put my hands to my cheeks and they were still flushed.
“Kate.”
I turned to him, tucking my feet up under me.
“Adam. I blew it. You were very clear. You couldn’t have been more clear about not wanting a relationship. Or emotional entanglements. That you just wanted us to be friends.” He was starting to frown, his brow lowering over his eyes. “But it didn’t work. This,” I said, gesturing with my hand between us. “This didn’t work. I can’t be friends with you.”
He just kept frowning and remained silent.
“I care about you, Adam.”
“I care about you, too, Kate.”
“No. I care about you too much. Think about you too much. Want you too much.” My chest was getting tighter with every word, and my eyes were burning. I was pushing him away and it hurt even more than I thought it would.
“I think about you a lot, too. I’m obviously attracted to you. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“It does for me. I want more, but I can’t have more. That makes you confusing and frustrating … and painful.”
His turn to sigh. “I never wanted to hurt you, Kate. I’m just not capable of that kind of relationship. I’m not wired that way. That’s why I was so careful to be up-front about everything with you.”
I reached out and covered his hand with mine. “And you were. I knew the rules. Well, my head did. My heart is sort of a pain in the ass who doesn’t listen.” I smiled. “This isn’t your fault. You were fair. But we don’t always get to choose whether or not we develop feelings for someone.”
He turned his hand over and held mine, caressing it gently. He looked sad and like he didn’t know where to go from here.
“I’m sorry, Adam. I wish I could stay friends. I just can’t.”
He pulled on my hand firmly, drawing me toward him. I didn’t exactly fight it. Because, let’s be real, it was Adam.
Once I was close enough, he wrapped his arms around me and held me against him. I breathed him in, knowing I’d never be able to smell this soap (or aftershave or whatever the hell it was) again without thinking about him.
It was strange being this close to him and understanding his internal conflict, all the while knowing he wouldn’t change. That type of surrender just wasn’t an option.
He gripped my chin and tipped my face up to his. Oh, this is all bad. Crossing this line while we’re both all emotional like this has the potential to go seriously awry. Probably should stop this. Not gonna. Just saying, I probably should.
He kissed me with his typical strength and aggressiveness, holding my face firmly while pressing me against him with his hand on my back. His hand was big enough that it covered most of my cheek and still wrapped firmly beneath my jaw. His tongue ran along my lips before entering my mouth and caressing my tongue. He bit my lower lip lightly between his teeth and pulled it gently between his lips before plunging his tongue back into my mouth.
I moved my hands up his wide shoulders to his neck and slid my fingers into the back of his hair. When his tongue came into my mouth again, I sucked on it, and when I did, things started to escalate. I heard a small grunt escape his throat and he pushed me back down onto the couch and lay down on top of me, never breaking the connection between our lips. His hands slipped under the bottom of my tank top, and before I knew it he was cupping both of my breasts in his hands. The kiss was becoming more intense by the second, and when he pinched my nipples between his fingers, I gasped and arched against him.
In one swift movement, he stripped off my shirt and immediately had his mouth on me. He was rough and passionate in a way that made me dizzy. I could barely catch my breath as he started sucking firmly on one nipple and then the other, but I held his head against me anyway. When I heard the first moans escape my lips, my first thought was to stifle them, but then I remembered that I lived alone now. No risk of Mom hearing me from down the hall.
He moved off me so that he was lying along my side. Just as my head started to clear enough to think about what he was going to do next (and to remind myself that I needed to stop this), he sucked my nipple into his mouth again and bit down lightly, and instantly I was lost again, moaning, writhing, and basically not stopping shit.
He spread his hand across my stomach and slid it beneath the band of my yoga pants and inside my underwear. I could feel his fingers finding their way, and once they did, he slid one big, long finger inside me, forcefully. And I almost came. And that was before he started moving it in and out.
I was falling for him.
Shit. That was a sobering thought. Because, news flash, Kate: this is going nowhere.
I pulled his hand out of my pants and scooted away from him. Purely from reflex, I crossed one arm across my bare breasts. Little late for modesty, genius. I looked around for my shirt and found it on the floor next to the sofa. I quickly slid it back over my head and sat upright on the couch again. All without looking at Adam. Come on, girl, sack up.
I turned and faced him. His eyes were still heated, and I could see the rise and fall of his chest, telling me that he was still breathing heavily. He looked like he hadn’t completely given up on the idea of this going further, but after a moment he ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
“Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have started that,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry. We both seem to have a problem with getting carried away in the moment sometimes.” I shook my head. “I just can’t let that happen. Not with you,” I said.
“It was happening just fine for a while.”
“I know.”
“I’m thinking I may have been too hasty in rejecting your suggestion of us
being friends with benefits.” He smiled at me but he still had the intensity of the moment in his eyes.
“No, I’m pretty sure you called that one right when you said I wasn’t a ‘meaningless sex’ kind of woman.” I tucked my shoulder-length brown hair behind one ear. “Adam…” Pause. Out with it, Kate. “You must have realized by now that I’m falling for you. And if that happened between us—if I slept with you—I’d be gone. And you would break my heart.”
He was back to looking sad and stoic again.
At the risk of history repeating itself, I reached out and took his hand again. “I know that I mean something to you—something you don’t even really understand. I know that you don’t want to hurt me. And sleeping with you would devastate me because I’d fall in love with you. And you wouldn’t love me back. You couldn’t. So you really don’t want to sleep with me, because it would hurt me—and you don’t want to do that.” I looked down at our hands and felt the first tears prick my eyes. “Because you’re you,” I said, looking up at him. “And, despite your tough shell, you’re a marshmallow inside,” I said, pressing my forefinger to his chest. I gave him a smile, but I knew he could see the unshed tears in my eyes.
He nodded. “I wish…” he said, but trailed off. I waited.
He started again. “I wish I was different.”
“I kinda like you the way you are.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t be your friend,” I said softly. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed that arrogant, aloof prick that was trying to get in my pants because I was signed?”
He smiled. “Oh, I’m still that guy.”
I laughed, but shook my head. “I just need to remember that you’re not all that and then I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not all that.”
“I know, but you’ve been doing a damn fine impersonation of it.”
He squinted at me like he was going to say something, but decided against it. He just continued watching me in a way that was making me nervous. I couldn’t trust myself around him.