Me: Hey you! Whatcha up to?
Me: Don’t answer that. It’s late. I shouldn’t be texting.
Me: Unless . . .
Me: Are you working? If you are then it’s not late.
Me: But if you aren’t then it IS late.
Lucas: Are you drunk?
Me: Noooooooooooo
Me: Maybe.
Lucas: Are you safe? Do you need a ride?
Me: That’s a loaded question Lucas DeCosta.
Oh God! Kill me now. Please. Someone.
Lucas: Oh boy.
Me: You’re not a boy anymore.
Lucas: Whit, are you okay? I can come get you. Where are you?
Me: I’m at home. I’m sorry I was a bitch.
Me: I should have said that sooner. Hold on, I need another drink.
Lucas: I don’t think that’s the case but I’ll wait.
Me: K. I’m back. Want to get breakfast? I’m hungry.
Lucas: You’re drunk is what you are. How about in the morning?
Me: Oh! YES!
Lucas: You’re very excited about this.
Me: Duh. It’s BREAKY!
Lucas: I’ll call you in the morning.
Me: Nope. Just come pick me up at like 8 or 8:30. In there. Yeah that’s a good time.
The texts go on a little more with me attempting to give Lucas directions to the apartment but failing miserably. I did manage to give him the address over the course of three messages and promised to drink water and sleep on my side. I’m a mess.
“I am such a mess,” I mutter in humiliation as a plate of cheesy eggs, bacon, and cream cheesed toast is placed in front of me.
“Oh sorry, that’s mine. You probably don’t want cream cheese on your toast. Here,” he says reaching for the plate to switch, but I pull it closer to me. “Or not.”
“For the record, you’re not a mess. You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk. Chatty as fuck but cute.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why? We’re friends, Whitney. If you can’t drunk text your friends, who can you?”
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asks as he takes a bite of bacon. I give myself a moment before answering to fully appreciate the man before me. He’s dressed similarly to how he was on our trip: cargo shorts, a tight across the chest T-shirt, and aviator sunglasses on top of his head. His face is cleanly shaven and as he chews I’m mesmerized by the way his mouth moves. My mind goes to a very naughty place. The place that tingles and reminds me it’s been a long fucking time since . . . well, since any fucking. Goddamn I’m a horny bitch.
“Earth to Whitney.”
“Oh, sorry. What was that?”
“You thanked me, and I asked for what.”
“Oh, for not judging me for being a drunken mess last night. It’s been a rough few months. I guess I needed to decompress.”
“It was a bachelorette party?” I nod. “Probably dredged up some memories. I’m glad you texted me though. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Lucas, I’m sorry for how I left Portland. I freaked out a little. I—”
“Don’t apologize,” he says, cutting me off. “Let’s just move forward, okay? Friends?”
A piece of my heart sinks at his proclamation of friendship. The feelings I have swirling in my mind right now are anything but friendly. Well, maybe with some benefits, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.
“If you keep making me breakfast like this, you can totally have the role of best friend. Jessi never does this for me.”
Laughing, Lucas takes a bite of his eggs and that comfortable silence we had on our trip fills the small kitchen, relaxing me. This is what I need right now. Friends and laughter.
“Not happening.”
Jessi rolls her eyes at me as she lifts her wine glass to her lips. Courtney and Jen begin their arguments at once, but their efforts fall on deaf ears. I sat here for the last hour listening to them tell me why I need to start dating. No matter how much I tell them I’m not interested, they continue to plead the case they’ve already lost.
“Look, I get what you guys are saying but I’m not interested.”
“Yeah, but Trenton is –”
Putting my hand up to halt the conversation, Jen stops talking. I don’t want to hear about Trenton dating. Honestly, I couldn’t care less if he’s dating or not. That isn’t because I’m strong and moving on. I simply have no feelings on the matter. Not marrying Trenton was the best decision of my life, and I think he’d agree.
“You guys know I’m not much of a dater. I never was before Trenton, and I’m not sure why you’d think that would change. And you,” I say, pointing at Jessi, “have been quiet all night. You’re freaking me out.”
“I told them you’d say no, but nobody listens to me.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. She’s so full of shit. Jessi is never without an opinion, so the fact that she’s taking this position has me suspect. Just like I was suspicious of her invitation to happy hour tonight. Our normal happy-hour night is Thursday since she doesn’t have class on Friday.
“Hey, Jess,” I say, pulling her attention from the front door she’s had her focus on since we arrived.
“Hmm?”
“You waiting for someone?” I ask.
Turning her head quickly, her eyes are large in surprise as her lashes flutter. If I could see inside her brain, I’m sure I’d find it trying to come up with a response. “Who would I be waiting for? That’s silly.” Yep, she’s up to something.
Jessi keeps her attention away from the door for a few minutes as I quickly change the subject to a possible girl’s trip in the next few months. Everyone agrees sunshine and cabanas are a must but when I suggest we road trip the looks on each of their faces sends me into a fit of giggles.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, I’m not rolling in the dough these days. The next time I offer to pay my parents back for a cancelled wedding, kick me,” I say, looking at all three of them.
Jen rises from her chair and looks at me with a serious expression. Raising my brows in question, I wait for her to say something. “I’d suggest you don’t cancel anymore weddings. There, solved that problem.”
Nobody speaks right away, and a look of embarrassment creeps across Jen’s face before we all start laughing. Tears stream down my cheeks as Courtney snorts through her own tears. Proud of herself, Jen offers to grab another round of drinks from the bar after hitting the restroom and Courtney goes with her.
When it’s just Jessi and me at the table, I take a sip from my vodka soda before asking the questions that’s been eating me for weeks. “So, Jess, why didn’t you tell me you and Jonah were friends?”
Shrugging, Jessi scrunches her face before answering. “I don’t know. It’s no biggie. We have similar schedules and started studying together. Carmen came by one day with coffees and we hit it off. Why?”
“I don’t know. I felt like a horrible friend when he told me because I should know those things about your life. You’re my best friend and roommate and while you’ve been off making new friends, I’ve been wallowing in my own head. Completely self-absorbed. I’m sorry.”
“You have not been self-absorbed,” she says, but I tilt my head and smile. She and I both know it’s true. “Fine, moderately self-absorbed. In your defense, you’ve had a lot of life changes in the last few months. It’s no big deal. They’re cool.”
I’m about to suggest we include Carmen in our next happy hour when the front door of the bar opens and my eyes land on a hot-as-hell guy standing there, looking around. My heart skips and my tongue peeks out between my lips before my teeth snag the bottom lip in anticipation. When his eyes land on mine and the smile that makes me giddy appears, I match it.
“Ladies,” Lucas greets.
“And, on that note I’ll grab the girls and get a different table. You two kids have a good night.”
Before either of us can respond, Jessi stands and walks away from our table. Lucas and I
both watch as she walks toward the hallway Jen and Courtney are exiting. With a quick head nod in our direction I can only assume she’s telling them to find a new table because they both smile and turn toward the bar.
“What was that about?” Lucas asks as he takes the chair formerly occupied by Courtney.
“Her not so subtle attempt at a setup, I believe. Sorry.” Picking up my glass, I finish off my drink and silently wish the waitress would hurry back to take my order for another.
“A setup? I thought we were having happy hour.”
“Yeah, my friends seem to think I need to get back in the dating game. Which, by the way, I’ve never actually been in. Sorry they dragged you into this.”
“Never dated?”
The waitress chooses that moment to appear. With her attention on Lucas, I watch as she flirts—hand on his forearm, flip of her hair, larger than life smile, tits in his face—and he . . . orders a beer. He doesn’t flirt back. He doesn’t look at her too-tight top that accentuates her boobs. Then he asks for another of whatever I’m drinking before turning his attention to me, effectively dismissing her.
“So, never dated.”
“You didn’t have to ignore her on my account,” I say, even though I’m over the moon he did.
“What? Oh the excessive flirting? Eh, not interested. I’m here with you, and that’s better than a pair of tits in my face any day.”
“A lot of men would disagree.”
“I’m not a lot of men. So tell me about the non-dating thing.”
And just like that, Lucas and I sit and enjoy our own happy hour. Two drinks turn to four. A bowl of nuts becomes dinner, and before I know it, it’s been three hours and I’m having an amazing time. When the bill comes and I grab my purse to pull my card, Lucas places his hand on mine.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
“Nope. It’s on me,” he says, dropping his card in the book and holding it out for the waitress.
“Only if you promise to let me buy next time.”
“That probably won’t happen but okay,” he says, smiling as he accepts the book back from the waitress and scribbles his signature on the slip. “Ready to go?”
Nodding, I stand from the chair, and the number of vodkas I’ve had hits me as I sway a little. “Whoops.”
“Okay, tipsy girl, let me drive you home.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Except . . .”
With his hand to the small of my back, Lucas guides me through the bar toward the front door. His hand never leaves my back, not even when he opens the door for me to walk ahead of him. Pausing in front of him before exiting, I look at him and a plethora of emotions run through me.
I’m not ready to date. Not only is it too soon, but I’m making a lot of life changes and the last thing I need is to fall for someone and try to build a relationship. Plus, I’m scared to death. Being with Trenton for so long, I don’t know if I would know where to start with someone new.
All of that said, I want nothing more than to place my lips on Lucas’s. Perhaps it’s the vodka or the good time we had. The fact that he’s ridiculously hot and smells like a fucking wet dream isn’t hurting. But it’s more. It’s the way he looks at me, only me. The way he cares about the mundane shit I talk about. It’s how I feel when he’s around. Safe, important, and cared for.
Instead, I rise on my tippy toes and place a kiss to his cheek. It’s closer to the corner of his mouth and if he were to move just a fraction of an inch, it’d be more of a kiss to the lips than the cheek. He doesn’t move, only allows me this moment.
The drive to my apartment is quiet with the exception of the music playing low. I recognize it as a song that played when we were at the bar in Portland. The night we kissed.
“Interesting music choice,” I comment as he pulls in the visitor space near our building.
“I developed an appreciation for blues and the memories it brings.”
My heart.
“Memories?” I’m a glutton for punishment. I want him to tell me this attraction is real. That the moment we shared in Portland can happen again. God, what is wrong with me? I’ve said all night I’m not interested in dating, but I want Lucas to tell me there’s something.
Maybe it isn’t dating I’m not ready for, it’s dating someone other than Lucas.
I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Telling Whitney these songs bring memories only opens the door for me to insert my foot again. What’s next? Maybe tell her I’ve done nothing but think of her non-stop since I saw her at the club? That having her with me for days solidified what I’ve known since I was fifteen? Whitney Wheeler is beautiful, smart, funny, quirky, and everything a man could want in a woman.
Then I fucked it up and kissed her. I knew she wasn’t ready. I knew it before I asked her to dance. I was playing with fire but couldn’t help myself. Spending those days with her driving and talking, reconnecting and getting to know one another as adults and not teenagers, was more than I could have imagined.
Honestly, I never imagined seeing her again, let alone giving her a lap dance in front of a few hundred screaming women. But that’s what happened, and my life has been turned upside down ever since. I was being honest when I invited her on the trip with me. I wanted to be a good friend and help her escape from the shitty hand life had dealt her. Well, that her loser ex-fiancé handed her.
Moron.
Without much thought of the consequences, I kissed her. On the small makeshift dance floor of an old speakeasy, I held the woman of my dreams in my arms, and it was more than my horny teenage self could have ever imagined.
Then she ran.
For months I wanted to reach out to her but didn’t. No texts and no calls. Nothing. I understood it then, and I understand it now. She’s been through a lot these past few months and although I thought she was amazing when we were in Portland, this newer—stronger—version of her is so much more.
Whitney is stronger because of what she’s been through, and it shows in every way. Her hair is more carefree, her lips are brighter, and her skin glows. Her smile has always been her best asset aside from her huge heart. Tonight, when she laughed her smile was addictive. I want nothing more than to put it on her face every day.
The one thing that hasn’t changed since that night in Portland is the fear I see in her eyes. She’s afraid to care, to take a risk, to find love again. Maybe for the first time. There’s no way that Trenton idiot could have loved her if he was willing to be so careless with her heart.
Sitting here, in front of her apartment building, I have two choices. I can tell Whitney Wheeler I fell in love with her the first time during sophomore science and for the second time in a hotel room with two puppies over mediocre takeout, or I can offer her friendship and hope she catches up to my feelings.
I go with the latter.
“Yeah, memories of a fun trip with my friend. I’ve missed you these last few months, Whit.” Her smile falters a little, but she recovers quickly. Maybe bringing her up to speed will be easier than I expected.
“We just had breakfast together after my poor texting skills.”
“Ah yes, the tequila event. I thought you made me promise never to speak of it again?”
“You didn’t speak of it. Way to keep your word.”
Smiling, I say, “Maybe we can make this a regular thing? Hanging out.”
“I’d like that,” she replies with a small smile. God, I want to kiss her. Looks like tonight will be another edition of “Luke slaps his salami while thinking of Whitney Wheeler.”
“Thank you for the ride, Lucas. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t reply while she opens her door. Friends let friends open their own doors, even if it’s driving me crazy to not be a gentleman. Hopping out of my truck, I run around to the other side as she closes the door.
“How come you never call me Luke?” I ask as her brows knit in confusion. “You always call me Lucas.”
&nb
sp; “That is your name, is it not?” she asks while scrunching her nose. Fuck, she’s adorable.
“It is but everyone calls me Luke,” I comment while she takes a few steps toward the steps to her building. Leaning against my truck, I watch as she contemplates a response.
“That’s the thing, Lucas; I’m not like everyone else,” she says with a wink before turning toward her building, leaving me standing with my mouth open and her perfect ass on display as she walks away. Yep, it’s another Luke and his salami night.
I wait for Whitney to make it inside before getting in my truck and driving away. That girl is going to be the death of me. She has no idea how she affects me, how she’s always affected me.
The drive to my house isn’t too far and when I pull up in front, Jonah’s and Carmen’s cars are both in the driveway, parked side by side. Eventually, I’m going to wear out my welcome here, but until then I’ll continue to be grateful for their hospitality and friendship.
After the last time I walked in and caught them fucking on the couch, I always make a lot of noise when enter the front door. You can never be too careful with those two. Clearing my throat, jiggling my keys, and loudly closing the door, I hope that’s enough of a warning for them. Carmen’s laughter from the living room confirms they’ve heard my grand entrance and hopefully, Jonah has at least covered his junk this time.
“We’re decent, don’t worry,” Carmen shouts my way.
Mocking their decency, I cover my eyes before stepping into the living room. Peeking through my eyes I see the pillow headed straight for my head and duck.
“Don’t mock us, fucker.”
“Jonah, be nice to Luke. He was out with his girl and is still home by nine. How’d it go?”
Carmen is my biggest supporter in the quest to make Whitney mine. Well, other than Jessi. I swear, those two meeting is either going to be the greatest thing to happen to me or the reason for my demise. Heaven help us all when Whit is added to the mix. The thought of Whitney here with my friends morphs to a smile and earns me a squeal from Carmen.
“Oh my gosh! It went good, yeah? Honey look at his face. Of course it went well.”
I sit on the chair across from where Jonah and Carmen are cuddled on the couch. I rarely spend time in this room because I’m either studying in my room, at school, or at work. Glancing at the television, I note they’ve paused one of Jonah’s fishing shows for this little powwow.
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