Clearing my throat because I don’t trust myself to speak, I simply smile and fill my plate with salad and a slice of pizza. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I walk into the living room to settle in. Waiting for Lucas, I search through the available movies until he takes the spot next to me.
The usual comfortable silence we have between us is missing. It’s off, and I feel guilty over it.
“Any special requests?” I ask, motioning toward the television with the remote in my hand.
“I’m good with whatever. Damn,” he says with a mouthful, “this pizza is amazing.”
“It’s my favorite. Okay, how about this? It’s a classic.”
With his face scrunched, he looks at me confused. “You want to watch Finding Nemo?”
“Yep. Classic,” I reply while hitting play and stabbing at my salad.
The next twenty minutes are quiet except for the sounds of us eating. Lucas offers to get me a second piece of pizza, but I wave him off because if I have another slice, I’ll be too full for the cheesecake. Taking my plate and glass, Lucas retreats the kitchen. During his absence, I settle into the couch and tug the blanket from the back of the couch over myself. I’m not cold but snuggling under a blanket when I watch a movie is kind of my thing.
When he returns with a fresh beer and full glass of wine, Lucas takes his place and hands me the wine. Lifting the glass to my mouth, I enjoy the crispness of the cold wine and startle a bit when my legs are tugged up and placed on his legs. Without a word, he rests one hand on my leg while the other holds his beer. He’s trying to play it calm and casual, his attention on the cartoon, but I can see the way his jaw flexes. He’s thinking, and part of me knows it’s the awkwardness hanging over us.
“Do you work tonight?” I ask. Stupid girl. You don’t want to know. Plus, it’s not your business.
“No.” His tone is clipped and my stomach drops in worry.
“Okay,” I whisper, turning my attention to the movie. A feeling of sadness and regret washes over me. No, it’s not sadness. It’s something else entirely. Something I haven’t experienced, well ever. Jealousy. I’m a mess. I’ve been telling myself and anyone else who will listen I’m not ready to date. It’s too soon after ending my engagement to Trenton. Being single is what I need right now. I’m focused on my career and learning everything I can.
Spending this day with Lucas, remembering how it feels when he kisses me, makes me second guess that position. Maybe it was premature of me to make a declaration of single girldom. Taking another sip of my wine, I consider the ramifications of telling Lucas how I feel. Would he reciprocate the feelings I’m developing? Feelings that scare me and excite me at once.
Then there’s the matter of his job. I know in my gut I can’t handle it. There’s no way I can kiss my boyfriend goodbye, knowing he was heading to a bar to take his clothes off for money. Me, the girl who doesn’t judge a woman—or a man for that matter—who chooses dancing as a profession. To each his or her own. But that was before I considered the life of a significant other. The level of trust you must have in your partner is high, and after Trenton, I’m not sure I’m capable of that.
How do you trust a man you are getting to know when the man you thought you’d be with forever broke that same trust?
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Startled, I jerk my body and gasp. Or Lucas gasps. Shit.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you.” In the nuts. Dammit to hell. Jumping up, I set my glass on the table and turn to Lucas. His head is thrown back on the couch, hands cupping his crotch, exhaling slowly.
“What can I do, Luke? Ice? Do you need an ice pack?” I ask as I jump over his feet and start toward the kitchen. We don’t have an ice pack. Defeated, I walk back to the living room where he’s still in the same position on the couch, but the look on his face is less agony and more discomfort now.
“I don’t have an ice pack.”
Laughing, Lucas rolls his head to the side, giving me a small smile and a flutter skirts through my chest. Eyes wide, I watch as Lucas looks me over from head to toe and then back up. He slows his perusal along my legs and again when he reaches my exposed shoulder, the sweatshirt having fallen slightly.
Like the slowest and sweetest burn, my skin heats under his gaze.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
I shift my feet from side to side nervously. Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I take a step forward. With a second step, I’m standing just to the side of Lucas, his arm resting on the sofa. His hand lifts slowly and rests on my hip. I suck in a breath, nerves prick at me. Lucas tugs me to him and I fall onto his lap. Not wanting to cause him any more pain, I catch myself a bit and move so I’m straddling his lap.
His hand glides around my hip to my lower back, fingertips slide under my sweatshirt and tug my tank top up. When his hand touches my bare skin, goosebumps sprinkle my skin.
“Whit,” he whispers. His hand increases in pressure, a silent indicator for me to shift closer. I place my forearms on his shoulders, my hands going to his neck, fingers running through his hair. The small groan that escapes him sends a shiver up my spine. Glancing at his lips, I long for them on mine. I want him to kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before.
“Lu—” Before I finish his name, my wish is granted. His lips capture mine, and I melt into him. My chest collapses to meet his as his hand widens on my back. His free hand comes to rest on the curve of my ass. When he tugs me to him, his growing erection between my legs, I sigh into the kiss and lose myself.
I lose myself in the memories of the boy I crushed on and every teenage fantasy I had about a moment like this. I lose myself in the new memories we’ve created, the laughs we’ve shared. With my eyes closed and my hands buried in his hair, I shift closer, so close. My body is flush with his and the emotions I feel pour from me.
My heart is beating so fast, it feels like I’m deep into a marathon. Lucas deepens the kiss, and his hips rise. The feeling of him touching me sets my soul on fire. A moan fills the air, I’m not sure if it’s Lucas or me. Perhaps it’s both of us. The heat and passion between us is palpable.
Then he pulls away. Dazed with swollen lips and disheveled hair, he takes a deep breath, eyes closed, and says, “We can’t do this.”
Say what?
I don’t respond immediately. Instead, I lean back, causing him to groan again. Looking at him, I search his eyes for answers to why we can’t do this. Why we can’t do more. I don’t see answers, I see fire. Passion. Desire.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
Then he moves his legs, which causes me to move and stand from his lap. Sitting up, he rests his elbows on his knees and rakes his hands through his hair. The conflict is obvious, and I have two choices. I can give in to the rejection looming deep in my heart or I can confront him. Whitney from a few months ago would wallow in the rejection. Now? Now I want answers.
Goddamn. Kissing Whitney is everything I knew it would be and more. The kisses we’ve shared already have been nothing compared to having her straddling me, her sweetness rubbing against me. I think I’m going to come right there on her couch while she grinds on me. Her sweet purrs and moans ignite something in me. Something primal.
I am seconds away from lifting her off that couch, carrying her to her bedroom, and worshiping her from head to toe and back again. I want to strip her of those short-as-hell shorts and lift that loose top from her body. Need consumes me. Then I realize how much that would change everything.
One night with Whitney isn’t what I want. It isn’t what I need. Whitney Wheeler isn’t a one-night stand, and she isn’t a friends-with-benefits girl. She’s the woman you court, you woo, and you marry. She’s the woman you vow to protect every day for the rest of your life.
She deserves more than what we’re doing on the couch. What I want to do with her on the bed. We deserve more.
“Explain yourself, Lucas DeCosta.” My eyes fly up to find her standing before me, hands crossed over her heaving chest. The look on her face is slightly intimidating and for a minute I regret stopping everything. She looks hot as fuck.
“Babe,” I begin, but she cuts me off with her hand in my face.
“No. No pet names. No sweet gestures. I want answers, Lucas. What did I do wrong?” Her voice breaks, and it kills me to think she believes there is anything wrong.
I don’t respond, and instead, I lift my hands to her hips and tug her toward me so she’s standing between my knees. Resting my head on her stomach, I wrap my arms around her waist, breathing her in. Tension radiates off her but I hold my ground until she relaxes, and her hands rest on my shoulders, running small circles on my upper back.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I want to take it slow. I want us to get to know each other again. We are heading down a path we can’t come back from. We aren’t ready for that.”
Sighing, she steps back a little but leaves her hands on my shoulders. I look up as she says, “I just thought . . . I thought you wanted to.”
“God, Whit. Want doesn’t describe how I’m feeling. But I need us to get to know each other for who we are now. I know you have some reservations. I’m not spending time with you, going out on dates, for a night in bed. I want to be with you, Whitney.”
“I think I’d like that too.”
“Good.” Standing, I scoop her up in my arms, her feet dangling freely, and a smile on her face. “I’m going to let you walk me to the door, kiss me goodbye like a lady, and then I’m going to go home and call you. We’ll talk on the phone until we fall asleep and then tomorrow, tomorrow is date three. How about we get some takeout, and you come to my house?”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, she kisses me sweetly and sighs. “I have to work tomorrow. What about the next day, after you’re done with school?”
“I have to work the rest of the week. Sunday?”
“Work,” she says, squirming out of my hold. When her feet hit the ground, she picks up her wine glass and walks to the kitchen and begins washing it.
“Hey,” I say as I step up behind her, placing my hands on the counter, blocking her in. My lips skim her bare shoulder, and she responds with a shiver. “You know I have to work.”
“I know. Just ignore me.”
“No,” I reply, turning the water off and spinning her to face me. Bending so I’m eye level with her, I force her gaze to meet my eyes. “Don’t block me out, Whit. What’s wrong?”
“I just . . . your job. I know it’s a job, and you have to work, but it makes me uncomfortable. God, I’m such a hypocrite. I met you again at your job. I was there. I mean you . . .” She pauses, waving her hand around dramatically, which causes me to laugh.
“Do not laugh at me Lucas.”
“We’re back to Lucas, I see. That’s why I want you to come to my house. I want you to spend time with Carmen and Jonah. Give you a chance to ask questions if you have them. I get it. Really, I do. If the tables were turned, I know I wouldn’t let you go to work.”
With a brow raised, I know she wants to tell me she does what she wants. “Sorry, I know I couldn’t tell you not to work, but I would fucking hate it. This,” I say, grabbing her ass as she yelps, “is not for anyone else. Now, walk me to the door so I can go home and talk to you on the phone like my fifteen-year-old self never got to. We’ll figure the rest out.”
Allowing me to take her hand, Whitney walks with me to the front door where I slip on my shoes. When I open the door and turn to face her, she’s chewing on her bottom lip like it’s a steak dinner. Tugging it from between her teeth, I place a light kiss to her mouth.
“Just so you know,” she says with her lips a breath from mine, “no man owns my ass or anything else. I’m trying, Luke. I just don’t know if I can handle this.”
“We’ll figure it out. Now, get yourself ready for my call. Twenty minutes.” Without another kiss, I walk away, leaving her standing in the doorway. I don’t look back. One look at her standing in that doorway will have me turning around and making myself a hypocrite when I toss her over my shoulder and take her to bed.
Whitney and I have talked every day since I left her standing in her doorway. We’ve texted and video chatted but haven’t seen each other in person. It’s been two weeks. Her job has kept her busy, and I love hearing her excitement each night when we talk. I’ve made a point to call her or at least text her each night at work. I want her to know she’s the one I’m thinking of, even when I’m working.
Jonah has been giving me some big brother advice on incorporating my work life into my personal life. Mostly, he’s been telling me I’m going to fuck up and how I can avoid it all now by ending things. When I threatened to kill him if he ever said that again, he laughed and said he was testing me. Dick. I guess I passed because he’s covering my shift tomorrow so I can have Whitney over for that third date we still haven’t had.
Tonight we have three bachelorette party reservations, and I know it’s going to be busy, so I call Whitney but decide to video chat instead. Settling into the couch in the dressing room, I listen to the annoying ring until her face fills my screen. God, she’s beautiful.
“Hey, handsome. This is a nice surprise.”
“It’s going to be nuts tonight, and I wanted to make sure we had our call before I had to get ready.”
I watch as she settles onto her bed. She’s wearing glasses, and her hair is piled on her head. This is exactly how I love her. Like her. I like her when she looks like this.
“What’s with the weird faces, DeCosta? Eat too many carbs today and having a panic attack?”
“The lady has jokes. And, no carbs today. I have been very disciplined, thank you very much. How was your day?”
“It was fine. I cleaned, paid bills, and got a pedicure. Oh and I started a new book. That was probably the highlight of my day.”
“Do you want to know what I did today?” I ask with a smirk on my lips. She’s going to flip when I tell her.
“Of course I do. Thrill me with tales of your day, please.”
“I scored tickets for Lightning Strikes.”
Her scream is piercing and the look on her face is worth every penny I spent on those damn tickets. The problem with your favorite indie band making the big time: the price of the tickets. But this moment is worth the extra attention I’ll have to give the brides tonight.
“You did not. Oh my gosh, Luke. You’re the best boy—” she says with wide eyes, her hand flying to her mouth, “guy on the block.”
“Did you just call me the best guy on the block?”
“I think I did.” Her face is scarlet red, and she’s never been prettier.
“I was thinking maybe you could call me the best boyfriend in town. I mean, it is your favorite band.”
“Oh,” she whispers as she looks off in the distance. Pushing up her glasses, she glances back to the screen shyly and then smiles. “I think I’d like that very much. Would that make me the supreme girlfriend?”
“Baby, you have always been supreme. I’ve gotta go, but I’m happy you like my surprise.”
“I love your surprise. Thank you.”
“Okay, we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. Have a good night, babe.”
“You too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She blows me a kiss and for the first time since we reconnected, I feel like everything is finally going my way. Our way.
I spend the next hour steaming my costumes before showering. When I’ve finished washing, shaving, and exfoliating almost every inch of my body, I exit to the dressing room with a towel around my waist. Most of the guys are filing in and steaming their own costumes when I spot Jonah staring at his.
“I handled that for you,” I say as I pull my pajama pants from my bag and put them on. Taking the towel formerly on my waist to my head, I dry my hair while I wait for his response.
“Thanks, man. You didn’t h
ave to do that.”
“Of course not, but you and Carmen do so much for me. Seemed the least I could do.”
“Well, thanks again. Did you talk to your girl?”
“I did, we made it official.”
Slapping me on the back, he raises his hand to grip my neck, causing me tense. “Happy to hear it, Luke. You’re going to need to do something nice for Carmen. She’s pissed I agreed to work for you tomorrow. You know we watch our shows together on Sundays.”
“I was going to buy her a dozen cupcakes.”
“Hell, kid. You may have this relationship thing figured out after all. Now, put your camo on and get ready to make some ladies scream.”
“Look, old man, don’t worry about the screaming ladies.”
Jonah looks at me with wide eyes and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Who are you calling old? I’m only twenty-seven, kid.”
Rolling my eyes I walk away with my hand raised above my head, middle finger saluting him.
Boyfriend.
I have a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend. Lucas DeCosta is my boyfriend. He’s sexy as hell, sweet as pie, and I think I might be falling in love with him. This was so not the plan. I’m supposed to be working on my career, building my own future that isn’t dependent on a man.
Except, when I think of Lucas, it isn’t about independence or being dependent. It’s about happiness. And horniness. Goddamn, I’m so fucking horny.
I thought when Lucas left me standing in my doorway after telling me he wanted us to get to know each other again, we would go out a few times and finally have sex. I haven’t seen him since that day. Well, I’ve seen him on video chat, and while that’s great because I get to see his face as he says all these amazing things, I want to see him. To touch him. I miss him.
How is that possible? How do I miss someone who has been out of my life for years only to reappear a few months ago? But I do. I miss the way he looks at me, the touch of his hand on my leg, and the way his lips feel on mine.
As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. We weren’t ready. I mean, I was ready in more ways than one and made Sven my bitch that night and a few since then, but emotionally we weren’t ready. Since then, we’ve talked and talked. We’ve built something real, something with a foundation.
I Don't: A Romantic Comedy Page 15