Meant To Be (The Callahans Book 4)

by Monica Murphy

  “I missed you,” he says, his voice rough. Like it took a lot for him to admit that.

  “Then why didn’t you talk to me this week?”

  “Shit got—weird. My dad took my phone away Sunday night after we got into an argument. My mom bought me a new one the next day and I was just—kind of taken aback, that she would do something nice for me. Plus, I was busy all week. With school. Football. We won, by the way.” He hesitates for a moment before he continues. “I was trying to see what my life was like without you.”

  “And how was it?” I ask, nervous to hear his answer.

  “Fucking awful.” He dips his head, the tiniest smile curling his lips. I can’t help but smile in return. “I didn’t like it.”

  “I don’t like my life without you in it either,” I say. “I was grounded all week. My parents were so mad at me for trying to sneak you into the house.”

  He smiles, scratching his jaw. “You weren’t sneaking me into your house. You were sneaking me into the hot tub, so we could mess around.”

  My smile grows. “True.”

  “I never got to see what you were wearing under that robe,” he says.

  “You want to know?” He nods. “Nothing,” I whisper, exaggerating only a little bit.

  Eli slowly shakes his head. “Uh huh. Sorry I missed that.”

  “Me too.”

  His smile fades. “You still went to that dance.”

  I’m automatically defensive. “I was the homecoming princess.”

  “You’re my princess,” he says gruffly, going all alpha possessive jerk on me.

  Tingles sweep over my skin. This is one of those times I love it when he does that. “I didn’t think you’d ever say that to me again.”

  “I didn’t give up on us that easily,” he says.

  “You sort of did,” I point out, mentally telling myself to shut up. I don’t want to convince him we shouldn’t be together.

  He crosses his arms. “Maybe we should take this slow.”

  I approach him, my steps careful but sure. He’s still leaning against the door, his demeanor casual, but I can tell he’s coiled and tense. Ready for whatever I’m going to deliver, whether it’s good or bad.

  “You want us to take it slow?” I ask, a little laugh escaping me when I stop directly in front of him. He’s so close, I can smell him. Feel his body heat radiate toward me. My body leans forward on instinct, like I have no control of myself. “Aren’t we passed that?”

  “Maybe.” He tilts his head to the side. “I just thought maybe it would be smarter if we slowed our roll, you know?”

  “Slowed our roll?” I’m frowning. It’s like he’s talking in a foreign language.

  “It means we need to slow down. My dad always used to say it. But fuck that guy.” He waves a hand, dismissing his feelings, and I want to ask him why his father took his phone away, but I don’t.

  “What about the girl giving you a lap dance at your party Saturday night?” I ask. I have to know. Who she was and if she means anything to him. He didn’t look disinterested.

  “Oh damn, you saw that?” It gives me a sick pleasure to see the obvious discomfort appear on his face. “It was Josie. Josie Price. She’s on our cheer team. She’s a senior. She’s been chasing my dick for a long time.”

  My stomach drops, and I suddenly feel nauseous. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. Don’t worry about her. Not interested. She was trying, but I told her about you.” His expression turns sheepish.

  I’m shocked. “You told her about me?”

  “Yeah. Uh. I told her I had a girl. I might’ve said some other stuff. I can’t remember.” He doesn’t say anything else, and I cling to those words. Cling to the fact that even though he was mad at me and he had some girl grinding her butt on his crotch, he mentioned me to her. She was trying her damnedest to get him to focus on her, and he talked about me.

  “What about Wyatt?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything.

  “What about him?”

  “That douchebag was all over you at the dance.” His voice is full of disgust.

  “He was not.” Talk about exaggerating.

  “Was fucking too. I saw footage.”

  “You’re completely overreacting.” I pause. “Is that why you sent that text?”

  “What text?”

  “Um, hold on.” I grab my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and find the text, then read it out loud to him. “‘Hope you have fun at your stupid dance with that asshole who probably wouldn’t know where your clit is, even if you drew him a map with a giant lit-up arrow pointing to it.’”

  “I said that?” He doesn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, he’s totally amused. “That’s funny.”

  “You didn’t go back and read your texts to me?” I read them over and over again, driving myself crazy with his words.

  “Like I said, my dad took my phone away and I sort of…yeah. Didn’t go back to our messages when I got the new phone because I didn’t want to make myself miserable,” he admits, then blows out a long breath.

  Aww poor Eli. Doesn’t want to torture himself by yearning for me. I hope I tore his heart into tiny little pieces while he mourned the loss of me.

  “You also said this.” I pause for only a moment before I launch into the next text message from him. “‘I’m a stupid fucker who knows exactly where your clit is, and how much you like it when I touch it. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t give Wyatt the map. Or your heart. That belongs to me.’” When I’m done, I lift my head to find him watching me with this dazed look on his face, his lips parted, his gaze locking with mine. “Did you mean it?”

  “Meant every fucking word,” he says without hesitation. “And you do like it when I touch your clit.”

  “Eli.”

  “It’s true. Baby, what we had was real, and when we were together, we were the best. You can’t deny it,” he says with that cocksure confidence he loves to throw around. To make everyone believe he’s the big man on campus. Larger than life. Arrogant as hell.

  It’s a lie. A cover. Deep down, in his rawest form, he’s heartbreakingly vulnerable. His heart, his soul, they bleed. His emotions spill all over the place, but he gathers them back up and locks them away. He can pretend all he wants with me right now, but I’ve seen the real Eli. And I want more of that Eli. Not this one.

  “We don’t have to talk about us in the past tense.” I reach out and rest my fingers on his exposed forearm, my fingertips sizzling when I make contact. His skin is hot, and the connection between us is instant. Electrifying. As usual. “We can still be the best. Together.”

  He drops his arms to his sides, and I immediately miss the connection. My hand hovers there, in between us, and he grabs it, pulling me into him. I have no choice but to go to him, resting my hands on his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt. A bone deep yearning fills me at being so close to him again. I wish I could pull his sweatshirt off. Run my hands all over his naked skin. Being with him again makes me feel needy.

  Greedy.

  “I start kissing you right now, I won’t be able to stop,” he says, his voice serious. Determined.

  Yesssss, I want to shout. But I remain outwardly calm. Collected. I stand up a little straighter, thrusting my chest out. His gaze drops there, but only for a second before he lifts those gorgeous hazel eyes to mine. “Then don’t stop,” I say. Basically daring him.

  My Eli can’t turn down a dare.

  He doesn’t say a word, though I see something flicker in his gaze. His hand goes to my cheek, his thumb softly stroking my skin. I close my eyes, his touch filling me with relief that leaves me weak. I sense him moving closer, his head dipping, his intake of breath. I part my lips. Hold my breath. He tilts my head up with his hand, guiding me, and I follow.

  In this very moment, filled with anticipation and so much need, I’d follow him off a cliff if he led me there.

  His lips brush mine. Warm. Soft. Feather light. Too light
. A sigh escapes me, and I swear I feel him smile as he kisses me again. And again. No tongue. Just damp lips connecting, making me shiver.

  “You think your brother’s gonna bust through the door at any second and break us up again?” he asks, his lips moving against mine as he speaks.

  I give his chest a little shove and step away, trying to catch my breath, my mood spoiled. “Don’t ruin a good moment.”

  “Every moment is good between us, princess. You should know this by now. Angry. Happy. Whatever. We’re good together.” He sneaks his arm around my waist and hauls me back into him. I rest my hands on his chest once more, absorbing his warmth. His strength. He is rock hard. Made of solid muscle.

  “Let’s go outside,” I tell him, tilting my head back when he leans in and drops another kiss on my lips. Yes, I’d rather mess around with him on that single bed sitting in the corner of the tiny bedroom we’re in, but then again, that’s kind of gross. And I shouldn’t give in to him so quickly anyway. I need to make him chase me a little bit. Make him work for it.

  Work for me.

  “You want to go outside?” He kisses me for real this time, stealing my breath, my thoughts, everything I’ve got. His tongue sweeps my mouth, circles around mine, and it’s like I forgot the power his kisses have over me.

  Because they do. Have so much power, it’s overwhelming. I’m lost. Lost in the sensation of his tongue caressing mine. The heat of his body seeping into mine. He has so much power over me. So much. He doesn’t even know how desperate I am to hold onto him.

  “Yes,” I say, once I break the kiss, breathless and more than a little mussed. Must be from the way Eli dragged his fingers through my pulled back hair. I’m sure I look crazy. “Let’s go listen to Jackson.”

  “I can croon a few songs in your ear if you want me to.” He grins. Reaches for the back of my head and tugs the elastic band out of my hair completely, making it fall past my shoulders. He’s frowning as he rakes his fingers through it. “You got a weird lump in your hair.”

  “I’ve had it up all day.” I try running my fingers through the back of it to make it look better, but it’s pointless.

  “Wish you showed up here in your uniform. That always gets me, seeing you like that.” He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, whispering in my ear, “Maybe you could come over to my house one night, wearing that uniform and nothing else under the skirt.”

  “Eli,” I whisper in protest, just before he kisses me again. Not that I’m really protesting his idea. It actually sounds kind of fun.

  “Ava,” he whispers back, his hands starting to wander.

  And that’s my cue to pull away and grab that wandering hand, shifting him away from the door. “Let’s go,” I tell him, just before I open it and march out of the room. He follows after me, squeezing my hand and I know…

  I have never felt more triumphant than in this moment. He’s mine again.

  Mine.

  Ten

  Eli

  Was I too easy on her? Maybe. Was she too easy on me? Probably.

  But earlier when we were outside, I caught her watching me with those big green eyes, her body swaying to the music as she stood next to her best friend. Jackson was singing that song and I absorbed the lyrics completely, the words hitting me like a smack upside the head. Players only loving you when you’re playing, or some shit like that. Got me right in the feels, I can’t lie. Reminded me that everyone thinks I’m that guy. The player. The one who’ll fuck you and leave you. The one who struts around like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Laughing and acting stupid and drinking and smoking another blunt and hey, you wanna get loaded? You wanna get fucked? Oh, you want to get punched in the fucking face? I can manage that too.

  I can’t blame everyone for thinking that’s who I am. That’s how I portray myself. It’s how I want people to see me. Acting that way makes me feel strong. Tough. Above it all—above my problems.

  The only one who knows I’m more than that is this girl. Ava. The one who’s tugging me through the house after I so thoroughly kissed her. Her hair is a fuckin’ mess and I kissed all the gloss off her lips—I can still feel a little bit of it on mine, sticky and sweet—and her eyeliner is smudged. Gives her an edgy look, which is not typical Ava. But every time she moves, I catch a glimpse of her flat stomach and her belly button, the sight of her bare skin making me want to trace it all with my tongue, so…yeah.

  I can’t worry about if I did the right thing or not. Or if I forgave too easily. She’s here. I believe what she said about Cami. Wouldn’t put it past her to confess all my secrets to that asshole Jake. Why is she so drawn to that guy? Why is anyone drawn to him?

  Fuck him. He’s the last person I want to think about right now.

  Instead, I focus on Ava. The way her ass looks in those jeans makes me a little crazy. I want her. I’m in love with her. I’m not going to stop chasing after her. As long as she wants to hold my hand, I’ll keep her.

  Forever if she’ll let me.

  We walk through the crowd of people in the tiny living room, a few of them giving us odd glances when they see we’re holding hands, but I say nothing. Neither does Ava. This is my crowd that’s here tonight, and I’m sure the moment we leave this room, they’re all gonna talk.

  Let ‘em.

  Her people are all over at Tony Sorrento’s house, doing their traditional drink and drug and fuck party they have after every home game. I’m sure she was invited. Maybe her little friend Wyatt thought he had a chance with her tonight. Well, fuck that. I still can’t believe she agreed to meet me here. But she did.

  She glances over her shoulder when we walk outside, her gaze catching mine as a smile curls her perfect lips. I take a couple of extra steps, so I’m standing right beside her, and we’re both poised on the edge of the porch, ready to go down the steps, but I stop her.

  “You want your hair tie back?” I ask, holding it out to her.

  She lets go of my hand and takes it, twisting her hair into this messy, sloppy ass bun that sticks out everywhere. “How do I look?”

  “Fucking magical.” She could be wearing a paper sack and look like hell and I’d still say that.

  Ava grins. “Let’s go. I can hear your friend playing his guitar.”

  We walk down the steps together, side by side, our strides in sync. Once we hit the ground, I take her hand again, lacing our fingers and leading her toward the circle of people around the fire. It’s still crackling, though the flames aren’t as high, and we stand on the fringe, Ava leaning over to whisper something in my ear. I bend my knees a little so she can reach it.

  “Ellie is sitting right next to him!” she whisper-squeals like girls do, her tone downright giddy.

  I check out Jackson to see that yep, Ava’s best friend is sitting beside him, snuggled up to his side. He’s strumming his guitar, but he’s not playing a song. He’s talking to her. I can see his lips move, and her lips move in response. They’re having a total conversation while he’s surrounded by at least fifty other girls, all of them ready to cream their panties over his next tune.

  And he’s not paying attention to any of them. Just Ellie.

  “Is he a good guy? Your friend?” Ava asks me.

  I contemplate her question. “He’s a good friend. Not sure how he is as a date. Or a boyfriend.” Bitter about women that’s for sure. Should I tell Ava that? “I think he’s been burned in the past.”

  There. That sounds better.

  “Ah, he’s wounded.” She nudges my side. “Kind of like you.”

  I rest my free hand over my chest, pretending to take offense. “You think I’m wounded?”

  “Definitely,” she says with a knowing smile. “But that’s okay. You’re wounded. You’re confident. You’re sweet. You’re dirty. You’re even a little mean sometimes. I like all the many sides of you.”

  Aw damn. She goes and says something like that, and I gotta do something in response. I pull her in close, so she’s standing directly in front of me,
and I wrap my arms around her middle, giving her a squeeze as I rest my chin on her shoulder. She angles her face toward mine, and it would take nothing for me to lean in and kiss her.

  But I don’t. Let’s keep everyone guessing, though if they’re watching closely enough, they’ll have us all figured out.

  “You think I’m dirty?” I ask her, making her laugh.

  I missed that sound. It’s light and airy and it makes my heart feel light and airy too. Like I’m going to be all right.

  “I say all those things, and that’s what sticks with you.” She shakes her head, her crazy bun hair brushing against my cheek. “Figures.”

  “At least I’m consistent.”

  “You are so consistent.” A content sigh escapes her and I nuzzle my face against hers, happy as fuck to have this girl in my arms, in front of my friends.

  “Yo, Bennett.”

  Speaking of friends…

  I turn to see Brenden standing next to us, Kayla by his side. She’s taking me and Ava in, her eyes wide with shock and disgust, her big, bitchy mouth falling open. God, I hate her. Though even Brenden looks surprised when he sees who I’m with.

  “What do you want?” I ask him, feeling like a dick, but not really caring. He was supposed to break up with that chick a week ago, and he still hasn’t done it. I assume because she’s keeping his ass happy, giving him blow jobs and letting him do her. Considering she lies there and takes it like a dead fish, Brenden has to know there are better prospects out there.

  “Nothing, man. Haven’t really seen you all night,” Brenden says.

  “Probably because you’ve been sneaking around, letting your girlfriend suck you off,” I say irritably.

  “Eli,” Ava chastises, making me feel like shit. She pulls out of my grip and takes a step toward Brenden with a friendly smile. “Hi. I’m Ava.”

  “Brenden,” my friend mumbles, shaking her offered hand.

  I can’t help but feel proud. Look at my girl, taking the initiative and introducing herself to my friends.