The Secret: A Friends To Lovers Romance (North Woods University Book 3)

by J. L. Beck

  “Don’t mind Vance, he’ll grow on you,” Ava says, her soft voice dragging me from my thoughts.

  “It’s okay, I get it. You guys don’t know me, and Clark is your friend. This whole thing is… a little odd. Clark and I barely know each other and now we’re moving in together,” I tell her, noticing how strangely comfortable I am talking to her. Usually I’m not scared of talking to girls, but I’m nowhere near comfortable either, at least not normally. Ava, however, has this aura about her, this kindness that seems to seep out of her. It almost makes you want to befriend her.

  “Yeah, I thought Clark might be lying about you guys being together, but I’ve never seen him act the way he did just a moment ago.” She gestures to my hand where I swear I can still feel the warmth of Clark’s touch. “Holding your hand like that. It’s almost like he knew you needed him or something.”

  “Yeah, Clark’s a pretty good guy,” I say, not wanting to give anything away. The last thing I want to do is have to explain myself to two more people that have no idea why I am the way I am. I came to North Woods hoping to escape my past. Hoping to make friends instead of enemies. At home, the kids in school laughed at me, called me weird, and made fun of me. I wanted to get away from all of that and for the first time, I think I might be able too.

  “He is, Vance isn’t bad either. He's just being protective of Clark.”

  “Well, I don’t need protecting,” Clark chimes in, his tone defiant as he and Vance re-enter the room. “Let’s move this ugly ass couch and bring the new one in.”

  Clark and Vance walk into the living room and start moving stuff out of the way while Ava and I try to help without getting in the way.

  “I can see why you want to get rid of this monstrosity. It looks like the 1970s threw up on this thing,” Vance grunts as he leans down to help Clark lift the couch.

  “I’m not sure how the rest of the house looks so nice, but this couch is so fucking ugly. Maybe someone lost a bet, or they were high when they ordered it,” Clark says while carrying the couch out. Between the two of them, they easily carry it toward the door.

  With a little finagling, they get the putrid green couch out the door, only dinging the doorframe once, while leaving behind some minor scratches. Ava and I hang out on the sidelines while they curse at each other as they bring the heavier, bulkier sectional in.

  “Jesus fuck, lift, asshole,” Vance curses and I try not to stare at Clark as he lifts up the heavy piece of furniture, his biceps bulge at the weight, his perfectly sculpted chest puffing out as he grunts. Don’t stare, don’t stare. But my eyes don’t get the memo. It feels like I’m in a trance, unable to look away.

  My eyes track a bead of sweat that streaks against his forehead, and down his body to a small patch of shirt that’s soaked with sweat right between his shoulder blades.

  Warmth flutters through my gut as this completely ridiculous impulse to walk over and lick the sweat off his skin, just to see what it tastes like enters my mind.

  Licking my lips, I realize how dry my mouth is. As if fate is mocking me, Clark looks over at me right then, catching my gaze on him.

  Shit. I’ve been caught. He grins knowingly and I look away, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I bet my cheeks match my hair color right now.

  “It’s okay to look,” Ava leans over and whispers, startling me. Clenching my fist, I dig my nails into the palms of my head. I totally forgot she was standing so close to me. “They are putting on quite the show, if I might say so.” Her eyes never waver from Vance’s body and I can see how much she cares for him, how much she wants him.

  “Don’t worry babe, I’ll let you touch it later,” Vance calls over his shoulder, causing Ava to snort with laughter.

  Once they finish moving the sectional in and putting it in the exact position they want, they both head for the kitchen where Ava and I are standing. Clark saunters up to me, his hand extended outwards. I take it eagerly, interlacing my fingers with his. He squeezes my hand gently and gives me a reassuring smile that makes the warmth spread through my abdomen.

  As if Vance has been here a million times before, he struts to the fridge, pulling it open, and gets out four bottles of beer.

  “Someone said we could have some drinks, so let's have a drink,” he says, handing each of us a bottle. Vance glances at me with apprehension and I wonder what Clark said to him. I take the bottle not wanting to seem rude, but really, I don’t have any intention of drinking it. I never drink.

  Without letting go of me, we all walk to the living room and sit down on the new sectional. Ava sits down so close to Vance, she might as well sit on his lap, while Clark and I leave a few inches between us, resting our joint hands in that space.

  “So how come you have separate bedrooms?” Vance asks. “Seems odd to not sleep in the same room as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “That’s none of your business,” Ava snaps, elbowing Vance in the ribs. “So what classes are you going to take, Emerson? Do you know what you are majoring in yet?”

  Endlessly thankful for Ava and her change of subject, I tell her what classes I signed up for this semester and that I haven't decided on a major yet but that I love biology. Ava tells me about campus and her favorite teacher and invites me to meet her for coffee sometime this week.

  While Ava and I successfully manage to carry on friendly small talk, Clark and Vance have some kind of staring competition that leaves the room with a tightness that I can feel in my chest. It isn’t until they’ve both finished their beers that they seem to relax a bit, joining in on the conversation and even laughing at some of Ava’s jokes.

  “Maybe we should head out,” Vance says after a while, the tension in his voice has dialed down tremendously.

  “It was so nice to meet you,” Ava tells me, her parting smile, warm, and infectious.

  “It was nice to meet you too,” I reply, peeking over at Vance for half a second. His lips are pressed into a hard line. Obviously, he isn’t going to say goodbye.

  I guess we aren’t friends yet?

  “I’ll talk to you guys later,” Clark sends them off, showing them to the door. A few seconds later he returns to sit next to me on the couch and I can’t help but notice how tense he is. I want to ask him what he and Vance talked about, but I don’t want to seem nosy or intrude. Still, I feel the need to be a friend to him, especially after all he’s done for me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushions, an arm draped over his face. “I just wish Vance wouldn't have been such an asshole.”

  I pull my legs up underneath me, and sink deeper into the plush fabric. “Well, you did warn me. Ava is nice though, you think she really wants to get some coffee with me?” I’ve been on the receiving end of hate for so long that I can’t tell if people are being genuine or not anymore. Maybe she just said it to be nice? Or because she’s friends with Clark? I really hope not because I would love to have her as a friend.

  “Yes, she really does, or she wouldn’t have asked. Ava isn’t fake like a lot of other people around here, neither is Vance for that matter, and that’s why they’re my best friends. Both of them are the, what you see is what you get kind of people. Vance might be a dickhead sometimes, well I mean all the time, but he is a brutally honest and loyal to a T dickhead.”

  “That’s good, those are the best kind of friends to have…” I trail off.

  I don’t know Vance’s story, and I won’t judge him, but I do hope he warms up to me. His standoffish behavior makes me nervous. When I look up from my lap, I find Clark staring at me, an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers in his warm gaze.

  Nibbling on my bottom lip nervously I opened my mouth to ask the question that’s been nagging at me since the words left his mouth earlier.

  “Why did you tell them that I was your girlfriend?”

  “Honestly… I don’t really know why I said it… but it didn’t feel like a lie. I mean, I know you’re no
t my girlfriend, not in the traditional scene of the word, but you are something to me. I guess I didn’t know what else to call you and friend seemed not enough.”

  I’m speechless, literally speechless. What am I going to say to that? Are we more than friends? And if so, what does that mean?

  When I don’t say anything, Clark continues, “I guess after what happened in the grocery store, I didn’t want anyone to come at you like that again. Maybe it would be better if everybody thinks you are my girlfriend.”

  I let the thought sink in. I've never had a boyfriend before. I’ve only ever been on the outside, looking in, watching other couples kissing, holding hands… being happy.

  I can’t lie and say I've never wished for that kind of thing for myself, of course I never thought I could have it. No one wants someone like me, someone broken, afraid of touch, startled by the tiniest of things. I bite at the inside of my cheek, an anxious knot forming in my chest. I still don’t understand why Clark wants me the way he does, why he's being so nice, so caring.

  Could I pretend to be his girlfriend? I’m already holding his hand most of the day, just for other reasons than the average couple, I guess. I feel safe and happy when I’m with him, so I could spend all my time with him.

  But what if he wants to kiss me? Would he? Would I let him? I don’t know. There are so many unknowns surrounding us.

  Then I remember what his friends said about Clark, what Sarah said… Clark is going to want more than a kiss and I don’t think I could manage that. I could never give that part of myself to him no matter how much I want to, no matter who he is. Something tells me this is a bad idea, heartbreak waiting to happen, but curiosity wins out, because deep down I want to explore something even if it’s fake.

  “If you tell everybody I’m your girlfriend, then how are you going to be able to date other girls?” I don’t mean to offend him with my question, but apparently I do because a deep scowl appears on his face his eyebrows pulling down together. The gentle light in his eyes darkens, and I shiver at the coldness that bristles through me.

  His mood is souring and I’m not sure why.

  “Forget it. Let’s just go to bed, we have early classes in the morning.” He gets up in a flurry, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the end table, bringing them into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter with a loud clunk. I jump at the sound, wondering what exactly I said wrong. I don't want to lose him, but I don't know how to make this right. He leans against the island his head hung low…

  Say something, Emerson… before I can get a word out, he huffs out a loud sigh and heads for the hallway. My heart thuds loudly in my ears, and I swallow around the concrete lump in my throat.

  “Goodnight,” he murmurs and pulls his bedroom door shut, the sound though quiet roars through me. He’s shutting me out, shutting down. Getting up, I move away from the couch and toward my own room to get ready for bed, my mind lingering with so many questions. Did I remind him that he wants to date other girls and then he won’t be able to have sex because of me? Or was it something else? Maybe I should have just agreed without question him.

  Curling into bed with my thoughts mingled into a mess and my heart heavy in my chest, I close my eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. But when sleep finds me, it’s anything but dreamless.

  Chapter Seven

  Clark

  For a second time this week I'm woken up by Emerson’s piercing scream. This time there is no confusion. I know right away that it’s her and what I need to do.

  She needs me.

  I’m out of the bed and at her door in a second flat. Grabbing the knob, I twist it relieved to find that she didn't lock herself in like last time. Opening the door, I find her room is dark, but not immersed in darkness the curtains open enough, to let the soft moonlight filter in through the window.

  My eyes move to the bed, finding her thrashing against the sheets. I don’t try to wake her, instead, I crawl into bed next to her and circle her waist with my arms pulling her into my chest. She feels like she belongs there, inside me, like she’s an extension of me.

  “It’s okay, Em. I’m here,” I said softly. It only takes a few seconds for her screams to turn into low whimpers. Her nightmare fading away with every soothing word I whisper into her hair.

  She turns her face into my chest, her hot breath fanning out over my bare skin and only then do I realize that I’m shirtless. Shit.

  I really hope that’s not going to freak her out when she wakes up. Fuck. I contemplate on getting up and putting some more clothes on since I’m wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but when I try to peel myself away, she protests.

  A displeased sound elicits from her and her small hands grab for me in her sleep. It’s almost like she doesn’t just need me but wants me. Her nails dig into my flesh and a mixture of pain and arousal zings through me.

  Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. It’s getting impossible to ignore the way my body reacts to hers. My mind and my body aren't even in the same universe right now.

  There’s this intense push and pull going on between us. I know I can’t have her like this, sexually. I would never push her like that, and I don’t expect anything from her. But fuck, I can’t deny that I want her. Not having had sex in over a week doesn’t help at all. Which makes me think about what she said earlier.

  I don’t know why her comment made me so mad. I guess I didn’t want her to think I was going to pick some chick like Sarah over her for sex. I don’t ever want her to feel less or broken because obviously she doesn’t want to get physical.

  I mean, I like sex, more than like, but I like Emerson more. I never thought I would say this but I’m willing to sacrifice my sex life for her.

  I don’t go back to sleep, too many thoughts swirling around in my mind. Can I really do this, can I force my body to stop wanting her physically so I can have her in my life? Or am I in over my head?

  By the time she starts to stir, the sun is already peeking up over the horizon, filling the room with rays of red sunlight. Emerson is sprawled out on my chest, her cheek pressed against my skin, as I absentmindedly rub my hand over her lower back.

  Without looking at her face, I know the exact moment she’s fully awake. Her body going stiff before she slowly starts to lift her head. I look down at her face, expecting her to have a small panic attack, preparing for it but instead I find her looking more embarrassed than anything else. Her cheeks tinted pink, her lashes fluttering against them innocently. She looks like a goddamn angel.

  “You had a nightmare,” I tell her even though I’m sure she already knows.

  “Thank you… for staying with me,” she whispers. I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t need to thank me for anything when she suddenly pushes up and presses her lips to mine. I freeze, partly because I’m shocked and partly because I’m scared to move.

  It feels like we are suspended in time, her warm lips against mine, her intoxicating scent assaulting my senses. Like two pieces of ice floating across frigid waters, we clash together. For a moment we are both completely still, only my heart is beating furiously in my chest as if I’m running a marathon. Then Emerson moves her lips slightly against mine, igniting something deep inside of me.

  My brain shuts down and my primal instincts take over. Take. Kiss. Fuck. I pull her body close to mine, loving how she melts into my embrace, so warm and so fucking soft. Her sweet floral scent, the way she feels, the cherry taste of her lips on mine. It consumes me… everything about her consumes me.

  For a few fleeting moments, it feels like I’m in heaven, ascended to some higher form of being. Nothing else besides her matters anymore. Right now, the world could stop spinning and I wouldn't notice.

  My arms tighten around her. I’m crazed...I can’t get her close enough. I want more… need more. She’s already half lying on top of me, but it’s not enough. With my arms wrapped tightly around her and my lips pressed against hers, I roll us slanting my hardness against all her softness.

/>   As soon as we are in this position, I realize that I've made a horrible mistake and then she realizes it too.

  She pulls away, her whole body recoiling from me. She turns her head, breaking the kiss with a whimper and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away with all her strength.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” I get off of her in one swift move stumbling over my feet. I feel sick to my stomach watching her helplessly as she curls in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest.

  Seeing her like this breaks my fucking heart, shatters it into a million pieces. All I want is to help her, not to make her feel worse. I've ruined everything… thinking with my cock.

  “Em, I’m sorry… I…”

  “No, it’s my fault, I-I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her voice is weak, and there’s a vacant look in her eyes.

  “I don’t think either one of us was thinking,” I whisper. God knows I wasn’t thinking. Not like I should’ve been.

  We were only acting on impulse, turning everything off with some imaginary switch. When Emerson doesn’t react to my words, her body starting to tremble, I take a step toward her.

  “Tell me how to make it better. Do you want me to hold your hand? Or leave?” I grip at my hair in frustration, how could I have been so dumb, so careless.

  She’s terrified of me now...and I wouldn’t be surprised if she told me to leave.

  “I don’t know.” Her reply is a kick in the nuts and I’m not sure what the right thing to do is here. What I do know is that I can’t bear to just leave her like this. Kneeling down next to the bed I reach for her hand, interlacing hers in mine, cocooning them gently, wishing I could do the same with my arms.

  Vile anger churns in my stomach, whoever did this to her… My jaw tightens, and I have to force myself to let the thought go.