Making the Move: Mill Street Series #2

by Calla, Jessica

  The story made me sad for her, but I grinned anyway. “I’m glad.”

  She cleared her throat. “Back to you. What are you going to do about your sister?”

  I’d told her about my family drama. “I’ll go meet him, but I know we’re all going to end up fighting.”

  “Question.” She squinted, tilting her head. “Why do you care if she gets married?”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I mean, of course you care. But what’s the real issue? Her age? The guy?”

  My mother and Amelia had asked me the same question over and over, and I’d just rage in response. With Vi, I tried to answer vaguely. “I don’t know. A combination of everything.”

  Violet pointed at me. “I know what this is. You’re upset because your sister is more mature, relationship-wise, than you are.”

  It was a valid point—one I’d never admit. “That’s absurd.”

  Violet paced her living room, a finger in the air, trying to figure me out. “They look up to you like you’re the one with all the life experience, but in matters of the heart, you’re way more immature than they are. You haven’t had a serious girlfriend.”

  I watched her pace, answering her smirky smile with my own. “Please stop this conversation, or I’ll make a poster out of that eighth grade picture on your fridge.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me.” I faked a scowl, like I was being serious, but smiled when she laughed. “Maybe I have my reasons for not having a girlfriend.”

  “I knew it.” Eyes wide, she pointed at me. “You do like someone.”

  “You got me, Vi. Yep. I have a huge crush.” I extended my arms to the sides. “Huge.”

  “On who?”

  To keep her hooked and looking at me, I took my time. She tapped her foot in annoyance as I finished my wine. “Guess.”

  With a deep sigh, she let out a long breath, then blurted, “Rachel?”

  I choked on my last sip. “Yeah, Rachel.”

  “Really?” She met my gaze, and for an instant, like a split second, I could have sworn she looked disappointed. Or maybe I was imagining it because that’s how I wanted her to look. “I’m not sure I’d put you two together.”

  Placing the empty wine glass on a coaster on the coffee table, I plopped onto the leather couch. “So if you don’t think I’m a match with Rachel, then who would you put me with?”

  She paced back and forth in front of me, thinking. “Someone sweet. More outgoing than Rachel, that’s for sure. Pretty, of course. Someone who would understand how you love your family. Someone who could put up with your bossiness.”

  I chuckled. “Too bad I don’t know anyone like that, huh?”

  She smirked, tilting her chin like she was trying to figure out the meaning behind my words. Clearing my throat, I waved my hands, hoping to distract her from her train of thought and my not-so-subtle response. “I’m teasing. No, I don’t like Rachel. You, Pix, are the only woman in my life who I’m not related to by blood, okay? You should be honored.”

  “Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “Honored?”

  I puffed my chest. “You’re spending the love holiday with someone who’s practically famous. Did you forget I’m Mr. January?”

  She stopped moving, crossed her arms, and jutted a hip as she stared down at me. “How could I forget? For someone who claims to hate that calendar, you sure do bring it up a lot.”

  “Yeah, well, when you live with someone who’s constantly checking you out—”

  “I am not!”

  “—you start to get a big head.”

  She slapped my knee. “Egomaniac. Still, if you want a shot at Rachel, I’ll hook you up.”

  I cringed at the thought. Rachel had a look, but it wasn’t a look for me. The little curvy girl within my reach was the only one who got my blood flowing.

  Sad thing was, she didn’t even know it.

  Violet

  The wine was too much. Too delicious, too strong, too easy going down. “I think it’s time to go to bed,” I slurred, as rested my head on Josh’s shoulder.

  “I want to stay right here.” He leaned back, stretching on the couch, bringing me along with him.

  I could live with that. “Are you sure? We have a ton of guest rooms.”

  Arms around me, cradling me to his chest, he slurred, “Want to stay here.”

  “I wonder if my parents will notice the missing bottle.” I had no idea what I was saying as I snuggled into the space between the back of the couch and his body. “That was good stuff. Do you feel the wine?”

  Stretched on the couch next to each other, he rubbed my back, our bodies as close as they’d ever been. “I feel you.”

  Josh was my friend. My friend. My friend. I repeated it over and over, hoping I’d go back to that place where I believed it. The wine made me truthful though, even to myself. Josh was hardly in the friend zone tonight. Tonight, he was mine. The beautiful man with the blue eyes and the arms that knew exactly how to hold me. And I needed to be held.

  “Thank you for being here with me,” I whispered. “Sorry I’m such a terrible Valentine’s date.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re the best Valentine’s date. I’m sorry about your dad.”

  He traced circles around my lower back with his thumb. His touch was light but sparked every nerve in my body. Between the wine and Josh, my head spun with too many confusing thoughts. In an attempt to regain sanity, I closed my eyes.

  When the warmth of him disappeared, I opened them again. He was sitting up, rubbing his head. “Can you tell me again where the bathroom is?”

  I pointed him to the hallway. “Third door on the right.”

  “Be right back. Stay. Promise?”

  Nodding, I sighed as he walked away, trying to focus on his perfect form.

  Then, his phone buzzed from the coffee table, and I focused on that. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was wrong to look at it, but the wine and the emotion of the night had skewed my judgment. At least that’s what I told myself when I saw that the message was from Ollie.

  I picked it up and tapped open the message, hating myself.

  Ollie: Yep. Gotcha. Vi’s like that.

  Seeing my name mentioned, I glanced at the hallway and then back to the phone, scrolling up. I read Ollie’s first text.

  Ollie: Just wanted to see how Vi’s dad was doing. My mom said he’s in the hospital. Have you heard anything?

  Me: I’m in the city with Vi now. He’s recovering.

  Ollie: Glad to hear that. So you two are spending Valentine’s Day together? What’s going on?

  Me: Nothing. She’s like another little sister.

  Ollie: Yep. Gotcha. Vi’s like that.

  I closed out the messages and placed the phone back on the table. Something about reading the words made my heart crack a little. Here I was, thinking that maybe…maybe my feelings for Josh were growing into something different. But to him, I was another annoying little sister. In all fairness, that’s pretty much how I acted. He had no reason to think of me as more, no matter how close we’d become.

  Soon, he was back though, and I was determined to push any fledgling romantic feelings aside. Until he pulled his shirt off. “You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, closing my eyes. Was that ever going to stop? Drunk or sober, friends or not, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over the way he looked. Ridiculous was the only word I could come up with to describe his body. “Can you get the blanket?”

  Rolling over, I turned my back to him. In a second, his warm, half-naked body sidled up to mine. The blanket spread on top of us as he burrowed close, his chest to my back.

  Oh, sweet lord, did he feel good when he threw an arm over me, casually, like we were meant to sleep together. I could have sworn I felt his heartbeat through my shirt. His nose nuzzled my neck, and I let out a huge sigh.

  “You should go to your bedroom.” His words were a demand, a plea.

  I didn’t want to, and I didn’t care whether or n
ot we were friends. I knew that I’d crossed a line because there was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to be with him. My friend. My ex-boyfriend’s roommate. The hot football player whose legs felt like iron behind mine. The giant of a man whose huge, rough hands somehow touched me gently. My best friend, who was obviously turned on by something about me, as evidence by his erection pressing against my backside.

  Grabbing the hand that he’d wrapped around me, I whispered, “No.”

  Lacing his fingers through mine, he spoke into my hair. “I forget how to be in control when I’m with you. Go to your room. Please.”

  Rolling over so that we were face-to-face, I ran my hand over his cheek, along his jawbone, up over his earlobe. “But I don’t want to.”

  His eyes lasered into mine as he took my hand off of his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Vi. I need you to tell me we’re friends. Give me that control back.”

  Our chests rose and fell against each other with our labored breaths and his focus landed on my lips. I wanted to kiss him more than I’d wanted anything in my life. He’d told Oliver in the text messages that I was like a little sister, but the way he was looking at me didn’t seem brotherly at all. I had no brothers, but even I knew that much.

  Yet, with a deep breath, I gave him what he needed, like he’d always done for me. “We’re friends, Josh. Always.”

  We lay in silence for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. I hoped he’d fight me. Try to convince me that the way we felt together wasn’t friendship. That he’d kiss me, take that step, even if it was wrong. But Josh King was always in control—of himself, of his situations, of his family, and even of me. He’d always do the right thing, and a drunken romp in my childhood home on the night my father had a heart attack was not the right thing.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweet man,” I whispered.

  He made a noise, a satisfied noise, and closed his eyes.

  The next morning when I woke, Josh was gone. He’d left me a note: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. See you back at school when your dad feels better and you’re ready.

  Chapter Seven

  Josh

  For the next week, Violet stayed in New York with her mom, visiting her dad, and planned to come back to campus only once for her class. I texted and called, but she rarely answered. When she did, it was awkward—I was awkward—and we only talked about her father.

  Of course, I’d run out of the city like a chicken shit after spending the night wrapped up with Violet. What kind of man was I? There she was, worried about her family, and I’d gotten her drunk and grinded up on her. The details were sketchy, but I was sure we’d almost kissed. We’d almost…who knew what we would have done if I hadn’t passed out.

  On Monday, I was aware that she’d be back for her class. I skipped my own class and my workout so that I could be at the apartment to see her. I missed her—so much—and I needed her to know that I’d never do anything to jeopardize our friendship or take advantage of her like that again.

  But I didn’t get a chance. The morning she was due back, I fell asleep on the couch waiting for her. When I woke, I was covered with a blanket, and her scent was all around me. The damn flowers. I knew she’d been there before I opened my eyes.

  In our kitchen, she’d left a box of donuts from a fancy bakery that she knew I loved. Her note was short. I couldn’t bear to wake you up. I’ll be back on Saturday.

  * * *

  After the slowest week in history, I got cleaned up and walked to the frat house on Saturday afternoon. Vi was due back, so I kept my phone attached to my hand. I’d texted her asking if she needed a ride, but she hadn’t responded.

  At the house, the guys greeted me with cheers and cries of “Hunkarama” and then shuttled me into the basement. They filled a cup from the keg and we played video games. Until our quiet brothers’ night turned into a party when someone posted a picture of the keg. Before we knew it, hordes of underclassmen were banging on the door.

  Ryan, our resident DJ, set up the sound system, and soon the place was rocking. I stayed sober in case Violet called and needed a ride. Since I wasn’t drinking, I spent some time on cleanup duty, ordered another keg, and clutched my phone.

  When I went out back to wait for the keg delivery, Kaitlyn, a junior who hung around the house, followed me out. “What’s up, Hunkarama?” She shivered in a thin, black shirt that left her shoulder bare. She wore a black skull cap over her blond hair and a tight pair of jeans.

  “What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” I took off my hoodie and wrapped it around her.

  “Thanks.” She wiggled into it. “Wanted to say hi. See how you’ve been since last semester.”

  My sophomore year, when Kaitlyn was a freshman cheerleader, she and I hooked up after a game party. I’d heard she had a boyfriend, but when she popped up in the Women’s Studies class that Ollie and I took last semester, I could tell she didn’t anymore. Ollie teased me that Kaitlyn looked at me like I was the only thing she wanted to study.

  We’d gone out once last semester, right before Thanksgiving, the night Violet had come back from Vienna. I had thought maybe a quick lay with Kaitlyn would take my mind off of Vi and the situation Ollie had gotten into with Taryn. Of course, it hadn’t, and my date with Kaitlyn had fizzled out before we got naked, with me claiming illness and jetting out the door.

  When the cold air hit my arms, I bounced on my toes. Where was the damn delivery guy? “I’m good. You know, waiting to graduate and get out of here.” Small talk in the freezing cold wasn’t really my thing. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

  “I don’t mind.” Her heavily-made up eyes were this neat shade of purple and looked right at me. “I can’t believe you’re graduating.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled something out. Cigarettes. “Want one?”

  “Nah. That shit will kill you, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m quitting after the semester. So…” She paused to light up. “You still single?”

  Guess she wasn’t into small talk either. “Who wants to know?”

  Shrugging, she sucked on her cigarette and blew the smoke to the side. “Me?”

  Fuck. “I’m kind of waiting for someone."

  “Thought you were waiting on the beer delivery.” She wrapped her lips around the cigarette again and took another drag.

  “Well, yeah, but also on someone else.” I held up my phone.

  She leaned closer, her body lined up against mine. “If you ever want to get together, just text me, Hunkarama. I’m always available for you.”

  I shuddered at the feel of her lips against mine when she leaned in to peck them. It’d been a long time since someone had come on to me that blatantly. I used to love it, but now, it kind of felt gross.

  Thankfully, the headlights of a car approached, and she backed away. “My delivery,” I said, pointing at the car.

  After tossing her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with her boot, she pulled off the hoodie. “Thanks.”

  I took it from her. “You’re welcome. See you around.”

  She spun and headed back inside, and my thoughts turned back to worrying about Violet. Where the hell was she, and what in the damn fuck was I doing with her? I hadn’t told her how I felt, yet I’d managed to put myself into some sort of weird exclusive relationship situation with her. Violet and I were friends—friends who kind of lived together. Still, there was no reason for me to be celibate because of it.

  As the delivery car pulled closer, the driver apologized profusely for the wait. “No worries,” I told him. He helped me lift the keg onto the back porch of the house. I thanked him, and when he left, I checked my phone.

  “Fuck it,” I said to nobody, and I texted Vi.

  Me: Are you still heading back tonight? Text me.

  Ryan busted out of the back door. “We’re almost tapped out in here. Come on, let’s get that keg going.”

  I snapped back to reality, planning on leaving as soon as
I got the damn thing inside. Together, we dragged the keg into the kitchen. The house was loud, full of people. The crowd in the vicinity of the kitchen cheered when they saw the new keg. I checked my phone again as Ryan dealt with the tap.

  “Everything okay?” he yelled.

  I screamed over the music as he poured a couple and dumped them into the sink. “Violet’s due back from the city tonight, and I don’t know if she’ll need a ride.”

  “The little brunette?”

  I glared at him. “Yeah.”

  “She’s here. I saw her upstairs.” He continued his task of pouring. “With Mac.”

  “Mac?” Ryan must have been mistaken. Vi would have called. She would have told me she was back. Mac was an overly-aggressive jackass who we usually cut off after a beer or two because he was a stupid drunk. “Stupid drunk” and “flirty with the girls” wasn’t a good combination. “Are you sure you saw him with Vi?”

  Ryan stood up straight, offering me a cup. “She got here a little while ago, said she was looking for you. She did a couple shots. I thought she was going out back to hang with you, but next thing I knew, she was going upstairs with him.” He took a gulp of his beer. “You need me to kick his ass?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe. Let me go see what’s up.”

  Making my way through the crowd, I bolted up the stairs to the second floor rooms. Once on the landing though, I hesitated. There I was, running through another party to save Violet from herself. She hadn’t called me. Didn’t seem concerned at all with what I was doing. Not to mention, I thought she was over this routine of getting drunk and flirting with my frat brothers. Stupidly, I thought maybe us living together had helped her feel less lonely, more in control.

  Maybe I should just let her be. Did I want to go back to the days where she’d tell me she hated me? When she’d bitch at me that I’m not letting her live her life? Why was I standing there like an asshole when I could be somewhere with Kaitlyn, screwing away my feelings for Vi?