“I’m sorry. It wasn’t—I didn’t mean—shit.” He rubs his forehead then drags his fingers through his hair. It’s brown today. Must be because he’s going home. I forget sometimes what his natural color looks like, even though it’s always been my favorite on him.
He looks good like this. Just him.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I whisper.
“Why not?” he asks quickly. It catches me off guard and I try to think. Why not?
I shake my head, letting my arms fall to my sides. I feel numb. Sad. And that doesn’t make sense. I should feel good that we’re getting this out and over with.
“I don’t know.” It comes out barely more than a breath through my lips, but he somehow hears it.
He takes this step in my direction and though it’s not any bigger than any other step he’s ever taken, this one feels huge. “I need to know why I shouldn’t apologize, Annie.”
If I tell him he shouldn’t apologize because I have these feelings for him—this attraction—then that’s really important, right? That could change things drastically for a lot of people.
And if I tell him that he doesn’t have to apologize because he is so low on my radar that it didn’t affect me in any way, that’s important too. Because that changes us. Our relationship. Our friendship.
I hate that word right now. Friendship. You’re not allowed to kiss your friends. Not the way I wish I could kiss him.
No. I have Loden. That’s the most important part. I focus on the tile in front of my feet. The one with the uneven crack in the corner.
“Everybody makes mistakes,” I say evenly. “We’re friends. And friends forgive each other. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
There. That was the right response. The mature response. People are drawn to one another all the time. It doesn’t mean they act on it. Now we push through this little bump and move on.
“I meant something by it, Annie,” he says softly. “I’m just not sure what.” I look up in time to see the door close behind him. I’m left alone, shivering in the common room, even more confused now than I was five minutes ago.
22
About A Girl
Chase
After throwing together a bag, I take off. I need the familiarity of my house. I need the scent of Mom’s fresh baked cookies that she’ll be shoving in front of me all day tomorrow. I need the sound of Dad’s breathing machine, like white noise while I sleep. And I need the queen-sized, overly soft mattress I grew up with.
I just need to be home.
I feel like I’m nursing a broken heart and it’s such bullshit because A, I have never had my heart broken—everybody loves me. B, this is Annie—she’s a pain in my ass, and not the fun, kinky kind. Not that I’m into being spanked, but I can’t knock what I’ve never tried.
Anyway…
C, there was nothing ever there so there’s nothing to be heartbroken over.
I’m just sulking because I want something and I can’t have it. I’ve always been this way. When I decided I wanted to play the bass, the first time I asked, my dad told me he wasn’t wasting money on something I’d get bored with in a month. I earned the money myself and when I realized the bass didn’t magically make me a rock god, I started teaching myself how to play. I’d listen to a song over and over again until I could copy it. I refused to give up and prove my dad right.
If only he had the insight to mock me in all aspects of my life. I’d be a fucking overachiever, running my own business by now or some shit.
Thanks dad.
I flip on the radio because for once, I don’t feel like listening to my iPod. I want some mindless top forty tunes for a while. Damn. Maybe I’m coming down with something. A virus would explain so much.
I ignore the little voice in my head yelling “Love sickness.” It sounds alarmingly similar to Guy’s voice. And he needs to shut his imaginary fucking mouth. Even in my mind he messes with me.
Bastard.
Perk of driving home at two in the morning—I make the hour and a half trip home in one. I try to be quiet so I don’t freak Mom out. That’s all I need now is for her to mistake me for the Hamburglar and call the cops. The damn door squeaks like it’s auditioning for a horror movie and I hold my breath. The only sound is the whirl and hiss of Dad’s breathing machine. I take a deep breath and sigh.
It’s good to be home.
~*~
I woke up this morning, put on a pair of sweats, and helped Mom prepare the yearly feast. When everything’s finished, I have no sense of accomplishment, so I sit down and eat way too much of my mom’s cooking. It’s Thanksgiving and I feel like shit, so the third helping of cornbread stuffing seems like a great idea. It’s not. But I don’t understand how big of a mistake it is until Mom has me standing in line, in the cold, waiting for black Friday sales to begin.
How the hell I got roped into this shit is beyond me. All I know is I feel like I’m about to puke, there are at least forty people ahead of me in line, and there’s only five TVs available like Dad wants for Christmas. I hope these people aren’t all here for that TV. I also hope I don’t puke on them.
My stomach bubbles and makes disturbing sounds, loud enough to catch the attention of the middle aged women in front of me. They smile politely as if they didn’t hear the rumbly in my tumbly, but carefully put a safe distance in between us.
I want my bed.
I rub my hands together and breathe into them, trying to regenerate feeling. They’re numb with cold and it just makes me that much more miserable.
“Here.”
I glance over my shoulder and do an actual double-take. I’m not expecting the large, dark eyes set in the pale face of a girl to be peering at me. She pulls the hood closer to her head with one hand as she holds the other out to me.
“Here,” she repeats. I look down at the offered gloves and chuckle. They’re purple with neon green smiley faces.
“Thanks,” I say as I wiggle my fingers inside, stretching the tiny things completely out of shape. They don’t offer much warmth, but it’s better than nothing. I hold my hands up, palms facing my chest, and grin. “What do ya think? Are they me?”
She laughs, nodding her head. The light from the store sign glares off the stud in her nose, drawing my attention to it for the first time. “They suit you,” she proclaims.
“Purple’s always been my color.”
She laughs again. She has one of those laughs—the kind that cause you to smile back, and so I do. “I’m Heaven.” She shakes her head. “And you can save all the cheesy lines—I can promise you I’ve heard them all.”
“Chase,” I say. “And don’t be so sure. I’m incredibly talented when it comes to cheesy lines.”
She grins as her brows lift in challenge. “Give me your best shot.”
“Man, all I’m coming up with right now are really dirty ones. And since you were nice enough to offer me your gloves, and the fact that we’re stuck in line with each other for the next several hours, I’d rather not piss you off—or wind up burning in Hell. Let me think about it for a little bit.”
“Damn, the dirty ones are my favorite.”
Oh, hell yes. “You just answered all my prayers.”
She scrunches her nose. “Heard it.”
I grin widely and notice I’ve taken a step or two in her direction, gravitating toward her naturally. “That wasn’t a line. Just the God’s honest truth.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your unoriginality is showing.”
Damn. I thought that one was good. “Sorry, I’m just awestruck. I’ve never met an angel before.”
She presses her full lips together, her eyes crinkling with humor. “Lame.”
“Agreed,” I say. “I need to get it together or I’ll never get into Heaven.”
“Raaaa,” Heaven hums, making a buzzer sound. “Terrible.”
“Okay, okay.” I straighten up and tug on the ends of my coat sleeves. “God sent you to me for a reason.” I hold my h
ands up and wiggle my gloved fingers. “I think we should explore this miracle. I mean, it’s not every day I’m given the gift of warmth from Heaven. So you should give me your number. That way, when I find a line fitting of your name, I can call you.”
Her lips pucker as she looks up at me, her hood sliding off her dark hair. “Okay,” she says with a tilt of her head.
“Okay?” I confirm.
“You had me with ‘we should explore this miracle.’” She shrugs, a smile lifting her rosy cheeks. I watch her tug her cell phone out of her pocket and then I follow her lead.
“I can’t wait to tell people I got Heaven’s number,” I deliver, cocking my brow, and waiting for her retort.
A laugh bursts from her lips as we exchange phones. “Don’t get too cocky—I could be giving you a fake number so we can part ways without your embarrassment.”
I finish adding my number to her phone and trade off with her once again. “I’m not easily embarrassed,” I state as I hit send. Her phone rings in her hand and I smirk. “I knew it. Heaven can’t deny me.”
“Oh, wow. They just keep getting better and better,” she deadpans.
“It’s not just my pick-up lines, either. I’m like a fine wine.”
“Rich, middle-aged women have a penchant for you?”
I love this chick. I realize I haven’t thought of Annie once since Heaven handed me her gloves. Well, until now. Now I’m thinking about her again, but this is the longest I’ve gone in months.
I sigh. “It’s a curse.”
“Mm, cougar worship—remind me never to introduce you to my mom.” I have no idea what she means by that, but I don’t even go there. I’m all for equal-opportunity and don’t discriminate based on age, but I’ve never jumped in bed with a friend’s mom—or an acquaintance’s for that matter—and I have no intentions of starting anytime soon. Heaven seems like more than enough to handle all on her own.
“Noted,” I agree.
“So what has you in line, at midnight, in the cold?”
“My mom,” I say flatly. “Or my dad, I guess. He wants a new TV for Christmas.”
“The big flat-screen in the ad?”
I nod. “That’s the one.
“Since we’re friends now—having exchanged phone numbers and you busting out all those horrible lines and all—I feel the need to let you know I’m also here for the TV. And seeing as how there are only five available…” She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging unfinished between us.
“I’m not worried. Not only am I in front of you, but I’m also a lot bigger. I’m pretty sure I can take you if it comes down to it.”
“I just want you to remember I loaned you my gloves.”
I nod, acknowledging her. “Not to mention enduring my poor attempt at picking you up,” I add.
“Yes, there’s that too.”
“I’m still not giving you my TV.”
“Damn. It was worth a try. Guess I’ll just have to be quicker.”
~*~
I go home empty handed.
When the doors had finally opened at four in the morning, Heaven and I followed the line into the store as all hell broke loose. The TVs were already gone by the time we made it into electronics five minutes later. We ended up in the adjoined Starbucks, drinking coffee, and laughing at the frazzled employees as they ushered crazed shoppers through outrageously long lines.
It was one of the best sleepless nights I’ve ever had. And for the first time in so long I don’t feel like shit. I actually had a really good time freezing my ass off. I met this girl that’s cool as hell. I like her. This girl is single, and most importantly, this girl likes me, too.
23
In Too Deep
Annie
“My mom likes you,” Loden says as he merges onto the highway. “The word ‘love’ may have been used, actually.” He looks sideways at me, grinning proudly. “She’s probably planning the wedding already.”
I arch a brow in surprise. I mean, we talked about this. Someday. Marriage, kids. All of it. But later. In the future. Like, way, way into the future. After school. After we’re established. So his little offhanded announcement has my stomach twisting with panic and my heart fluttering with…excitement.
Because he wants me. We’ve had so many ups and downs, I was beginning to worry. But this is…this is great news. Great, great news. My nerves are just a side effect of all the excitement.
“Hey,” Loden murmurs. He brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek, capturing my full attention. “You look anxious.”
Anxious. A startled laugh bursts from my lips in a very unladylike manner and I close my mouth immediately, glancing quickly at him. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t call me on it.
“I’m not anxious,” I say softly, making sure my voice doesn’t quiver.
His hand slides down, entwining with mine. He sighs loudly. The sound fills the quiet car and my limbs stiffen in response. “She knows I want to pass the bar first. She’s just excited. You can relax.”
“I’m not anxious,” I repeat, this time more adamantly. Because it’s true now. Now that he confirmed it’s still a while off. I almost laugh at myself. I don’t even have a ring yet. These are just future plans so we know we’re on the same path, heading in the same direction. I still have years. Years.
I smile over at him and he returns the gesture. “You had me scared there for a minute,” he says with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to start a new search.”
“A new search?”
He winks at me. “For the perfect girl.”
I don’t know what he was going for, but I have to turn away. I focus my attention out the window, counting the mile markers. It’s not that he would consider looking for someone else. It’s not even the way he admitted he was looking for the perfect girl to play wifey. It’s mostly the way I wished, for just a second, he would find someone new.
And that’s so messed up.
He can give me everything I want out of life. I can have it all with him. I repeat it in my head until I can look at him again.
“You tired?” he asks. His fingers are on my face again. Soft and smooth.
“A little,” I admit.
“Almost there. Am I dropping you at your dorm, or do you want to come back to my place for a while?”
I understand what he’s asking me. We haven’t had sex yet. We had broken up before that had ever happened and I’ve tried to keep the pace slow this time around as well. He’s been asking for several weeks now, getting tired of waiting on me. I have a rule about sex. I won’t give it away to just anybody. I made that mistake before. But Loden isn’t just anybody. If I’m in it, then I’m in it.
There is only so long I can hold him off with blowjobs and lame excuses.
“Your place,” I decide.
He grins at me, happy with my answer. And it feels good. Good to make him happy. Good to know he wants me. Not just right now, but long term.
~*~
Loden’s new apartment is nice. He chose to live alone when he got back from summer break because he likes his privacy, which I can understand and relate to. It’s been so long since I’ve had my own space. I roomed with my little sister, then Hope, then I came to college and have had roommates ever since—dealing with someone else always there, or their mess even when they’re not.
I like neat. I like order. I like privacy.
His dad paid for this apartment. His mom furnished it. I’m not sure he’s earned anything he owns. I don’t hold it against him, but I can’t stop myself from thinking it either.
“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” His eyes meet mine and I feel like he’s testing me or challenging me, maybe. That’s what we’re here for though, right?
“Lead the way.”
He pulls me behind him. I take a deep breath as he pushes the door open, revealing a large bed taking up most of the room.
Loden steps up behind me as I move inside. His hands slide around my waist, gripping my hips as h
e draws me back against him. Quickly skimming my hair off my neck, he places his lips there, kissing his way down to my shoulder. He pulls the collar of my shirt, giving himself better access.
Sex is healthy. It’s done every day, by millions—billions of people. It’s natural. This is no big deal. The tightness in my chest is nothing to worry about. That urge to pull away can be attributed to my need to be in control.
This is fine. I’m fine. I want this. I want to give this to him.
I turn in his arms and find his mouth. Closing my eyes, I kiss him. This will change everything. Make us more solid. Our future more secure.
I pull away long enough to remove my shirt, tugging it over my head. He watches me intently, desire evident in his eyes. It makes it easier to stand here. To not cover myself, hiding my inadequacies from his view.
He strips off his own shirt, throwing it onto the chair in the corner. And then he steps closer to me, chest to chest, and I know this is it.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks as his fingers trail along my spine, working their way toward my bra clasp.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Since I was sixteen.”
He unhooks my bra and I stiffen. I’m not sure if it’s his questions, or my insecurities, or just the fact that we’re really about to do this.
“I’m clean. I get tested every year, but we’ll use a condom until you can set up an appointment.”
He’s clean, but I must not be?
“Okay,” I whisper. He plucks the lacy material away from my body. I shiver, holding my breath. He continues onto my jeans, unbuttoning them. I help him slide them off before he slips out of his own pants. Then we’re lying back on his bed and he’s opening a condom.
I tell myself it’s because he can’t wait. The anticipation is too great. He wants me so badly he can’t wait another second.