Chapter 2
Liz
Waking up to the floor creaking above me, I roll over and look at the clock, seeing that it’s just after nine-thirty. I know that Mike is eating breakfast, then going to sleep. Part of me wants to avoid going upstairs; I want to hide under the covers of my bed like I did when I was little, and pretend that my life is perfect and normal. I want to pretend that Trevor didn’t threaten to tell my mom on me, that my brother didn’t steal my money, and that I wasn’t at risk of losing a dream that I have worked so hard for. I toss the covers back, jump out of bed, grab a pair of pink sweats from the floor, pull them on, and head up stairs.
“Hey, darlin’,” Mike says, as I come through the basement door.
“Hey,” I mumble, heading to the coffee pot.
“We need to talk about last night, darlin’.”
“I know,” I say, pulling a mug down, pouring coffee, cream, and two Splendas into it. I hop up on the counter and take a sip of coffee. “I'm sorry about last night. Trevor caught me off guard, and I was upset. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“I know that you’re mad at him, but he really is just trying to look out for you.” I almost tell him that he’s really only looking out for himself. Just like everything with Trevor, it’s all about him. Instead, I bite my tongue and nod my head. Who knows? Maybe in the alternate universe that Trevor lives in, he really is helping me. Too bad for me, my business loan, car loan, and shop rent doesn’t exist in his universe.
“Your dad was my best friend,” Mike says, his face getting soft. “The day you were born, he was overjoyed. I was depressed; I never really thought of being a father. But when I found out that Susan was pregnant, I knew that I would be the best dad I could be. Then Susan took off, and I had no way to get November back. I had no idea where her mom had gone with her. So when your dad told me that he and your mom were expecting a little girl, I was jealous. I wanted that for myself. Then you were born, and your dad handed you to me and told me that I was going to be your godfather. He said he knew just by looking at you, he couldn’t imagine having someone take you from him, so he was going to share you with me.” He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “Your dad was a good man and a great friend.” I nod my head in agreement. I can feel tears stinging my nose again. “I'm giving you the money, Liz. The money Tim stole from you and your mom. No more bullshit about working for it. You did work for it, and then it was taken from you. So now, I'm going to do what your dad would have done. I'm giving it back to you.” I start shaking my head. “If Tim turns up, he owes me, Liz; you’re not doing this shit anymore. I'm helping you out. You can stay downstairs in the apartment as long as you want. Now, I'm going to bed. I left the check in an envelope on the table near the door. Make sure you take it.” He kisses my forehead, leaving me speechless sitting on the counter.
“Hey Mom,” I say, walking into Temptations. After Mike left this morning, I pulled myself together, finished my coffee, and picked up the check from next to the front door. I wrote Mike a long thank you note, not only for the money, but for always being there for me after my dad passed away. Then I went downstairs, showered, and got dressed in a pair of wide leg jeans, a black ribbed tank, and my black cowboy boots. Around my hips, I looped a wide black belt with a huge turquois buckle that I also sell in my store. I stopped at the bank on the way to the store and deposited the check. I paid my business loan three months in advance, the same with my car payment. Then I called the owner of the building we lease our shop from and paid the back rent and a few months in advance.
“Hey, honey. These came for you.” She points to a large vase of assorted lilies. I noticed the smell when I walked in the store but thought they were from her fiancé. I walk toward the counter and find a card. My heart is in my throat when I open it, wondering if they’re from Trevor. My name is written in a woman’s handwriting on the outside of the card. I slide my finger under the edge of the small envelope, pull the card out, and flip it over.
“Crap!” I mumble. The flowers are from Bill; not that Bill isn’t a nice guy, but the thing is, he just does nothing for me. When I hired him to find my brother, I tried to make things clear that this was going to be a completely professional relationship; but he is constantly asking me out, or flirting in a way that makes it clear that he’s interested.
Bill was my first. All my life I have been reading romance novels. Those stupid books ruined me. I’ve always wanted that fire that every book I ever read talks about. There was no fire with Bill; and afterwards, I thought that the fire described in books was a whole bunch of made up mumbo-jumbo until I was with Trevor. Then I found out that not only is it real, it is consuming. Unfortunately, only he could give me that feeling, but I'm not the only one to give that feeling to him. The women in town are constantly talking about him or his brothers, and the amount of women they go through. Well, all except Asher. He was just as bad as them until he met November; she turned his ass upside-down. Now they’re one of those couples who are constantly touching or whispering to each other, completely head-over-heels in love; and now that they have their daughter, they are even more in love. I couldn’t be happier for them. But naturally, I'm jealous. Who wouldn’t be? Really, what woman wouldn’t want one of the hottest men this side of the Mississippi banging down your door, confessing his undying love, while begging to take care of you, and then giving you a perfect family?
“Well, who are they from?” my mom asks, and I look up at her hopeful face. I know that she thinks I need to find a man. She had me at twenty, and was with my dad for two years before that.
“Bill,” I say, wondering if I should give him a shot. I'm sure thousands, no millions, of women are in relationships with people who don’t cause them to catch fire with just a look.
“Oh,” she says, her face falling. “I thought they were from Trevor; he is such a nice boy.” I shake my head; my mom has no idea the kind of guy Trevor really is.
“I'm going to unbox the new shipment and stock the shelves. Let me know when you’re going for lunch and I’ll come watch the front for you,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Okay, honey,” she says, sliding my hair behind my ear and kissing my forehead.
I am in the back room going through the new shipment, when my mom comes back to tell me she is going to lunch. I make my way to the front of the store, carrying some stuff to put on display, when the bell over the door goes off. I turn my head to see Trevor standing near the cash register. I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the heck he’s doing here.
“You got time to talk?” he asks, while looking around. I take a deep breath, let it out, and shrug my shoulders. “I talked to Mike this morning, and he told me what happened with your brother.” I feel my chest squeeze. I didn’t want anyone to know about what my brother did. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Seriously?” I ask, glaring at him.
“Shit, I know I f*cked up. I just—” He stops talking and runs his hands over his head. When his eyes come back to me, they look confused. “You’re you; I care about you.”
“You, Trevor Mayson, are full of it.”
“What?”
“You don’t care about me, Trevor,” I say, turning my back on him, going back to putting out the new stock.
“We were good together,” he says next to me. I look over at him, my eyebrows drawing together.
“What are you talking about? We were never together.” I shake my head. “We hung out. I had considered you a friend; then we got drunk, fooled around, and you showed me that I was nothing but just another woman, just like all the others.” I blow a piece of hair out of my face, feeling myself turn red from embarrassment. “Now if you would just leave and not talk to me any more like you did before, that would be great,” I say, turning around to finish what I was doing.
“Why’s this Bill sending you flowers?” I look over and see him standing in front of the flowers, looking at the card.
“What’s with you?” I walk over and snatch the card out of his hand.
“You’re coming with me to go see July Saturday when you get off.” I look at him like he has lost his damn mind. He shrugs. “I already told Asher that you would be there.” “Well, then, I guess you have to call and tell him that you were confused,” I snap, just as the shop door opens and my mom walks in.
“Oh! Trevor, honey, so nice to see you,” she greets, and he bends low to kiss her cheek.
“You too, Mrs. Hayes. I was just coming to remind Liz about our plans for the weekend.”
“Plans?” my mom asks.
“We’re going to see July, then to dinner afterwards,” Trevor tells my mother. Her face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she looks over at me smiling.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she claps—yes, claps—and I want to grab Trevor’s ear and haul him out of the store.
“Thanks for the reminder. I’ll text you if something comes up and I can’t make it.” I say, walking to the door and opening it.
“If you can’t make it, then I’ll just pick you up after,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Just don’t forget your overnight bag,” he says, leaning closer. I know my jaw hit the floor. I look over at my mom and she’s beaming. I can see the sun shining from inside her. I look back at Trevor, ready to kick his ass for making my mom think that there is something between us that isn’t there. Then I feel his mouth on mine. I try to pull away, but his hand is in my hair at the back of my neck, holding me in place. He licks my bottom lip, then bites it softly. My hands had gone to his chest to shove him away, when I feel his other hand at the underside of my breast; my mouth opens, his tongue touches mine, and his taste fills my mouth. My brain is no longer in control. I kiss him back, one hand fisting his shirt, the other at the back of his head, his hair scraping against my palm. His mouth leaves mine; pulling me deeper into him, I feel his lips near my ear. “I forgot how much I love your mouth baby,” he groans, and I feel heat hit my face. Not only did I just do that in front of my mom, but he has the power; all he has to do is touch me and I’m his. “I’ll see you Saturday,” he says, pulling away. My brain is total mush; all I can do is nod. He says goodbye to my mom and leaves the store, with me standing right where he left me.
“I'm surprised that this place didn’t catch fire when he kissed you,” my mom says, beaming at me. I bite my lip, asking myself, not for the first time, what just happened.
“Um…”
“I mean, I'm your mom, but it looked like that boy knew how to kiss.”
“I ugh...”
“I know that he’s got a reputation with the ladies, but seeing him work, well, now I know they’re not just rumors,” she says, fanning herself.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “Mom, please don’t get all excited, okay? Trust me when I tell you that nothing is going to come from this.”
“If you say so, honey,” she mumbles, going behind the counter. I walk to the back room of the shop, close the door, and scream at the top of my lungs, trying to get all the frustration I was feeling at that moment out. Once I’m done, I go back to stocking the shelves, trying to keep myself busy enough to forget about Trevor and his kiss. This doesn’t work, so I call Bambi, hoping that she can make me forget about Trevor. Unfortunately, she wants to talk about him, why he was there, and what happened when I left the club. I explain the best I can without telling her too much. Then I call November, and she also wants to talk about Trevor, and how he called Asher and told him that we would be there Saturday to spend some time with July. It was like the world is against me. Nothing helped me forget about him; even after I get home, I can still feel his mouth and hands on me.
*~*~*
“Do you want a beer?” Bill asks, coming to stand next to me. He called me this morning and asked if I wanted to go to a bonfire with him. Normally, I would avoid things like this because the women I went to school with act like they are still in high school. Being twenty–five, I think that it’s a little crazy to still whisper and talk crap about people behind their backs, then play best friends when they are standing in front of you. In school, I was a nerd…a big one. I had braces, my hair was short, and I dressed like a boy. When my dad passed away, my mom checked out; I know she tried, but it was hard enough for her to get out of bed most days. I think she figured that we didn’t need her, and that we were old enough to get up and go to school; and let’s not forget: cook for ourselves, do our laundry, or clean up after ourselves. Things weren’t easy, but I never wanted to be the one to rattle our fragile existence; so instead of telling my mom that I needed clothes, I would borrow my brother’s; instead of saying I needed a haircut, I would just take the scissors, and cut my hair short enough that I didn’t have to think about it.
My whole high school life, people called me Liz the Lez, Lezzy Liz, or some other stupid nickname that rhymed with Liz. In school, I had one friend; her name was Cassy, and when she moved senior year, I was on my own. Tim had gone off to Seattle to school, and my mom was working part time at a bar. When she wasn’t working, she was sleeping. I think that was one of the worst years of my life. Then on graduation day, when I walked across the stage, I looked down and saw my mom. She was looking at me, her eyes blood shot, and I could see regret written all over her face. After graduation, we went home; she ordered pizza and made me a cake. We pigged out, and she told me that she was sorry for not being there for me, but that she would make it up to me every day from then on. She stuck to her promise, and I truly couldn’t ask for a better mom. She helped me find myself, while finding out who she was without my dad.
“So do you want one?” Bill asks again, and I look over at him and shake my head. I’m tipsy already, and want to go home. It doesn’t help that I never wanted to be here to begin with. But standing out in the cool night air in a tank top, listening to some girl talk about how she’s going to try and trap one of the Mayson boys by getting knocked up, and that she doesn’t care which one it is, just as long as one of them is her baby-daddy, I know I need to go home. “Here, take my hoodie,” Bill says, taking off his red college hoodie and putting it over my head. “You look so cute,” he says, leaning in like he’s going to try to kiss me, so I lean back.
“I’ll be back,” I mumble, looking away from him and towards where my car’s parked.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, its fine. I’ll be right back,” I say, leaving the warmth of the bonfire, heading in the direction of my car. I have no idea what I'm doing, but hiding seems smart at this point. “Me and my stupid, stupid brain, thinking that I could go out with Bill and forget about Trevor. Ha! That’s a joke, if I ever heard one. Oh no, what if it’s like, some weird virus, and I'm like, addicted to him? I mean, that girl was going to trap him, or any Mayson by having a baby. What if I become crazy and try to do that too?”
“Who are you talking to?”
I scream, jumping back, and end up falling on my ass. When I look up, I see the cause of all of my problems standing over me. “You scared the crap out of me.” I glare at him; he ignores me, pulling me up.
“How’s your bottom?” he asks, pulling me closer.
“Stop!” I yell, as he starts patting my butt where dirt and twigs are now stuck.
“You’re dirty, baby; just trying to help,” he says, holding up his hands in front of him.
“It’s fine. I’ll get it,” I grumble, dusting myself off. Trevor leans forward and his eyes narrow.
“Whose sweatshirt is this?” he asks, tugging at it with a look of disgust on his face.
“Bill’s,” I say, starting to walk around Trevor; but before I can make it two steps, I'm upside-down over his shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing? Put me down right now.” I kick my feet, trying to get him to put me down, but nothing is working. Then I'm right side up, but sitting on the tail of his truck. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, then Bill’s sweatshirt is gone. “Hey, I was wearing that!” Suddenly, I'm wearing a hoodie that smells like Trevor; my senses go into over drive. “What are you doing?” I repeat, as he pulls my hands through the sleeves of his grey work–hoodie. Oh great, the Mayson logo on it, along with his name.
“You smell like that douche,” he says, looking irritated as he rolls the sleeves up on his sweatshirt. “Are you drunk?” he asks, leaning forward and looking into my eyes.
“I'm not drunk,” I whisper; having him this close and smelling him all around me is playing havoc on my intoxicated state.
“I'm taking you home,” he pulls me off the back of his truck and leads me to the passenger side.
“I'm staying here,” I tell him, trying to pull free. I don’t want to stay, but I really don’t want to go with him.
“You’re drunk. It’s late and I’m taking you home.”
“I'm not drunk. I can’t leave my car here, plus I drove Bill.”
He starts laughing, looking around. “So you’re here with that guy? He let you drive here, and he let you wander off drunk?” I see his jaw clench.
“Last time I checked, there wasn’t a law about women driving; and not only that, but I didn’t wander off. I'm not a dog who needs to be on a leash,” I say, becoming angry.
“I never said you were; I'm saying that if he was with you, then he should be making sure that you’re okay.”
“I was going to my car; I wasn’t going to wander in the woods, Trevor.”
“Just let me take you home, okay?”
I let out a long breath. “I’ll have Bill take me,” I tell him, trying to compromise.
“No, I'm taking you.”
“I drove him here. I can’t leave him stranded out here.”
“I'm sure that Tammy will give him a ride.” I scrunch up my nose, wondering who Tammy is, and why she would give Bill a ride. Then I look in the direction of the bonfire and see Bill sitting on a large boulder with a red-haired girl in a very, very short skirt, who I assume is Tammy, straddling his waist.
“Okay! So she will give him a ride, but I still need to get my car home.” Trevor looks at me like I should be crying over Bill and Tammy, but I honestly couldn’t care less.
“I’ll have Cash come and take your car home.”
“Okay, but aren’t you going to miss out on the party?” I say, looking around.
“No, Mike told me you were here, so when you didn’t answer my calls, I came to make sure that you were okay.”
“You came all the way out here to check on me?”
He shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “It’s what friends do; I'm going to be your best friend.”
“I don’t want you to be my best friend. I don’t really even want you to be my friend,” I say, wondering if I’ve been sucked into Trevor’s universe by some unseen force.
He mumbles something that I can’t hear and I raise an eyebrow, signaling for him to speak up. “Can we fight about this tomorrow?” He scrubs his hands down his face. I can see the tiredness around his eyes when they come back to me. “I'm beat. I had a long day and I just want to go to sleep.”
“Fine,” I sigh, climbing into his truck, feeling bad that he came here to check on me when he’s so obviously exhausted.
“Now, what are you doing?” I ask, batting his hands away.
“Putting your seat belt on.”
“I can manage my own seat belt,” I tell him, pulling it out of his hands and locking it in place. He finally climbs in behind the steering wheel, pulls out his phone, calls Cash, and asks him to take my car home. Cash and Nico promise to drop it off at Mike’s by morning, and to leave the keys in the cup holder. I am not worried; in the country, no one steals cars, and everyone I know leaves their keys in their car overnight. Half way home, my phone rings, and I see that it’s Bill calling. I answer on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“You ditched me, and someone saw you driving off with Trevor Mayson.”
“Trevor’s taking me home. I'm tired,” I tell him, which is not a lie. “I saw you with Tammy and didn’t want you to leave just because I wanted to go home.”
“She came on to me, I swear; I tried to push her off.” I roll my eyes, wondering how stupid he thinks I am.
“It’s fine. I told you, we’re just friends; you can do whatever, or whoever, you want,” I reply, looking over when I hear Trevor chuckle.
“You have my sweatshirt,” Bill says. I can hear the agitation in his voice.
“You said you had some new info on my brother, right? You can tell me tomorrow when I drop off your hoodie.”
“Yeah, all right. Look, just call me when you get home, okay? I want to know that you’re safe.”
“I’ll be fine; just go have fun,” I say, hanging up.
“What’s the deal with you and that guy?” Trevor asks.
“We worked together at the Tollie factory when it was open. We dated for about a year. When the factory shut down, he moved and started working for his uncle, who’s a private investigator. We agreed to see other people, but were always friendly. Then when I found out what Tim did, I called him and asked him to help, and he agreed,” I say, laying my head against the window, watching the moon follow us off in the distance.
“So, he’s your friend?”
“I guess.”
“I should have talked to you,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. I thought that we were friends. We’d spent time together, we laughed, I could call and talk to him about anything, and he was there for me. Then it was like I wasn’t worth anything to him when he thought I was a virgin. He wouldn’t talk to me; he ignored me when we were in the same place. And worse, if we were out, he always had a girl on him. And any man that came and introduced himself, he would send someone over to make him leave me alone, even if it was the girl that he was talking to. It was like he was trying to say that I wasn’t good enough to have a relationship with anyone.
“Yeah, you should have talked to me,” I whisper, looking back out the window, ignoring him the rest of the ride home. “Thanks,” I say when we pull up in front of Mike’s. I grab Bill’s hoodie from the floor of the back seat where Trevor tossed it, and then I get out of the truck and start walking around to the back of the house to my entrance. I slide the key in the lock and notice that Trevor is behind me. “You didn’t need to walk me to the door,” I say without turning around. I push the door open and step inside, planning to turn and block Trevor’s steps, but he pushes the door open more and steps inside. “Now what are you doing?” It feels like I’ve asked him this a million times tonight, but I can never figure out what’s going on in his head. I cross my arms over my chest.
“What time are you seeing Bill tomorrow?” he asks, ignoring my question yet again.
“I don’t know; probably like eleven.”
“I’ll be here at ten-thirty; we’ll go talk to him before we go see July.”
“How about I meet you at November’s house at twelve?”
“I’ll see you at ten-thirty,” he says, grabbing the front of his hoodie I’m still wearing in his fist. My hands go to his biceps; holding on, I go up on my tiptoes. His mouth hovers over mine. I can feel his breath against my lips. “Are you going to be ready to go?” he asks, and I'm in Trevor’s universe, so all I can do is nod my head. “Good. I’ll see you then, baby.” He says softly, right before his lips touch mine in a gentle, sweet kiss. He lets go of the hoodie, puts his hand on my belly, pushing me back from the door, then he’s gone, leaving me standing there shocked and confused.
I go through my nightly routine on autopilot. My brain is mush from the emotional rollercoaster Trevor has put me on. I shake my head, toss Bill’s sweatshirt onto the couch in the living room, walk down the hall towards my room, get undressed, go to the bathroom, wash off my makeup, and brush out my hair. I walk back to the bedroom and look around to make sure I'm still alone. After pulling Trevor’s hoodie back on, I climb into bed and go to sleep, smiling because he’s never getting his hoodie back.
A loud buzzing has me jumping out of bed. I look around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. I stumble and almost fall on my face when I see the time. “Crap,” I moan, as I stumble to the door, stubbing my toe on the way. When I get there, I pull the door open, hopping on one foot while my other foot is in my hand, and see his gorgeous face smirking at me. I want to hit him, but instead I say, “I overslept,” and start hopping down the hall towards the bedroom. I shut the door behind me, go into the bathroom, and pull off his sweatshirt, hoping that he didn’t notice. Jumping into the shower, I wash off, and quickly get out. I wrap a towel around myself, then open the door and stop dead in my tracks when I see Trevor sitting on my bed. His back is against the headboard, and he’s looking at a fashion magazine that I had on my nightstand. His legs are covered in black, baggy sweats; his plain white shirt is tight, and I can see the outline of his pectoral muscles. He has a tribal sleeve tattooed on one arm that travels up over his shoulder, and down one side of his body. I’ve never seen where it goes once it enters his pants, but I know how the top looks and tastes on his chest and arm. “Can you wait in the living room?” I ask. His head comes up; his eyes hit me and do a full body sweep, leaving me feeling naked—or more naked than I already am.
“If you kiss me.”
“I'm not kissing you. I think it would be better if we never kiss again,” I tell him, walking to my dresser to find a pair of lace boy shorts. I pull them on under the towel I'm wrapped in. I turn around, raising my eyebrows. “Can you wait in the living room?” I ask again, this time a little more annoyed, but he hasn’t moved at all.
“Come kiss me and I’ll wait in the living room.”
My eyes narrow. “Is this like your newest game?” I ask on a head tilt. “I have to tell you, I'm not interested in playing with you, Trevor.”
“No game,” he says, shrugging. “Like I said before, we’re going to be best friends.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t kiss my friends, so if you could kindly leave and let me get dressed, that would be great.”
“We’re going to do a lot more than kiss, baby,” he says, smirking. I want to throttle him; instead, I grab a lace bra, a white tank top, and a pair of sweats. If he’s going casual, so am I. Once I have everything I need, I head to the bathroom, leaving a smug looking Trevor on my bed. I slam the bathroom door for good measure. “Are you always this cranky in the morning?” he yells. I ignore him and get dressed.
Standing in front of the mirror, I wonder why he’s acting so strange. I look to the ceiling, hoping for the answer. When we were friends before, he never kissed me; he never even hugged me until the night July was born. And our make out—and my almost-orgasm—night was more the vodka than anything else, so that doesn’t even really count. “Why is he interested now?” I whisper, looking at myself in the mirror. I haven’t changed. I pull my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head, do a couple swipes of mascara and a little blush, then I open the bathroom door. I look at the bed and see that Trevor is now laying down, with one arm thrown over his eyes, and the other against his abs.
“Trevor, let’s go,” I say, walking to my closet to grab a pair of sneakers. I sit in the chair next to the bed, bend and put them on, and he still hasn’t moved. “Trevor,” I sigh, going to stand next to him. I touch his arm lying across his stomach, tracing the tattoo that travels down his wrist. All the air is pushed out of my lungs when I'm grabbed suddenly, and tossed onto the bed with Trevor half on top of me. “What are you doing?” I breathe, trying to push him off.
“You haven’t kissed me since I got here,” he says, his hand going to the hair at the side of my head, sweeping it back.
“I'm not kissing you.” I push him again and he doesn’t budge.
“Did you sleep in my hoodie?” he asks. I completely freeze, trying to think of an excuse for wearing his hoodie. His face bends towards mine, his nose running along my jaw. I can feel him inhale, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if he just sniffed me. “Did you sleep in it?” he asks again, this time quietly. I can feel goose bumps breaking out across my skin. His hand travels from my hip and down my thigh, to the underside of my knee. My brain is in overdrive, and the words that I want to say seem to have gotten stuck in my throat. “Did you wear something under it?” he asks, running his nose down my neck. “Or did you want to feel me wrapped around you all night?”
“We need to go.” I say quietly, finally getting my brain to function. I push him again, and he presses me deeper into the bed.
“What scent is that?” He runs his nose along my jaw, behind my ear, and down my neck.
“Heaven,” I gulp, as his hand behind my knee travels up to my hip again.
Softly, he whispers in my ear, “Yeah.” He breathes against my skin, causing my heart to skip and my belly to drop. “That smell makes me want to eat you,” he says, nipping my neck. Oh God! My thighs squeeze together automatically. Oh my God! My brain is screaming at me to stop this, but my hands itch to grab his head and drag his mouth to mine.
“W-we ne-need to go,” I stutter out on a shaky breath.
“In a minute,” he mumbles, right before his tongue touches the base of my neck, then it travels up to my chin. When his mouth crashes into mine, all thoughts leave my head. One of my hands goes to his bicep, the other to his head, running my fingers up the back of his scalp, pulling him closer. His mouth travels down my neck; the roughness of the scruff on his face rubs against my skin and all I can feel is fire, the same fire I felt the last time we were together. That thought is all I needed to snap out of this crazy moment.
“Trevor,” I whisper, wishing that my voice would come out stronger. His eyes meet mine; they’re darker than normal. He rubs his chin against mine; I bite my lip against the urge to moan or press into him. I want to scream. When we were friends, I told him things that I had never told anyone else. I trusted him. I had been falling in love with the person that he is, not the guy that every woman in town wants a piece of, but the real him. The one who listened to me when I shared the hurt of my past and the one who helps old ladies carry groceries across the street. The one who stopped in the middle of the road when he saw a bird with a broken wing, and the one who loves his mom so much, that no matter who’s around or where they are, he hugs her and tells her he loves her. That guy; that was the Trevor that I was falling in love with. Then he showed me a side of him that was ugly and hurtful, a side that I can’t forget no matter how much I want to.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod my head, pushing against him.
“We need to go,” I repeat for what feels like the millionth time.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I almost want to laugh.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I shake my head. He pushes off the bed, pulling me up so that I'm standing in front of him. “I'm just going to be honest so that things don’t end up crazier than they already are,” I tell him, taking a step back. “First, thank you for the ride home last night.” I look up into his amazing brown eyes and get lost for a second. He’s so handsome; part of me wants to just say, “Screw it; Que Sera, Sera”, throw caution to the wind, and get lost in bed with him for a day. But I can’t do it; that’s not me. I would end up crying or confessing my feelings for him, and he would walk away with another notch on his belt, while leaving me feeling alone and empty. “I'm going with you today to see July, but after that, I think that it would be best if we went back to the way things were. I'm not having sex with you. Just because I'm not a virgin doesn’t mean that I'm going to sleep with you.” I say in my most serious voice.
“You were going to sleep with me.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling tears clog my throat. “Thankfully, that didn’t happen. I mean, how humiliating would it be to have slept with you, then have you walk away without ever talking to me again,” I laugh, but it’s humorless and full of hurt.
“Listen, I was f*cked up, okay? You’re so innocent; I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“So now that you know that I’ve had sex, you think it’s okay to sleep with me?” I'm so confused by his logic.
“Stop f*cking saying that you’ve had sex,” he growls, his hands sliding down his face. “Jesus, I don’t want to f*cking talk or hear about that shit.”
“Okay,” I whisper, startled by the pissed off look on his face.
“I said I was sorry for that shit.” I try to think back, but I'm pretty sure that he never apologized. “It’s in the past; we’re moving on and going to be best friends.” I shake my head, wondering what it must be like to live in his universe. And why the hell does he keep saying that we’re going to be best friends? I was starting to feel like I was in a bad episode of Barney. “We need to go,” he says, walking out of the bedroom. I follow him out and watch as he bends to put on his shoes. He grabs his keys off the counter, I grab my bag, but when we get to the door, he stops and turns to me. “This is going to happen.”
“What?” I ask, my eyebrows drawn together in confusion. His finger comes up and skims down the center of my face, forehead to chin.
“You and I, we’re going to happen.” He kisses me, then opens the door, putting his hand on the small of my back to lead me out. “We can get your bag later.”
“I have my bag.” I lift my hand, showing him my bag that’s hard to miss since its hot pink and covered in glitter.
“Your overnight bag, baby.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
“I'm not staying overnight with you, so I don’t need an overnight bag,” I say, as he helps me into his truck. He has to lift me into it because it’s so tall, and there are no sideboards to step onto.
“You are,” is all he says, slamming the door and walking around the back of the truck. He slides behind the steering wheel, looking over at me. “So where does the douche live?” I give him directions, and then we’re on our way.