Take (Need #2)

How could I be so stupid?

He steps forward, making me back up. “And you’re really worked up about it. Now I’m left wondering . . . or more like realizing, that all your anger is about Brayden. Is that what happened between you two?”

I gasp and look away. “I don’t . . . It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it obviously does. Brayden used to be my friend. Used to be.” He stresses the last bit, and it dawns on me how much their relationship has changed. “The second I showed interest in you, I lost my friend.” The sorry, feeble Austin is gone, replaced with a strong, angry version. “And I didn’t fucking care. Do you want to know why?”

He steps closer, but this time I don’t back up. His body almost presses to mine and I’m forced to lean back to look up at him. There’s a spark in his blue eyes that were so dull moments ago, and an energy radiating off him. Part of me wants to reach out and calm him, but another part is afraid.

I’m stuck, captivated by him, by the curiosity.

His hand rests on my hip, but I can’t seem to slap it away. “Because all I want is you.”

The words snap me back to focus on how close he is, and I press my hands against his chest as I glare up at him. “Then, again, why sleep with her?”

“Because all you want is him, and I couldn’t take it and got shitfaced. All I can tell you is I’m sorry that I did and that it was with Jenn, who you clearly hate.”

I stare up at him, at a complete loss of what to say. I’m tired of this conversation. I feel like I’ve been having it for years.

“Stop. Just stop.”

“No.” He grabs hold of my chin and makes me look at him. “No more of this bullshit. I like you, a lot.”

He leans down and presses his lips against mine. I gasp against them, slow to respond, but I do. His kiss is soft, tender, and so different from Brayden’s. When our tongues meet, there’s no spark.

This kiss is still good, just . . . lackluster.

“Your indifference kills me,” he whispers against my lips. “Pick me. I can help you get over him. I can love you better than him.” He steps back, releasing me. “Think about it, Kira. Please promise you’ll think about it.”

I nod, staring after him as he walks out of the room. The telltale thump of the front door closing is my signal to fall back onto the couch.

Why does my love life have to be so freaking complicated?





May 11th, 2015





“What hasn’t sold yet?” I ask as I tape off another box of clothes, wishing I had a bed to crash onto and could take a break.

We’ve sold off most of the furniture, not that there was a lot, but there seems to still be a lot of crap we’ve accumulated over the last three years. I didn’t think packing was going to be a near three-day event.

Ryan is across the hall, doing the same, cursing at something as he searches for his laptop. “Umm, there’s two guys coming for the couch at one. Jill from next door is coming to get the table after work at three.” He’s silent as he scans over the spreadsheet he made. “Did you get the money for my bed?”

I freeze and look over, thankfully seeing a wad of bills sitting on my nightstand—one of the few furniture pieces going with us. “Yeah. A hundred bucks.”

He cranes his head into the doorway. “Lunch?”

I nod. “Fuck, yes.”

We both climb out of our respective messes of bags and boxes, and head down the stairs. The main floor is mostly packed up: a couple boxes of kitchen items and half a dozen boxes for electronics, games, and DVDs.

“Microwave?” I ask as we head out the door.

“Jordan’s picking it up.”

I shake my head and laugh. “I can’t believe he and Ella are moving in together.”

“He’s so freaking grateful I think he’s going to name a kid after you.”

We don’t even have to talk about where to go. Jersey Mike’s is always our go-to sub shop, and only a few blocks walk from our apartment.

“So, we’re done, then? Nothing left to sell?”

He nods. “Finish packing, that’s it. Oh, and clean.”

“What time is Dana coming?” It’s just after eleven, and I want to get out of town by two. That leaves a lot to do in the next few hours.

I’m itching to get home to Kira, to see her again. It’s been almost three painfully long weeks.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns the screen on. “Shit, I missed a text. Looks like she’ll be here any minute.” His fingers hit a few keys, then he raises it up to his ear. We keep walking, already to the parking lot, then his tone changes and a smile lights up his face. “Hey, baby. Yeah, I’m sorry, I just saw it.” He pushes the door open to the shop. “We’re at Jersey Mike’s, want me to get you something?”

He nods and hmms before saying he’ll see her soon and hangs up.

K.I. Lynn & N. Isabelle Blanco's books