Date Me Like You Mean It

by Grey, R. S.

  “You were in New York and you didn’t tell me,” I say, tone hard.

  “So what?”

  “You stopped responding to my calls and texts months ago.”

  “Life got busy.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Her eyes cut to me, finally showing me what she’s been trying to hide since my arrival earlier today. The brown has been displaced by burning amber. She’s livid.

  “I’m sorry, when exactly were you trying to get ahold of me?” she asks angrily. “When you were flying off to Dubai? Spending a few weeks in Paris? Oh right, let me pencil you in for a predawn phone call since that’s the only time we’d both be awake anyway.”

  “I don’t buy it.”

  Her fists clench at her sides. I think she’d charge toward me if she weren’t so scared of our surroundings.

  She inhales a deep breath—on the precipice of saying something—and then she shakes her head and turns away. “Believe what you want. I don’t really care.”

  I’m disappointed by her willingness to just throw in the towel like that.

  “You never did know how to fight.”

  That gets her attention. She rears back, staring at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I got the job offer in New York and you didn’t even ask me to stay. You fucking pushed me out the door.”

  Her jaw drops and she blinks as if in complete disbelief of what I’m saying.

  “I didn’t push you out the door,” she says, talking slowly and enunciating every word. “You left in the middle of a vacation. Or have you forgotten that little detail?”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing,” I say pointedly. “Not the vacation and not what we did the night before I left.”

  Our minds both jump to those moments by the pool. I know it because her cheeks flush with embarrassment and she shakes her head, looking down toward where we’re headed, willing the gondola to speed up. So much for that fear of heights. I guess it’s nothing compared to the anger she’s harboring toward me.

  “Do me a favor and steer clear of me for the rest of the week,” she commands.

  Impossible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aiden

  It’s late and I’m lying awake, aware that Maddie and Brent are sleeping one room over, together on a bed. I know they’re lying side by side, and I don’t like it. So instead, I imagine Maddie in a jacket, beanie, and two pairs of pants zipped into her own personal sleeping bag. Brent is on the floor in the closet, shivering and alone.

  I stare up at the ceiling and strain my ears to hear anything from their room. I have the bathroom door open on my end. If one of them needs to piss, I’ll know it.

  I’m aware that I’m not handling this well, but I never signed up to greet Maddie’s new boyfriend with open arms.

  I groan and turn over onto my side, facing the bathroom.

  I hear a sound and shoot up into a sitting position, eyes narrowed in focus. Then, annoyed that it proved to be nothing more than a cough or something, I push up off the bed and head into the bathroom.

  With quiet steps, I head toward their door and listen closely.

  Nothing sounds out of the ordinary. No talking or laughing or…that.

  I drag my hands down my face, trying to grab ahold of some sense.

  I can’t stay on patrol all night. Besides, what’s my plan? If I hear them doing something I don’t like, am I going to barge in and interrupt?

  Maybe.

  With a low groan, I decide it’s probably best to leave my room and head for safer ground. I take my pillow off my bed and walk out into the dark hallway, glad Jolie and James have a huge house. I don’t have to worry about waking anyone up with my nighttime wanderings.

  In the living room, I’m about to flip on a light when I notice someone lying on the couch. The soft glow of a Kindle blinds me until I step closer and see Maddie bundled up under blankets.

  She jumps and stifles a scream when she notices me standing there.

  “Holy sh—”

  “Sorry.”

  She squeezes her eyes closed as if trying to calm herself down.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Reading,” she says, opening her eyes and refocusing her attention on her e-reader, not exactly pleased to see me.

  “Yeah, obviously. I meant why are you out here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  So she dragged her pillow and a blanket to the couch?

  “Guess Brent’s a light sleeper?”

  She offers a noncommittal hum and goes back to reading.

  I toss my pillow on the end of the couch opposite her head and walk over into the kitchen. Now that I plan on staying up a while, I need a snack. I flip on the light under the cabinets so I don’t crash into anything and then I search the pantry until I find a box of cereal. I fix us each a bowl. Once they’re filled, I carry them back to the couch. When I start to sit, Maddie groans in annoyance because she has to yank her feet out of the way just in time before I crush them.

  I don’t say thank you; instead, I hold out her bowl.

  “I’m not hungry,” she says with an icy tone.

  Huh.

  The Maddie I used to know would never turn down a late-night bowl of cereal.

  I chuckle under my breath and place her bowl down on the coffee table in front of us.

  “You know there’s plenty of other seating,” she points out.

  “I’m fine,” I say, scooping some cereal into my mouth.

  I like this. Maddie has a little bite to her. Maybe I’ll keep provoking her and see how hard she sinks her teeth into me.

  Without another word, she holds her Kindle up in front of her face, blocking me from view, and continues reading.

  I know for a fact she’s not absorbing a single word.

  Can you imagine focusing at a time like this? I can barely succeed in getting my spoon to my mouth without spilling the cereal all over myself. She’s so close to me, her toes graze my thigh. I can smell the shampoo she used when she showered before bed. I’m aware of her every movement, no matter how small.

  We continue sitting near each other in silence. Time crawls. The only sound in the room is me crunching on cereal with my mouth closed.

  She eventually groans, shoves her blanket off herself, and sits up beside me. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye as she reaches for her bowl. She’s in her pajamas, a loose cotton tank and shorts. The side of her shirt dips low on the sides so that I catch more than a little hint of bare skin as she leans forward.

  My body reacts instantaneously, like I’m a starving man in the desert who’s just caught a glimpse of fresh water. Blood rushes south as my heart hammers in my chest.

  She leans back against the couch with her bowl, bending her legs up against her body and using her knees as a makeshift table.

  I’m staring, and she notices. Her eyes cut to me, glaring as if to say, What?

  I smile and she shakes her head and turns away, focusing on her food.

  “What exactly is your goal here?” she asks. “To annoy me?”

  “I’m just eating cereal. I think you’re reading too much into it.”

  “I asked you to stay away from me.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, well, if you were in your room with Brent like you’re supposed to be, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  That shuts her up.

  “You know you can run back to your room any time you want,” I add.

  She straightens her shoulders and continues eating.

  If I didn’t know better, it would almost seem like she doesn’t want to go back to her room.

  Trouble in paradise?

  “Did you and Brent have a fight or something?”

  “Of course not. We don’t fight.”

  “Not ever?”

  “No. He’s nice.”

  “What about in the bedroom?”

  She chokes on her cereal and I have to reach over
and pound her back, making sure she doesn’t die on me. She coughs a bit and regains her breath then glares at me once again.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  I laugh. “We used to discuss this stuff all the time. There was no subject off limits for us, or have you forgotten?”

  “I’m more mature now,” she says haughtily.

  “Little Maddie Lane, so mature she won’t even kiss and tell.”

  My taunt rankles her. She drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clink and turns to face me.

  “If you must know, Brent knows exactly what I like in bed.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He’s not shy. No fumbling and tiptoeing around what he wants.”

  I smirk, and she narrows her eyes.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t say that.”

  “It’s written all over your smug face!”

  I go right on eating my cereal.

  “Good to see you haven’t changed one bit. You’re as arrogant as ever, maybe more so.”

  I meet her gaze. “You used to like it.”

  “Tastes change.”

  I’m so tempted to push her on that lie.

  I’ve had this one lingering thought in the back of my mind ever since I moved away. A regret, really. I can’t help but wonder if I didn’t push Maddie hard enough to reveal her true feelings about me. Instead, I took her words at face value. I soaked up what she told me on the surface and believed it to be true. She had plenty of opportunities to speak up and tell the truth about her real feelings for me…if she had them. So, I convinced myself she wasn’t interested, and that’s part of why I moved to New York. I had to put distance between us so I could attempt to move on.

  But the thought remains, even still: was she just good at hiding the truth? Just like me?

  After all, I never told her my feelings either.

  Maybe we were both liars.

  I could test my theory right now. She’s sitting here all alone with me in the near darkness. I could set our bowls on the coffee table and lean over her, push her back onto the couch, and see how she responds.

  I could seduce her in the ways I’ve imagined a thousand times. My hand up the front of her tank top, my palm covering her skin…I could make her feel so good.

  I want her now as much as ever.

  The desire to have her pulses through me like wildfire.

  It’s so hard to sit here, inches away from her, and keep my hands to myself.

  “In fact, I should probably be getting back to him,” Maddie says, standing up to carry her bowl into the kitchen.

  I stand up too, going after her. I let my gaze linger on her long legs until I reach the hem of her shorts. She drops her bowl into the sink, and I reach around her to do the same. When my arm brushes against her waist, she stills and sucks in a breath.

  I don’t move away. Instead, I step forward.

  I’m crowding her at the sink.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asks breathily.

  “Cleaning my cereal bowl,” I reply as my hand hits the counter beside her hip.

  My body presses against hers, and she fits into every groove perfectly. Her tank top is silky smooth against my bare chest. Her hand lands beside mine so she can use it to help prop herself up. It looks fragile sitting there, her fingers so delicate. I can’t help but let my hand wander over to them, first covering the back of her hand and then looping around her wrist, tightening my grasp enough to feel her pulse.

  Hummingbird fast.

  She’s nervous right now, but not so nervous that she’s putting an end to my game.

  I keep my hand on her wrist for a little while longer, and then after I’ve lost the battle to resist, I start to slide it up her forearm, higher over her elbow. I glide it up across her bicep, and then my fingers find the thin strap of her tank top. It’s nothing, a scrap. I could tug and break it without an ounce of effort. Instead, I touch it like it’s a delicate bird, gripping it between two fingers and pulling it up and off her skin as I start to move it down her shoulder.

  I’m close enough to her that I can look down over her shoulder and see the fabric start to dip on her chest, revealing the top of her breast. With only the dull lights glowing behind us, we’re cast in shadow, but I can see more than enough. Smooth skin. Raised goose bumps. The rise and fall of her chest filling with air. It seems like she can’t quite get enough of it. Her breath picks up and she pinches her eyes closed as my mouth hits the shell of her ear.

  “You’re going to run back to Brent? Now?”

  She doesn’t respond for a beat, and then finally, she nods, convincing herself of something.

  “You’re going to climb into bed with him when I’m standing right here?”

  She swallows, but other than that, she stays stock-still. I’m waiting for her to turn or bat my hand away—something to deter me from continuing.

  “I don’t think he gives you everything you want,” I taunt. “I think…you’re lying.”

  Her eyes pop open and she pushes away from me.

  She looks ready to spew venom as her gaze locks with mine. She points her finger at me, and it shakes with the adrenaline coursing through her.

  “What is it, Aiden? Are you bored in New York City? Haven’t had sex in a while so you think it’d be fun to tease me?”

  I walk toward her, wanting her close, but she backs away.

  “Don’t come here and try to screw up my life. You’re the one who left.”

  “You didn’t ask me to stay.”

  “Are you kidding me?!”

  Our voices are getting louder. We’re about to wake everyone up.

  “Maddie?”

  Brent’s voice carries from down the hall, and I squeeze my eyes closed. Fucking great.

  Maddie quickly adjusts the strap of her tank top and rushes around the kitchen island so she’s closer to him than she is to me when he finally steps into the living room.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

  “Yeah. It’s fine. C’mon, let’s go back to the room.”

  I watch as they disappear down the hall, a sick feeling twisting my gut.

  None of this makes sense.

  This whole time I thought Maddie wanted me to leave and pursue a career in New York, but if that’s the case, why did she disappear off the face of the earth once I was there? Why hasn’t she been returning my calls and texts? Why is she so angry with me now?

  Back in bed, before I finally fall asleep, I decide I’m not going to step back and let Brent and Maddie have their happy ending. In fact, I won’t allow it. I made a mistake leaving for New York without telling Maddie how I really felt about her the first time. I won’t let it happen again.

  * * *

  Luck is on my side in the morning.

  I wake up early and head out for a run before anyone else gets up and going. It’s cold out and my lungs burn, but I push through it, appreciating the clarity it gives me.

  After last night—touching Maddie—a good five-mile run is just what I need to get my body in check. I’m cooling down, about to arrive back at my brother’s house, when I spot Brent talking on the phone up ahead. He’s standing outside in his pajamas, hopping back and forth trying to stay warm.

  I’m curious.

  Why is he talking on the phone out here? Why stand in the snow?

  I tug my AirPods out of my ears and pause my music. With his back to me, he’s unaware I’m in earshot.

  “—it’s fine so far, but I have a feeling something big is brewing.”

  I slow my stride.

  “I have no idea what’s going on between them. Has she told you anything?”

  There’s silence as the person on the other end of the line answers.

  “Well, they clearly still have chemistry. I mean, you should see the way he looks at Maddie. It’s the same way you look at me.”

  He laughs, and I stop dead in my tracks.

&nb
sp; What. The. Fuck?

  “Gah! I’m freezing.” He hisses and heads for the door. “I can’t stay out here another second. I’ll text you later. Yeah. Yeah, I won’t forget. Okay. Love you.”

  Then he hangs up and walks inside, none the wiser.

  But I am.

  I am much, much wiser than I was five seconds ago.

  I knew something was off yesterday between Brent and Maddie. I couldn’t put my finger on what was going on between them, but there were so many red flags I was practically tripping over them.

  And now I know why.

  Maddie is up to her old tricks.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maddie

  I’m sitting at the breakfast table, minding my own business, when Aiden walks into the kitchen. I can barely even look at him after what transpired between us last night. That was…unexpected, to say the least.

  He’s clearly just gone for a run. Sweat drips down his forehead even though it’s below freezing outside. He yanks off his workout jacket and tosses it on the back of a barstool. Then he picks up the bottom of his t-shirt and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead. Golden tan skin tugs taut across his hard abs.

  I saw his bare chest last night, but in daylight, it shines in all its glory.

  He looks up and catches me staring.

  I don’t even bother looking away.

  He has a devious smile on, and I don’t like it. He looks…confident. Like he’s just won a hand of poker or caught a canary.

  After last night, shouldn’t he be sulking in a corner? Drying his tears with a dish towel or something?

  “Go out for a run?” James asks from his position at the stove where he’s whipping up some eggs for breakfast.

  “Just a quick one,” Aiden replies, heading over to the table and swiping a piece of sausage from my plate.

  My mouth gapes.