by Marie Meyer
I got up and walked around, too, an attempt to lower my pulse rate and return my thoughts to those of someone in the friend-zone.
“Uh, yeah.” Jillian said, nodding her head. “Pepperoni and pineapple. You heard correctly.”
With my back to her, I craned my neck and looked over my shoulder, shaking my head in disgust. Her food combinations sucked.
And like everything else, I loved that about her.
* * *
After we annihilated our pizzas and me trying my damnedest not to cross the line and fucking kiss her, I tossed my pizza crust into the box and sat back, nursing what was left of my beer. “So, what is this Spring Showcase thing that has you doubting your mad skills?” I asked.
Standing, she brushed her hands on her knees and walked to the mini fridge. “Every year, the apparel design department hosts a student-led runway show. All fashion majors must design an original, themed collection to be presented at the show. Most of my classmates already sketched their designs and have begun to put them together.” Turning around to face me, she took a long pull on the beer she’d just opened.
“How far are you?” I stretched my legs out and sat back against her bed. Jillian watched me get comfortable and then began to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I held up my hands.
“You,” she replied bluntly, pointing her beer bottle at me.
I pointed my bottle at her. “I’m cutting you off. I forgot how wacky you get when you drink.” Shaking my head, I leaned back and rested against her mattress.
“I do not get wacky.” She stuck my tongue out at me.
She actually stuck her tongue out at me. Dear God, the thoughts that had just run through my head. I bit my tongue to keep from tackling her to the ground, sucking her tongue into my mouth, and…Shit! No! I cannot get carried away. “I rest my case.” I chuckled. I needed to change the subject, too many images of tongues and our bodies pressed together were making things way too hard. “How far have you gotten on your Showcase stuff?”
She frowned. “Not very.”
“When is the show?”
Joining me back on the carpet, she pushed my feet out of the way and said, “Not until May, but we’re required to have a minimum of five different pieces, so it takes a while to sketch the ideas and turn them into wearable clothes.”
I lifted my head and set my beer down. “Well, let’s get on it, then.” I clapped my hands together, ready for her to put me to work. “You said the collection has to be themed? What does that mean?”
As if reciting something she’d heard a billion times that semester, she dove right into her explanation. “All the pieces must be different, yet similar enough to tell a story. There has to be something that ties all the pieces together.”
I pulled my legs up and rested my elbows on my knees. “Get your stuff. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Really, Griffin, you don’t have to do this.” She sighed, set her beer down, and fell onto her back. Shielding her eyes from the light, she dropped her arm onto her face. “I’m sure an up-and-coming rock star has better things to do with his time.”
This kind of talk had to stop. She knew I’d do anything for her. I knocked my boot against the side of her foot, forcing her to look at me. “Seriously, Jillian, go get your shit. I don’t know one thing about designing clothes, but I can certainly watch you do it. Get up.” I held my hand out for her to take. Placing her fingers in my palm, I wrapped my hand around hers and pulled us both up so we sat face-to-face. I stared her down, all joking aside. “Where’s your stuff?”
She blinked and tilted her head toward the desk. “On the floor over there.”
I tapped my finger against her nose and smiled. “Well, go get it.”
With a little groan she got up and trudged over to her desk, leaned down beside it, and pulled two large duffel bags and a book bag from the floor. “I’ve got dozens of different fabrics and embellishments in these two bags,” she said, holding them up.
“Embellishments?” I raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What the hell is an embellishment?”
A little smile bloomed across her face, her cheeks the color of a light-pink rose. She was so beautiful when she smiled.
Tossing the bags into the center of the room, she sat down with a thud beside the bags and me. “I have my sketchbooks in here,” she said, pulling the bag onto her lap.
I took a swig of beer and swallowed. “Do me a favor.” I stretched behind her and set my beer on the desk. “Never mention this to the guys.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Pretending to seal her lips, she pantomimed locking them up and tossing the key over her shoulder.
I pulled the purple duffel to my lap and unzipped it. Turning it upside down, I emptied the contents onto the floor. Tons of shiny shit fell out. I ran my hand over the mess, with not a clue what the purpose of any of this stuff was. I stared at Jillian.
“What?” She giggled, unzipping the other duffel bag. “You wanted to know what embellishments were…well, there you go.” Jillian grabbed a fistful of beads and playfully tossed them at my head.
Shielding my face from the attack, I mumbled, “I think I’m going to need another beer for this.” I leaned over and pulled another from the mini fridge.
We stared at the small pile. “Any ideas?” I asked, twisting the cap off my beer. I sure as hell didn’t have any.
“None. I’m telling you, the second I got here, every ounce of my artistic ability disappeared.”
I looked at her, irritated that my eccentric, creative Jillibean’s self-esteem had tanked. “Fuck that.” I took a drink and reached backward to set my beer beside the empty one. “Come on, there’s got to be something in here you can use.” I pieced through the pile, finding some lacy circles and a couple of graduation-tassel-looking things.
“Here, what about this?” I put the circle on my head and batted my eyelashes. A swell of laughter rose from inside Jillian, pure music. “Or this,” I continued, not wanting her laughter to fade. I held the tassels to my chest and twirled them around suggestively.
“Stop…stop,” she cried, punching my shoulder, laughing. I playfully pushed her backward and she fell onto her back with a sigh. I tossed the tassels into the pile and sat up on my knees. I wanted a better look at my girl.
Still laughing, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked at me. “If the guys could see you now.” She smirked.
“Uh-uh,” I said, waving my index finger back and forth. On my knees I shuffled through the glittery mess and hovered over her. I loved the way her hair fanned out around her face, like an orange-golden sunset. “You promised.” I pressed a finger to my lips like a secret. “You locked it and threw away the key.” Moving my leg over her small body, I straddled her and leaned in close, easily pinning her beneath me. My eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts, then grazed along her slender neckline. I licked my lips, wanting to the trail my tongue along the same path my eyes followed. She looked so fucking hot between my legs.
Her breathing grew shallow and her eyes blazed as she anticipated my next move. Slowly I slid my arms down hers, stopping to grip her waist firmly in my hands. Her body felt incredible in my hands. Too incredible. I shouldn’t be touching her like this. Damn, she took my breath away.
Staring at her, I struggled to keep my heartbeat steady. I needed a reason to keep my hands on her, because I couldn’t let go. It took every last bit of my resolve not to seize her mouth.
With a sly smile, I wiggled my fingers at her sides, tickling the hell out of her. “You promised,” I whispered in her ear.
She laughed uncontrollably and squirmed beneath me. She had my dick’s attention immediately. Fuck! This was a bad idea.
“OK! OK!” she squealed, and tried to wiggle out from underneath me. Did she feel my body’s reaction to her? God, I hope not! “I give!” She giggled.
I needed to get off her, but if I got up now, there wouldn’t be much left to the imagination. Just then the door flew ope
n, making the decision for me, and I shot up like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, pulling Jillian off the ground with me.
A girl stood in the doorway, her jaw dropped in shock. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she stuttered.
Jillian ran a hand through her hair, trying to straighten it. “Sarah, no…it’s fine,” she said in between heavy breaths.
“Yeah, no problem,” I added, also out of breath. “Hi, I’m Griffin.” I reached around Jillian, who was thankfully standing in front of me, and offered Sarah my hand.
Sarah stepped closer and took my hand and Jillian stepped aside, giving her a full view of the growing situation in my pants. I cleared my throat and prayed she’d keep her eyes on my face.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Griffin. I’ve heard so much about you.” Sarah looked from me to Jillian and smiled. I think she may have even winked at Jillian. What did that mean?
“Is everything OK?” Jillian asked, kicking an empty duffel bag to her side of the room. “Aren’t you staying at Brandon’s brother’s house?” Jillian fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, something she did when she was nervous. Why is she nervous?
Jesus, I’m a wreck. I need to pull myself together or this trip is going to end in disaster.
Sarah stepped over the pile of shit on the floor, took a couple steps in my direction, and pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Excuse me,” she said kindly, pointing to the dresser behind me.
“Oh, sorry.” I took one giant step and went to sit on Jillian’s bed, running my hand through my hair.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, pulling open one of her dresser drawers. “I just forgot…something.” She looked at me over her shoulder and smirked.
It felt strange watching Jillian interact with another close friend. I had always been that person, but now she had Sarah. I liked that Sarah had taken on the role of best friend. Does that leave room for me to be something more?
Jillian cleared her throat. “How was your Thanksgiving?” she asked.
Sarah claimed her forgotten item and stood, pushing the drawer shut with her foot. “Good,” she drawled. “But apparently the party is here tonight.” Her eyes scanned the mess on the floor, and then the two of us.
“Griffin was just—” Jillian stuttered.
“Helping Jillian find her muse.” I finished her sentence, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“I can see that,” she intoned, her eyes scanning the length of my body. “Well, Brandon’s waiting in the car,” she said, turning to leave. “Good luck finding your muse.” Giving Jillian a smirk, she pulled the door open.
“Good night, Sarah,” Jillian groaned, pushing her out the door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good night. Nice to meet you, Griffin,” Sarah called over my shoulder in a singsong voice.
“You too, Sarah.” I craned my neck to see her around the door and waved.
Jillian slammed the door shut and turned around. “Well, that was weird.”
I nodded, running my hand through my hair. “Yeah.” I looked at Jillian, who was still worrying the hem of her shirt.
Jillian collapsed on the bed beside me, groaning. She buried her head in the mattress. “It’s late and my head feels fuzzy. I need to go to bed,” she mumbled.
“Scoot over.” I pushed her tiny frame toward the wall and kicked my boots off, lying down.
“Thanks for putting up with me,” she whispered.
Dear God, after all these years, doesn’t she know what she means to me? What I’d do for her? I stretched my arm up, forcing her to lift her head.
I felt her body relax as she used my arm as a pillow. Tilting her head up, she unleashed the full force of her dark eyes. Like black holes, they pulled me in and refused to let me go.
I brushed my fingers across her cheek, smoothing away a few strands of colorful hair. “Jillibean,” I whispered, fearing the emotions I felt right now wouldn’t allow me to speak. “I will always be here for you.” I tucked an orange strand of hair behind her ear. Lowering my head, I was determined to kiss her…in some way. I placed my lips on her forehead, leaving them there longer than any friend should.
Chapter Twenty
Even after countless prayers, the sun rose early on Saturday morning. I hadn’t wanted my weekend to end. I wasn’t ready to leave Jillian…and go home to Erin.
God, what am I doing with Erin? I had to end it.
Since August I had tried to turn Erin into Jillian. Tried to make her the part of my life that was missing, and it wasn’t working.
There was no denying that Erin was a wonderful, beautiful person. She was kind, considerate, and a blast to hang out with, but that was all I had. Erin was now. That was it. No history…no future.
That wasn’t love.
I shook my head, disgusted with the way I was treating both girls. I’d gotten so good at pushing them away, albeit for different reasons. I was an asshole.
Jillian was snuggled close to my side and breathing deeply, still fast asleep. I watched her. The sun shining through the slats of the blinds lit Jillian’s face.
I trailed my fingers over the rays of sunlight splayed on her cheeks. The warmth carried from her skin to mine. Jillian stirred beside me, a slight hum vibrating at her mouth. I pressed my fingers to her lips, wishing I could kiss them.
The months we’d been apart were supposed to reset our friendship. But that’s not what had happened. Wasn’t love supposed to be all-encompassing? All-consuming? Jillian was my past, my present, and I wanted more than anything for her to be my future. I couldn’t live without her. She brought balance, order, color, and warmth to my otherwise chaotic black-and-white life. She was so much more than a friend. She was my reason for being.
I shook my head, in awe of her. I didn’t want a fleeting now. I wanted a lifetime. I wanted to be consumed.
With my face pressed to the top of her head, I drew in her familiar scent. Her hair smelled faintly of coconuts, while her body reminded me of the scent of flowers drifting along an ocean breeze.
It was so hard to leave her. Her absence felt like being caught in an ocean wave. It crashed down on me with such force, holding me under the surface of the water, my body begging for oxygen, my lungs burning. And just like the fury of the ocean, my life without Jillian tossed me around like a rag doll until I was beaten and broken. Until there was nothing left. Not even her.
Drawing in one last Jillian-scented breath, I held her inside me, refusing to exhale. Slowly, sliding my arm from beneath her head, I rolled my body off the bed. Jillian shifted a little, snuggled deeper into her pillow, and pulled the comforter under her chin, never opening her eyes.
I let out my breath and stood. I’d let her sleep a little longer while I showered and packed. Walking over to my duffel bag, which lay on her roommate’s bed, I removed my shower items and headed for the bathroom down the hall.
* * *
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I pulled the door open a smidge and stuck my head through, hoping the ladies on this floor were still on vacation. I made a mad dash back to Jillian’s room, quietly pulling open her propped door.
Still asleep, she’d rolled onto her stomach and put a pillow over her head. I smiled. Every little thing she did got to me like no one else was able to do.
I tiptoed over to my bag and pulled out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some boxer briefs. Dropping the towel, I quickly stepped into my underwear, pulled on my shirt, and sat to put my jeans on. Standing, I gave the jeans one last tug before I buttoned and zipped them closed.
I looked around and gathered the clothes I’d worn on previous days. Kneeling, I rolled up a couple of shirts and another pair of jeans and stuffed them into my bag.
“You know what I’d love to have right now?”
Jillian’s groggy voice floated from the bed and landed at my ears. I lifted my head and smiled, laying my eyes on her. With her dark bedroom eyes and mussed hair, she was too damn sexy for words.
It took my brain a second longer to register what she’d said. “What’s that?”
“A bright-blue police box that can transport me back to Tuesday night,” she sighed, her lips turning downward.
Jillian had always loved that strange Doctor Who show. When we were younger, she’d held me hostage many nights, forcing me to watch an alien time lord magically fix things with a screwdriver.
Unable to resist her pout, I left my things on the floor and walked over to the bed. I pushed her over and fell down beside her. Instantly Jillian rolled onto her side to face me. I did the same, inches separating our noses.
I smiled even though I wasn’t happy. I was anything but. Needing to touch her, I brushed my fingers along her cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ears. “All you’ve ever talked about was getting the hell out of Jennifer’s house and going to design school. But…” My throat caught, and I couldn’t finish my sentence. I needed to get a grip on my emotions.
I pushed my hands beneath the pillow we shared and sought out her hands. Wrapping my fingers over her fists, I held them tightly. “Now you’re sad all the time,” I croaked. “Isn’t this what you want anymore?”
She shook her head infinitesimally, and I hated that she wasn’t happy here. Everything she’d ever talked about…dreamed about…and now that the dream was realized, yet she still seemed lost…sad. More than anything, I wanted to fix that for her. I wanted to make her happy.
“I feel like a failure here. Everything feels…forced.” Her words were quiet, emotionless. My heart hurt. But I knew how she felt.
“Except for these last few days,” she continued.
Her eyes roamed over my face, and then she turned them away, refusing to make eye contact. Her gaze fell on my arm, specifically my scripture tattoo. She pulled her hand free of my grasp beneath the pillow and brushed my shirt sleeve up to reveal more of the dark script winding its way around my bicep. With the slightest bit of pressure, she traced the cursive writing. My arm flexed involuntarily at her touch, which sent a shiver down my spine and blood rushing elsewhere. If she didn’t stop, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from starting something that would alter our friendship forever.
