Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel

by Melissa Brown

  “Yoga?”

  “My addiction. I try to go at least three times a week. And I missed the last class, so I really need to go this time,” she said, looking excited. “Have you ever tried it?”

  I shook my head, trying to imagine my clumsy long limbs in a yoga studio. It was laughable. “I’m not very flexible.”

  “Would you consider trying it?”

  No. Hell no.

  I paused, narrowing my eyes at Maren’s hopeful, beautiful face. How could I possibly say no to that face? “Maybe.”

  “I bet I can convince you.”

  I chuckled, imagining all the ways I’d like Maren to convince me to do just about anything. The thought of her on her knees looking up at me made my dick twitch.

  Keep it clean, Pete. Jesus.

  “I’m sure you could.” I laughed. “But can I get a rain check?”

  “Of course.”

  “Besides, I don’t think Lyra’s my biggest fan.”

  “Nah.” She waved me off. “She’s just protective. And I’m the same way with her. We’ve been like that for years. Once she gets to know you, she’ll stop being so guarded.”

  “I get it. Scott and I are like that too. He’s the guy who got married—the wedding I had to leave.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Nah, he understood. They all did. It’s just such a relief that it all ended up okay. I mean, you’d never know anything happened to my dad, aside from him losing a few pounds.”

  “That’s so wonderful.”

  “And you know why that is, right?” I leaned my head forward, again acknowledging how she changed my family forever.

  “Peter, you have to stop thanking me, or I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

  I shifted in my seat, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  Maren’s skin turned pale as she sighed, looking uncomfortable. “You don’t owe me anything. You know that, right?”

  “Owe you?” I asked in shock.

  “I just mean, I know you’re grateful for what I did.” She swallowed hard. “I hope that’s not what this is.”

  I placed both elbows on the table and took her hands in mine. “Listen, this,” I gestured between us, “has nothing to do with that. Of course, I’ll always be thankful for what you did that day. But it would have ended with a card or maybe some flowers. That’s it. That’s all. This…this is so much more. It doesn’t have anything to do with how we met.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, the corners of her mouth turning into a small smile.

  “You believe me, right? This isn’t gratitude, Maren. This is…this is falling.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, looking shocked. We sat, staring at one another and for just a fraction of a second, I regretted wearing my heart on my sleeve. But then she shot out of her seating and kissed me, both of her hands on my cheeks, the steam of our coffees floating up to meet us.

  When she pulled away, she pressed her forehead to mine.

  “Let’s fall together.”

  Chapter 9

  MAREN

  “You had sex,” Lyra said the moment we made eye contact. With wide eyes and a satisfied Cheshire grin plastered to her face, she looked all too proud of herself. I’d just walked into the yoga studio where she was waiting, holding her mat and her favorite hydro flask. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and it looked like she had a new teal sports bra and yoga pants. As annoyed and mortified as I was at her greeting, I wanted to ask her where she got them.

  “Shh,” I hissed, my cheeks turning hot as I glanced around the studio. I caught a glimpse of myself in the wall of mirrors. Bright red. “How can you tell, anyway?“

  “It’s all over your face, you little vixen.”

  “You can stop smirking now.” I couldn’t make eye contact with her anymore, so I sat down to remove my shoes. Not letting things go, she sat down next to me and I scooted over. “You’re invading my personal space, thank you very much.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Was it good?”

  I paused for a moment, giving her a dirty look before cracking and lowering my voice. “Better than good.”

  “A-maaaa-zing?” Lyra pressed, her stupid grin was showing no signs of leaving any time soon.

  “Lyra—”

  “Answer the question and I’ll shut up.”

  “Fine. It was mind blowing. Happy now?”

  “I hope you hydrated. I don’t want you passing out during class. I guess it was a bad week to choose Bikram,” she snickered.

  “I think I can handle it.” I said with a playful sneer. Secretly, I wondered if I’d had enough water after grabbing coffee with Peter earlier that morning. Perfectly hydrated people sometimes fainted during Bikram yoga. The room was already warming up and would hit 105 degrees before the class would begin. Quickly, I turned away from Lyra and took two long swigs from my water bottle.

  “I saw that, by the way.”

  “Shut up.”

  “So… tell me about this hot sex. It was the hot bearded son, right? I mean, I’m assuming it was him…”

  I swatted her across the arm. “Of course!”

  She laughed. “Sorry. I mean, you never know.”

  “You’re the worst,” I said under my breath, but she knew I obviously felt the opposite. Any friend who can tell when you’ve gotten lucky is someone who knows you all too well. And that was priceless. Lyra was priceless. “What about you? How was your night?”

  “Meh, fine. I studied, nothing exciting… I mean, nothing like your night.”

  Earlier that year, Lyra had decided to get her master’s degree in library science. Even though I knew it meant that I would lose her as my assistant manager, I also knew that nothing would make her happier than to let her literature degree shine as a librarian. It was her dream, and there was no way I was standing in the way of that. I’d train someone else—and even though they would never compare to Lyra, they would just have to do. I’d achieved my dream of owning the store, and now it was Lyra’s turn to focus on hers.

  “When’s your midterm?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “You can take Monday off, you know. Last-minute cram session. I can come over and quiz you when I’m done at work.”

  “Tempting. Let’s see how I feel after I study all weekend.”

  “You got it. New sports bra?”

  “Lululemon.”

  “You have a problem,” I said with a laugh, referencing Lyra’s shopping addiction. Her closet was stocked with her favorite brand.

  “I do need to tell you something, though.” Lyra looked serious, her dark brown eyes pained.

  “What is it?”

  “I feel like an idiot even saying this, but I have to tell you or I’ll explode.”

  I prepared for the worst. Releasing a sigh, I said softly, “Oh-kay.”

  “I have a crush on my professor. And he’s married. And I’m a twat.”

  “Seriously? I mean, not the twat part. I already know that.” I winked. Lyra rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’ve ever had a crush in all the years I’ve known you. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you use the word.”

  “I know! It’s absolutely ridiculous and totally unprofessional, but I can’t help it. I have a big old stupid crush. It’s out there now—no longer my deep and dirty secret. God, I feel better.” She let out a huge sigh, stood up, and grabbed her mat, sweat already building on her arms. “Let’s go find a spot.”

  “I’m going to need more information. You know that, right?”

  “Later,” she said with a nod. “I promise. I just had to get it out. I’ll give you details after class.”

  “You’d better,” I said, intrigued by Lyra’s new crush.

  “And you can spare me the morality speech. I have no interest in being a home-wrecker.”

  “I didn’t say a word!”

  “You don’t have to. I already know what you’re thinking.”

  Dead wrong. I hadn’t ev
en tackled the married part of her news. I was still stuck on the fact that she had a crush at all. Usually she was fending off dates from just about every man she came across. Lyra was beautiful and smart, and she was the most quick-witted person I’d ever known. She had a comeback for just about everything, and that was the thing I admired most about her. While I was usually left tongue tied, Lyra was never at a loss for words. So her peculiar behavior had me intrigued, to say the least.

  I shook my head. “No speech, I swear. And I still want details.”

  “Um,” Lyra said, looking behind me—her expression turned angry. Her tiny nostrils flared, and her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.

  What the hell?

  “Maren?”

  Just the sound of his voice turned my blood to ice, even in a room that was oppressively hot. I hadn’t heard that voice in nine months.

  Jackson.

  Lyra pursed her lips and continued to glare at my ex-boyfriend. I wanted to hug her and thank her for always having my back, but all I could do was turn around slowly to face him.

  “Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Um, what are you doing here?”

  He couldn’t be here to see me, could he?

  “My girlfriend…” He paused, looking around the room and scratching the back of his perfectly coifed head. “She’s, uh, she’s teaching the class.”

  “Luna’s your…girlfriend?” I couldn’t help feeling betrayed by Luna, our instructor. Not that we were friends outside the studio, but still, we talked with her, laughed with her, and even cried with her in this studio. She was an important part of my routine each and every week. And I really didn’t want to change yoga studios.

  “No.” He shook his head and laughed. “Her name’s Patrice. She’s subbing today. She usually teaches at the other studio across town, but Luna was desperate.”

  I looked him up and down. He was wearing a green T-shirt and gray cotton sweatpants. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was here for the class.

  “Are you…taking the class?” I asked incredulously. I tried for years to get him to take yoga with me, and he always refused. Every. Single. Time.

  He shrugged, running his fingers through his short black hair. “I know, I know. I always gave you so much crap for doing it.”

  “That’s putting it lightly. You told me I was… What was it? Buying into bullshit?”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before Patrice convinced me to try it out…and I actually kinda like it now,” he said, raising both eyebrows. “It actually helps with weight training. I can deadlift so much more now.” He glanced down at his right bicep and flexed before resuming eye contact. “And you know…Bikram definitely helps with endurance. Patrice says I’m the quickest learner she’s ever seen.”

  Always so damn proud of yourself, aren’t you?

  “Is that so?” Lyra asked, taking a step forward to stand next to me. “Well, I think some spots just opened in the back.”

  Jackson tilted his chin, his brown eyes boring into Lyra’s. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Oh, save it.” Lyra turned back to her things and spread out her mat. When she finished, she gingerly took mine as well, spreading it out for me as Jackson and I stood in awkward silence.

  “So…how’ve you been?” Jackson asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, a movement that would be imperceptible to just about anyone but me…and maybe Lyra. Pity. He’d been the one to end things and for that, he knew he’d always have the upper hand. I wanted to punch his smug face.

  “Great,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m great.”

  “Do you still have your little store?”

  I hated how he always used the word “little” when referring to my business. And so did Lyra; she grumbled under her breath as she sat on her mat to stretch.

  “Yes,” I said, tilting my chin up, refusing to let Jackson belittle me. “And it’s doing better than ever, actually. Prepping for the holidays.”

  Giving me an elongated blink, Jackson cleared his throat. “Good for you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, no longer trying other hide my annoyance. I was running out of patience. I took another swig of my water, feeling sweat build on my neck and forehead.

  “Work is good for me too,” he said, even though I didn’t ask. Work was typically good for Jackson. He was a stock broker who always knew how to make a buck. “Better than ever, as well.”

  It’s not a competition, asshat.

  The instructor, who I now knew was named Patrice, was eyeing us from the front of the classroom. I glanced at my watch before motioning to my mat. “Class is about to start. I’d better stretch. Nice seeing you, Jackson.”

  “Yeah, you too. Let’s grab a coffee sometime. I’ll stop by the store.”

  I didn’t respond, pretending I didn’t hear him. With a sigh, I took my spot next to Lyra and waited for Patrice to start the class. I hated myself for it, but a tiny part of me wondered if Jackson found her more attractive than me.

  Pathetic, I know.

  “Don’t let him do it, girl. Not today.”

  “I’m not,” I protested, but it was a lie. I hated that he could get under my skin so easily.

  Lyra came in close. “Listen to me, you had mind-blowing sex last night with a guy you really like, right?”

  The thought of Peter made me smile. If I was honest with myself, it wasn’t enough to completely drown out the echo of Jackson, but I hoped one day that might change. And that was reason enough to be happy.

  “Yes.”

  “So forget about Jackson.” She tilted her head toward Jackson, who was now in the front row making eyes at Patrice, who beamed in response. “He doesn’t deserve you; he never did.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right. After two and a half years with Jackson and nine months apart, I could objectively agree with Lyra. Jackson was selfish, inconsiderate, and never made me a priority. He never appreciated me, even when I did my best to please him.

  He didn’t deserve me, I knew it was true. But it didn’t make seeing him hurt any less.

  “Inhala, exhala,” Lyra said, using the mantra from our all-time favorite show, Jane the Virgin. “Exhale that shithead out of your system.”

  I followed her orders, breathing in deeply and holding my lungs for five seconds before breathing out, urging thoughts of Peter back into my brain.

  “You’re right. Inhala, exhala.” I took another deep breath, glancing at Jackson, who was making eyes at Patrice. Closing my eyes, I focused on Peter and all the possibilities that lay ahead. “The bullshit has been released. Let’s do this.

  “Thatta girl,” Lyra said with a wink, before nodding to Patrice, who had started to lead the class. “Now let’s see if she’s any good.”

  After a quick shower and makeup application, Lyra and I took a cab downtown to open the store. The brisk fall air soothed my cheeks, still warm from the workout. Patrice was not only a good instructor, she was arguably more skilled than Luna. Despite her skills, though, I was in no rush to ever see her again. I closed my eyes and took another drink of water as we approached the shop.

  “What’s this?” Lyra said as she approached the grate, grabbing an envelope that was taped to the door. “Looks like it’s for you.”

  “Hmm?” I said, swallowing another large sip of water and still feeling parched. “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  “Maren” was written on the front of the yellow envelope in scribbled, masculine handwriting. I could only hope it was from a certain video game designer. A satisfied smile crossed my lips when I saw his name.

  Maren,

  Is it ridiculous that I already miss you?

  Peter

  “You've got it bad,” Lyra said, shaking her head.

  “I do,” I said with a sigh, my stomach clenching for just a moment. “It scares the crap out of me, Lyra. Even Jackson didn’t make me feel like this. So…so…I don’t even kno
w what the word is.”

  “Giddy,” Lyra deadpanned, opening the door and turning on the overhead lights. “You’re giddy.”

  “Stop it. No, I’m not.”

  “You most certainly are. And I’m happy for you,” she said, her tone changed. She was serious. “I mean it, Maren. Especially after seeing that fuck nut today. I’m glad you’re on this path. I have a good feeling about this one.”

  “Thanks.” I placed Peter’s note in my purse. “I do too.”

  “So why a note? Why didn’t he just text you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he’s old fashioned…romantic.”

  “Ugh,” Lyra said, looking down at her watch. “How am I going to stomach you all day? You’re sickening.”

  “Don’t be salty.” Playfully, I pushed her on her arm. “Fine, I’ll tone it down, okay?”

  “Promise?” she said, flipping her hair behind her as she walked away.

  “Shut it and put on the music, will you? I need to check the batch of candles I poured yesterday.”

  “Need me to clip wicks?” Lyra called from the register.

  “Yes, please!” I yelled back, opening the swinging door to the workshop. An eclectic mixture of scents filled the air—juniper berries, hazelnut coffee, pomegranate cider. Somehow it blended together to form a surprisingly enjoyable fragrance.

  Lyra switched on the music and Ed Sheeran’s raspy, gorgeous voice filled the air. Without even realizing it, I started dancing to the beat.

  “You are beyond extra right now,” Lyra said with a laugh.

  Singing along with Ed, I grabbed her hands and forced her to dance with me. Within seconds, Lyra was singing at the top of her lungs as we danced around the candle studio. Grabbing a washcloth, I wiped away the accidental wax drops on the rims of the jars as Lyra clipped the wicks expertly while popping her hips back and forth.

  It was going to be a good day.

  Chapter 10

  PETER