“I can’t think of anyone right now.” Or ever.
Pearson leans forward and rests his forearms on the table, a smug smile on his face. “You don’t have to give me a name now. How ’bout I give you a week to come up with someone?”
I watch him narrowly. He’s been my best friend for three years. But he’ll soon find himself my ex-best friend, and ex-roommate if he keeps this shit up. My problem now though is anything less than my agreement means he wins. “No problem.” A minor miracle occurs because I don’t choke on my words.
Pearson laughs, enjoying my grudging agreement too damn much. “Then you better start now. I have a feeling you’re going to need every single minute of the next seven days.”
“You don’t think I can come up with anyone, do you?” I probably could if I wanted to. It’s my willingness that’s seriously in question.
“Oh, I’m sure you could. I just don’t think you will. It would go against your self-interest.”
The moment Pearson met April he thought there was something going on between us. And this was before we had sex. Nothing has changed his mind about that since. I’m sure he’ll continue to think it when we’re married with kids.
Married with kids. To other people.
The thought agitates me, sending me to my feet. My throat and chest constrict. I can’t imagine April married to…anyone really.
“It’d be in my best interest to get another fuckin’ roommate,” I growl on my way to our small galley kitchen.
I hear him snicker and the scraping of his chair along the faux-wood floor as I open the refrigerator.
“Speaking of roommates…” The way his voice trails off prompts me to peer back at him. He’s leaning casually against the opening.
“What?” I prompt.
“You remember when I asked if you’d mind Liv moving in?”
“Yeah.” He’d asked me about that last year, and I’d told him it wouldn’t bother me but Liv had turned him down. Said something about not wanting to break up the three musketeers.
“Well, she changed her mind. I just wanted to make sure you were still okay with it.” Even though I’m positive he knows I’m not going to say no, I can’t help but smile at the hopeful expression on his face. He’s nuts about his girlfriend. Absolutely gone.
I nod and turn back to scour the contents of the fridge. “As long as you didn’t eat the rest of the chicken parmesan she made you the other day.” I spot it in a glass container on the second shelf, and waste no time claiming the leftovers.
Pearson goes from looking immensely pleased to stricken when he realizes I’m nabbing what’s probably supposed to be his lunch. You snooze you lose.
I grab a plate from the cupboard. “When did she tell you this?” And why didn’t April mention it to me? And what else is she not telling me these days?
“This morning.”
That explains why I didn’t hear it from April first. Or maybe not. The way it’s been lately, I’m not seeing or hearing much from her. I’ve been reduced to stalking her as she says.
“April and Becca were okay with it?”
Pearson crosses his arms and watches as I microwave my lunch. “April is the one who insisted.”
My eyebrow goes up at that. “Really?”
“That’s what Liv said. And Rebecca’s moving in with Carver.”
“They’re both bailing on her?” There was a break-in on the fourth floor last week. A guy had his laptop stolen. The thought of April all alone in that apartment doesn’t sit well with me.
“I told you, she’s the one who insisted. Apparently, Emily’s gonna move in.”
“Emily and who else?”
Pearson shrugs. “No one yet.”
At the beep of the microwave, I remove the piping hot chicken parm and carry the plate to the cluttered table.
“Are you seriously going to eat all of it?” Pearson eyes my plate like he hasn’t eaten for days.
I expel a long-suffering sigh. “Move half your shit off the table, and I’ll give you some.”
He manages the task in twenty seconds flat and then fetches utensils and a plate for himself. Neither of us comes up for air until we’ve devoured half the meal. “So when is Liv moving in?”
“I want to get her moved in either this weekend or next.”
Apparently, they’re too impatient to wait until our one-year lease expires at the end of May. Not that that would have made much difference in how much time she spends down here.
Smiling faintly, I study him. “She’s it for you, huh?”
Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Pearson nods. Over the last year, he’s been more open about his feelings for her. He’s in as deep as a guy can go.
“And she’s willing to follow you wherever you end up?” When you’re drafted, you go wherever the team is located.
“Yeah, we’ve talked about it and she’s cool with moving to wherever I get drafted. If I get drafted,” he adds because anything could happen in the next year.
“You’ll go first round.” If he stays healthy, but that’s a given. In January, Pearson led the team to Warwick’s first Rose Bowl in fifteen years and the first National Championship in the history of their football program. If the scouts were interested before, they’re clamoring after him now.
“Let’s hope we both do,” he replies.
“I’ll be good if I get to stay in the North.” A team in the tri-state area would be preferable.
“Yeah, Liv would love it if we stayed close to home.”
They’re both from Maryland.
I look down at what’s left of her homemade Italian dish, the delicious smell of it heavy in the air. “You’re lucky. You got one that can cook. April can barely—”
I’m not sure what comes first, Pearson’s smirk or me realizing what I’d been about to say.
Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, I clear my throat. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Pearson subjects me to a look of exaggerated patience. “Let’s do this. Why don’t you try being honest about April for a sec? You think you can do that?”
“She’s my friend.” My response is automatic. It’s what I’ve been telling people most of my life.
“Yes, but a friend you’re in love with.” He states it as if it’s a widely known fact. As if I’d confessed it to him.
“God, why can’t you let this go? I love her but I’m not—”
“Oh please, spare me the ‘I love her but I’m not in love with her bullshit’.”
My mouth snaps shut.
“And don’t tell me she’s like a sister to you or some shit. I didn’t buy it the first time you said it and I’m not buying it now.”
Good, then I won’t say anything.
“Can I give you some advice?” Pearson asks after a stretch of silence I refuse to break.
“No.” But I may as well have saved my breath because he forges on as if I hadn’t answered.
“We have one more year here. After that, everything changes. You’re not going to see her every day. Hell, you’ll probably be lucky if you see her once or twice a year. If you feel anything for her—and I know you do—I suggest you do something about it now. At least see if there’s something there worth pursuing.”
“For arguments’ sake, let’s just say that I’m interested in her that way, are you forgetting she’s going out with what’s his name?”
Pearson waves him off. “She’s not really into him. Even I can see that, and Liv says I’m not too swift on the uptake when it comes to that kind of stuff.”
That’s true. He’s not.
Shifting in my seat, I clear my throat. “Things between me and April are…complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate them.”
My gaze sharpens into a glare. He states it simply, like it’s that easy. But if it were that easy, we’d have gotten together in high school. A guy’s gotta think he has a chance.
What happened freshman year was…I don’t know, the right gi
rl, fantastic sex, but along with too much alcohol, it had all happened under the worst circumstances imaginable. And April had been all too happy to agree with me and call it a mistake and put it behind her.
Too fuckin’ happy.
Since then, she’s basically kept me at arms’ length. I’m not sure my heart and ego can take it if she shoots me down again.
“We had sex.” He might as well know the worst. If he doesn’t already.
My best friend’s eyes widen in surprise. “When was this?”
“Freshman year.”
He nods slowly as if working out the timeline in his head. “I kind of thought something happened between you two, but I wasn’t sure. Man, you’re a dark fuckin’ horse, aren’t you?”
“It was a mistake. There was nothing to tell.”
Pearson’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine. Then he chuckles, shaking his head. “Do you actually believe the shit you say?”
My back immediately goes up. “Hey—”
“You tell me about all the girls you sleep with,” he says before I can finish voicing my protest. “And that includes the one-night stand you had with the blonde you met at the bar last year.”
I press my lips together, deciding to take the fifth on this. When it comes to my sex life and my close friends, I never go into detail—unless the girl does something on the freaky side—but I’ve never been mute about it either.
“But you never said a word to me about April.”
“What’s your point?” I’m not stupid. I get his point.
“April’s off-limits, period. You don’t like guys talking smack about her. You don’t want them dating her. And you damn well won’t talk about how you feel about her. I’m one of your best friends. We’ve lived together for three years and I’m finding out two years after the fact that you slept with her? You don’t think that says anything?”
“You didn’t say anything about having sex with Liv until—” I break off at the triumphant smile that takes over his face, realizing just what I was admitting to.
“Because it’s Liv,” he says softly.
And that’s how I knew how badly he’d fallen for her, his sexcapades had become totally off-limits. Off-limits but not out of earshot. The walls in our apartment aren’t soundproof by any stretch of the imagination, so I can sometimes hear how compatible they are.
He cocks an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Did it suck? The sex?”
Sex and suck in reference to April don’t belong in the same sentence. Well, unless it’s the sucking of body parts. Stone cold sober or falling down drunk, great sex gets burned deep enough in your brain that it becomes the yardstick that you compare all other sex to. That’s something I learned in the last two years.
I can tell by the amusement glimmering in Pearson’s eyes that he’s just fucking with me. He likes to do that more and more these days.
My expression deadpans. “Big time. Worse sex I’ve ever had in my whole life.” But I can only keep a straight face for so long. “Don’t be an ass,” I grumble. “Of course it didn’t suck. Have you seen her?”
Pearson chuckles. “That’s pretty much what I thought, but I had to ask. I’m trying to figure out what’s your holdup.”
“You mean besides the fact that she always has someone?”
“She’s gorgeous. She’s going to get a ton of dates. But she’s never been really serious about any of those guys.”
“What about Johnson?” I can’t help but growl the guy’s name.
“Like I said, the expiration date is already up on that relationship. I don’t see it lasting through the summer.”
Up until a couple months ago, I would have agreed with him. But now? I’m not so sure. For a reason I can’t fathom, she seems more determined to make things work with him than any other relationship she’s ever been in. I say this because of the way she’s pulling away from me. That’s never happened before.
“Then there’s the whole family thing.” I gesture vaguely with my hand. “If things don’t work out…” I look to him. Surely he gets where I’m coming from. He stares back at me unblinking, giving me the I-don’t-see-the-issue-here look. I guess not. “Like I said, things are complicated,” I finish weakly.
“And like I said, uncomplicate them,” he says, issuing my marching orders.
I try another approach. “Okay, if you were me, what would you do?”
Without waiting a beat, he replies. “I’d tell her the truth.”
There’s a thought, tell April the truth. I can already picture it.
April, I’ve had a massive crush on you for as long as I can remember. In high school, I gave up hope that you’d ever feel the same way. But before we go our separate ways after graduation, I’d like to give us a chance despite the fact that this could cost us our friendship. What do you say? Do you want to give us a chance?
I surface from my thoughts to see my best friend patiently regarding me. He raises an eyebrow.
I answer the question in his eyes. “Nope. Now what else you got?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The preheating indicator of the oven beeps as I transfer the aluminum pans from the counter onto the stove.
Out in the living room, the TV is turned up loud, partially drowning out the hum of conversation. Which is why I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel something brush my neck. I instantly know Troy by his scent, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder.
But that does little to calm the violent beating of my heart. In fact the recognition does the opposite. My skin prickles and my senses go on high alert. I have to order myself to breathe and let out a tremulous breath. I also have to remind myself that this is the way things used to be between us BS—before sex. I’m just glad we’re talking again. That we’re doing okay.
Well as much as we can be given the circumstances.
Going forward, the trick is to somehow balance my relationship with Colin and my friendship with Troy without sacrificing one for the other. Colin simply needs to understand that Troy’s not a threat. And it’s my job to convince him of that.
Although, tonight is all about convincing Troy how much I still value him as a friend.
He peers at the trays of frozen chicken and steak quesadillas, and chicken enchiladas in front of me. “You were supposed to make me a home-cooked meal not order it from Tia Maria’s,” he says, his voice a playful growl close to my ear.
I struggle to appear unfazed by his nearness; the ghost of his breath on my cheek, the heat of his body warming my back. “I agreed to a home-cooked meal but I don’t remember promising to make it myself.”
“Because that was understood.”
When he lifts his chin from my shoulder, his cheek, covered in a day’s growth of stubble, lightly scores mine. I do my best not to shiver.
Troy is not a threat? I probably need to convince myself of that first…
I laugh in an effort to hide my edginess. He looks good, smells divine, and has been super nice since he stopped giving me the silent treatment. How much can a girl take?
Using my elbows, I force him back several steps as I move to open the oven door. “Understood by you not me. You know I don’t cook.”
“You don’t like to cook.”
I put both trays in the oven and close the door, before turning to face him. “And because I don’t like to, I don’t. That’s how it works.”
He tsks tsks me, his smile revealing white teeth it took two years of orthodontic work to get perfectly straight. “How do you hope to get a husband?”
Rebecca, who entered the kitchen at the tail end of his remark, snorts a laugh. “Right because chief cook and bottle washer is what all guys see when they look at her.”
Troy seems to take that as an invitation to give me a full-body once-over, assessing it for himself. Suddenly my denim shorts feel too short, and the crop top I’m wearing isn’t covering nearly enough of my abdomen. But good, bad or indifferent, his final judgment is buried somewhere beneath his inscrutable expres
sion.
He wants me. He wants me not. I don’t know. Trying to read Troy is like trying to solve the mystery of the Sphinx. Both are frustrating and annoying.
“Hey, April, where’s the food? We’re starving out here,” Zach calls out over the sound of the TV.
My roommates’ dutiful boyfriends came over to get an idea of the scope and size of the furniture they’d be moving this upcoming weekend. Some of the bigger pieces will have to go into storage, and Em is more than willing to use some of Liv’s furniture so she won’t have to buy her own just yet.
With everyone here—which is a rarity these days—we’re having an impromptu get together. Thus the Mexican dinner extravaganza. My treat. This way Troy gets his home-cooked meal and I don’t have to slave over a hot stove. It’s a win-win situation.
“Watch the movie and eat the chips and salsa. Dinner will be ready when it’s done,” I reply, laughing.
“We’re out of chips. Do we have anymore?” Rebecca gives me a hopeful look.
“I think so. Check the pantry way in the back. There should be a bag left over from movie night.”
Movie night is something we girls try to do at least once a month. A whole evening to kick back, watch corny movies and really catch up, while devouring all manner of carbs, sodium and fats.
“You guys are lucky I’m willing to share my dinner with you,” Troy shouts back.
“It just needs to warm up. Give it a half hour.” I remove the oven mitts from the drawer and place them on the counter. Rebecca makes a sound of pleasure upon finding a bag of Tostitos, and heads back to the living room.
“Okay you need to shoo. I’m making the salad with my own little hands.” Smiling, I hold them up, and wiggle my fingers at him.
A deep laugh rumbles from this throat. “Don’t think this is it. You still owe me a meal. Something you cook, by yourself, from scratch.”
I snort. “Dream on, buddy.”
Grabbing three beers from the refrigerator, he says, “I do that too.” He throws me a teasing wink before leaving to rejoin our friends.
I do that too? What does that even mean? Was he flirting with me?
Through the opening, I furtively watch him hand Zach and Scott their beer and resume his seat on the loveseat beside Emily. He doesn’t look back at me once.
Always Been You Page 9
