Always Been You

by Beverley Kendall

  The steady volley of babes is discomfiting. He never calls me that. But I’d be blind not to realize what’s behind his sudden use of endearments.

  Troy’s smile is chilly. “No, I got it. I owe April for the home-cooked meal.”

  Colin stiffens, and I glare so hard at Troy, he should be able to feel it well into next week. I start plotting his murder. I’m going to hear about it from Colin later. And mark my words, Troy’s going to hear about it from me.

  “What’s with all the boxes?” Colin asks, addressing the question to me.

  “They’re for Liv and Rebecca.” At his questioning look, I elaborate. “For when they move out next week.” I turn and walk to the kitchen, placing the pizza box on the counter.

  Colin follows, keeping his arm possessively on my waist. Troy trails steps behind, apparently unconcerned that he continues to intrude on my date. I shoot him another glare.

  He smiles in response. “I was kinda hoping you’d offer me a slice. I haven’t eaten yet.”

  I offer him a saccharine smile. “You can take two to go. You did pay for it.” I mutter the last part under my breath.

  “Rebecca and Olivia are moving out?” Colin is clearly surprised by that. Or maybe he’s perturbed I failed to mention it to him before today.

  “Yeah, and Emily’s moving in.” Every time I refer to her as Em, he tilts his head, and stares at me as if English isn’t his first language.

  “What are you doing with the other room? Getting another roommate?” he asks, pressing the issue, which seems to annoy Troy to no end.

  “I’m sure Emily and I will find someone.” It shouldn’t be that hard, although I’m not kidding myself that it will be easy to find someone we both like enough to live with. Not just anyone will do.

  “What about me?”

  Bewildered, I stare at my boyfriend. “What about me, what?” He’s not asking me what I think he is. Is he? My heart begins a slow descent.

  He shoots a glance at Troy before replying. “I mean, if you’re looking for another roommate, I’m available.”

  Over my dead body.

  No screw that. Over his dead body. That I’d prefer.

  April puts some distance between them, dislodging the guy’s hand from her waist. Johnson scowls and the hard knot in my chest loosens.

  After a pause, April lets out a nervous laugh. “Very funny.”

  Yeah, it’s hysterical, that’s why I’m laughing my ass off. She thinks he’s joking but I know he’s serious as a heart attack.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  “I’m not kidding,” Johnson replies but keeps looking at me as if gauging my reaction. I know what he’s doing. Fuckin’ underhanded, manipulative prick.

  But I refuse to give him the reaction he obviously wants, and keep my expression blank and my feelings to myself.

  Poker face in place, I advise April, “Sure doesn’t sound like a joke.”

  It takes a few seconds for her beautiful green eyes to lose the deer caught in the headlights look. I understand it. He caught me off guard too. Who knew he was that delusional.

  April turns to Johnson. “You want to move in with me and Emily?”

  He glances at me again before answering. “Why not? I was planning on moving out of my place this year anyway. If you’re looking for a roommate, I’m available.

  I try not to grind my teeth but it’s hard.

  If there’s one thing I know April hates is being put on the spot. Armani-guy here is doing that right now. I’m only guilty of accessory after the fact, which is a misdemeanor at best.

  She gives him the let’s not talk about this here look and either he’s fuckin’ clueless or he doesn’t give a shit.

  “Your apartment is great, and I was planning on looking here for a place anyway.”

  What a lying, relentless fuck.

  As if she needs something to do to keep herself occupied, April opens the cupboard and takes out a package of paper plates. “Colin, we’re not living together,” she says with a strained laugh. I notice how studiously she’s avoiding my gaze.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he says as if somewhere between her “no” and “we’re not living together”, there’s room to renegotiate. There’s not.

  Instead of answering him, she opens the drawer and takes out a roll of aluminum foil and uses it to cover two hot slices of pizza.

  “Here you go.” She shoves the plate at me, her eyes telling me in no uncertain terms to get the hell out.

  I’m determined to stay. At least long enough to hear their little discussion all the way to the end. If I leave, God only knows what this idiot is going to do to convince her to go along with his ridiculous plans.

  It’s only been a couple days but I think April’s coming around. We’ve been talking and texting more. My goal is to get us back to the old comfort level of our friendship, and then gradually transition our relationship into one that includes sex. It’ll be so natural and smooth, she won’t even know that was my intention from the start.

  Johnson is the proverbial fly in the ointment. A real pain in the ass. And I don’t like the influence he has on her. Why she’s trying so damn hard to make things work with him still baffles me. The guy is not even her type. He likes golf. And let’s face it, golf isn’t a real sport. Then there’s the thing about him not owning a pair of jeans. I could go on but I won’t.

  “I told Liv I’d put the boxes together.”

  April stares at me, speechless.

  “I can do it in her room if I’m interrupting.” I think that’s a fair offer.

  Her mouth compresses into an unyielding line as she lowers the plate to the counter. The one thing I know about April is she doesn’t like drama. You’ll never see her making a scene and/or airing her dirty laundry in public. Which means she won’t rake me over the coals in front of Johnson.

  “Okay, why don’t you get the boxes?” There’s a forced agreeableness to her tone.

  I do that quickly.

  “Colin, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to show Troy where he can…”

  I’m not sure she’s aware she didn’t finish her sentence until we’re out of his line of sight. She pushes me roughly into her bedroom and closes the door.

  Inside, she turns on me, her green eyes sparking with anger. “What the hell are you doing? I want you out. So take your damn pizza and go.”

  I hold up the stack of boxes in protest. “I promised Liv.”

  Narrowing her gaze, she takes a step toward me and jabs her index finger in my chest near my shoulder.

  Ouch. That hurt.

  “Get out.” She punctuates her demand with another sharp jab.

  I lean the boxes against the nearest wall, and hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m going, I’m going. Just tell me you’re not even thinking about what he said. The guy’s a—”

  “It’s none of your business,” she interrupts. “Got it?”

  Like hell it isn’t. She just doesn’t know or realize it yet. But if she wants me gone, what am I supposed to do? I nod. “Call me if you need me.” And if you don’t.

  We leave her room together, and after a quick stop to retrieve my pizza, I make tracks, completely ignoring Johnson, who’s standing right outside of the kitchen. Before I’m out of earshot, I hear April say, “Troy had to leave.”

  I don’t hear what Johnson grunts in response, but he sounds happy to hear it. I’m going to be even happier to see the last of him. And that day can’t come soon enough.

  Because Zach and Liv have gone to some bed-and-breakfast place for some alone time this weekend, I return to an empty apartment. I switch on the TV, turning the volume down low. It’s good background noise when I’m alone and I have absolutely nothing to do. I polish off the pizza in short order. By my estimate, I still have around two hours to kill before April sends Johnson on his way.

  I could go to Zenith’s to pass the time. When we’re not on the road, you’re guaranteed to find a bunch of the guys on the t
eam there on Fridays. After thinking it over for a minute, I decide against it. I’m not in the mood for their company tonight. To tell you the truth, the only person I want to be with is upstairs with another guy.

  I let out an audible breath and throw myself down onto the couch. Pulling my cell from out of my pocket, I see I missed a call from Kingsley.

  Mitch Kingsley is an ex-teammate and friend. Last year he transferred to a school in Georgia and returned to his hometown, where he now lives with his girlfriend and their baby daughter. Yeah, he’s twenty years old and he’s a father. It’s still kind of hard to believe. What’s even harder to believe is that he walked out on his girlfriend when she was pregnant. Kingsley just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. But that’s in the past. He’s now a devoted father and boyfriend.

  The call came in over an hour ago and chances are he’s probably busy now. It is Friday night. I call him back anyway because if any of my friends might be home tonight, it’s the only one with a kid. After five rings, I’m about to hang up when he answers.

  We exchange greetings. It’s good to hear his voice. We try to touch base every month or so, and it’s been that long since we last talked.

  “How’s Paige and the baby?” I ask.

  “Paige is great and Bree’s not a baby anymore. The kid is climbing everything and she’s talking a mile a minute now.” If you want to put a smile on his face, ask about his girlfriend or his daughter. One has him whipped and the other has him wrapped around her little finger. But I swear, he loves it that way.

  “Keeping you on your toes, huh?”

  “Every one of them. Speaking of Bree, I was looking at the teams’ schedule for next season and I see you guys will be heading here after Thanksgiving.”

  The Warriors are playing the Bulldogs Thanksgiving weekend. We’ll be leaving the day after Turkey Day, which is going to mean a lot of traveling for most of us.

  “We planned on hooking up with you when we’re down there.” Last September we made a trip of it with the girls. We all met Paige and Bree, and as far as I know, the girls still keep in touch with his girlfriend. Every month April or Liv show off pictures Paige sends of her growing daughter.

  “Yeah, well, this year we’re throwing a big to-do for Bree’s birthday and we want you guys there. Paige is sending out something—a save-the-day thing I think—but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I know it’s during Thanksgiving break and all…”

  “I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to make it. And I’m sure the girls will want to go.” I can’t tell you the last time I went to a party for a two-year-old. But at the rate my friends are pairing off, this will become the norm probably sooner than I anticipate.

  “Cool.”

  We talk some more before the subject inevitably comes up. It always does.

  “So what’s going on with you and April?”

  “How much time you got?” I ask wryly.

  A moment of silence passes—stunned I’m sure since I didn’t respond with my standard, “Nothing. How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?” He laughingly clears his throat and then replies, “Paige just took Bree to her mom’s for the night so I got about thirty minutes till she gets back.”

  With that kind of time on our hands, I tell him everything. I unload like a three-ton dump truck carrying years and years of bottled up emotions. How I felt about her when we were young. How I feel about her now. I tell him about our one-night stand. I tell him about the crap that happened with Mel. And I complain about the roadblock that is her asshat boyfriend, who, right this second, is probably trying to convince her to let him move in with her.

  Mitch let’s me talk uninterrupted. When I finish, he says, “So all that time you were in—what—denial? Wait no, you couldn’t have been because you’d already had sex with her.” I can hear the smothered amusement in his voice.

  “Hey, I didn’t spill my guts to you so you could lecture me.”

  Mitch guffaws like he’s having a rip-roaring time at my expense. I hold the phone away from my ear for a second, before slapping it back.

  “I’m simply clarifying things. But I’m happy you finally got your head out of your ass,” he says.

  “Nice. Real nice, man.” With friends like that… Snickering, I stretch out on the couch, my feet hanging off the end.

  “If you ask me—”

  “I didn’t. I was unloading. It’s supposed to be cathartic.” My tone is bone dry.

  He continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You need to move out.”

  “What? Move out of where?” This is his great advice? Homelessness?

  “Didn’t you say Liv is moving in with you and Pearson?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And April is looking for one more roommate… C’mon, dude, don’t make me spell it out for you. Unless you’re okay with her boyfriend getting the room.”

  I shake my head. “No way, man. I think you’re forgetting about the part where I told you we had sex. She’d never go for it.”

  “Right. All the more reason I think this will work. You guys had sex. You’re halfway there.”

  If that’s his rationale, it’s totally off. “Dude, that’s exactly the reason she wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Are you not hearing me? She. Had. Sex. With. You. Believe me, you can convince her to give you that room.”

  I want to believe him because the idea of living with April—sleeping across the hall from her every night—is enough to fuel a month’s worth of handjobs. Appealing doesn't even describe it.

  “Convincing Paige to move into my apartment with Bree was one of the best things I ever did for our relationship. Even though I moved back to the main house, all I had to do was cross the driveway to see her and Bree every day. She couldn’t avoid me if she wanted.”

  “What are you saying, you wore her down? Sounds fuckin’ romantic,” I say with a wry laugh.

  “Don’t knock it, it worked. I moved back in six months later. And what would you rather? Live with Pearson and Liv or the girl you’ve been nuts about practically your entire life?”

  Okay, he has a good point. If I stay here, I’ll be a permanent third wheel. And I know Pearson and Liv would love to have the place to themselves. Me moving out would be better for everyone involved. But… “This is April we’re talking about. Like I told you, she’ll never go for it.”

  “Yes she will,” he says. “Forget the sex for a second.”

  Heh. I’ve tried. Not possible.

  “She’s your best friend. She knows you better than anyone at that school. Tell her that and tell her it’ll be good for her and her friend to have a guy living with them. She’ll come around,” he assures me.

  “And the boyfriend?”

  He emits a short laugh. “He’s a placeholder. Whether you want to believe it or not, your feelings for her aren’t one-sided.”

  I stare sightlessly at the TV screen, his words echoing in my mind. I’m not so sure about that.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Guys suck. That’s the conclusion I’ve finally drawn.

  Arms crossed over my chest, I glower at Colin after the door closes behind Troy.

  Lightly smoothing his hand over his blond hair—which by the way, needs a trim— he lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re upset.”

  Good guess, Sherlock.

  “Christ, Colin, put me on the spot in front of Troy why don’t you?” I’ve never spoken to him like that before. But then he’s never given me cause before tonight.

  A crinkle forms in his brow and he looks at me as if he doesn’t know why I’m upset. “What did I do?”

  He knows exactly what he did. Playing ignorant isn’t going to save him this time.

  I let out an exasperated huff. “Move in with me and Emily? Seriously?” The bottom line? You don’t spring living together on a girl in front of other people, especially her male best friend. Troy doesn’t like him enough as it is.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it. You need a roomma
te and I need a place to live.”

  Oh Lord, he’s going to go there is he? “You don’t need a place to stay,” I reply impatiently. He shares a perfectly decent apartment with his friend Rob.

  He thrusts his hands in his pockets and stares at me, his gaze searching. As the pizza grows cold on the counter, the cheese congealing, he says “God, April, I can’t win with you.”

  The resignation in his voice signals the start of the countdown. Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust begins playing in my head. “What do you mean by that?”

  He stares at me for a long time before he drops his head down and mutters, “Fuck.”

  I’m afraid to ask.

  His head slowly comes up and his gaze meets mine.

  Fuck. He sure got that right.

  “How long have we been going out?”

  He knows the answer to that as well as I do. But it’s easy to see what he’s getting at. He’s tired of waiting.

  I release a long breath. “So now because I don’t want you to move in, you’re going to lay this huge guilt trip on me?”

  He sinks onto the couch behind him. “You know that’s not it.”

  “How do I know that? We were fine before you heard Liv and Rebecca are moving out.”

  “We’ve been going out for three months, April, and you still won’t have sex with me. I haven’t even been in your bedroom.”

  I tip my head back and close my eyes. God give me strength. “I told you from the beginning that I wanted to take things slow. You said you didn’t have a problem waiting.”

  “I didn’t know I’d be waiting this fuckin’ long.”

  “Well I didn’t know you had me on some sort of timeline,” I snap back, feeling my hackles rising. I’ll have sex with a guy when I’m ready and not before. As much as I hoped I would be, it’s obvious I’m not ready now. But who knows, I might have been ready next week. Although, the way things are going, there won’t be a next week for us.

  “I think I’ve been pretty damn patient,” he says, an edge in his voice.

  Not as patient as Steven, he’d waited six months. Not that I was going to tell him that. But I have an awful feeling that if I slept with Colin, the outcome would be the same.