Always Been You

by Beverley Kendall

  The second the waitress leaves with our order of drinks and entrees, I waste no time clicking the link to the video Norris sent.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Riveted, my eyes are glued to the screen. A still shot of April is prominent in the top right hand corner of the video. In it she’s smiling, her hair shiny and straight around her shoulders.

  Gorgeous.

  My gaze drops to her in the video. Blood evacuates my brain and goes straight to my dick.

  Jesus H Christ. It’s criminal what her ass does to a bikini.

  When she bends over to pick up the straw hat, I have to stifle a groan. The next rush of blood vacating my brain leaves me lightheaded. I’m not twelve anymore, I can control myself—in public—but the twitching of my dick is the warning flare that tells me I need to cool it. Thank God the video is short.

  My gaze drifts down a little further.

  Holy shit, 1.2 million views and over 375,000 comments. I make the mistake of reading the first one.

  I wanna TAP DAT ASS.

  Dream on, buddy. Not gonna happen.

  “Whatcha looking at?”

  My head snaps up with a guilty start.

  April resumes her seat across from me, her face expressing mild curiosity as she places her purse on the chair next to her.

  “This.” I press replay and turn the screen to her.

  A soundless “Oh” escapes her lips a second later.

  “Have you seen it?” I ask.

  Cheeks singed pink, she gives a quick nod. “How did you find it?”

  “A few of the guys from the team were just here. Norris sent me the link.”

  “Figures,” she mutters under her breath. She avoids my eyes as she takes a sip of her water.

  “Did you notice your video has over a million views?”

  Her eyes snap to mine and her lips go slack around the straw. She lowers the glass to the table and snatches my cell from my hand. “Are you serious?”

  “Oh my God!” she exclaims after verifying it for herself. She appears somewhat dazed as she stares at me.

  “Apparently you’re trending.” I’m not super crazy about that.

  “The last time I looked, it only had around 260,000 views.”

  “Only?” I ask wryly. “That’s a ton of horny guys.”

  “The video of the dancing dog has over three million,” she points out.

  “A million plus views is nothing to sneeze at.”

  “TMZ must have rerun the show.”

  “Huh?”

  She explains the origins of the clip, thus explaining the staggering number of views. I look at the video again and sure enough, listed in the related videos is one from the show that runs three minutes. “Okay, I see it.”

  “Don’t watch it,” she says, her voice sharp.

  “Why not?”

  “All they’re doing is talking about the video.”

  They’re talking about what a great ass she has. Of course I’m going to see what they have to say, just not right now. I slip my phone back into my pocket and take a gulp of my ice water. I definitely need something cold to cool me down.

  “The guys are going to be talking so much shit about you. I’m not going to hear the end of this,” I mutter.

  She laughs. “Excuse me. I didn’t realize this was all about you. This isn’t exactly going to be a picnic for me either.

  “You don’t know how they can get and I don’t want to have to listen to it.”

  Christ, Ridgefield, I’d give my left nut for one night with her. Hook me up.

  She doesn’t want your pencil dick, Clemens. I’ll give her a ride she’ll never forget.

  Fuck all y’all bitches and have some goddamn respect. You’re talking about my future wife.

  That’s the kind of shit I have to put up with.

  Her expression softens. “Aww, that’s so sweet. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle a bunch of guys being guys.”

  “You’re not big,” I say gruffly. She’s tall, slim and feminine, and filled out perfectly in all the right places. She evokes fantasies; the same fantasies my teammates have been subjecting me to for years. This clip is going to ratchet that up.

  “Yeah, well I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Hey, don’t go getting mad at them over that ridiculous video. I’m in a bikini. Whoopee,” she exclaims, twirling her finger in the air. “ It’s not like no one’s seen that before. Now let’s eat some of this garlic bread before it gets cold.”

  ***

  “Now we have to agree to some ground rules,” April announces an hour later when we’re in my car on our way home. I get the feeling this isn’t a conversation she wanted to have in public.

  “O-kay.”

  “We split everything three ways. The groceries and the utilities. Everyone cleans up after themselves, which means bathroom and kitchen duties.”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  “Now about company…”

  My stomach tightens as a mental drumroll plays in my head.

  “We have to give each other a heads-up when we’re going to have company over.”

  I shoot her a quick glance, eyebrow raised. “Any company?”

  “Yes guy or girl. I mean Em and I are going to want to know if you’re planning on inviting over any of your buddies.”

  “So if at the last minute I want to invite a couple guys over to watch a game or something, I need to let you know in advance? Even if it’s Pearson or Scott?”

  She thinks this over for a few seconds. “No because they’re our friends too—and they’re dating my best friends.”

  Keeping my eyes on the road, I snort a laugh. “Why does it feel like these ground rules aren’t going to be meted out in an even-handed way?” Otherwise, I’m going to get screwed.

  “Okay, how about we agree on parties and get-togethers of more than three people? And definitely when we’re going to have someone over for the night?”

  I raise my eyebrow again at the latter.

  “You know dates. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Random hookups.”

  “You planning on having guys sleep over?” I keep my tone as casual as hers.

  I have to listen closely, but I hear it, the faint nervousness in her laugh when she says in a clutch-the-pearls voice, “You can’t ask me that.”

  “Why not? I’m just wondering who I might meet in the middle of the night when I’m getting up to take a leak.”

  “Are you going to ask Em the same question?”

  “Em’s not you. Plus, Em doesn’t date. By the way, you sure she’s not a nun?” It’s true. Em’s a pretty girl but the entire time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her with a guy. Not sure what that’s all about as April’s assured me she isn’t gay.

  She makes an exasperated sound. “Okay, ground rules. My love life is none of your business.”

  I bite my tongue and gnash my teeth. “Okay.” My dad always told me to pick my battles with care. This isn’t the time or the place.

  April stares straight ahead, sighing heavily as she plops her hands on her lap. “Are you sure this isn’t going to be awkward?”

  I glance at her, forcing a smile. “Why would it be awkward?”

  Her gaze turns probing before it finally slides away. “Just remember, I’m a grown adult and you’re not my father.”

  I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, taking in every delicious inch of her.

  Yeah, how could I forget.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sunday is the best day to go shopping, especially if you go as soon as the stores open.

  Today Em and I are on a quest to fill in the gaps Liv and Rebecca’s departure is going to leave. There’s the matter of new plates and utensils. Liv decorated the second bathroom and now she’s taking all of it with her. The baking pans are mine but all the pots are hers; and they’re the good ones, not the non-stick stuff that’s supposed to eventually give us all cancer. I may not like to cook but I can’
t do without them.

  “What about these?” I smooth my hand over the cream towel at the top of the display.

  Em nods. “And they’re on sale.”

  And there’s nothing I appreciate more than a good sale. I can make a dollar stretch longer than silly putty. I’m not cheap but until my mom met my stepdad, we didn’t have much. You don’t forget living on a shoestring budget.

  “So you’re sure you want Troy living with us?”

  Em, who is tall and slim like me, but unlike me possesses an enviable full C cup, smiles her Mona Lisa smile. “For the third time, yes I’m sure. I like having a guy we know and trust living with us. It makes me feel safer.”

  “You won’t be saying that when he’s being all judgey about your dates… Speaking of which, when was the last time you went on one?” I congratulate myself on the smoothness of the transition.

  Instead of answering my pointed question, she picks up a soap dish. “How about this for the bathroom.”

  It’s pretty. I snatch it from her hand and add it to the growing pile of essentials in the cart.

  “Don’t change the subject. When was the last time?”

  She lets out a long breath. “It’s been awhile, okay?”

  “That’s the thing. It’s not okay. You’re this beautiful girl and you don’t date. Keith asked me about you again.” Keith Clinton is the captain of Warwick’s swim team. He’s a catch by any girl’s standards.

  “I’m not interested in him,” she says, making a face.

  “Who are you interested in then?”

  Sighing, she turns to me as I wheel the cart to the customer service desk to check out. “April, I’m not like you. Dating and all that stuff doesn’t come as easy to me.”

  “Who says dating comes easy to me?” It’s not difficult but I wouldn’t say it’s easy.

  She snorts softly. “Are you kidding? You’re—you’re all easy breezy. You flirt, you smile and the guys fall like a ton of bricks. You reek self-confidence and self-assurance. Guys don’t gravitate to you just because you’re beautiful. I’m not like that.”

  My face warms at the flood of compliments. “Dammit, Em, you make me sound way better than I am.”

  “You’re even better,” she says, her expression serious.

  “Stop,” I mumble. “You’re going to make me cry and then I’ll have to stop badgering you.”

  “That’s the plan,” she says with a smirk.

  Fifteen minutes later, we leave JCPenny with two bags of household items and I’ve acquired one hundred and fifty dollars worth of credit card debt. That’s the beauty of plastic.

  Each carrying a shopping bag, we take the escalator down to the main floor of the mall. “Are you ever going to tell me why you quit modeling?”

  She cuts her eyes at me. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?”

  “Yep, all the time.” My smile is unapologetic.

  “Let’s make a deal,” she says when we step off the escalator that places us in front of Victoria’s Secret and The Gap. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about my life when you tell Troy how you really feel about him.”

  I should never have said anything to her about our sexual blip. Once my friends knew sex had gotten into the mix, their matchmaking attempts went into overdrive.

  “Give it up, Em. Troy and I are never going to happen. If something was going to happen between us, it already would have.” Why is it that my friends don’t understand that? If sixteen years of friendship and one mind-blowing night of sex (at least on my part) didn’t do it, nothing will.

  “Then you can’t come down on me about not being willing to put myself out there when you won’t.”

  Indignation stops me in my tracks. I pivot on my heel to face her. “Put myself out there?” I say in a fierce whisper, my pitch rising with every word. “I think you missed the part where I told you we had sex. How much more out there can I possibly put myself? I’m not the—”

  “Emily? Emily is that you?”

  Cut short at the interruption, I automatically turn to the direction of the voice. Standing several feet away is a petite blonde, curly-haired girl with bright blue eyes carrying a white handbag that’s almost as big as she is. I’d say she’s cute as a button if she didn’t look our age. Cute has a cut-off age of fifteen and she looks at least eighteen.

  Surprise and pleasure light Emily’s light-brown eyes. “Heather?”

  Heather closes the gap between them amid simultaneous Ohmygods. They embrace like long-lost friends reuniting for the first time in years. I assume that’s exactly what this is.

  After a prolonged hug, they step back and peruse one another, huge smiles wreathing their faces.

  “Oh my god, girl, you look great,” Heather exclaims, her gaze taking in Em’s pale-green skinny jeans and her white off-the-shoulder blouse.

  “So do you. I love what you’ve done with your hair,” Em says, reaching out to touch the bouncy curls.

  Heather snorts a laugh. “I’m not straightening it anymore.” Her attention then turns to me, the odd one out in their reunion.

  “Oh Heather, this is my best friend and roommate, April. April, Heather and I went to high school together.”

  “We used to be like this.” Heather displays her two fingers tightly crossed while extending her right hand to shake mine. “Nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” I know Em is from around here but this is the first of her high school friends I’ve ever met.

  Hands still gripping mine, Heather narrows her eyes at me. “Ugh, tall and gorgeous? On second thought, maybe it’s not so nice to meet you,” she says, her pink mouth lifted in a teasing grin. “Let me guess, you’re one of Em’s model friends?”

  My friend smiles, pulling Heather’s attention back to her as she releases my hand. “She’s much bigger than I ever was.”

  Their conversation takes off from there as Heather queries Em on what she’s been up to. We move to the side so we’re not impeding the flow of foot traffic, and I’m content to listen as the friends catch up on each other’s lives.

  During their animated conversation I feel it, that sense of being watched. I lift my gaze and see a seriously hot guy standing at the entrance to Victoria Secret.

  And I mean seriously hot.

  Tall with light-brown hair and chiseled good looks, he’s sexy in a way that’s hard to put into words. It could be that he has that broody thing going for him that women seem to be genetically drawn to. Juxtaposed to the granite hardness of the stare trained on Em, he’s holding a pink-striped Victoria Secret’s shopping bag in his left hand.

  Catching my scrutiny, his gaze briefly snaps to mine. The tight compression of his lips and his narrowed eyes conveys a fury dark and cold enough to send a frisson of trepidation down my spine.

  What the hell? Who is this guy and why does he give meaning to the term if looks could kill?

  My gaze automatically seeks out Emily, but she’s still chatting with Heather, completely oblivious to the way broody, scary guy over there is staring at her.

  When I look back at him...he’s gone. I glance to the right only to catch the back of him as he strides unhurriedly away from the store and out of view.

  Shit.

  I wanted Em to see him. Hopefully she’d be able to clear up the mystery of who he is, and what that evil-eyed look was all about. He looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, a good five years older than her, so I’m pretty sure they didn’t go to high school together. He could be a model she once worked with. Although, he’s probably too built for that. Models like David Gandy are the exception not the rule. Though times are changing, so who knows?

  Several minutes later, after eliciting a promise from Em to stay in touch, we say goodbye to Heather. The second she’s out of earshot, I tell Emily about the guy.

  “Are you sure he wasn’t staring at you?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Positive. He was looking at you.” I hedge a bit before saying, “He l
ooked... He didn’t look happy.” At the jump of her brows, I hurriedly add, “Or he could be mistaking you for someone else.”

  Something flickers in her eyes. “What did he look like?”

  “Tall. Good-looking. Light-brown hair. Nice build. Mid-twenties.” He wasn’t friendly so I leave out just how hot I thought he was.

  She nods briskly and picks up her pace, the click of her heels echoing on the glossy tiles as we continue toward the exit to the northwest parking lot.

  I lengthen my stride to keep up with her. “Do you know him?”

  Em sends me a quick glance. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Now that was decisive.

  “Who could—” Suddenly, I spot him standing near the bay of doors directly in front of us not twenty feet away.

  “Wait. There he is.” My gaze narrows in on him.

  This time he’s not alone. He has his arm around the shoulders of a dark-haired woman with a pixie cut. They’re busy talking and don’t see us.

  Em’s face expresses recognition but not surprise. But that her face loses all color and she looks as if she’s about to be sick tells me everything I need to know.

  “You know him.” I don’t pose it as a question. It’s a statement.

  She nods mutely.

  “Who is he?” I deliberately slow my pace to a crawl.

  Before Em can answer, he looks our way. His gaze screeches to a halt, resting on Emily.

  There’s a perceptible pause in her step and then she surprises me by composing her expression into something close to normal and striding directly toward the couple. It’s not even my drama and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. I pick up my leisurely pace to keep up with her quicker strides.

  I direct my attention back at the guy, and watch as a hardness settles over his handsome features and a coldness enters his eyes.

  What the hell happened between them?

  As Em closes in on them, he bends to whisper something in the woman’s ear. She turns a puzzled gaze to Emily and then eventually me. We’re summed up in the matter of seconds.

  Up close, I note a tiny web of wrinkles at the corners of her hazel eyes. She’s prettier than I first thought…and older. Thirty plus if I had to guess. Her arms are slender but toned, which makes me think she works out with weights regularly. The wraparound royal-blue dress she’s wearing shows off a fit and limber body. Suffice it to say, she’s no slouch. I hope to God Emily isn’t still holding a torch for this guy because I see nothing but heartache for her on the horizon.