Because of Liam

by Erica Alexander

  “No, I brought my own, why?”

  “Weird . . . I could swear the bottle was a lot fuller when I packed it.”

  Logan’s all too knowing eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and I look out the window. I’m so fucking busted.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I have a few minutes before I have to leave, so I call Mom. I talk to her a few times a week, but I haven’t called her in a couple of days. Skye talked to her yesterday and I know she’s expecting me to call.

  “Hi, Mom, do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Hi, sweetie, sure do. How’s everything?”

  “Same old stuff, classes and the job at the clinic.”

  “Are you dating that boy yet?”

  That’s my mom. She never beats around the proverbial bush. She gets straight to the point. I bet she already asked Skye about it and my sister set me up by not saying anything to me.

  “Which boy, Mom? I’m not dating anyone.”

  “River, why do you do this? You know exactly who I’m talking about. Liam, that gorgeous specimen of a man. You know, the tall, dark, and handsome guy you brought home with you and couldn’t keep your eyes off the entire time.”

  “First, I didn’t bring him home with me. Skye invited him because otherwise, he would’ve been spending Easter alone. I was very much against it, let the record show. And second, I didn’t keep my eyes on him at all. I can’t stand him. He’s an arrogant ass.”

  “Hmm, you’re perfect for each other, then.”

  “Mom!”

  “What?”

  “Did you just call me an arrogant ass?”

  “You have been known to be both and proud of it.”

  I’m at a loss for words, betrayed by my own mother. I sputter my disbelief with a few sounds that roughly translate to, “Pfff.”

  “What are you waiting for? That boy couldn’t keep his eyes off you either. I know you’re not a prude or shy like Skye, why deny it?”

  “Didn’t you just hear me say he’s an ass?”

  “I did notice his ass. It was a fine ass, I might add.”

  “Mom! Seriously, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Liam is not the nice, sweet guy you think he is. All that nice behavior during meals and when he was helping out is not how he acts around me.”

  “I sure hope not. That would be a waste of man candy if he were nice and proper all the time.”

  “Oh my God, of all the mothers in the world, why did I have to get one with no filters?”

  “River, it’s obvious you’re attracted to each other. Why fight it? You’re young, have fun, enjoy life. I’m not telling you to marry the guy. Just be open to the possibility that maybe the two of you together is a good thing.”

  “There’s no two of us, Mom. The only reason we’re even around each other is because Skye and Logan are in each other’s pants every day.”

  “I never thought I’d say this to you, being that I’ve said it to your sister for years, but maybe you should be a little more like Skye now. Just go for it.”

  “Mom, there’s nothing to go for.” The words sound like a lie even to my ears and I want to believe them so badly.

  “Okay, sweetie, deny all you want. It won’t make a difference.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The cards have spoken. It will happen. All you’re doing is wasting some good fun time.”

  Oh yeah, how could I have forgotten my hippy mom’s love for Tarot cards, crystals, and all woo-woo things. It’s time to go.

  “I gotta go, Mom. Have work starting in a few. I love you. Talk to you soon.”

  “I love you more. Just follow your heart. If you risk nothing, you win nothing. Then one day you’ll be on your deathbed wondering about all the ‘could have been’s and all the risks you didn’t take because of the potential of failure. One broken heart is worth a thousand unloved ones.”

  I think over her words—One broken heart is worth a thousand unloved ones.

  “River? Remember your name and go with the flow. You can fight the current, but in the end the current always wins.”

  I hold the phone to my ear long after she hangs up, her parting words still bouncing in my mind. The current always wins. I’ve been swimming upstream for months now. Liam is just one more thing I’m fighting against and I’m so tired of trying to keep my head above water. So tired of going at it alone. It would be easy to break down and let go, to let Liam take me and erase all the non-memories in my head. But I’d be using him and something tells me he’d not be too keen on being used that way. Something tells me he would want to know and he would want to fix me. But I can’t be fixed. I can’t go back in time and make a different choice. I don’t even know what different choice it would be. I don’t even know what or who to blame. If I can’t blame anyone else, then the guilty party must be me. My choices are my punishment, my problem to deal with. I don’t want to share the burden with anyone else. I don’t want Skye or my parents looking at me with pity and wondering if I’m okay. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in over six months now. And above all, I don’t want Liam to look at me and see what I see when I look in the mirror.

  My brain tells me I need help. I need to speak with someone. I know it to be true. I’m a Psychology major. I know what the text books say. I know I fit perfectly into their description. I know all that and yet, I deny it all. It’s not real. If I don’t speak about it, if I don’t think about it, it won’t be real.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It’s been three days since we dropped off the girls at home and I last saw River. I’m still thinking about our almost kiss in the barn and what would have happened if it wasn’t for that crazy horse. It’s still spring break. The girls won’t be back to classes until next week and I’ve been watching out the window on and off to see if she walks into Pat’s Cafe. Yeah, I’m a stalker now. My stalking is rewarded when I see River walking into Pat’s just fifteen minutes later.

  I wait a bit and walk out of the house and cross the street just as she’s walking back out. She hesitates a few steps away from the front door, that fruit thing she’s addicted to in her hand.

  Dark skinny jeans hug her hips, a black tank top under an open blue Riggins University zip hoodie. The hoodie does absolutely nothing to hide her curves and the cleavage popping out of her shirt. The strap of her black bra peeks from under her tank top where the hoodie slides off her shoulder a couple of inches.

  I stop right in front of her, so close our booted toes nearly touch. I’m invading her space, I know. I want to do a lot more.

  Her expression is one of caution and she hasn’t said a word yet.

  “You really love this thing.” I nod in the direction of the large plastic cup filled with the pink liquid. “What is it anyway?”

  “Raspberry lemonade.”

  I guess that explains all the fruity bits floating in it. Without taking my eyes off her, I grab the cup with her hand under my own and bring the straw to my lips, taking a long slow drink. The hand below mine squeezes the cup harder and her lips part in a little gasp. My mouth breaks into a smile around the straw and I realize this is the first time I’ve truly smiled at her. Her eyes dilate and I can tell she’s trying to gather her thoughts and figure what I’m up to.

  “Tasty. No wonder you’re addicted to it,” I say, still holding the cup, her hand still under mine.

  She pulls the cup away. I let it go.

  “Why are you being nice to me?” Direct to the point. I like that and follow her lead.

  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  “You were right the other day. We did start on the wrong foot. Maybe we can give this another try and be . . . friendly?” I end it like a question. She’s really suspicious now.

  “How friendly are we talking about?” Still direct and to the point. I’m really enjoying myself.

  “As friendly as you want.”

  “Not gonna happen, buddy.”

&n
bsp; “Aw, you already have a pet name for me.”

  “I do. It starts with an A and ends with an E and in case you can’t spell, it’s assho—”

  I stop the word by placing a finger on her lips. They’re full and warm on my skin. She pulls away and my hand drops.

  “Such a firecracker, aren’t you? We both know I can have you begging me to kiss you, just like you did back in the barn.”

  “I didn’t beg! You’re delusional.”

  “I have an idea. How about a bet?” I say.

  “A bet?”

  “Yes, just a friendly wager between you and me.”

  “What are we betting?”

  “Sex.”

  “Sex?” River repeats as if doubting what she heard.

  “Yes, sex. I bet I can have you begging me. I can have you saying Liam, please,” I say as seriously as I can.

  She scoffs. “And just out of curiosity”—she narrows her eyes at me—“how exactly would that work?”

  “Well, if you lose, you have sex with me and if I lose, I have sex with you.”

  She raises one perfect eyebrow. “And that’s different how?”

  I shrug. “It’s a win-win any way I look at it.”

  “For you!” she accuses.

  “For you too. You’ll get those multiple orgasms you keep talking about.”

  “Once! I said it once!”

  “Yes, I accept the challenge.”

  “What challenge? I did not challenge you to do anything! And what will keep you from begging?”

  “I never beg, and I’m not depriving myself of you begging me.”

  She’s getting a little flustered. I love it when her cheeks are flushed and I get her off balance. She’s always so sure of herself, so firmly planted on her own two feet. I really, really want to affect her in the same way she affects me.

  “It’s very unfair really if you think about it. Guys don’t get to have multiple orgasms. We’ve got one shot, and that’s it.”

  “I’m not having sex with you!”

  “Okay, we can do it the Clinton way then.”

  “What the fuck is the Clinton way?”

  “I lose, I go down on you. If you lose, you go down on me. Don’t worry. I won’t get anything on your dress.”

  Her mouth drops, and she stares at me for a very long moment, and I worry I pushed her too far. With River I have no idea what her limits are. She never censors herself and is always in everyone’s face.

  I would never, ever say anything like this to another girl, ever. It’s completely inappropriate and probably offensive as hell, but there’s something about River that pushes all my buttons at the same time—that makes me want to push back just to see what will happen.

  I know deep down that someday I’ll go too far and maybe this is it. There will be a day I’ll say or do something so fucked up it’ll be the end of whatever this thing between us is. I love making her angry, love tipping her scales and pushing just to see what she’ll do or say next and every time I see her—which is often enough being that our siblings are in each other’s pants 24/7—I have the need to poke at her with a very short stick and watch mayhem unfold.

  At night I relive those moments and laugh myself to sleep.

  But right now, I’m a bit worried as I wait for her answer. It’s the longest I’ve ever seen her take with a comeback.

  And then the thing I least expect happens. She starts to laugh. And she’s laughing so hard, she’s holding her sides, nearly dropping her drink, and she has tears coming down her face. It takes me a moment to figure she’s not mad. She’s amused. Then I start laughing too because when someone is laughing that hard you can’t help but join in.

  She’s wiping her tears away and trying to catch her breath. “Oh, oh my God—oh my God.” Then she lifts her left hand to high five me. “Good one,” she says, but as I slap her hand, I grab it and shake it.

  “Okay, we got a deal then,” I say.

  Her small hand in mine stills. “What?” She sobers fast. “I did not agree with anything. There’s no deal.”

  “Yes, there is, we just shook on it. In fact, we’re still shaking on it. That’s a deal and if you try to get out, you forfeit and lose.”

  She looks from my face to our hands still joined and tries to pull away, but I easily pull her closer to me so our bodies are touching.

  “There’s no deal. There’s no bet.”

  I grin at her. “The way I see it, you can forfeit and lose now, or give it a shot and lose later. Either way, this bet is on. We shook on it. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Arrogant son of a bitch!” He has me and he knows it. I’m too much of a hard-ass to back up from anything and I do love a challenge. Especially one that’ll leave Liam on his knees. An image of him kneeling, his head between my legs takes over my mind and try as I might to shake it off, it just won’t go away. Bad River, bad—bad River! I tell myself as if admonishing a puppy.

  The stupid bet has been haunting me for three days. Three days I haven’t seen him but can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about his hand holding mine, his chest brushing my boobs, his smell, clean and minty and something entirely Liam.

  I have to put an end to this and I have to do it now. I know Logan is at work, doing whatever it is cops do driving around in their cars. This is the perfect time to corner Liam into backing out of this stupid bet so I can stop thinking about it and all the things I’d like him to do to me.

  River! Stop it! You are not helping! Stupid hormones.

  I walk to his house and the garage door is open. The SUV is parked on the driveway. And he is shirtless. Shirtless and doing pull-ups on a bar hanging from the ceiling. He’s facing the wall and hasn’t seen me here yet—the black track pants he’s wearing hug his ass in the most delicious way—and I take a few seconds to admire his back and his arms, the way his muscles bulge and contract.

  His hair is even longer now and brushing the top of his back. Long enough to grab on and hold on to when he lowers his head between my legs. Oh fuck! Fucking fuckery fuck! No, no, no, no, no. We are not going down that road. Again. Jesus! I need to stop thinking about him like that. He put all these dirty thoughts in my head. And they need out. Out. Out right now!

  He drops to the floor, landing with more grace than I’d expect from a guy his size. He walks to a bench, picks up a towel, and rubs his face, neck, and chest before turning to face me, a smirk already on his face. “Did you enjoy watching me? I’m here every morning around this time.”

  He drops the towel and grabs a water bottle from that same bench and I notice for the first time, the mirror attached to the wall and the rest of the workout equipment around it. Busted! I don’t bother with a denial and go straight to what I came here to do.

  “We have to talk about this bet. It’s ridiculous. We don’t even like each other!”

  He looks hurt for the briefest moment. I must be imagining things. I know he doesn’t like me. Something tightens in my chest at the thought of Liam not liking me.

  Whatever. Barking up the wrong tree, River.

  “The bet stays.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because is not a reason. I’m trying to be reasonable here. We have to be around each other because of our siblings. Maybe we can make this less annoying and weird and just act like polite strangers for a change.”

  “But we’re not strangers, are we?”

  “Well, yes, we kind of are. It’s not like we know each other well.”

  He takes a step closer to me. “We will. As soon as you say that little six-letter word, we’ll get to know each other very well.”

  “I’m never saying it. You must know that.”

  “I know a few things. Your breath catches when I’m within touching distance and your nipples get hard when I touch you. I know your hazel eyes go deep brown when I talk dirty to you. I know you watch me when you think no one is looking. And I know you press
your thighs together when I lower my voice, like this”—he lowers his voice and takes another step closer and points at my thighs—“and like that.” He smiles, not a smirk. A hungry, predatory smile. The smile of a hunter, just before he sinks his teeth in the prey.

  I take a step back, engaging into a prey and predator dance when he circles closer to me. I stop. He stops, no more than three or four feet from me. I deny none of his words. I don’t confirm them either. I’m so taking the fifth on this one. He waits for my move and I have no moves right now.

  “Can we please be serious about this? And act like adults?”

  “I’m very serious about fucking you and thank goodness we are adults because the things I want to do to you are illegal in several countries.”

  The smirk comes out now. The left side of his mouth a little higher, a dimple almost makes him look like an innocent little kid, but the look in his eyes betrays him. There is absolutely nothing innocent about it. And damn it if I don’t like it. I like the way he’s looking at me and that’s the very reason I have to put a stop to this. Because I know, I just know he could have me begging and I won’t do it.

  I will never beg again.

  But this is different. The voice tells me. I won’t beg ever again, I reply to myself.

  “It will never happen, Liam. Give it up.”

  “Never.” His reply is soft and even more intense because of it.

  “Oh my God! You’re so stubborn! You don’t give an inch, do you, Liam?”

  “I can give you eight.”

  “As if—”

  “Would you like to check it out?”

  “Please don’t flatter yourself. Let me put things in perspective for you. Vaginas were designed to deliver a seven-pound-plus, twenty-one-inch-long baby. So there!” That gotta shut him up. Fuck! Now my favorite number is eight.

  He looks at me and winces. “Yeah, that’s gotta hurt. I wasn’t going for pain, but hey, if that’s your thing—”

  “Ughbragh!” I growl. I actually growl. Then I walk way. Okay. I stomp my feet away. Why is every word out of his mouth about sex?