Breezy

by Kelsie Rae

  “Do you normally look like this when inviting a guy over?” he asks, his eyebrows raised in a silent challenge.

  “Maybe.” I lean against the doorjamb as well, popping my hip out to the side. “You would know if you’d ever have the guts to ask me out.” My tone is sassy as hell.

  What can I say? The guy brings it out of me.

  Before Derrick has a chance to respond, my food arrives. The delicious scent wafts through the air and makes my mouth water.

  I leave the door open, grabbing my cash on the entry table before exchanging it for a brown paper bag filled with yummy goodness.

  By the time I turn around Derrick has already let himself in, taking off his leather jacket and hanging it on the back of a kitchen chair.

  Ummm….

  “I’m sorry… were you planning on staying?”

  “Yeah. Gotta give that thing to Jude, ya know? Where is he, anyway?”

  “Um...” I stall. “He wanted to go change into something comfy, so he asked me to order the food and said he would meet me here.”

  “That’s funny because I texted him, and he said he was picking up sushi.”

  Shit.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, we were going to do sushi, but I was craving Chinese, so I called him and told him to not bother with the raw fish.” I chuckle awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the ripped giant standing in my kitchen looking good enough to eat.

  Dammit! I thought I was a better liar than this! Scratch that... I know I am! Derrick just knows how to throw off my game, and it’s causing serious issues!

  Trying to appear nonchalant, I begin unloading the food onto my tiny dining room table that has definitely seen better days. The finish is coming off, the chairs are all mismatched, and I may have a book shoved underneath one of the legs to stop it from being so wobbly.

  I swear I have better taste than this. I do! I just don’t have the finances to accommodate my awesome sense of style.

  A waitress’s income is hard enough to live off of. A crappy waitress’s is nearly impossible.

  Needless to say, I didn’t get many big tips unless someone thought I was hot.

  Cue eye roll.

  Thank goodness I just started at Derrick’s company, or I seriously would’ve been screwed. The apartment has two bedrooms, and my roommate recently moved out leaving me in deep trouble if I can’t come up with the rent.

  Regardless, I haven’t had time to replenish my savings which means I definitely haven’t had enough time to purchase new furniture.

  Thankfully, I’m not usually one to be embarrassed over these kinds of things, so I just continue opening styrofoam containers, refusing to invite Derrick to stay.

  It’s not that I don’t want him to. I would actually love some company. The problem is that he’s expecting my date to show up, which isn’t going to happen no matter how long he waits.

  Maybe I should sneak away and send an SOS text to Jude. But I don’t want to interrupt his date and beg him to come save me. I know that he would, too. Jude is awesome like that.

  Whoever ends up with him is going to be one lucky girl.

  Alas, this problem is very much my own problem, and I need to put my big girl pants on and figure out a solution asap before Derrick finds out I totally lied to him.

  Derrick pulls out a chair, sitting casually and hanging his arm around the back. “So, what are we eating?”

  My eyes practically bug out of my head. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I stayed and had a little something to eat. I haven’t had dinner, and since Jude is late, I figured I would just grab a bite and hang out with you until he shows up,” he jokes playfully, his damn dimple etched into his cheek.

  If I weren’t so terrified of Derrick sticking around, I’d bend over and lick the damn thing. It’s even more appealing than the Chinese food, and that’s quite the accomplishment.

  Derrick grabs a set of chopsticks and begins to dig into the styrofoam containers. The scent of warm, tangy sauce makes my mouth water.

  Inside, I’m panicking like there’s no tomorrow, but I can’t come up with a convincing excuse. I drag another chair out from beneath the table, dropping into it like a sack of potatoes and silently admitting defeat.

  I grab the one fork on the table and stab a piece of chicken. After placing it in my mouth, I can’t help but moan at the delicious flavors exploding on my taste buds.

  Reaching to grab another bite, I’m distracted by a certain someone staring at me from across the table, looking hungrier than a starving bear. But I’m not so sure it’s the food that he’s craving.

  Probably wishful thinking on my part.

  We continue to eat in silence, the tension in the room slowly building, until I’m afraid the walls will burst when it finally hits its crescendo.

  Anytime I decide to sneak a peek at Derrick, I find his intense gaze assessing my every tiny movement.

  After a few minutes, I can’t take it anymore. I squeal like a brand new baby pig, slamming my fists against the unbalanced table.

  “What?!”

  Silence. The only reaction I get from Derrick is a small quirk of his brow, showing he’s nothing but amused by my little outburst.

  “Why are you staring at me like that? Why are you even here? Why do you have to look so freaking good in your stupid shirt, with your stupid dimple, and your stupidly attractive face?”

  His minor smirk turns into a full-on grin the longer my mouth continues to run.

  I have to physically slap my hand over the damn thing before I confess that Jude isn’t coming, and that our relationship is completely fabricated for the sole purpose of making him jealous.

  “Anything else you’d like to add, Bree?”

  I nibble my lower lip anxiously, his eyes zeroing in on the motion.

  “Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ then rush on. “But it looks like Jude is a bust so we might as well watch a movie, eh?”

  Derrick watches me like I’m the most amusing individual on the planet.

  “Eh? Are you from Canada?”

  I roll my eyes before responding. “No, but random words have a habit of popping out of my mouth for no reason whatsoever, regardless of their original origin, and before you ask, no, I can’t help it. It’s literally like word vomit, so don’t judge me mister! Sit your butt down on my couch, get comfortable, and let’s watch a show. I’m not wasting my Friday night having a staring contest with my boss when we could be snuggling and binging Netflix.” I wink at him flirtatiously before plopping down on the sofa.

  And... there are those damn crickets again.

  I patiently wait for him to come join me, but after a few seconds that feel like minutes, I finally peek over the couch to find him still sitting in the kitchen chair with his back ramrod straight.

  My joke must’ve scared the crap out of him, because the poor guy hasn’t moved a single muscle since I suggested snuggling.

  Heaven forbid I use the other “s” word.

  I’m pretty sure he’d crap his pants.

  I finally give up on him and grab the remote, flipping on the Great British Baking Show and snuggling into the threadbare pillows along my back. Might as well get comfortable.

  I’m about five minutes into the episode when I hear the kitchen chair creak from behind me. I get the feeling I’m dealing with a skittish animal, so I don’t move a muscle and patiently wait for him to join me. Ever so slowly, the guy makes his way around the couch and sits down slower than a sloth.

  Because Derrick is so big, his weight causes the cushions to compress, and my entire body rolls in his direction until my head is practically resting against his shoulder.

  I swear I did not set this up.

  But does that mean I’m going to move from this super convenient position?

  Hell no.

  Instead, I comfortably snuggle right in, resting my head against his broad shoulder and drooling over desserts I couldn’t recreate in a million years.

&
nbsp; It takes a good ten minutes before Derrick finally begins to relax, his muscles slowly melting into the cushions. And my insides melting right along with them.

  In all honesty, I’m shocked he didn’t shove me away in the first place, but I’ll take this win for the evening with a giant smile on my face, and a mental high five to Jude. I can practically hear Rocky’s theme song in the background during this monumental step forward in our relationship.

  If you can even call it that.

  We continue to watch multiple episodes before Derrick finally breaks our comfortable silence.

  “So, you’re cool with Jude being a no-show?” he whispers his question quietly, almost as if he’s afraid to pop the perfect little bubble we’re nestled in. His husky voice washes over me like a warm shower I never want to get out of.

  I get the distinct impression he already knows the answer, but I decide to respond anyway.

  “We both know he was never coming,” I breathe, continuing to focus on the TV in front of me and praying he can’t hear my heart’s frantic rhythm.

  “And why would he not be coming?” Derrick asks, softly touching a tendril of my curly hair, methodically wrapping it around his finger over and over again.

  “We both know the answer to that one, too.” I stare straight ahead, my senses on high alert trying to determine if Derrick is pissed or not. If he’s going to push me away. If he’s going to walk out my door. If he’s going to pretend tonight never happened.

  My eyes blur as I try to focus my other senses on Derrick. His sharp intake of breath at my non-answer, and the feel of his heart pounding against my ear as I lay on his chest.

  I’m on the edge of my seat, anxiously waiting to hear his response.

  Instead of commenting, he wraps his thick biceps around me firmly, squeezing tight for a quick second before relaxing back into the cushions. His arms are still holding me against his chest, and we continue to watch Paul and Mary judge a bunch of British bakers for the rest of the night.

  12

  Bree

  I wake up alone.

  Which isn’t exactly shocking when you consider whom I fell asleep on.

  For real. Derrick is a big fat scaredy cat.

  However, somehow I made it to my bed, so I’m going to assume the giant had something to do with that as well.

  I smile shyly when I think about him carrying me to bed.

  Fun fact: I’m a deep sleeper. Seriously. A fog horn can’t wake me up once I’ve fallen asleep, so I’m not exactly surprised that he was able to tuck me in without waking me.

  But for once, I’m seriously bummed I missed such a tender moment. Or at least I assume it was tender? Maybe the guy dropped me from three feet away and made a run for it, praying I wouldn’t catch him ditching me.

  I’m going to go with my first assumption. That one causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach instead of a giant lead ball to thump against my lower belly.

  I yawn loudly as I stretch my arms above my head and point my toes toward the white popcorn-textured ceiling. The blinds are still open from the day before, and the soft morning light warms my soul, making me feel entirely too optimistic for how my Saturday is probably going to turn out.

  Looking around, I try to spy a note or something, anything really, to let me know if Derrick wants to see me again, or even a little hint about what he’s thinking when it comes to us.

  Now I’m just being ridiculous. There is no us.

  We snuggled. Once, I might add. Then he tucked me into bed and left without bothering to leave a note. Am I turning into that lovesick school girl that I’ve always hated? That I’ve always secretly judged? Wondering why they can’t just grow a pair and fight for what they want?

  Gah! This is insane!

  Derrick is making me insane. I blame him.

  It’s his fault. Completely.

  I decide to check my phone and notice a text from Jude.

  Mr. Jude: So how’s my Sleeping Beauty?

  A smirk slips onto my previously frustrated face after reading his message.

  Me: Frustrated. I snuggled with a certain *wanker* as you like to call him then he disappeared this morning.

  Seconds after clicking send, my phone buzzes in my hand.

  “Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song, and make it betta,” I answer, doing my best impersonation of Paul McCartney.

  Jude cuts me off before I can finish my serenade. “Not the time, love! Are you telling me you spent your evening with Derrick?” His voice is borderline panicked.

  “Um… yes? And why is that a bad thing? Wasn’t that the goal in the first place?”

  “Why yes, Bree. But you see, you were supposed to be with me last night, so I had just finished texting your dear boy toy about what a wonderful evening you and I had shared together before ringing you to see how your morning was.”

  My jaw hits the floor at our major screw-up.

  Oops.

  “Umm… yeah.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” he screeches.

  “I think… for the first time in my life… I’m speechless. Which in all honesty, is quite the accomplishment Jude. You should be quite proud of yourself.” My teasing tone seems to set Jude at ease.

  A little bit, anyway.

  “So you’re saying you’re not upset?” He’s completely blown away that I’m not having a mini-meltdown.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I roll onto my side toward my window and let the morning light kiss my face again.

  “Well, I may have hinted at our little fake relationship last night when I admitted you definitely weren’t coming over. So I think the gig might be up regardless of your conversation with him this morning.”

  Jude sighs into the phone. “That’s a relief.”

  Grinning, I pretend to be offended. “Hey! That’s not very nice! I’m a great person to fake date!”

  “You’re right, love. I’m sorry. You were brilliant. I’m just pleased I don’t need to keep the rubbish story alive any longer.”

  “Me too. You’re great and all, but kissing you felt a hell of a lot like kissing my brother.” I shudder at the memory.

  Now it’s Jude’s turn to feign offense. “I’ll have you know, the ladies love snogging me!”

  I snort at his totally British slang.

  “I’m sure they do, my friend. Now, we have some amends to make this morning. Do you know what Derrick usually does on Saturday mornings? Does he have a routine that he normally sticks to?”

  “When we were texting he had mentioned going on a run.”

  Nodding excitedly, an idea already taking shape, I reply, “Do you know where he lives by chance?”

  “Of course,” Jude states confidently, offended I would even ask such a ridiculous question.

  Rolling my eyes, I continue with my plan. “Well, it looks like we have some donuts and coffee to deliver, so suit up Ted!” We chat for a couple more minutes before agreeing that he’ll be picking me up in the next hour. Then I head to my shower and mentally prep for some major groveling.

  13

  Derrick

  My legs are aching as I finish a particularly brutal run. I’m a block away from my townhome and taking the last few yards at a slow pace while catching my breath. I spend my cooldown trying to understand my conflicting feelings in regards to the girl I’m crushing on and my best friend.

  My thoughts swirl with Bree and Jude. And their presumably fake relationship. And Jude lying out of his ass to me this morning.

  What the hell am I going to do about that?

  Sweat is dripping down my back, proving just how hard I pushed myself this morning. My athletic shirt is completely soaked through and clinging to my abs.

  I’m lost in my whirling thoughts when I round the corner and spot Jude’s SUV sitting in my driveway. My feet stall for a second before cautiously moving me forward.

  What’s he doing here?

  When I get a little closer, I find a very beautiful brunette sitting on my
front porch with a white paper bag, and cups of what I assume are coffee in her hands.

  My eyes can’t help but scan her from head to toe, taking in every gorgeous inch of her. Her silky hair is hanging down her back in loose waves. She’s wearing a white flowy top, ripped jean shorts, and black Chucks that somehow seem to make her legs go on for miles.

  A shy smile graces her soft, pink lips, and her cheeks look flushed. I can’t decide if it’s from sitting in the summer heat or from knowing she’s been caught in her little white lie. Or maybe it’s from the instant attraction she feels for me as much as I feel for her.

  Regardless, she’s breathtaking, and I’m immediately brought back to our time together last night.

  We didn’t talk much, which is saying something considering Bree was involved in the evening.

  That girl’s mouth is constantly running.

  Instead, we simply enjoyed each other’s company, innocently snuggling while binging a freaking baking show that I would never watch in a million years, if I wasn’t holding a gorgeous girl in my arms.

  Scratch that. Not just any gorgeous girl. It would need to be Bree.

  I don’t think I’ve ever had such a low-key evening with another woman.

  I’ve always been a bit OCD, so whenever I made plans with a woman there was always a particular arrangement in mind. We were getting together to eat food, or hook up, or get drinks, but it was never just to hang out and be together.

  Even my relationship with Beth was different. Beth was a planner through and through, so there was never any downtime. She had every little moment planned out to the tiniest detail, and if you ever varied from said plan there was hell to pay. There was never any time to simply hang out and watch TV.

  Although Bree didn’t plan on me crashing in on her Friday night, it was refreshing to be in someone’s company without any expectations or plans for the evening; where I could just be with her.

  After blatantly checking Bree out, I go straight to my garage door, keying in the code and heading inside. I leave the door open behind me as a silent invitation for them to follow me.