“Don’t rub it in!” I all but yelled.
Ezra grabbed the glass that I was clenching in my hands and set it down before I broke it by my death grip. His eyes were warm, but his smiled oozed amusement. He was totally making fun of me.
“I didn’t say I’d never sleep with you,” he corrected me in a low voice. “I just don’t want to sleep with you until you really appreciate what it can mean.”
Blair made a noise next to Nate.
“And what would it mean?” I whispered.
He gave me a lazy grin. “If you have to ask then I guess you’re not ready to find out.”
I saw Blair give me an appreciative look. Even Nate looked impressed, and that was kind of surprising to me.
Ezra stood up and held out his hand to Nate. “Hey, man. I’m Ezra. Live across the hall.”
Nate shook his hand. “Nate. This is my girlfriend Blair.”
Ezra smiled at Blair. “So I heard I was the topic of conversation with Ashley’s friends.”
Blair’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes. And if I’m being totally honest, Ashley didn’t do you enough credit when she told me about you over the phone.”
“Blair!” I snapped.
“Oh, hush,” she returned. “You’re probably not even going to remember this conversation in the morning.”
She had a valid point.
“Gossip away,” I granted them, leaning back against the couch. “But don’t tell Ezra that I think he’s hot, because I don’t want him to know.”
Tara giggled. “I think that’s too late, Ash.”
I didn’t say anything because I had no damn idea what was even going on. For all I knew, this was a dream and I was going to wake up soon. I just closed my eyes and listened in the conversation.
“So Tara was telling us how you helped Ashley last night and today,” I heard Blair say. “That was really nice of you.”
“It was no problem.”
“What exactly are your intentions with my friend?” she interrogated suggestively.
He chuckled. “I haven’t quite decided yet. But I have no intention of hurting her if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.”
Was she suggesting I was going to hurt him?
“I’m not a bad person,” I mumbled.
“Never said you were, Ash,” she assured me. “I just know that you don’t really date that often.”
“Or at all,” Tara muttered.
I mumbled for her to shut up.
“In her defense, I didn’t date much either,” Nate intervened. “And I turned out just fine, didn’t I?”
“Well, duh,” Blair said. “I’d like to think I had something to do with that.”
I heard them kiss. Gag.
“Of course you were,” he murmured softly. “And when the right person comes around for her to date, things will change.”
Ezra said, “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
Blair and Tara made adored noises, and me? I drifted off to sleep.
I was hit by a bus. A really, big bus. Like a tour bus, but full of elephants. Maybe even a hippo or two. At least, that was what it felt like between the throbbing aches that echoed in my skull.
I turned in bed and smacked into a wall. Only it wasn’t really a wall because my bed was in the middle of the room with no walls near either side. Plus, walls didn’t wear clothes and have body heat.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, eyes widening at the sight of a man in my bed.
My blankets were partially covering the fine toned body, but one of his legs were draped on top like he was too hot to be fully covered. And the fact that he was fully dressed made me feel slightly better about sleeping with him, because I tended to like remembering when I had sex.
Especially since it had been awhile.
Then the thought of me sleeping with somebody freaked me out, because it really had been a while. Or, at least, a while for me. Months. I was out of practice and sloppy drunk, so who knew how bad I was?
But it couldn’t have been so bad if he was still here. Unless I managed to knock him out during a drunken rampage. Did I have drunken rough sex last night?
I looked under the covers to see myself fully dressed, except I wasn’t wearing the clothes that I had on last night.
Who the hell changed me?
My eyes shot to the man.
“Fuck,” I groaned loudly, covering my face with my hands and trying to recall the events of last night.
“Do you always talk like that?” a familiar voice asked groggily from next to me.
It wasn’t just some man in my bed.
It was Ezra.
I moved apart my fingers so I could peak through them at Ezra. He was turned and facing me, his eyes still glossy from sleep. His hair had major bed head and was sticking up every which way, and I hated how sexy it made him look. His jaw was lined with five o’clock shadow, and the scruff just made him look hotter, which was not okay with me and my lack of memories.
“Did…did we have sex last night?” I muffled into my hands, feeling my horrible morning breath bounce back onto my face.
He moved my hands away from my face. “Why would you think we had sex last night?”
I deadpanned. “You’re in my bed.”
“I’m also not naked,” he pointed out. “And neither are you, in case you didn’t notice.”
I eyed him. “I’m not wearing the same clothes.”
He smirked. “That’s probably because you puked all over yourself last night. Blair and Tara helped clean you up and then got you changed.”
My whole face heated up. “I don’t remember…”
“I wouldn’t imagine you would.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my bed.”
“Well you kept stumbling around because you were too drunk to use your crutches, so they asked me to carry you in here so you could sleep it off,” he explained, crossing his arms behind his head like he was making himself comfortable. “And then you tried to take your clothes off and seduce me.”
My eyes widened. “I what?”
He laughed softly. “Okay, that last part was a lie.”
I smacked him with all the force I had in my body, which currently wasn’t much. “Jerk.”
“You did tell me to stay though,” he continued. “I told you no at first, but then you pulled me onto the bed. You’re stronger than you look, by the way. And I couldn’t really resist when you cuddled up next to me and used me like your own personal pillow.”
My cheeks got hotter.
“Also, you drool.”
“I do not!”
“I’m pretty sure you left drool stains,” he teased, looking down at his shirt. It was dry though. No proof meant no fact.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said, rubbing a clammy hand down my face. “I usually don’t get that drunk, and I also never invite guys to stay in my bed. Or cuddle.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”
“So…” I cleared my throat. “We didn’t do anything then? Like nothing? I didn’t try feeling you up and you didn’t try feeling me up? We just…slept.”
“Does spooning count as feeling you up? Because if it does I definitely felt you up, although it was how I woke up in the middle of the night so not like I intentionally spooned you. Not that I wouldn’t.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’ve seriously never cuddled with anyone?”
I sat up, feeling my head ache more. The room spun a little before it went back to normal. I pushed myself back so I was leaning against the headboard. The cool wood felt good on my exposed shoulders from the tank I wore.
“Don’t act so surprised,” I replied dryly. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard my reputation on campus. And if not there I’m sure people around here could fill you in. Hell, seems like you already made your own assumptions already about my dating life anyway.”
He sat up abruptly. “I don’t judge people based on st
upid rumors. And even if they were true, who am I to judge? I’ve done plenty of things that don’t exactly make me a saint. I never meant to make you feel like I was judging you.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled.
He put his hand on mine. “Look at me.”
I did.
“I don’t care what people say about you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Because I intend to make my own assumptions,” he answered casually. “And I doubt half the things I hear are actually true, so why buy into the bullshit? And my remarks about your dating life—or lack thereof in this case—weren’t meant to be a stab at you. I just meant that I’m not like most guys. If I want someone, I intend to make them fully aware of that. And I want you, Ashley. Just not as a hookup or one night stand.”
I didn’t say anything.
“And I want you to be sure that you want the same from me, because I’m not the type to play games. When I’m in, I’m all in.”
“All in?” I repeated.
He smiled. “You know it, babe.”
I drew my hand back. “Are you telling me that you’ve never had a one night stand? Or a casual fling?”
He laughed. “I’ve had my fair share of casual flings, but that was a long time ago. I learned that they aren’t worth my time. What’s the point of searching for people who are only going to leave the next morning?”
“Well most people don’t spend much time looking if a one night stand is all they want,” I pointed out. “So either you were misinformed about how to prowl for proper fling material, or you’re some rare male who is secretly a hopeless romantic in search for love. And apparently, you’re searching in all the wrong places.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know, Ash,” he said quietly.
“What?”
He leaned in close to me, and whispered, “I think I’ve finally started searching in the perfect place.”
And I’d be damned if my heart didn’t jump out of my chest then, because he was confident. Why did he have to be confident? He practically just claimed me as his own, and not even in the ways I was used to.
He wanted me. But not as a casual fling or a hookup. And, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted that anymore either. Not many guys would help me the way he had in the last two days, and they certainly wouldn’t have stayed with me after I made a fool out of myself. And not sleeping with me when he had the opportunity to? Yeah, definitely wasn’t used to that.
But I wasn’t offended anymore. I was…intrigued.
By him, by his actions, by his motives. Suddenly, those demons that he had locked up somewhere inside of him drew me to him, because if there was one thing I knew, it was that our demons were what shaped who we were. The things we do, the way we act, are all driven by the things we want locked away forever.
And I was going to figure out his, even if it meant having to reveal mine. Something told me that Ezra was worth it, even if part of me wanted to pull away for even thinking so. I had my reasons to limit myself to anybody, but how could I turn away somebody who only wanted to help? He showed time and time again that he had no intention of taking advantage of me. God help me, he was the type of person that my parent’s would be proud to meet.
The thought scared me.
Ezra got out of bed and went into the kitchen. I heard the sink running and a few other noises coming from what sounded like the cupboard. Before I could get up, he was back with a glass of water and two pills.
“Tara told me where your aspirin was,” he said, passing them to me. “How are you feeling?”
Confused.
“Not as bad as I probably should be,” I mused. “I don’t really remember that much about last night. Or anything, really. So I’m sorry, because I’m sure I said and did very stupid things.”
He took the glass of water back from me and drank from it. It was like we were practically kissing.
Ugh. There was definitely something wrong with me.
“You didn’t really do anything bad,” he promised, sitting at the end of the bed. “You did call me hot a few times. Actually, I counted six times. You also told me not tell myself that you thought I was hot, because apparently your drunken self had no idea who I was.”
I cringed. “Drunk me sounds like a moron.”
“Nah.” He waved it off. “You also hit Nate a few times because you thought he was cheating on Blair with Blair. I guess you were seeing doubles? Doesn’t shock me. Tara and Blair filled me in on everything you drank. You were like a walking bar.”
I really needed to stop drinking. But was I? No.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why were you drinking so much? Was it because you had a bad day, because I’ve been there before but you were like on a mission to give yourself alcohol poisoning. Tara had to rip a bottle of vodka from your hands, and you put up a hell of a fight.”
I wanted to remember that, because it was probably entertaining as hell. Poor Tara. Why did she bother putting up with me?
“I guess I just wanted to make the bad day better,” I told him. “But honestly, I don’t really know if that’s the whole reason. I’ve always just partied and drank to have fun like there was no other way to, but last night was different. Between screwing up my knee and dealing with my sister’s—” I stopped myself. “It doesn’t matter. I remember suggesting we do shots. I remember taking a few shots. And then…nothing. It’s a total blackout.”
He studied me for a second. “Sounds like that’s what you wanted.”
I pressed my lips together. Then said, “You sure you’re not studying psychology, because you sure like to analyze things a lot.”
He gave me a half smile. “Nah, I’m all about my education major. I just know what it’s like to want to escape your mind for a little while. I drank to do that. My sister had to snap me out of it, although it didn’t really work right away.”
“What happened?”
He looked like he was contemplating answering. After a long moment of silence he said, “Let’s just say she reminded me that the reason I was drinking was the reason that somebody I know got into serious trouble.”
How…vague.
I didn’t pry though, because it was obvious that he didn’t want to cough up any more detail. I knew all too well about when a person was trying to avoid an answer.
I filled the silence. “So you’re pretty much telling me not to drown my sorrows in a bottle?”
He shrugged. “I’m telling you that you’re always going to wake up the next morning with the same problems you had. Those won’t ever really escape you. Drinking may be a way to stall or numb the pain of certain memories, but it doesn’t end them. You can do whatever the hell you want, but I’m suggesting that you think about it in a different light. What’s worse? Dealing with the memories when they’re at their worse and managing them when you’re strongest, or dealing with them when you’re at your weakest and letting them tear you apart?”
My lips twitched. For somebody who didn’t like psychology, he sure in hell had a lot of insight.
“I really hate it when you’re right,” I muttered, managing to unwrap myself from my blanket.
He grinned. “Better get used to it, babe. I plan on being around quite a bit, which means I’ll grace you with my wisdom even more.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lucky me.”
He tapped my nose. “Don’t pretend you’re not excited to have me around more often.”
His cocky eyes saw right through me, because the thought of him being around more did stir something up inside me, and it wasn’t like anything I’d felt before.
That was when I knew I was really in for a ride.
8
Getting around campus with crutches in the middle of winter sucked. Between the SUNY campus being built on hills, I had to not only deal with patches of black ice, but stairs too. A crap load of stairs. And in the week and a half I was on these death traps, I didn’t get any better
at walking with them.
At least I hadn’t fallen again like the first time.
I made it to the bottom of the last flight of stairs that led to a majority of the academic buildings that were surrounding the large quad. Most of the snow had melted off the sidewalks and walkways, but the ice was a different story. There were patches leading up to the only building I needed to go into, which was just my luck.
As if hurting myself the first time wasn’t bad enough, let’s add ice and see if I fall on my ass again!
I carefully shifted my backpack on my right shoulder so it rested further up and had less of a chance of sliding down my arm. If I were smart, I’d wear it like a normal person, but I hated that. It reminded me of my nerd days in high school. The only thing I was missing back then was a pocket protector and glasses with tape in the middle.
Thank God for puberty and Rue21.
As I was walking toward the double glass doors that led into the newest solar paneled building that I personally thought the college spent way too much money on, I saw him. He was standing with a cocky look on his face as his father spoke to one of the professors in the building.
My whole body froze where I stood, ignoring the cool wind that was whipping through my already messy hair that I never bothered doing anything with this morning. The backpack that hung on my shoulder grew heavy, but I didn’t move. All I could do was stare through the doors at him as he laughed like he had no care in the world.
Then the worst thing that could have happened did. He turned his head to say something to his father, but saw me instead. Suddenly, that laugh that made him smile disappeared, and I was sure his eyes widened. I knew mine did.
Did he not know I went here?
His father saw him staring and looked to see what grabbed his son’s attention. When he realized it was me, his eyes narrowed and fists clenched like I was the one who killed one of their children.
What. A. Fucking. Dick.
I never liked Mr. Mitchell. He was the one who practically fed his son the ego that made his head implode. If he did something wrong, Mr. Mitchell might as well have patted him on the back and congratulated him for it. He was never one for punishing, just encouraging.
A Hard Place to Breathe Page 8
