My hands hit the wall. I close my eyes, dunk my head, do a flip turn.
I get halfway across the pool before I blink my eyes open. Chlorine stings. But it’s not nearly as bad as that feeling in my gut.
Mom would rather drink than be there for me. Than have me in her life at all.
And Ryan…
Am I second choice again?
The backup if making Penny jealous doesn’t work?
He says he doesn’t want her back, that he doesn’t love her anymore.
I want to believe him.
I really, really want to believe him.
My hand finds the wall. I do a flip turn, glide halfway across the pool, slice the water with my hands.
I go like that for ages.
Until I see legs. Ryan’s calves. He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, his eyes on me.
He motions to the plate next to him. “Dean said you didn’t eat.”
I brush my wet hair behind my ears as I egg beater my way to him.
“Showing off?”
“You do.”
He arches a brow.
“How many miles did you run?”
“Don’t do it to show off.”
“Then why?” I move closer. Until he’s five feet away. Three. One. My hands curl over the edge of the pool. This is the deep end. I have to tread water to stay afloat. I have to struggle to stay upright.
“I had to clear my head.”
“But why?”
“Why were you miserable all afternoon?”
It’s a fair question, but he’s still dodging mine.
I stare up at him. “Do you trust me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want to explain something to you, but I can’t fill you in on all the details. And I need you to trust that I have good reasons for that.”
“Leigh…”
“Are you jealous of me and Dean?”
His brow furrows. His eyes turn down. He looks to the den. Finds only yellow light and clean furniture. “I don’t know.”
“Is that why you went on a run?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then why?”
“My head’s a mess.” He’s eyes find mine. “I can’t explain it better.”
“Dean isn’t Mr. Powers.”
“Leigh…”
I stare back into his eyes. “I can’t tell you who he is. And I know you won’t believe me until I do. But it’s not Dean. He’s my friend, but that’s it. That’s all I want.”
“He makes you laugh.”
“So do you.”
“Not the same way.”
“No. But I like the way you do it better.”
He motions to the plate—a stir fry that smells of ginger. “You should eat something.”
“Ryan.” I can’t reach his face, so I settle for his leg. My fingers curl around his calf. My other hand stays on the cement. “Don’t do this.”
“What?”
“Lock me out.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to.”
“But?”
“I don’t know how the fuck to handle this.”
The cool evening air nips at my nose, my chin, my shoulders. But he’s warm against my fingertips. My palm. “What about it?”
“You’re too good at pretending.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“It’s fucking with my head.”
“Oh.” The words gnaw at my gut. I keep my hand on his thigh. I keep my eyes on his. “It doesn’t have to. I got carried away today.”
“You didn’t. You were going with it.”
“So you… you want to stop?”
“I don’t know.” He stares at my hand. “I don’t want shit to change.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
His fingers brush mine. “It does.”
I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Powers is going to realize you’re amazing. He’s gonna scoop you up. And then you’ll be his.”
“We’ll still… We’ll still be the same.”
“Shit can’t stay the same.”
“It can.”
“No. I’m starting to get it, why Penny left.”
“Oh.”
“You seem sober.”
“I am. Mostly.”
He motions to the plate. “You should eat.”
“Later.” I tug at his leg. “Come in. Let the water wash everything away.”
“How’s that gonna help?”
“It just does. Trust me.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he pulls his t-shirt over his head and slides into the pool.
Water sloshes against the concrete as he surfaces. He treads water, his eyes on me, his body turned toward mine.
“I want to trust you about this, Leigh. But I don’t know how.” He dives under the water. Swims to the shallow end. Surfaces with his mane of waves sticking to his head.
I dive under the water. Follow him. Join him at the steps.
His hand brushes mine. “You knew me when it happened.”
“Last June.”
He nods.
“But you said it’s been fourteen months since you’ve—”
His lips curl into a half smile, but his eyes stay sad. “That’s the detail you noticed?”
I nod.
“Yeah. Penny was right.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not in my head.”
“I wish I was.”
“It’s a mess.”
“So’s mine.” I sit next to him. Follow his gaze to the dark sky. “So’s everyone’s.” The stars are tiny white dots. They’re dull. Faint. “You’re not a lost cause. I don’t think that.”
“I know.”
“But the other day—”
“I was pissed.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.” He leans back on his elbows. “Penny wanted to ask if you were good to me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Compared to her?”
“Compared to what I deserve, I guess.”
“And she knows?”
“Shit was good for a long time. I loved her. She loved me. Says she still does.”
My stomach leaps into my throat. “Don’t tell me—”
“That usual I love you, but I’m not in love with you bullshit.”
The tension in my shoulders unfurls. Thank God. “Oh.”
“But it wasn’t bullshit.” He turns to me. “She meant it.”
“She really wants you to be happy?”
“Yeah. I want to get there. To wanting that for her.”
“Me too. I mean. I want that for you too.” And for me too. I want both of us to forget she exists.
“You’re good to me, Leigh. Better than I deserve.” His eyes fill with vulnerability.
I want to wipe all his pain away. I need to reassure him. I need more than words. But words are all I’ve got. “You really believe that?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze shifts to the sky. “I just know I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“I might.”
“Anything is possible, yeah. But I’m not going anywhere.”
“When this guy realizes how great you are—”
“I’m still going to be by your side.” I’m going to be there. With him. Forever. “What was she right about?”
“Two years ago, three now, she gave up on starting her own website.”
“The punk one?”
“It was supposed to be an edgy women’s interest site, yeah.”
“XO Punk Jane.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy.
“It’s a big women’s site. But, carry on.”
“Your hair looks silver in the moonlight.”
“The chlorine washed out all the dye.”
“I always wonder what it’s gonna look like.”
“I’m pretty settled on purple.”
“That�
�s what you said about pink.”
“I gave it six months.”
He brushes my wet hair behind my ear. “You’re afraid of commitment?”
“No. I just like seeing a different person in the mirror sometimes.”
He nods I get that. Shifts back to telling his story. “Three years ago, she took a job at her dad’s company.”
“Your dad works for hers?”
“Yeah. The media conglomerate that buys out good websites and turns them into generic pop-culture shit with a theme.”
“Oh. Yeah. They’re the worst.”
He laughs. “Her dad offered her a job at the women’s interest one. She took it. When she told me, I couldn’t believe it. That was a betrayal of everything we believed in.”
“Why?”
“I was never quite as punk rock as Brendon. Hell, Penny was the one encouraging me to rage against the machine. We promised each other we’d never work for the man.”
“You were kids.”
“That’s how she saw it, yeah. She thought we were naïve kids. That things had changed now that she was twenty-three and broke.”
“And you?”
“I told her I understood, but I didn’t. It became this wall between us. Every time she mentioned the site’s name or blurted out a buzz word, I lost a little respect for her. Until I had none left.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t realize it. I still saw her as the sixteen-year-old who scribbled Testify on my arms. Who giggled as we traded promise rings. Who begged me to get ink with her.”
“You have matching tattoos?”
He shakes his head. “She chickened out.”
“But you—”
He shifts to the right, rolls his shorts down his left hip. There’s a locked heart in greyscale.
“Can I?”
“Yeah.”
Under the water, my fingers brush his smooth, slick skin. “You loved her with your whole heart, huh?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never loved anyone like that.”
“Your mom?”
“Of course. But not romantically.” I press my lips together. “I guess it’s easy to explain it like that. Alcoholic mom taught me love is enabling someone. Thus, I have no interest in love. I’m sure Iris would have a better explanation—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.”
“It feels good, letting your guard down.”
I nod. I want to get there with Ryan. To trust I can spill my guts without him leaving. To trust I can tell him everything.
“But she was right. After she took that job, I started throwing those walls up. I stopped talking to her. Stopped listening.”
“Stopped loving her?”
“I kept loving that sixteen-year-old girl. But that wasn’t her anymore.”
“Now?”
“Part of me still loves her, the old her. But that girl doesn’t exist anymore. People change. Maybe I haven’t. But I should.”
“She’s still the one who fucked him.”
“Yeah. But it was gonna end either way.”
Probably.
“If she’d had more guts or I’d been less oblivious…” He turns toward me. “It was for the best, but—”
“That doesn’t make it easier to trust anyone?”
He nods.
“Do you trust me?”
“I want to.” His eyes bore into mine. “I want that so fucking badly.”
“Me too.”
“You’re such a good friend. I hate asking for more.”
Friend. What an ugly word. It’s a knife in my gut. It’s acid on my tongue. It’s a raincloud on a sunny day. “Asking is the only way you’ll get something.”
He nods. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you’ll tell me if I’m about to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me.”
“Promise anyway.”
I stare back into his blue eyes. “Okay. I promise.”
Chapter 18
Leighton
White light falls over the dresser.
Over the black bedspread.
Over Ryan’s inked arms.
Those arms are around me. His hands are on my stomach. His chest is against my back.
There’s a thick blanket between my ass and his crotch.
But it’s not enough.
I can feel his morning wood.
Every part of me goes warm. I press my eyelids together. Let myself believe his erection is more than a biological response.
The weight on the bed shifts as he stirs.
He pulls his arms to his sides, pushes himself to a seated position, reaches for something on the dresser.
His glasses.
Black rectangles frame his blue eyes as he slides them on.
They’re so…
He’s so…
I’m fucking melting.
“Shit.” He checks the time on his phone. “We’re due at work in an hour.”
“I know.” But I don’t care. Not when he’s right there. Not when the room smells like him. When I smell like him.
We’re in the same bed because Dean invited some woman over. Occupied the living room and thus the couch.
Because Ryan was unwilling to sleep in either his parents’ or Dean’s bed.
But there’s still an intimacy to his body next to mine.
Nobody sees me without makeup.
Nobody sees him in his glasses.
He stretches his arms over his head. The gesture pulls his shirt up his stomach, showing off inches of taut abs. “You want eggs?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I have time to shower?”
“We need to leave in thirty or we’ll be late.”
“You’re an owner. You can be late.”
He smiles. “Yeah. But you’re an employee. You can’t.”
“You won’t put a word in with my boss?”
“No. He’s too much of a dick.”
“True.” I roll onto my side. Memorize every line of his face. “Did you make sure to get me time off to go to Maui?”
“He threw a fit, but I made it happen.”
“Did he?”
Ryan smiles as he nods. He tosses his t-shirt over his head. Finds another in his dresser. Bends to grab a pair of jeans and black socks.
No boxers.
He doesn’t wear boxers.
He’s not wearing anything under those jeans.
Is that ever going to get old?
“You need to know something, Leigh.” He turns back to me.
“Yeah?”
“This—” He taps his glasses. “Is between us.”
“Lots of people wear glasses.”
He shakes his head.
“They look good.”
Again, he shakes his head.
“Really. They’re smart. Sexy.”
His cheeks flush for a hot second, then they’re back to their usual sand tone.
The bell rings as I push the shop door open. But the next sound isn’t my wedge sandals on the tile.
It’s hands smacking together.
Dean is leaning against the counter, doing a slow clap.
Walker is standing next to him, shaking his head you’re ridiculous.
The guys exchange a look, the kind only best friends understand. Something about me and Ryan.
Ryan rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t wipe the smile from his face. He’s enjoying Dean’s teasing.
That’s curious.
I hug my messenger bag to my side as I make my way to the counter. “You’re taking up my domain.”
“Babe, you can’t roll in here in yesterday’s clothes without a story.” He shoots Walker a look. Right?
“Can’t say I’m following this.” He motions to Ryan, now setting up in his suite.
“You call that pressing for details?” Dean shakes his head pathetic.
I feign irritation as I take my spot behind the counter. It’s Sunday. Th
e last day of our pay period and schedule. That means extra administrative work.
Dean leans over the counter. “Tell me somebody finally came in that bed.”
“I thought I was supposed to… What are you hoping to accomplish?” I ask.
“Accomplish? Why would I do that?” He makes a show of scratching his head.
Walker chuckles. “He’s like the Joker. Lives to cause chaos.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“There’s that ugly word again.” He mimes wiping something disgusting from his shoulders.
Walker turns to me. “You need me to take him outside? Rough him up?”
“Would you really?” I press my hands together. “If I asked nicely and promised to do something sweet for Iris?”
“Only one way to find out.” Walker shrugs try me.
“Dicks before chicks.” Dean shakes his head. “Cold.”
The bell rings as a customer steps inside. She must be Walker’s eleven o’clock.
She waves hello. He nods goodbye to us, then goes to greet her.
Dean waits until they’re settled in Walker’s suite. “Anything I should know about?”
“Did you really fuck some girl so Ryan couldn’t sleep on the couch?”
“I don’t need motivation to fuck a hot woman.”
“That’s a yes.” I stare into his eyes. “I don’t get it, Dean. Do you want me with him or not?”
“I want that.”
“Huh?”
“I want you with him or not. None of this pretend bullshit.”
God, being with him… That would be everything. “If you want that, help instead of—what are you doing?”
“You’re asking for my help?”
“You’re right. That’s a terrible idea. I take it back.”
“Too late. That’s a bell you can’t unring.”
“I have work to do.”
“I love you too.” He blows me a kiss, spins on his sneaker-clad heel, makes his way to his suite.
Slowly, everyone settles into work. The shop fills with the buzz of tattoo guns, the grunts of customers, the lull of conversation.
The morning passes quickly. I update our social media. Reply to emails and PMs as necessary.
Walker finishes first. Then Dean. I flirt with his customer as I hand him his receipt. Stare at Ryan to see if it’s making him jealous.
But he’s lost in his own world, the way he always is at work.
It’s a thing of beauty—those strong hands on the gun, those blue eyes filled with determination, those soft lips pressed together in concentration.
Dean catches me staring. Laughs as he walks his customer to the door.
Pretend You're Mine Page 13
