I couldn’t allow him to set me off kilter in my own home or for him to detract from the reason I was here or the decision I’d made on Monday. If Christian wanted to hang out, if he wanted a friend, that was cool. I could handle that.
The truth was, I wanted him here.
But anything beyond a friendship wasn’t going to happen.
I just wasn’t really sure Christian understood the difference.
When I tore my eyes from his penetrating gaze, he dug into his backpack and pulled out its contents, the casual indifference making a reappearance. “So what are we working on tonight?”
I held up my Calculus I book. “Well, I was working on my calculus assignment. Math isn’t exactly my strong point.”
This time when Christian laughed, it was all throaty and warm, comforting. “Well, you are in luck, Elizabeth, because it’s mine. Now if you can help me pass our American Government class, I think we’re going to be a pretty good team.”
His head tilted as he raised a brow at me, those blue eyes both earnest and playful as they traveled my face.
I fought back the blush that crept to my cheeks, the way those words sounded rolling off his tongue, the way he looked at me like I was the most interesting thing in the world. I was going to have to get used to it if I was going to be around him.
“I think I can handle that,” I said.
We settled into an easy rhythm, both of us absorbed in our work. Every once in a while, Christian would lift his head, smile in my direction, as if he needed that small connection. I’d smile back, a calm slipping over my skin, a warmth I knew I could so easily get used to.
Yeah, I really liked him here.
With that thought, I closed my calculus book with a loud smack. “You hungry? I don’t think my brain can process any more numbers tonight.”
I hopped off the bed and headed to the kitchen.
“Starving, actually. You ready to take me up on the offer I made Monday?” Cocky Christian was back, his movements fluid as he slinked up behind me while I bent down to rummage through the small selection of food I had in the kitchen. I could feel his presence behind me, larger than it should be, filling up the entire room.
“Um, no.” I glanced over my shoulder at him, unable to hold in the smile. This Christian was just so over the top, but I found he was a whole lot easier for me to handle when he acted this way. Maybe because it wasn’t real. “I think I made that plenty clear then, didn’t I?”
“A guy can try, can’t he?” He was all tease, moving over to lean back against the one foot of counter space I had in my kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest.
“If he wants to hang out with me, then no, he can’t.” I nudged him aside. He laughed, this melodic sound that bounced off my walls and rumbled against my chest.
I filled a saucepan with water and lit the old stovetop with a match. A ring of flames sprang to life. I set the pan over them, pulled out two packets of noodles, ripped them open, and dumped them in. The directions said to let the water boil first, but when it came to food, I was never that patient.
Christian looked horror stricken as he watched the lump of hard noodles soften and separate as the water began to boil. “What are you making?”
“It’s ramen. You know, what every poor college student in the country eats?”
He shook his head, clueless.
Um...yeah...we were from two very different worlds. “Are you serious? You’ve never had ramen before?”
He shook his head again, grabbing a fork from the counter. He jabbed at the noodles that roiled in the boiling water as if they were alive, ready to jump back when they lashed out to bite him. “That’s disgusting.”
“You have no idea what you’ve been missing.” I slanted my eyes his direction.
His expression assured me I’d lost my mind. “Whatever you say.”
A couple minutes later, I ripped open the foil packets and mixed them in, pouring the soup into two bowls.
Shuffling around in the drawer, I dug out two spoons and two forks and dropped them into the bowls. I handed him one. “You’re going to love it.”
I turned around, stopping just short of the bed. I slid my back down the wall as I balanced the steaming bowl in my hands, settled to the ground, and stretched my legs out in front of me. There was no resisting the smile that broke out on my face when I looked up at Christian. He appeared as if he didn’t quite know what to do. I liked that he could be kind of awkward.
“Sit,” I said.
He finally followed, mimicking my position, his eyes intent as he watched me twirl some noodles onto my fork. I tried not to pay attention to how close his face was to mine. I blew the lump of pasta before I brought it to my mouth. From the side, he studied the action as if he were learning some secret to the meaning of life, before he copied me and brought a bite to his mouth.
“Oh...God...that’s hot...and so good.” He went in for a second bite, making these little appreciative noises that expanded my chest.
“See.” This time I nudged his foot with mine. “You’re going to learn to trust me.”
Blue eyes gleamed back at me, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Is that so?”
“That’s so.” I couldn’t help but smirk.
We sat like that on the floor, backs against the wall, our feet stretched out in front of us, eating dinner together. Comfortable. Relaxed. And it felt...good. I realized how thankful I was he was here. He’d turned what would have been another solitary night into something I had truly enjoyed.
Christian released a contented groan and placed his empty bowl on the floor beside him. “Thank you for dinner, Liz.”
I rolled my head his direction, murmured, “I’m glad you liked it.”
He just nodded, turned back to face forward, and seemed to vanish somewhere inside his head. Dense silence filled the room. And I just waited. Somehow, I knew he needed this, someone who didn’t want anything from him, someone who would listen to him, talk to him, someone who didn’t mind sitting beside him without saying a word.
“What’s your family like?” Christian barely whispered. His feet rocked back and forth in a slow sway as he tugged at the hem of his shirt. He tilted his head to look back at me, that same expression that had rocked my foundation earlier stealing my breath.
I didn’t know if he’d used his question as a distraction from where ever he had been caught up in his mind or if he really wanted to know about them. Looking at him now, I guessed maybe they were related.
I swallowed, oriented myself to his hidden world, found my voice. “They’re wonderful. It’s just me, my mom, and my two sisters. My mom...she’s strong. She taught us to be strong, to work hard for whatever we want in life.”
Christian had drifted closer, the side of his thigh pressed against mine. Tonight his eyes didn’t stray from my face, but remained steady, locked on mine, searching. I fought getting lost in the murky sea that was Christian Davison, in the places he didn’t allow people to invade, but seemed willing to show me now.
When he didn’t look away, I continued on. “My dad left when we were young. It was rough on my mom, but she never let it ruin her. She worked so hard to take care of us. Even though she worked long hours, she always made the time to make each of us feel special. Of course, my sisters and I had to take care of the house and each other while she was at work, but it just made us all closer.” I stuttered through a self-conscious laugh when I felt tears welling up. “We’re all really close, have always been.”
I quickly wiped them away. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to get all emotional on you. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing any of them.”
I forced a smile, wondering how this moment had gone from light to heavy in ten seconds flat.
Christian seemed to have that way about him.
“Don’t apologize. I wanted to know,” he said with a gentle curve of his mouth, and I realized he’d inched away, an almost indiscernible separation, but one I knew had been purpo
sed.
I shook myself off, turned back to look at him in the dimness of the room. “So what’s your family like?”
He lifted one shoulder, dropped it just as quick. “You know the story...workaholic dad, self-absorbed mom, not much to tell.”
“I’m sorry.” I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the pained lines creasing his forehead.
“Don’t be.” Christian sighed and ran his palms down the length of his thighs, breaking the tension in the air. “I should get going. This was really cool, Elizabeth. Thank you.”
I didn’t know if I should admit it, if he would take it wrong or if he would misunderstand, but I said, “I’m really glad you were here.”
Even if he did, I wanted him to know it was the truth. I loved being in New York, but tonight was the first night since I got here that I didn’t feel alone.
Christian had filled that place in me that needed someone, a friend, someone to listen.
I hoped I could fill that place in him, too.
Chapter Three
Christian
From her doorway, Elizabeth watched me walking down her hallway. I kept glancing behind me, making sure she was still there. The way she had her head cocked, her blonde hair fell in sheets of gentle waves over one shoulder, and that same smile that had torn me up the entire night whispered at the edges of her mouth.
All I wanted to do was turn around and bury my hands in those waves, to tilt her head up and press my lips to hers. She’d taste sweet. I’d put money on it. She’d have to rise to her toes to meet me, and I could almost feel the way the length of her body would mold against mine as she struggled to get closer.
The need was strong, and I knew I had to get away from her and put some distance between us.
I paused before I rounded the corner. Something inside me clenched with the thought of leaving her there. I just stared at her, having no idea how I felt or what I wanted to say. Finally I said, “Lock up behind me, okay, Elizabeth?”
Confusion fluttered across her face, and then she smiled with a little wave of her hand. “Of course. Good night, Christian.”
I nodded once in her direction and turned the corner, and Elizabeth disappeared behind me. I flew down the stairwell and out into the heavy night air. It was still hot, the skin at the nape of my neck beading with sweat that I wasn’t positive had anything to do with the humidity hanging in the air.
I just didn’t understand this, had no idea what I was feeling. I didn’t know if I should embrace it or run from it.
On Monday at the café, I couldn’t help but think Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I’d flirted, messed with her, coaxed the shyness from her because it was just so freaking cute. I knew I wanted something more than I normally did from a girl, that I wanted to know her and see that smile light her face.
But tonight—tonight was entirely different. Tonight she had made me feel different.
I mean, yeah, I wanted her. Badly. I’d had a really hard time keeping the images at bay, ones of wrapping my hands around her thighs and tugging her away from the wall. I could almost hear her book hitting the floor when I shoved it aside and pressed her body into the bed with mine.
It’s what came naturally, what I would normally do, the instinct I had to reach out and take what I wanted.
She’d voiced it, made it clear we weren’t crossing that line, but I didn’t miss the way she reacted to me. Part of her wanted me, too.
But there was something that hung in that room that held me back, something in the softness of her eyes and in the sweetness of her voice.
Elizabeth had to be the most transparent, good girl I’d ever met in my life.
I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take advantage of that. It made me sick to think of tainting her. Knowing me, I’d take what I wanted, get bored, and push her aside. I wouldn’t mean to, but I’d hurt her, and I couldn’t stand the thought.
She asked me to be her friend, and I wasn’t going to fuck that up by giving into the overwhelming urge I had to touch her.
I could deal with it.
Elizabeth could see through all my bullshit, anyway. A sarcastic huff escaped my mouth. I was sorely underestimating Elizabeth. The girl could probably see straight into my soul.
Chances were, she wouldn’t let me touch her if I tried.
With a mumbled groan, I rubbed the tension from my face and dug my cell from my front pocket. Tom was on speed dial, and he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Tom yelled over the deafening background noise. Music thrummed above the roar of indistinct voices. It sounded like the perfect escape.
“Just wondering what’s happening tonight.”
“We’re all at Sam’s. You headin’ over?”
“Count me in. I’ll be there in twenty.”
Elizabeth only lived about a ten-minute walk from my apartment. Those minutes were spent defining what Elizabeth and I were.
I’d never had that in my life, someone who I truly felt comfortable with. Someone who made me feel exposed, and somehow I was still okay with that fact. Someone to share my secrets and my desires and the goals I had in my life with—the ones people saw weren’t always mine, but ambitions created by my parents and the society they expected me to fit into.
The crazy thing was, I wanted to know hers, too. Elizabeth Ayers had to be the coolest girl who’d ever walked this world. I wanted to see inside her the way she saw inside me, to listen when she talked about her mom and her sisters, to experience a life like that through her eyes—to see life the way Elizabeth saw it.
She was...refreshing.
At my building, I took the stairs two at a time and let myself into my apartment. Dropping my backpack to the floor, I shed my button-up for a fitted black tee. In the bathroom, I wet my hands under warm water, splashed some on my face, and ran two hands through my hair to tame it. I straightened and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A grin clung to my face, something I doubted I could dispel if I tried. I realized I felt good. Really good.
Grabbing my keys, I headed out the door and jogged the two blocks to Sam’s place. I could hear the music pulsing as soon as I landed on his floor.
With a single knock against the door, I let myself in. Bodies were cramped nearly wall to wall. It definitely wasn’t the smallest apartment I’d been in since I’d gotten to New York, there were just a lot of people. Some huddled in groups where they conversed along the walls. Others pressed and throbbed against each other as they moved in rhythm to the music on the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. More were piled on the two couches or sat on the floor.
“You made it!” Tom yelled, a red cup lifted above his head as he shouldered through the crowd and cut a path to meet me. He reached out to welcome me with a fist bump.
I met him when I first got into town. He was from here, had some connections and knew the area. He was cool, a decent guy, my passport to Friday night. He was the one who always knew where it was happening and where I wanted to be. Sam’s was often it.
“Glad to be here.”
Tom placed a hand on my shoulder and began to lead me back through the crowd.
“Christian, good to see you finally showed up.” Jon gestured with his chin, clapped me on the back as I passed. “Where’ve you been all night?”
I lifted both hands with a shrug, could feel the smirk splitting my face. “Studying.”
“Ah...sure you were.” He laughed and went back to his beer and the girl hanging on his arm.
There were quite a few people I recognized, these Friday nights becoming my regular, the same faces, the same welcome. I shook hands with a couple guys and hugged a few girls as Tom continued to shout in my ear about who was here and what had been happening.
“Christian, my man.” Sam smiled as I approached. He slung his arm around my shoulders and maneuvered us around a group of people I’d never seen before. At the kitchen entrance, he stopped and waved inside. “There’s a keg and lots of
ladies. Make yourself at home.”
“Sure thing.” I always did.
I grabbed a red cup, filled it until foam overflowed at the sides, and downed it in one breath. The beer was a little too warm as it glided down my throat, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from refilling my cup.
I chatted with a couple people in the kitchen, drank a couple more beers, and refilled my cup again before I wove back out into the main room.
Music pumped through the room, amplified the slight buzz I felt coming on as I sat down on the floor with my back propped up on the couch, my knees drawn up with my feet flat on the ground. This was the way I spent my Friday nights. One night a week, I allowed myself to forget it all, all the pressures my parents piled on me, the push to be the best, the drive to always work harder. For these few hours, I didn’t allow the words my father had drilled into me my entire life affect me. I just...forgot. Joked around with a few of the guys I’d kind of gotten to know. If I hooked up with some girl, that was always cool, too.
I snorted at myself. Really, that was the goal. Hang out with the guys, go home with someone with the intention of just feeling good for a few hours.
Sam and Tom stood on the other side of the coffee table, provoking each other, little jabs and shoves, the two so blitzed out neither could stand up straight. I knew what was coming. The two couldn’t seem to keep from making fools of themselves. I was always glad I remained on this side of the show, there to make fun of them for the stupid things they did. I wondered how many brain cells I lost every weekend just being in their presence.
The sad thing was, I actually enjoyed it, especially when I’d gotten a few beers in my system and I was feeling as loose as I was right then. A slight numbness weighted my arms and legs, and a dull thrum hummed in my ears.
“I think shots are in order,” Sam announced. He disappeared into the kitchen and re-emerged a minute later with a bottle of tequila and plastic shot glasses.
“Who’s up for a friendly wager? Last one standing gets the pot,” Sam said, offering up a challenge. Every weekend, it was the same. Tom and a couple other guys each tossed down twenties. As always, I passed, though I partook in the pouring and slammed three shots myself.
Lost to You Page 3
