Interesting. "Well, let me think. There are so many to choose from," I say, shooting him a wink as he lifts his beer bottle to take a drink. "Got it!" I say, snapping my fingers. "It's nothing too special, but do you remember that summer our parents signed us up for the local kickball league?"
A smile lights up Tyson's face and he pulls his beer bottle back enough to speak.
"Of course I remember. I got chosen to be a captain, and I thought I was hot shit! We were on the same team," he says and I smile and nod at his correct recollection, "and everyone made fun of me because you were the only girl in the league and I picked you to be on my team. Ha! We ended up getting first place."
My eyes burn at the memory and I swallow hard. "That was the best summer for me, and that memory stands out above all the others."
He tilts his head. "Why? I mean it was sort of uneventful. Fun, but uneventful."
"Because you picked me first," I reply wistfully. Tyson watches me carefully, his milk-chocolate eyes searching mine. I can tell he's trying to remember, but it's not clicking. "And, it's the first time you told me I was your best friend."
"You remember that? Why don't I remember that?" he asks disappointedly.
"You didn't care what any of the other kids thought." I smile as the memories flood my mind. "Later that same night, we were sitting on the porch swing and I asked you why you chose me. You looked at me like I had asked the stupidest question and you said, ‘Because you're my best friend.’ That moment was—is—so special to me. I'll never forget it."
"Wow. I, umm…" he trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.
"My turn!" I chirp, effectively redirecting the conversation away from my sappy memory and giving him the reprieve he needs. "What's your favorite childhood memory?"
My eyes roam the table and land on the seven shot glasses still sitting in the center. "Wait! Let's do a shot."
"Why are you so hell-bent on drinking? Didn't you get all that out of your system...oh, about six years ago?"
"Well, if you must know, I really haven't gotten the chance to indulge myself much over the past five years and now I have the opportunity. I have no responsibilities this weekend and I'm going to take full advantage of it." Tyson's face drops slightly but he recovers quickly, handing me a shot glass. "Cheers." Tapping my glass to his, I take the shot and cringe.
What the fuck is wrong with me? That shit could burn the hair off a bald monkey.
"That," I say, pointing my finger at Tyson, "was another question, so I get to ask the next two." Laughing, he waves his hand across the table, conceding to my demand.
"So, what's your favorite childhood memory?"
I can see the memories flit around in his head based on the nostalgic look that crosses his face, but he doesn’t take much time to come up with his response. "I'm not sure I ever told you this, but when I was younger—I can’t remember how young exactly—Dallas would hide under my bed. Sometimes he would do it in the middle of the day, other times at night, but he would be really quiet and when I was relaxed or maybe even on the verge of sleep, he would use his hands and feet and bang on the bottom of my mattress." Scooting forward in his seat, Tyson fights back a laugh in order to finish his story. I want so badly to smile back at him but fuck me, the mention of his brother is like a punch to the stomach and I pray that he can't see my discomfort. "Damn," he continues, "that used to scare the living shit out of me. I think that one time he scared me so bad, I actually pissed my pants."
"That's a nice memory." A twinge of disappointment flashes through me that his favorite memory doesn't include me, but I quickly shake it off. Tyson worshipped his brother so I shouldn't be surprised.
He shakes his head and takes a drink. "That's not the part that makes it the best. I would always get so mad, but then I would see Dallas rolling around on the floor, laughing uncontrollably with his arms wrapped around his belly. He would laugh so hard that he would cry. That's what makes it my best memory. I don't remember a lot of happy times with Dallas, but that memory stands out. When I think of Dallas being happy and healthy, that's what I think about."
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, the emotions floating off of us are practically palpable in the air. I finish my drink and signal for another round after Tyson finishes his.
"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together. "If that little trip down memory lane doesn't call for another shot, then I don't know what does." I don't respond, instead I smile knowingly and grab a glass, joining him in another shot. "Your turn again."
I look around the bar slowly, contemplating my next question. When did they dim the lights? I look down at my watch and I'm surprised at how much time has passed. The fight on the TV seems to have ended and a band is setting up their equipment on the small stage. I'm glad that we arrived early enough to get our own table, but a small part of me wishes that we were forced to squeeze in next to each other by the bar. That way I could accidentally brush against him or—
Friendship, Harley, I remind myself. You're supposed to be getting to know him again, not finding ways to molest him.
"Alright. Next question." Taking a deep breath, I relax back into the booth. I can't believe I'm about to ask him this, but it's killing me. I need to know. "So, what happened with Brit? Why did you guys break up?"
Tyson goes still. His eyes bounce around my face nervously, and I can't help but wonder what he's nervous about. It's an easy question. There is a reason for the breakup, and I want to know what that reason is. His eyes widen slightly, and I can see the battle ensuing behind his russet gaze. He inhales deeply and runs his hand across his mouth. Reaching for his beer, he takes several long drinks while my mind starts running in a million different directions about what could have happened between him and Brit. I can see it in his eyes—he isn't going to tell me.
Cocking my head to the side, I raise my eyebrows, silently encouraging him to answer the question. My anticipation is quickly slashed when he averts his eyes and takes a shot.
"Now who isn't answering the hard questions?" I murmur sarcastically.
"You have your reasons for not answering my question and I have reasons for not answering yours. No more arguing about question selection, remember?"
I tip my head and glass at him in acceptance of his response, and then what he says next both excites and scares me. "I'm going to tell you what happened with Brit, but now isn't the right time. I need us," he says, waving his hand between the two of us, "to be in a certain spot and we aren't there yet. It may take awhile before I'm comfortable enough to give you that answer, but I promise you, Harley, it will happen."
Reaching up, I twist my finger around a lock of hair and start twirling it in an attempt to calm my nerves. I study Tyson's face, trying to see what's going on behind that dark gaze, but he's closed off. I can't tell what he's thinking. "Your turn."
"Were you and Levi ever together?" Goddamn, he's making this hard. I reach across the table and take another shot. "Seriously? You're not going to answer that question either?" he snaps.
"Nope, I'm totally going to answer you...I just needed a shot first. You know, liquid courage and all." I reach down and check my phone for any missed calls. I know I'm stalling, but I need to think this through. He doesn't know I know he came back for me. Maybe Tyson is just trying to figure out if Levi was telling the truth. Picking my words carefully, I straighten my back and prepare for the conversation that I should have known would come.
Tyson casually sips his beer, his eyes trained on mine, watching me curiously. "Levi and I have had an interesting friendship," I say slowly, giving myself time to think of the right way to tell him everything. Taking a deep breath, I find my resolve and continue. "We were never in a relationship. But we, umm...we had more of a ‘friends with benefits’ thing going."
He furrows his brows and his lips clamp together, forming a thin line. Ironically, I find the glare he's giving me erotically sexy. If he gave me this look in bed, I'd expect him to follow it up with a firm s
mack to the ass. I let my eyes close and internally roll them at myself. I know I shouldn't be having these thoughts, but I can't help it. He's sexy as hell and I've thought about him every day for the past five years. Here he is, sitting in front of me and looking better than I remember...how in the hell am I supposed to keep my thoughts PG?
Okay, I battle with myself. A little ogling and fantasizing has never hurt anyone. I'll just keep it to myself.
"Impossible," he says with a shake of his head. "No male and female can have an honest-to-God 'friends with benefits' relationship and keep all the emotion out of it." He's upset. I can tell by the tick of his jaw and the way his arms are crossed over his chest, effectively closing himself off.
"I disagree. You can believe what you want, but I'm telling you the truth. Levi and I have no emotional connection other than that of friendship. We were using each other and that's all. Nothing more."
"Using each other? I don't understand."
"I don't expect you to understand because you don't know what I went through after you left. No," I stop him as he starts to open his mouth, shaking my head, "let me finish." Tyson reaches out and grabs a shot glass, downing the dark content. He lets the glass land roughly back on the table and he watches me...waiting. I reach across the table and grab the final shot glass, keeping my eyes trained on his as I down the clear liquid. A warm sensation rushes to my arms as the alcohol starts to take hold in my body.
"A lot happened after you left, Tyson. I was in a dark place for a long time." My head drops between my shoulders and regret overwhelms me. Tears threaten to slip out but I fight them back.
I can't look up at him. I don't want to see the questions in his eyes. He wants specifics. He wants to know what I'm talking about, but I'm not prepared to tell him tonight. Soon...but not tonight. "There were times I didn't think I was going to make it,” I continue finally. “I had a lot of dark thoughts running through my head. There were a few times I thought my parents were going to have me hospitalized—"
"Because of me?" he interrupts frantically, and I flip my head up to find his face awash in panic. "You were like that because I left?"
"Oh, God no," I reply, shaking my head vehemently. I don't think twice about reaching across the table and gripping his hand in mine, and he doesn't move away. Scooting forward on the seat, I need to convey to him that what happened to me was not his fault. "Please don't think that. Several things happened after you left to get me to that point, but you...you were always a light in my life. Don't get me wrong, I was so mad at you for walking away." He opens his mouth, but I shake my head again. "But I was more mad at myself for being the reason you walked away. I hated myself for what I did to us." My voice cracks and I try to pull my hand back, but he grips it tighter, preventing my movement.
He laces his fingers through mine and cups my hand between his. Leaning his head down, he rests his forehead on our joined hands and takes a deep, shaky breath. We sit like this for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
His eyes remain hidden from my view and he speaks softly into our hands. "I can't tell you how badly I want to have this conversation, but I really don't want to do it here." Looking up, his dark chocolate eyes swirl with emotion. "And I really want you completely sober when we do talk."
"Okay," I concede. "But can I say one more thing?"
He nods his head solemnly.
"Levi and I are friends. We will never be more than friends. Please believe me. It doesn't matter what we've done in the past, we are just friends—nothing more. I swear I wouldn't lie to you about that." I'm hoping that the conviction in my voice tells him how serious I am.
"Did you love him...when you guys were..." he trails off, obviously at a loss for how to categorize what Levi and I were.
"I wasn't in love with him, no. Do I love him? Yes. He's been my rock and he got me through those really dark times, and I will always be grateful for that. But the love I have for him is completely platonic."
His shoulders relax slightly at my words and I can see some of the tension drain from his face.
Standing up, he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and drops a stack of money on the table. "Let's get out of here."
I stare at him awkwardly and reach for my purse. "Neither one of us should be driving."
"We're not going to," he replies, reaching out for my hand. "Your place is only about a mile from here. We'll walk."
I look at him and cock my head to the side, his hand still stretched out for me to take. "How do you know where I live?"
He chuckles softly. "You texted me your address for tomorrow night, remember?"
"Oh yeah. I forgot."
"The rental house is only about a mile from your place, so I'll walk home from there." I place my hand in his, and his strong fingers wrap snugly around mine as he helps lift me from the booth. Fuck me. Even his hands are sexy. They're strong, tan, and calloused like he works outdoors, not soft and manicured like I would expect from a doctor.
My head spins slightly with the position change and I lean into Tyson for a second to regain my balance.
"Are you okay? I didn't think we drank that much, but I can call us a ride if you need me to."
I squint my eyes and cock a brow at him. "I'm not drunk. I'm just feeling good. I'll be fine to walk, but first I need to break the seal."
He barks out a laugh. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Right before we have to walk home? Usually once you break the seal you can't stop."
"Oh, I'll be fine." Patting his arm, I walk off in the direction of the bathroom.
When I return, Tyson is leaning against the end of the bar, waiting for me. As I get closer, a bright grin flashes across his face and the sheer joy and beauty of it causes me to stumble. He's so damn gorgeous.
He reaches out but I manage to steady myself. I stop in front of him, noticing that he still has that grin on his face. I look down to make sure I don't have toilet paper stuck under my shoe. "What?" I ask, looking at him questioningly.
"I was just being a rebel." His smirk grows, causing twin dimples to form on his face.
What? Maybe he's the one that's had too much to—ohhhh. Understanding dawns and I return his smile. "I knew you'd read it eventually." Swinging my purse over my shoulder, I move past him and sashay toward the door.
"I like you too," he murmurs behind me. I keep walking, but I'm sure I look like a complete idiot with my big, goofy smile.
WE STEP OUT INTO the cool air and a light breeze throws Harley's hair up around her face. She doesn't make a move to fix it but just lets it float around, landing where it may. That's one of the things I love about her—she doesn't care how she looks. Brit would have never walked a mile home from a bar, and if the wind started to blow her hair around, she would've freaked out and instantly began to tame it. But not Harley…nope, she doesn't care.
I needed to get out of the bar before I broke down and did something stupid like gather her in my arms and beg her to leave Max. Not to mention, she had me on the verge of an emotional breakdown when she spoke about how hard of a time she had after I left. When she reached out and grabbed my hand, I was floored. Harley and I have touched a lot throughout our lives, but this time it felt different. I can't explain it, but the light touch of her hand on mine instantly relaxed me, and suddenly I could think straight and everything made sense.
Goddamnit. I've gotta stop this. Reaching down, I adjust myself. I'm really just making sure my balls are intact and I didn't grow a vagina.
In a few quick strides, I catch up to Harley. I nudge her with my shoulder and she stumbles slightly to the right, causing both of us to laugh. "Tell me something random."
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye and smirks. "I read erotica."
My jaw drops. Okay...I wasn't expecting that. "You do not!" I respond, shaking my head.
"Oh yes, I do! But I don't care if you believe me or not. I gave you a random fact. Now you."
"I hate ban
anas because they're slimy in the middle," I share.
She throws her head back and laughs but keeps going. "I'm addicted to chapstick."
"I went streaking with some med school buddies in New York." She stops dead in her tracks and turns to me, eyes wide.
"You did not! I don't believe you."
"I did so, and it doesn't matter if you believe me or not." She smiles knowingly when I throw her words back at her and we keep walking.
"I wear granny panties." Now it's my turn to laugh at her random fact.
"You mean you don't wear thongs?" I ask, feigning exasperation.
"Hell no! I'd be digging that thing out of my ass all night long." Yup, there's another thing I love about her.
"I'm scared of owls," I admit.
"Me too!" Her eyes gleam with excitement and in that moment, I see Harley. My Harley. The girl I grew up with. The girl I remember before I left. Open, honest, and sweet as hell. The urge to touch her is too strong and I can't fight it. I swing my arm across her shoulders and pull her into me. She hesitates for a brief moment and then snuggles in next to me as we continue our slow walk home.
The one-mile walk, which should have probably taken us about fifteen minutes, ended up taking forty-five. Mostly because we were laughing so hard we had to stop for frequent catch-my-breath breaks. We talked about everything from favorite flavors of ice cream to future dreams. But something felt off. Even though she opened up, telling me both things I already knew and a few that I didn't, I still felt like she was holding something back. I felt like I was missing...something.
"This is me." Her words pull me from my thoughts and I look up to find us standing in front of a small, brick, ranch-style house. The porch light is on, bathing us in a dull yellow glow, and I pause for a second to take in my surroundings.
Her yard is manicured and several bushes line the front of the house. A small yard swing sits off to the right under a large oak tree, and a pinwheel spinning in circles is nestled in the landscaping. An overwhelming sense of pride runs through me, knowing that she did this—she got herself here.
Where We Belong Page 12
