Complicated. She’s such a bitch.
Logan was right.
What started off as a distraction practically handed to me on a silver platter is now turning into something far more complicated. Good Lord, is there anything simple in my life anymore? The truth of the matter is, I don’t regret getting out of the house or running into Logan. Could I have handled this situation differently? Yeah, sure. But I can’t deny that I enjoy her company. She’s so bizarre and complex; she’s just different and refreshing in a way that seems off putting—but once you give her a chance, she’s not so bad. I guess I just wish we hadn’t come here. I wasn’t prepared for this. To see Addie, here, with Logan.
I know Addie saw me before I saw her. I can tell by the set of her shoulders. She’s tense—wound up so tight that she might snap any moment. The longer I sit here, the higher her shoulders rise. I don’t mean to upset her. I’m not doing it on purpose. If I could just explain! But she’s successfully avoiding this table like we’ve got the plague.
My frustration, no longer forgotten or pushed aside, seems to have escalated to another level. It’s like Sunday, multiplied by one hundred. To know that she was upset at church, about something I knew she wouldn’t be coming to me about later, felt awful. This? To know that she’s upset, but without any doubt as to the reason why, on top of the fact that I’m already going crazy without her, and now we’re in the same room and she’s giving me the cold shoulder like she never has before—
“Beckham? Are you even listening to me anymore?”
I inhale deeply, sitting up straighter as I focus my gaze back on Logan. “What? I’m sorry.”
She giggles as she shakes her head at me. “One day, I’m going to find out what’s in that head of yours that’s so interesting.”
I cough out a self-conscious laugh as I run my hand over my hair. “It’s not as fascinating as you might think.”
“You’re right,” she says, reaching out to tap her finger against my nose. “I’m sure it’s even better.” When she slips out of her chair and grabs her purse, my heart rate picks up a notch. “I’m going to run to the ladies room and then we’ll get out of here. I believe I’ve graced you with enough of my presence to cheer you up, for now. Oh, and if our waitress comes back with the check, don’t you dare try and pay—this is my treat. Got it?”
I feel bad about her paying for my meal and I fully intend on covering my half, so I neither confirm nor deny that I’ve got it. It doesn’t matter, though, as she’s gone before I have a chance to respond. As soon as she’s rounded the corner to head to the bathroom, my eyes are on the hunt for Addie. I spot her almost instantly, as she makes her way to the bar. I know that there’s no way I’m going to be able to leave without offering her an explanation, so I don’t hesitate to get up and close the distance between us.
I breathe deeper when the space that separates us is no more than an arm’s length. “Hey,” I murmur from behind her, where she stands focused at the register.
“Hey.” Her tone is clipped and she doesn’t turn to address me, but I can see her shoulders relax just the slightest bit. Knowing that our proximity has affected her just as it has affected me, I’m compelled to continue.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m working.”
“Addie—you’re avoiding me.”
As she spins around, she brings her fists to her hips and the hurt that contorts the features of her beautiful face about kills me. “Well, excuse me, I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
Her words are like a punch in the gut. “I’m not on a date and you know it.”
“Yeah, well does she? Because it didn’t look that way to me!”
I blow out a breath, feeling anxious and irritated. I don’t want to fight with her. That’s not our style—bickering and arguing and making a scene in public. At the same time, I need her to understand and yet she seems to have made up her mind already. “We ran into each other. She suggested we get some food. That’s it, Addie. That’s it.”
“I’ve been watching you for the past half an hour. Her hands—they were all over you! And you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of her.”
I choke out a sigh, appalled at her account of what she thinks she’s witnessed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do you find her attractive, Beckham?” she challenges me.
“Excuse me?” Did she really just go there? Are we really going to do this?
“You heard me. Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Oh, my gosh,” I mutter, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair. “Why are you asking me that? What does it matter?”
“Because—” She stops, at a loss for words. “Because—” I can tell that she’s starting to tremble with frustration and her breaths are coming in shallow intakes of air, the pace of which seems to match my own. As she stares into my eyes, her rich brown irises set ablaze with her contained fury and hurt feelings, I lose my grip over my self-control; and I have no fight left in me to wrestle it back into my grasp—so I do the next best thing.
In one step, I eliminate the space between us, sliding my hands around the nape of her neck as I crash my mouth down against hers. When she parts her lips for me, I plunge my tongue inside of her and she reciprocates with a tiny whimper. Her hands grip at my shirt, balling the fabric into her fists as we devour one another. This kiss isn’t just a kiss—it’s everything we aren't able to say to each other because we can’t find the words. The pressure with which we convey our passion and our hunger is so much, it’s almost painful. I feel her longing and her loneliness and her desperation just as much as I know she feels my struggle and my confusion and my ache for her. The love that passes between us in this moment is just as strong as the anger and the hurt. There is so much unspoken that I wish I could express now, here, with my mouth—but I know I need to stop.
If I don’t stop now, I might not be able to.
When I pull away, it seems to startle us both. I stare down at her and she stares up at me as we take a second to catch our breath. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from kissing her again, and I know that if I don’t put some space between us soon, that small act of resistance won’t be enough.
“Baby,” I speak softly but firmly. “It wasn’t a date.”
As I drop my hands away from her face, she lets go of my shirt. I inhale deeply, staying just a second longer to make sure my message has been received loud and clear, and then I walk away just as Logan returns to the table.
The whooshing sound that rushes through my ears and marks time to the rapid pounding of my heart is so loud I can barely hear anything else.
I didn’t mean to explode; didn’t mean to lash out and accuse him—but I couldn’t help myself. After watching them together for the first half an hour of my shift, I had too much bubbling up inside of me to avoid the eruption that came by way of accusation when Beck came over to speak to me. We don’t usually rant at each other, let alone when we’re in public, but I lost my temper. The pain of seeing them together blindsided me like nothing ever has before.
I understand that I don’t know her. I get it that I’ve only ever been around her once, while intoxicated—but under the influence or not, a woman knows when another female can’t be trusted. I won’t deny that I hate the sight of them together, regardless of whether or not it’s a date. Her with that perfectly blonde hair and impossibly beautiful facial structure and those legs that seem to go on for days. Not to mention Avery’s account of how she seems to act around men. And the still, small, voice inside of me that is my instrument of reason—my internal representative that reminds me that Beckham loves me and that I trust him—it never stood a chance against the force that is Logan. I might not know her, but I don’t have to know her to see that she is a force to be reckoned with.
But then that kiss.
I still feel the pressure of his mouth against mine, even as I watch him return to his table. I know that my lips are likely swollen and red, but I do
n’t care. That kiss—he’s never kissed me with that much fervor before. While I know this changes nothing in regards to the status of our relationship, I feel like something has shifted between us.
As his mouth consumed mine, I felt so much more than his words could ever say—and his aggravated affection wasn’t just a conversation about tonight or our argument over Logan. It was about everything that he’s been feeling for the past four and a half weeks. He wasn’t the only one conveying how he felt, either. As my tongue twisted with his, I revealed what I’ve been holding back, too. I can honestly say that it was the most powerful and emotionally charged moment we’ve ever had.
“Hey, are you okay?” asks Roman, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I breathe as I offer him a nod. My focus is still on Beckham. I watch as he and Logan pay for their meal and leave the pub, but the ache in my chest is no longer as paralyzing as it was when I first walked in and saw them together.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” I ask, finally bringing my eyes to meet his.
“That kiss.”
I don’t notice that I’m smiling until I bring my fingers up to trace my lips. “A reminder…”
No, that kiss changes nothing; we’re still not together and I know that our time apart going forward will be just as hard—if not harder—than it has been so far. But I needed it. No, we needed it. That kiss. That moment. That declaration. That reminder.
“A reminder of what?” Roman probes.
“A reminder that I’m still his. And he is mine.”
When Addison, Avery, and I walk into the Grant’s home, it’s silent and temporarily vacant. I breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful that I have more time before I come face to face with my girlfriend’s parents. Everyone thinks I’m ridiculous for being nervous. I’ve met Mr. and Mrs. Grant before and I’ve been a guest in their house a few times over the last three years—but it’s never been like this. I’ve never stayed the weekend. I’ve never been a part of any of their family gatherings. I’ve never been introduced as Avery’s boyfriend.
I didn’t grow up with parents who cared who I was dating. In fact, I can’t even be sure Patrick ever realized when I brought a girl home—although, that was certainly rare and I never brought anyone around the house when I thought he might be there. It’s also been years since I was introduced to a girl’s parents with the title of boyfriend hovering over me. Yet, it hasn’t been so long that I don’t remember that along with the title comes the tendency for moms and dads to be a lot more interested in who I am and where I come from. I know that Avery has made her choice; I know that she’s chosen me, but I also know that she loves and respects her parents very much. She refuses to believe that I’m not good enough for her—but what if that’s what her parents believe? Then will she finally see? But it’s also so much more than that…
“Hey. Hottie!” I’m jerked out of my head at the sound of Avery’s voice, along with the tug of her hand.
“What?”
“You are really freaking out.” She smiles before she brings my hand up to her lips, where she kisses the back before she lets me go. “Stop. Really! It’s going to be great. Besides, your hands are getting all clammy and that’s gross.” When she and Addison giggle, I can’t help but smile. “Come on. Follow me.”
I do as I’m told and we head upstairs where I deposit Addie’s bag and then Avery’s into their respective rooms. Next, we head down two flights of stairs leading to the finished basement. There’s a spare room that’s straight and tidy where I discard my things. Ave holds out her hand for me to take and I teasingly wipe my palms on my shorts before I lace my fingers with hers. She leads me back upstairs and then out onto the deck that extends into the backyard from the side of the house. We walk by the outdoor dining set as she takes me to the cushioned porch swing on the far side of the deck.
“Sit,” she instructs.
“You’re bossy today,” I chuckle as I do as I’m told.
“You’ve left me no choice,” she replies as she sits beside me. Her legs are curled under her, propping her up so that we’re eye level with each other. “I know I’ve been teasing you, but you really have nothing to worry about. Just relax.”
“Okay,” I reply with a nod.
“I didn’t think you’d get this nervous. I thought it would pass once we got here and you remembered that this isn’t your first appearance.”
“But it is,” I sigh. “Now, I’m your—”
“Boyfriend. I know. And I love you, so they will, too.”
“I hope so.”
She cups her hand around my cheek and turns my face so that I’m looking directly into her eyes. I admire the view—her pretty brown irises and cute button nose; her full heart shaped lips and her narrow chin. Her hair is down, the way she likes it the best, and hangs on either side of her face, hiding her ears. I want to kiss her, a desire that never seems to go away, but when I look into her eyes, I see that she’s busy—busy looking for something in mine. It makes me pause. This is something that she does. I can’t ever say what she’s looking for, but I can always tell when she finds it. Or when she doesn’t, like now.
“Tell me why you’re so worried.”
“I just want to make a good impression. That’s all.”
“No, it’s not. You can’t fool me, Grayson O’Conner.” She moves so that she’s sitting in my lap—my favorite place for her to be, and she knows it—and then she slides her hands around the back of my neck so that she might play with the ends of my hair. “They know how much you mean to me. They also know how wonderful you are because you’ve been a part of our group since freshman year. You’re Hammy’s best friend—whom they adore—so you already have made a good impression. Now, what is it? Tell me.”
There she goes again, calling me out on my crap answers. Normally, it would be easier for me to come clean. My love for her does that, encourages my honesty and my vulnerability. Today, though, the answer she’s looking for—the question she’s asking—it’s not even something I feel comfortable addressing myself. It’s not that I don’t know what I’m feeling or thinking, it’s just a lot to hope for.
“Hey,” she whispers before offering me a light kiss on the lips. “Please? Let me in.” She kisses me again before resting her forehead against mine and I can’t deny her any longer.
“I don’t want them to just like me, Ave,” I murmur, rubbing my hands up and down her sides anxiously.
“Then, what do you want?”
I breathe out a chest full of air, surprised how hard it is for me to have this conversation. It’s not that I’m afraid of what she’ll think of me—it’s more that I’m still trying to wrap my own head around my desires. Everything with Avery is different and new. Lord, what are doing in my heart with this woman in my arms? It’s like He’s knocking down walls and revealing needs I didn’t know I had—or didn’t remember I had—have. I don’t know if I can handle this, God—I can’t tackle these things; these concepts are foreign to me and it freaks me out to learn that they’re a part of me. After going without for so long…
Avery kisses me again, only this time she doesn’t pull away. As she coaxes me out of my head with her lips, I hug her to me. Her affection is gentle and I let her lead, somehow knowing that she’s trying to tell me something. I can feel her love for me and her reassurance that she’s not going anywhere—and I breathe it all in as I return her kiss. When she finally pulls away, I know it’s my turn to speak.
“You’re my family, Avery.”
Oh, shit. I just said that.
I don’t know where those words came from.
As soon as they pass from my lips, my heart starts to pound inside of my chest and I wonder if she can hear it—hear the anxiety coursing through my veins. Because even though I hadn’t planned on saying those words, they’re true; and not only are they true, but they encompass everything that I was trying to figure out how to explain. I hadn't really been able to define the feeling un
til just now. Lord, what is it about her that makes me this way? I'm a freaking open book and I can't seem to hide from her.
Do I want to? I search Avery's face and I know that it can't be helped. As long as she wants me, she has me. Hasn’t it been that way since our first kiss? Maybe even before…
Until Beck and the rest of the Willis family, the only family I knew was Uncle Charlie. Rhonda and Patrick have only ever been parents on paper; in real life, I only knew their love when I was too young to remember. With my Uncle Charlie, I was taught what it meant to be connected to someone. I wasn’t an obligation or a responsibility. When I lost him, I thought that was it. That I’d just be alone—but Beck’s family has always welcomed me like I belong to them. Even still, it doesn’t match the way Avery makes me feel. Her love is everything to me. I didn’t think we would get here this fast—that I would feel this way, but she’s more than I thought she could be. Yet, the weight of the truth could be too much, too soon for her. She loves me, but what if she can’t bear to carry my truth?
What if she doesn’t want to?
For a minute, she doesn’t speak, and I begin to regret ever opening my mouth. Then I notice her eyes have become glassy with tears and I start to panic. Shit. Shit. Shit. I knew I’d be the one to mess this up—and now I have. The last thing I ever wanted was to scare her away with my past; I swore to myself that I would protect her from it, even if it meant protecting her from me. I didn’t think I—I didn’t know that I…
Dammit.
Grayson’s Filter-0. Avery’s Red Flags-1.
“Sonny,” she murmurs. There’s a tremble in her voice and as she attempts to collect herself, my heart rate picks up another notch. I have no idea what she’s going to say and I can feel my muscles bracing for impact as if a linemen is about to take me down. Only I know that whatever she says has the potential to hurt so much worse than that ever could.
“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known.” My heart skips a beat. “I love you so much. I can’t imagine how anyone, anyone, could ever abandon you or hurt you—especially not your parents. I’m so sorry that happened to you; but I’m more than happy to share my parents with you. I know, I know that once they get to know you, they’re never going to want to let you go. Just like I never want to let you go.”
The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) Page 29
