by Linda Kage
It took Colton a second for the words to sink in. He was too busy switching his gaze between me and his brother, his expression revealing every suspicious thought zinging through him. Then he kind of paused before veering his attention to Brandt. “Wait. What? You quit your job at Forbidden? Why?”
“I’ll tell you all about it over coffee.” Brandt hitched his chin toward the nearest coffee shop located inside the student union.
But Colton took a step back. “No. I gotta get to class. I’ll see you later.”
When he abruptly swung away and strode off, my stomach hitched. I knew he was experiencing some of the same bitter jealousy I’d just suffered through minutes earlier. But I couldn’t give him the same reassurances he’d just given me, not with Brandt standing right there.
What was worse, Brandt noticed something off. He harshly yelled, “Hey,” at Colton’s back, trying to call him back, but Colton kept going. “Huh.” He scratched his head. “I wonder what’s gotten into him.” Then he seemed to notice I was still there. “Do you want some coffee?” he asked as if it would be rude not to invite me.
“Oh!” Not expecting the offer, I blurted, “No—I mean, no, thanks. I have class too, sorry. I should…I should get going too.”
“No problem.” He waved as I began to back away from him. “I’ll see you at work some night, then.”
“Or not,” I reminded, sending him a sad smile.
“Holy shit,” he burst out. “That’s right. We don’t work together anymore, do we? Whoa.” The realization seemed to hit him hard before he shook his head. “No, wait. I promised Pick I’d stay on until he found a replacement, so we may have one or two more shifts together before…”
Before we never had a reason to see each other again.
He didn’t say that, though I knew it was what he meant. I was going to hate losing him as a coworker, but losing him as a friend…that might not be so bad. Being his friend Sunday night might have given him helpful advice, but it had ended up hurting Colton. I didn’t like that.
Not sure what else to say to Brandt because this conversation had just gotten awkward real fast, I smiled and nodded. “Cool.”
“I’ll see you at work then.” When I turned away, I tugged my phone from my bag, needing to explain everything to Colton.
Then I waited…and I waited. Ten of the longest, most excruciating seconds followed before he responded with:
It’s fine? It’s fine? It was never fine when someone said it was fine!
Or was that just for women? Maybe guys really thought it was fine when they said that, but it didn’t feel as if anything was fine.
Scowling, I started to type again, determined to make him understand he didn’t need to be jealous. But when I realized what I was doing, I grew a little upset.
I didn’t need to explain myself. I hadn’t done anything wrong. And Colton had said it was fine, so…why was I still worried?
I put my phone away and started toward my next class.
The next morning, Colton didn’t text me with a countdown of how many hours it was until our next encounter. And then he didn’t show up at all to philosophy. My worry grew, yet I was too scared to message him and ask if everything was okay. When I got nothing from him on Thursday morning either, I decided it was over. He was done with me and moving on.
To add to my misery, cramps began to assail me along with that icky bloated feeling of an approaching nasty period before that started a few hours later.
JULIANNA’S CHAPTER | 24
I was curled up on my couch on Thursday evening, home alone because my roommates were once again away with their boyfriends, and unable to do much past hold a warm cup of hot tea between my hands and stare at the clock ticking at a sloth’s pace over the quiet television when a knock came at my door.
My pulse raced. Was it Colton? I hadn’t been sure if he’d show up. We’d made plans for tonight and he’d never canceled, but we hadn’t talked since Tuesday either. And after he’d strode off in his jealous huff, I had no idea where that left us, if his fine was really fine or not.
If only I weren’t so freaking stubborn and hard-headed, I could’ve pushed until everything felt fine to me, and then I’d know exactly what was going on in his head right now. I wouldn’t be so self-conscious and confused and scared that I’d just ruined everything between us.
God, these stupid period hormones were making me batty.
Hey, yeah, this could all be my hormones’ fault.
A little mollified that I had a scapegoat to blame instead of my own stupid self, I set my tea on the coffee table and wrapped the blanket draped over my shoulders more snuggly around me. Then I shuffled my Angry Birds slippers to the door. I didn’t check the peephole because I didn’t want to be disappointed.
So I opened the door blind, only for instant relief to pour through me when I revealed a grinning Colton on the other side, resting his hands on either side of the doorframe as if he were happy and eager to see me in return.
Except the smile died instantly when he took in my blanket, slippers, pajama pants, and even the head scarf I’d already wound around my hair for the night. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
He started to step forward, concern etched in his features. But I held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t think you were coming by tonight.”
Freezing, he arched a confused eyebrow before slowly saying, “But you said Thursday…right?”
I nodded, only to add, “And then you didn’t text yesterday or the day before that, and you weren’t in philosophy class yesterday.”
His mouth fell open as that oh-so-male shit, I fucked up expression crossed his face.
“My nephew, Beau, was sick yesterday,” he started. “Noel had important stuff going on at the high school where he works, so I skipped class to stay home with the kiddo. And he was really whiny and clingy and shit. I was busy running ragged trying to keep him happy so it didn’t upset Aspen all day yesterday and most of today. I just…it’s been a fucking blur. I totally forgot about our countdown texts. I’m sorry.”
Feeling instantly shitty because that was not the reason I thought he’d been avoiding me at all, I waved a hand, immediately forgiving him. “It’s fine. Don’t apologize. It’s not like the text messages were mandatory or anything.”
“But I like them too,” he argued, trying to step forward once more.
Huffing out a breath, I held up my hand, barring his way. “Look, it’s not going to happen tonight.”
When his mouth fell open and worry filled his eyes, I blurted, “It’s that time of the month, okay? This...” I circled my hand over my lap area. “Is closed for business until further notice.”
Then I slammed the door in his face and promptly burst into tears.
I’d really wanted to see him tonight too. I’d wanted to cuddle with him and rest my head on his shoulder while the pain pills did their thing and he rocked me to sleep. I wanted my man.
But we were only supposed to be about sex.
I hated myself even more because the last time we’d talked he’d had to watch me have a moment with Brandt, and now I was turning him down. What if he decided there was too much drama and messiness here and dropped me because of that?
I slumped back to the couch where I cried for a good ten minutes longer.
My hot tea wasn’t even doing it for me when a knock came at the door while I was still sniffling and miserable. Not wanting to talk to anyone, I didn’t move, ignoring the knock. But it kept coming until a muffled voice yelled, “Baby doll! It’s Colton,” to which I bolted upright and gaped at the entrance before I tripped in my haste to return to the door and yank it open.
“Wha…?” I started as he stepped inside, sweeping past me before I could bar him from entering.
He turned back to me, grinning, as he held up a grocery sack. “I come bearing gifts this time.”
“Why did you come back?” I uttered. This made no sense. “If you think anything in that sack
is going to make me change my mind—”
“Oh, no. No! Hell no.” He lifted his hand and shook it before backing away from me. “Trust me, I want no part of that. Jesus.” He shuddered for emphasis before pulling a handful of chocolate bars from his grocery sack. “I brought pick-me-ups.” When I only frowned at him, more confused than ever, he caught my gaze and asked, “What?”
I shook my head so he sighed and dropped the chocolate back into the bag. “Okay, fine. I know it’s only supposed to be sex between us, and there’s not going to be any nookie tonight.” He rolled his eyes before adding, “But look at it this way. I’m tending to my investment.”
That only confused me more. I squinted. “Huh?”
“Just because there are no flowers blooming in the garden this week, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still water the soil, you know, so I’ll have a better chance of seeing a nice pretty posey next week.”
“So…you think I’ll forget about you and drop you flat if I don’t see you for a few days?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s not test it. So…what’s your poison? The Notebook, Hitch, Dirty Dancing, or Waiting to Exhale?” He pulled each movie from the bag, one after another before he was holding them up in a fan of chick flicks.
I wrinkled my nose. “Eww. None of those. Are you crazy? I’m already a hormonal, emotional wreck and you want to add to that with some romance movie that’s going to make me worse?”
“Umm....” He shoved the movies back into the sack before slowly guessing, “No?”
I shook my head. “No,” I agreed.
His shoulders deflated and the expression on his face reminded me of an abused puppy who’d been kicked too much and had just been tossed out into a miserable, cold rain. Something uncomfortable slithered through me. I couldn’t treat Colton this way.
Letting out a breath, I tipped my head toward the hallway that led to my room. “I have Coming to America on Amazon Prime if you want to watch that on my laptop in my room with me.”
“Coming to America? With Eddie Murphy?” His eyebrows lifted with interest. When I nodded, his lips twitched into a smile. “God, yes, I would love to watch a comedy with you.”
Lunging toward me with a grin, he swept me off my feet, one arm under my knees, the other around my back. I shrieked in surprise and clutched his shoulders. “Colton!”
He froze in the entrance of the hallway, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Did that jostle your ovaries too much or something? Are you okay?” He promptly set me back down on my feet, as gently as possible.
I stared at him a moment before bursting out laughing. “Jostle my ovaries?” I wheezed between giggles. “Oh my fucking God, what?”
Sniffing, he picked me back up and started toward my room once again. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe shaking a woman too much during that time of the month hurts stuff, you know, down there.”
I cracked off another laugh, tears streaming down my cheeks, and had to hide my face in his shirt to muffle how loud I was giggling. But shaking a woman? “Oh God, you’re too funny. Where the hell did you come up with that idea? And exactly what do you think happens to us during our periods?”
“I think the lining of your uterus peels off because the egg you dropped earlier in the month wasn’t fertilized, and since there’s no baby to nurture, it all flushes out of you in a painful, bloody mess, fucking with all your hormones and emotions along the way. Why would I not think shaking that shit up might make it worse?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting out another laugh because his thought process actually kind of made sense. “Well, shaking us doesn’t hurt us at any time of the month.”
“Good to know.” He nodded seriously as he entered my room.
I couldn’t help but study his face as he set me gently on my bed. Shaking my head, I mused, “I can’t believe you’re so blasé about this. Every guy I’ve ever known has freaked out when the menstrual subject is even mentioned.”
“It’s just biology.” He shrugged while busying himself with pulling back the covers on my mattress before draping them over me and tucking me in nice and snug. “Every woman deals with it. Both my sisters, every girlfriend I ever had, even female teachers. Not sure what all those other idiot guys find so freaky about it?”
“Oh, maybe the fact that a woman can get downright homicidal during this time of the month.”
“Only if the dude handles the situation all wrong.” After fluffing my pillows and stacking them so I could sit upright against them, he helped me lean back before he turned away and spotted my laptop.
I watched him fetch it and carry it back to the bed, then open it and set it on my lap. He seemed to pause and run through a mental checklist through his head, then he asked, “Which candy do you want me to bring back? I brought chocolate of just about every variety, Skittles, Starbursts, Atomic Fireballs, Sour Patch Kids…”
Something warm and soft bloomed in my belly. Still unable to stop staring at his face, I asked, “Who are you?”
“Huh?” He’d been examining my blankets as if to make sure I was covered well enough. But his gaze snapped to my face. “What do you mean?”
“Why’re you being so nice to me?” I didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t know.” And he honestly looked stumped about his answer. Then he added, “It’s that time of the month. You’re miserable.”
I gulped and couldn’t help but say, “I’m not miserable right now.”
He made me feel very not miserable.
Grinning his dazzling amazing smile, he murmured. “Good.” Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to the center of my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
As he left the room, I pressed my hand to my chest and tried to figure out what was going on here. I’d already admitted to myself that I loved him, and yet what I was experiencing was so much more powerful than what I’d felt before.
This was plum crazy. How many freaking times could you fall for a single guy?
“I forgot, I also got Twizzlers and some iced coffees.” He pulled the bottle from his bag—it dripped with condensation because it must still be cold—and arched his brows as if asking me what my preference was.
Still too overwhelmed by everything, I looked up at him and said, “I just want you.”
He bloomed with pleasure, eyes sparkling and smile stretching, before he said, “Done,” and climbed onto the mattress beside me, scooting close enough that our shoulders mashed together and he could see the laptop screen as well.
Fishing through the bag as I logged into the movie, he came up with a Twix and broke it open. After popping one stick into his mouth, he silently offered me the other. I took it with a grin just as the movie started.
He kept sorting through the candy and sharing each piece with me all through the opening credits. I accepted whatever he handed over but didn’t eat any of it. I was too busy watching this new species my Colton had turned into.
“The royal penis is clean, Your Highness,” an actress on screen announced as she splashed her head up from under the water in front of Eddie Murphy’s character where he sat in an enormous bathtub.
Colton burst out laughing as he popped a handful of Sour Patch Kids into his mouth. When he glanced at me to share the amusement, he finally noticed I wasn’t paying any attention to the movie.
“Seriously, why do you keep looking at me like that?”
I shook my head, not really sure myself. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you? You’re acting...sweet.”
Huffing as if offended, he said, “I am sweet.”
“I guess,” I murmured, though he was taking sweet to a whole new level.
Not that I was going to complain. I wrapped my arms around his bicep, rested my chin on his shoulder and commenced to watch the movie with him. By the time the closing credits rolled, I’d fallen asleep.
I woke to Colton shutting my computer and easing it off my lap.
“Mmm,” I stirr
ed, burrowing closer to his warmth and amazing Colton smell.
He chuckled and kissed my hair. “I think I’m going to take off and let you get some sleep.”
I clutched him tighter and mumbled my resistance.
“You want me to stay?” he asked, tracing his fingertips along my cheek. I nodded, and he said, “Okay.”
He climbed off the bed to strip down to his boxer shorts, then he climbed back in with me and curled under the blankets around me.
Humming my appreciation, I turned to him fully and ran my hands up his smooth, warm chest. He’d been absolutely perfect tonight: patient, caring, sweet, charming. And nothing he’d done had been because he thought it would help him score. He’d done it just because, which made me want to repay him just because.
Pressing my mouth to the side of his neck, I ran my hand down his sculpted pecs and over his six-pack. Then my fingers burrowed inside the band of his shorts until I had a handful of hot, quickly growing flesh.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, tensing under me.
I kissed his bare shoulder. “I want to do something for you.” Then I started to lower my face toward his lap.
“No, it’s okay.” He caught my shoulder to stop me, then drew my hand out from his underwear and brought it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “You don’t have to do that.”
“What? Don’t you like blow jobs?” I teased, grinning mischievously.
Every guy liked blow jobs.
“Yeah, uh…actually…” He gave an uneasy laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”
My mouth dropped open. “What? Really?”
“Hey, I’ve only been sexually active for two years. I haven’t quite tried every position yet.”
My return grin was immediate. “Well, trust me, honey. You’re going to like this.” I went for his dick again but he caught my shoulder.
“No,” he urged softly, stopping me again. “I don’t…I really don’t think I will.”
I stared at his face and took in the worry in his features before sitting upright and crossing my legs.
