Текст книги "Right Next Door"

Автор книги: A. J. Pryor

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

My heart feels like it’s on a race to nowhere. Her scent is everywhere, her being a permanent fixture in my apartment. Every time I close my eyes, haunted green ones stare back at me. I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.

I have a raging headache and it feels like I swallowed a thousand cotton balls. I’m also completely naked and have a wicked case of morning wood. The smart me should go over, knock on her door and talk this out. Figure out exactly what it was I walked into last night, but the stubborn me, the part that reminds me I am my father’s son, no matter how hard I want to prove everyone wrong, wants her to come crawling back to my side. Beg a little harder for my forgiveness.

God, I’m such a prick sometimes.

The strong scent of coffee begins to filter throughout my room, and my hopes rise that she’s already here, knowing how much I need her. I hear footsteps in the living room, she’s trying to be as quiet as possible, but the walls are so thin, there’s no way I can’t hear the creak of the wood floor and gentle closing of the refrigerator door. Her soft footsteps near my room and my dick instantly reacts.

Awesome, we can hash this out right here and then get to making up, because I miss my morning girl.

Throwing the covers off and laying back on my arm, I can’t wait for her to see how much I fucking need her. My cock begins to pulse, understanding it’s about to go home and I get the sudden urge to stroke myself. Knowing how much that one act drenches her sweet core. Slowly I grip my cock and slide my hand up and down the hard length. My hangover is quickly vanishing and my desire is growing stronger by the second as my door slowly begins to open. I’m pulsing in my palm, her lust filled eyes invading my thoughts and shining bright. Her luscious lips opening in desire as I conjure up the best image of her I can, waiting for her to open that damn door all the way and replace my hand with her mouth.

My body is trembling, my hand working myself into a frantic need for release. It feels like it’s taking forever for that door to completely open and my balls are beginning to tense, my gut coiling up tight as my orgasm starts to crest. I try to hold off, try to still my hand needing to watch her face as I come, but it’s useless. My hand pumps faster, my grip tightens and her eyes shine brighter, her tongue juts out licking those perfectly curved lips. I’m done for, semen spurting out of my cock, my fist gripping myself tight as with a loud groan, I come all over myself.

Sitting straight up in bed, I’m covered in my own semen, my apartment silent, and the bedroom door firmly shut.

What. The. Fuck?

A dream. A fucking vivid as hell wet dream that I haven’t had since I was fourteen. That woman is going to make me lose my fucking mind. My heart is pounding furiously, and I’m panting as sweat coats my skin. And while I do have the makings of the world’s worst hangover, there is a lingering scent of coffee in the air.

Even after an intensely satisfying orgasm, I’m still sporting an enormous hard on as my body realizes what it craves is the real deal, not some conjured up image of my morning girl, but her, in all her perfect glory.

The excitement of having Addison here in the flesh begins to fade as memories of last night filter through my confused state. Matt, whiskey, Addison in nothing but a blanket her eyes filled with anger, and I was such a dick.

She let him put a ring on her finger. I couldn’t stay there and watch her struggle to take it off, couldn’t see another man’s mark on her body. It took enough strength not to kill him right there on the spot. I’d left her, alone—with him. Having no idea what he’d do to her once I was out of the picture. At this point, I’m just as bad as he is.

Fuck! I have to apologize and hope like hell she forgives me.

My phone is on my nightstand and I reach for it. Shit, she called and texted me all last night and I never replied. Throwing on my track shorts, I race onto my balcony.

Hers is empty.

I crawl over the dividing bars and try to open her glass door.

It’s locked.

I knock. Hard. There’s no answer.

Shit.

I crawl back over to search my junk drawer for her spare key. It smells like coffee and . . . Addison. She was here this morning. Had to have been. I hadn’t been fully asleep during that dream, my mind hearing her walk around, my body reacting to her closeness. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter with her favorite mug placed beside it ‘wine me dine me 69 me’. Her presence is everywhere, filling my home and invading my mind. Something crashes in my bedroom. “Addison?” Scanning my apartment for any sign of her I walk quickly in that direction. “Addison?”

It’s empty.

A framed photo that had been precariously hanging on the wall has finally fallen to the ground on its own accord—glass shattered everywhere.

My need to see her outweighs any thought of cleaning that mess up and as I race towards my front door, I grab the mug.

I don’t knock, I’m not subtle, and as fast as my fingers will allow, I let myself in to her apartment.

It’s eerily quiet, no smell of brewed coffee, no reality television blaring from her screen, not anything to let me know there is a living soul anywhere in this place. I walk into her bedroom and I know instantly.

She’s gone.

Her bed is made, the curtains open allowing the morning light to filter in. The closet door is wide-open, empty hangers litter the floor.

She left me.

Placing the mug on her nightstand, I pull out my phone and call her.

It goes directly to voicemail.

“Addison, where’d you go? Come back, Baby. Come home so we can work this out. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Sighing with the weight of a thousand pound dumbbell settled in my gut, I sit down on her bed and wonder how in twenty-four hours I could have lost her.

Heading back to my place I look over the railing to the parking lot, her car is noticeably absent.

I call Reed.

“What the fuck, Dude, it’s our day off. Why you calling at seven on a Saturday?”

“Sorry, man, but I lost Addison.”

“Talk.”

“Not much to say. We got in a fight. I turned into my dad for a few hours and this morning she’s missing.”

“Shit. I’ll be right over.”

Hanging up I call Paige.

“This cannot be good news. Why are you calling me, Damian?”

“Is Addison with you?”

“What? No. She’s supposed to be making up with you.”

“Paige, she’s missing.”

“Missing?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. I woke up this morning and she’s gone. It looks like she moved out.”

“What did you do to my girl?”

“I screwed up, Paige.”

“You have to make it right.”

“I’m not sure I can. Where would she go?”

“I have no idea. She told us she wanted to be alone. That was about eight last night. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“What about Mia?”

“I just texted her, she hasn’t heard from her either.”

“Paige, if she thought I’d screwed up beyond repair, would she take him back?”

“No.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because she’s stronger than that, even if she doesn’t believe it. And if you don’t believe it, then you don’t deserve her either.”

Silence. I pull the phone away and look at the call ended glaring me in the face.

I probably don’t deserve her, but I don’t care. We aren’t going to end like this.

“One espresso, please.” I can’t afford this, but I’m in desperate need of caffeine. Having to bolt before Damian woke up and found me in his kitchen, I didn’t spare a second pouring any of that black coffee into my to-go mug. A little over two hours later, and I now have a raging headache to add to my puffy eyes.

“That will be fifteen seventy-five.”

“Excuse me?” There’s no way I heard her right. The constant pounding between my ears must be interrupting my hearing.

“I said that will be fifteen—”

“Seventy-five. Are you serious? Starbucks isn’t even that expensive.”

She lifts a pierced eyebrow at me, her Taylor Momsen goth eyes staring me down. “This. Isn’t. Starbucks.” The bright red lipstick she’s wearing cracks as she does her best to keep up the tough girl frown.

“Yeah, yeah I know. You’re ‘Intelligentsia Coffee’, I get it.” Storming past the wooden booths, the ultra-hip skaters that just strolled in with their blue mohawks and the array of dogs leashed to poles outside, I walk three blocks down and find myself staring at the Pacific Ocean. Fleeing one seaside town to end up in another wasn’t really my plan, but somehow I’m in Venice Beach.

Walking south, I take in the tattoo parlors, bike shops and smoke stores that advertise water pipes. Everyone knows that’s just a fancy word for a bong, they’d probably get more business if they had a neon sign stating, ‘we sell top of the line bongs here, handmade!’

I’ve never been to Venice Beach before, and for a city right on the ocean, it’s nothing like my small town Santa Barbara. I could venture to say a day in this town would make a person more cultured than they ever wanted to be.

A small café is selling coffee to go and for a buck. Score! I take my Styrofoam cup and keep walking. The first few sips do the trick, and my headache begins to fade as I continue to take in my surroundings.

Shouting brings my attention ahead and my feet stop moving.

Is that what I think it is?

Slowly taking one step at a time, I move closer to the ginormous obstacle course that’s built right on the sand. My eyes can’t focus on anything but the bright colors in front of me, the massive size and the crowd that’s lined up outside.

“Hey lady watch where you’re going!” A bike speeds by and I’m immune to the fact he almost ran me over.

I’m here.

The set of American Ninja Warrior, exactly where Damian and I were supposed to be today.

Damian. My eyes fill with tears and my heart constricts. He doesn’t trust me to choose him; he doesn’t trust me at all.

Sitting down on the bench outside the stage, I can see the employees setting up for the show. From this vantage point I can almost view the entire set, be able to watch the contestants as they try to tackle their events. My eyes lock onto the bar that I know is the Salmon Ladder and my heart rate incrementally climbs a notch.

For hours I sit and watch, all the while, my mind is formulating a plan. It’s not until I watch Kacy Catanzaro complete the Salmon Ladder, when I jump up and shout in triumph, taking whatever strength she just used to complete that task and filtering it through my own system, that I finally know what I have to do.

“You don’t smile anymore.”

“What?” I’m at Emily’s bedside, playing a tough round of hangman when she drops that tidbit on me. She’s back at the hospital for one of her last chemo treatments.

“You used to always smile. Now you look sad.”

I give her a half-hearted attempt at a real grin, but fail miserably and go for the truth. “I am sad.”

“Girl problems?”

“What do you know about girl problems, Emily?”

“You smiled!”

I laugh a little. “I did?”

She fist bumps the air. “Yes, you did!”

Two weeks have gone by. Two fucking weeks and I haven’t heard a single word from the woman who crashed into my soul. Hours feel like days, days feel like weeks and each week has felt like the longest year of my life.

I’ve moved into her place. Sleeping in her big white bed, drinking out of her coffee cups and watching all of her recorded shows. Her cell never rings. Goes directly to voice mail each time I call. And texts? Forget it, they show up as undelivered.

Her friends are worried, and I’m losing my mind. I spend all my time at the track or with Emily, only walking into my place to grab some clothes. I’ve even succumbed to showering in her bathroom and using all her girly soap to get as much of her as I can.

My heart is broken, and I’m a complete mess. But I need to get my shit together around this little girl. She has enough to deal with to not have to worry about me.

“I’ll be okay, Sweet Pea. You worry about your health, and I’ll do my best to smile more. Deal?”

“Deal. What happened?”

Scratching the side of my head, I’m not sure how to answer this question. “We got mad at each other and she left.”

“Go after her.” She says this like it’s a no brainer.

“I would if I knew where she was.”

“Hellooo. Isn’t that what cell phones are for?” Wow, she’s pretty sassy for an eight-year-old.

This time my smile is genuine. “She won’t answer her phone.”

“Track it. You know, like GPS style.”

That makes me laugh. “GPS style? You’re watching way too much television in here, Emily. But I like the way you think.”

She’s quiet for a moment and then she asks, “Are you still mad at her? Because you know, people make mistakes and it’s important to forgive them.”

“You sound very wise for your age, Em. But no, I’m not still mad at her, worried about her, but not mad.”

She nods in understanding and suddenly Susie is calling my name.

“Hey Damian.”

Looking to the doorway, Susie is standing there, her arms crossed in front of her. “Hey.”

“Sorry, but your hour’s up.”

“It is?” I look at my watch and she’s right. For the first time in two weeks, I hadn’t paid attention to the minutes slowly ticking by.

I kiss Emily’s head and stand to leave. “Damian?”

“Yeah?”

“She’ll come back.” She sounds so confident.

“I hope so.”

“Crap, Addison. Where the hell are you?”

I smile at the sound of Paige’s voice. I’ve missed her.

“Walking up my front steps.”

“It’s about damn time. We’ve all been worried sick. I can’t believe you took off on all of us, without a word. Where have you been?”

It was a cowardly move to leave, but one necessary for my survival.

“I’ve been finding myself.”

She huffs. “Did you find her?”

“Eh, almost.”

“Damian is a basket case.”

I’m silent. Still reeling from that night, his words play repeatedly in my mind. But it’s time to face the music. After a month of soul searching and job-hunting, I have a plan. I bought a new phone and I’m walking up the steps to my apartment. It feels different, not like home. Everything feels different. Damian’s car is gone and I’m thankful I don’t have to face him just yet.

“Addison.”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever happened between you guys, I don’t think it was as bad as you thought.”

“It was bad enough.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t take off like that again. That wasn’t cool.”

“I’m sorry Paige. At the time, it was my only option. I’ll call you later and fill you in on my future.”

Opening my front door I instantly know something is different. My white shag rug is back in place, there are now two red pillows, not just one. It smells different, lived in and there are dirty dishes in the sink that weren’t there before. I head into my room and am shocked to see clothes thrown all over the place. Damian’s clothes.

A sick feeling of anxiety runs through me. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do what I have to, but it’s for the best and it’s for both of us. I put down my bag and begin to pick up his clothes. One T-shirt at a time. Meticulously folding each one then smelling it, rubbing the soft material against my cheek and burying my nose so deep in the folded cotton, trying to memorize the scent that is unique to only him. My thighs begin to tingle and a flash of lust sweeps through me, with the knowledge that the one man who holds the pieces of my puzzled heart is in close proximity, forcing my body to react the only way it knows how.

“You’re back.”

I turn, startled that I didn’t hear anyone come in. He’s standing in the doorway, his presence taking up the entire space, his aura filling the room. He looks bigger than I remember and he hasn’t cut his hair in a while, it’s growing longer and my hands twitch with an eagerness to know what it feels like.

His dark eyes are studying me, overflowing with worry, sadness and desire all at once. There’s an invisible line of tension running between us, neither of us knowing where to begin or how we allowed things to get so out of control in the first place.

I can feel him breathing across the room, his chest expanding and retracting, and I follow the motions hoping it will help my own breaths come easily.

He takes a step towards me and my heart slams into my chest. I can hear it pulsing in my ears. My skin feels heated, too hot and I start to sweat as nerves rack my system.

“Addison, look at me.”

I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes, hoping, praying this would all just be over. Slowly opening them, he’s right in front of me. Close enough for me to reach out and touch him, pull him to me. Balling my fists by my sides and setting my resolve in place to say what must be said, I take a slow steady breath.

“I’m moving.”

His eyes close and his face scrunches up like I’ve punched him in the gut.

“Don’t.”

“Next week, I’ve rented an apartment in Santa Monica and I’ve taken a job in a law firm down there.”

“Addison, I didn’t mean anything I said to you.”

“You were so mean.”

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes cast down, his head hung in shame. “I was so mad at you.”

“I didn’t say yes to Matt.”

He nods. And his hand rises to touch me but stops right before it lands on my cheek. “I’m sorry, Addison. I’m so unbelievably sorry.”

“You don’t trust me, Damian.”

He closes his eyes and fists his hands by his sides. “I do.” Slowly his eyes open and he relaxes his stance. “You let another man put a ring on your finger.”

“You shouldn’t have left me alone with him.”

“No. I shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “But seeing him mark you like that and thinking you said yes, it almost killed me.”

“I’m sorry.”

And I am. I’m sorry I let Matt in knowing nothing good could have come of it, I’m sorry I didn’t run after Damian when he left that night, I’m sorry I opened that door and allowed him to say all the nasty things I knew he didn’t mean, but most of all, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us.

“How is Emily?”

“She’s doing well for a very sick little girl. She asks about you.”

Squeezing my eyes shut and taking in a deep calming breath, I feel his hand brush my hair out of my face. “Where have you been, Addison?”

Slowly opening my eyes, I look into the face I’ve desperately missed. “Looking for the other half of me.”

“Did you find it?”

I sigh and sit on the bed, taking his hand and bringing him down beside me. His palm is rough, calloused, new blisters have formed, and I know he’s been killing himself at the track while I’ve been gone. So many things need to be said, so many unspoken words that he needs to hear. He’s shaking, his hand gripping mine as we sit side by side.

“Damian—”

“No, Addison. I don’t like the tone of your voice. You are not going to end us.”

I squeeze his hand tight and continue. “Leaving for a month, being completely on my own made me realize, I’ve never started over. I pretended to hit the restart button when you moved in. But a real restart is finding yourself and I’ve only found part of me.” I look into his sad eyes, hoping he knows he’s that part. “But I needed to find the rest and I can only do that by myself.”

He kisses me. His lips connecting with mine, his hand resting gently on my face.

This isn’t fair.

His other hand rises to my cheek and as both hands cup my face, he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside our joined mouths and dancing with mine. I’m breathless and he’s stealing all the air from my lungs. I place a hand on his beating heart and it’s racing as fast as mine. Sliding it up to his neck, I run my hand through the back of his hair and let the soft feel of it slip through my fingers. Breaking the kiss, I gently pull away.

He doesn’t let go of my face, his eyes searching mine. “I know what it’s like to fight hard to get yourself back, but Addison, you don’t need to do it alone. Let me go with you.”

I shake my head. “Maybe one day, Damian. But right now, I need to do this by myself.”

“Addison, I was hurt and mean and trying to run from something I should have been running towards. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. I’ll tell you about Megan, just please, don’t leave like this.”

His voice is hoarse and tormented. And while I know we can’t move forward until he tells me what happened that night six years ago, this move is about me and I would be making it either way.

“My whole life I’ve felt stuck, making decisions to stay put because I was too afraid to take a chance on life. I don’t want to regret my life, Damian. If I stay, if I let you take care of me, I’m no better off than I was five years ago.”

“That’s not true.”

“Damian, you walked in my apartment and automatically assumed in the three hours you’d been gone, that I’d taken Matt back. You don’t trust me to love you and maybe I don’t entirely trust you not to break my heart. Because I won’t survive that Damian. I need to do this, not for you, but for me.”

He stands and paces my room, rubbing the top of his head with both hands and breathing heavily in and out. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want, I won’t give you a dime, you can still move and we’ll do a long distance thing. I’ll do anything, but please don’t cut me out of your life. You may not need me, but Addison . . . I need you. I’m completely lost without you.”

Kneeling in front of me, he takes both my hands in his. “I barely made it through a day without you. Look around. I moved in here while you were gone, not being able to stand the sight of my own bed. You never answered my calls. I had no idea if you were dead or alive. Do you have any idea what that felt like, Addison?”

If only he knew the desolate feelings that ravaged my body this past month. The numerous times I almost broke down and called him, it was that feeling, the empty hollow pit in my gut that made this choice easier. By leaving, I take the risk of losing him forever, but the price of losing myself, is too great to ignore. This past month away opened my eyes to the life I’ve been missing. Watching people jump from peg to peg on that obstacle course in Venice a month ago, their strength to persevere and keep fighting stirred something inside me. Some of those contestants have failed multiple times on that obstacle course, and yet they keep coming back for more, they never give up and I can’t give up either. I love this man kneeling in front of me; love him with my whole heart, but that love means nothing, if I don’t believe in myself.

Taking his face between my hands, I look into his big brown eyes. “I have a week left here Damian. One week. I won’t cut you out, but being more than friends will only make this break harder.”

He buries his face in my lap, his hands caressing the top of my legs, his fingers skimming the skin just above the waistline of my jeans. Tiny electric jolts travel from his hands to my heart as his skin touches mine and I want to lie back and let him do to me whatever he wants. Take me one last time. But it wouldn’t be fair to him or me.

“There is no way I can be around you and keep my hands to myself, Addison. No way.”

Leaning down, I kiss the top of his head, breathing in his scent one more time. “Then I think you should leave.”

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he squeezes me tight, his head pressing into my stomach. He slowly stands, bringing me up with him. Placing my hand on his heart, “This is yours, you own it. When you’re ready, it will still be yours.” Leaning down he kisses me. “I’ll wait forever, Addison. But what we have—this only comes around once in a lifetime, don’t take it for granted. I know I was a prick, I can own up to that, but don’t use it as an excuse to run from us. You say you don’t want to regret your life. Then don’t let fear lead you away from me.”

He turns and leaves, not looking back. The front door closes tight and my heart, which had been flimsily trying to stay in one piece, shatters inside my chest.