Текст книги "Let Me Go"

Автор книги: Michelle Lynn

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“FUCK!” I FLING the lid to the pot across the room. The flame sizzles out once the water pours over the side. I was positive I could nail this new recipe tonight. This is my consequence for watching a cooking show at three in the morning half asleep. Every time I dream about the damn dish and then wake up craving it. Stupidly, I try to recreate it from memory and fail miserably.

Go figure, me fail at something.

“Sounds like the dinner’s winning.” Paige sails through the back door, her backpack swung over her shoulder and a smile in place as always. The girl is definitely posing a cheery act, because no way can one person be so damn nice and happy as much as her.

“I got it, just wait and see.” I grab the potholders and pour the pasta into the strainer. “Dinner is in fifteen,” I call over my shoulder and she scurries behind me, stealing a noodle.

She sucks the long noodle through her lips, and I watch her, imagining a specific part of my body in that delicate mouth. “Ummm . . . good.” She smiles and then sneaks past the doorway. Man, she’s got me wound tighter than a guitar string.

Paige is easy, not requiring a lot of effort on my part to be around her. She allows me to sexually entice her, and she politely shoots me down even though I’m positive her insides scream for me. Not sure if she’ll ever allow me to show her exactly how fucking should be done, but I’m enjoying this chase of come and get me. It’s like an adult game of hide and seek, except my prize will be a hell of a lot better.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I try to save the spaghetti sauce in the pot before it all burns to the bottom. I place the spoon back down as Hulk’s name flashes across my phone.

Hulk: Sorry man, Chrissy and I are hung up. We won’t be there for dinner.

Well, damn. Chrissy’s the one who organized this whole chart of who makes dinner and when. She said something about us being a family and we should have dinner together at least three times a week. I’ve tried to be at every one and the first time it’s my turn to prepare it with Paige here, they bail. A sly smile crosses my lips figuring Chrissy’s probably shitting herself thinking about Paige and I alone. I can’t allow this moment to go without some torture.

Me: I wanted some “quality” time with Paige, anyway.

That should build a rise out of Chrissy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran through the door panting in the next ten minutes. Splatters of red dots fly to every surface of the white stove and I quickly twist the knob of the burner off. Taking two plates out, I scoop two spoonful’s of pasta and then pour my homemade sauce over. Right as I place them on the table, Paige comes in with her long hair up off her neck and another T-shirt and pajama pants outfit. I swear this girl has more pajama pants than I have guitar pics.

Taking a sip, I catch the words on her pajama pants and almost spit out my beer. “Is that a fact?” I ask, eyeing the Satisfaction Guaranteed stamp, printed from waist to feet.

“I thought you’d like these.” She laughs, wiggling her ass a little as she opens the fridge to grab a drink. My eyes ransack her perfect apple ass and I examine closer when I don’t spot any panty lines. Then I wonder what she’d do if I cornered her against the fridge and my hands slipped into her waistline, molding her flesh in my hands. She pivots around and I quickly step to the left as nonchalant as I can. “Don’t steal them,” she giggles and then moves over to the table.

“Hell, they mold to your body a little too nice. But I’m thinking of a pretty sweet tattoo at the moment.” I hand her a fork.

“Thanks.” Her one leg is propped up and rests on the seat of the chair as she twirls the pasta around her fork. “Where are the others?” She asks right before she piles the ring of noodles into her mouth.

“They ditched us.” I sit down across from her, trying to keep as much space between us as possible before I ignore Chrissy’s wishes and up my speed with Paige to full throttle.

She nods and swallows her first bite. Her eyes light up and she places her fork down. “They are missing out. I have to admit I had some doubts when I walked in earlier.” From the humor in her eyes, I know she’s joking with me. I’ve begun to figure out her humor and when she’s serious after only one week.

“I kind of wish I ruined the dinner.” I wait for her to look up from her plate with confusion. When she peeks up with furrowed brows, I give her my reason. “Then I would have taken you out.” She tries to mask the corner of her lips bending up, but I catch it. She’s weakening.

“Maybe we should lay this out on the table.” She places her fork down, wiping her mouth with the napkin. Hugging her one leg tight into her chest, she stares me directly in the eye, placing a veil of seriousness over her face.

“The dinner is already out on the table.” I divert her because I know what she’s about to argue.

“Rob, we’ll never date.” She angles her head and I concentrate on one loose, curly strand falling down the side of her face. Her hair is perfect for winding around my finger and tugging right before her orgasm racks her body.

“Whoever said dating?” I arch my eyebrows at her, but this time her face forewarns no emotion to my humor.

“Or anything else that dirty mind of yours has in store.” She picks up her fork and points it to me before digging back into the pasta.

Picking my own fork up, I laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’d find great pleasure if I conducted the dirty thoughts in my mind on you.” This earns me a peek up through her eyelashes before she shakes her head slowly. She might think she’s hiding her face, but I don’t miss that smile sneaking through.

“I have a feeling you don’t give up easily,” she quietly murmurs in to her noodles.

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

We sit in silence, the sound of forks scraping plates for a few minutes. The quiet is excruciating to me. Remembrance of that night in the hospital. After all the chaos, sitting there in that private room, hearing the words we already assumed. All we could do was sit there in deafening silence. It’s the reason I’d rather be the loudest in the room than to hear nothing at all.

“What are you majoring in?” I figure I might as well get to know the girl I share a bathroom with.

“Business.”

“Care to elaborate?” I pry for further details. “Business is about as generic as me saying I drive a car.”

She giggles and I hate what that sound does to my stomach. “True. Hospitality Management.” When I continue to sit there, staring at her for more details, she laughs again. “I’d love to run a hotel someday. One in New York or L.A. Definitely, in a major city.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you. You’ll think it’s stupid.” She stands up from her chair, moving to the fridge. I watch the swaying of her ass back and forth and then adjust in my seat.

“Try me.” She holds up a beer in the air, silently asking if I want one. “Water, please.” She nods and then grabs two waters, placing one in front of me. “Thanks.”

She twists the cap off her water and props up her foot on the chair again. “I went to this hotel once with my dad. I was eight and he left me in the room. Me being the curious kid I was, ventured out of the room and began to explore the hotel.”

“Sounds like something I would do.” She smiles and nods.

“I ended up following the manager around for most of the day, and there was something about how he flawlessly handled so many things. Moving from the kitchen, to a business meeting, to a press conference, to just greeting people in the lobby. It piqued my interest and it seemed like a cool job. You get to make people happy, help them create memories.” She shakes her head. “I told you, stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She hesitantly looks up at me, and I smile to reassure her it’s not. “Eventually, he caught on. Asked me what room I was staying in. I told him that my dad left and then he let me spend the whole day with him. He took me to the kitchen, asked someone to make me a giant ice cream sundae. Since we were staying at the hotel for the whole week.”

I interrupt. “The whole week?”

She bites in the inside of her cheek. “Yeah . . . my dad travels a lot for work. But anyway, I learned the ins and outs that week of running a hotel and something about it just stuck with me.”

“That’s cool.” I pick up my dish and walk it over to the sink.

“It was.” She finishes her last bite and then brings the dish to the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean.” Her hand slides along mine, and she plucks the sponge out of my hand before knocking her hip to mine.

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” She smiles over to me. Her perfect teeth sparkling and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to deny myself. I want her.

She hands me a dish. “So, what about you? What’s your major?”

“I’m the drop out of my group.” I’m not ashamed of it. Do I occasionally wish I would have stuck with it and finished that last year of school? Sometimes. But truth is I’m not sure what I’d even want to do for the rest of my life.

“Oh,” her voice lowers. “So, is music your dream?”

“Maybe,” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m kind of all over the place.”

“Oh,” she repeats and suddenly the casualness of the room tenses.

“Why do I feel like I just disappointed you?” I place the pot in the dishwasher, not missing she’s yet to look at me again.

Her head snaps up. “No! That’s not it. It’s just I assumed you were in school. If music is what makes you happy, you should do it.”

“That’s the question of the year, isn’t it? I’m not sure yet. I mean, I love the guitar, I love being on that stage, but I’m not sure I have a future at it.” I’m more honest with her than anyone else except my therapist.

She spins around and leans against the counter, drying her hands with the towel. “If you could have a future in music, would you go for it?”

“That’s the thing. I went on tour with a band one year and lost my cool. Let’s say things didn’t go as planned and if it wasn’t for the smallest glimmer of light that guided me out, I’m not sure I would be standing here.” I’m sure she doesn’t understand my cryptic message, but she’s not supposed to. “I’m just not sure the music industry is for me, but I’d still love to be in a stadium with thousands of fans screaming my name.”

Her eyes focus on the floor and her hands twist in the dishtowel. As though she recovers, she peers up at me with a smile on her face. “You should pursue your dreams. You know, no regrets later on.”

“You sure philosophy isn’t your major?” I joke and she softly giggles. My undeserving need to hear that sound again, I don’t stop the words before they fall out of my mouth. “You want some ice cream?”

She hesitates, her eyes peering over to me and then a slow nod. “Sure.”

Perfect.

FUCKING MUSICIAN. OF course, how did I even allow my subconscious to convince me he was in school? Chrissy told me how Dex double majored, and that Brady has some great job. I guess I assumed they all were enrolled in college, or had graduated. But just my luck, the one guy I’m interested in dropped out. The story of my life, falling for guys exactly like my dad. Except, my dad didn’t even graduate from high school. He left his senior year and he’s damn lucky where he ended up.

Even though my body wants to sleep with Rob, my mind is able to stay in check because I can’t lose this room for rent. I’ve witnessed it a zillion times; roommates become lovers and then you’re out of the house.

Rob makes it hard. I find his eyes on me too often. When our vision connects and he licks his lips, or his breathing falters when I’m near, I find my control weakens. I swear I’ve even seen his hands reaching out to graze me, but he always pulls back. There were a few times I debated in my head, what if? Could I even deny him if he just sidled up to me and kissed me? Now, after finding out he’s entertaining a career in music, I have to steady myself and not let my body’s lust overrule my head.

His keys swing around his finger as we exit the house to his car. He’s casual, suave, and everything I hate that I love in a man. Acting like a gentleman, he follows me over to the passenger door. His hand brushes the small of my back and I arch from the surprise contact. “Sorry,” he says with too much sincerity and his hand retreats.

“It’s okay.” He opens the door and I flip around his way, smiling in some sort of assurance to his lingering touch. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind those shivers up my spine again.

We don’t talk much on the drive to Moo’s, an ice cream parlor. Music occupies the awkward silence, and I begin singing along. “You know this song?” he asks and I giggle.

“Did you think I didn’t know The Invisibles?” They’re the best-kept secret in Western and I’ve been a regular at their shows since last year.

“You never said anything?” he asks, eyeing me from the corner of his eye. His proud smile isn’t hard to notice. He’s impressed and I love that he is.

I shrug. “I guess I assumed you would expect me to.” I didn’t really think much of it. “But I don’t remember you at any of the shows.” When I face him, his lips purse and he nods his head.

“I left the band when I went on tour with Krypto. I was the original guitarist, but when I left they found someone to take my spot.”

“The blond guy?” He was good, but nowhere near as talented as Rob from what I overheard this morning coming from his bedroom.

His head spins in my direction. “Yeah.” He withdraws there and I sense whatever happened caused some disgruntled feelings.

“But now you are back with the band?” He nods again. “What happened to the other guy? They just kick him out?”

He stares out the window for too long and I wonder if he’s going to tell me. “He had a baby. Him and his wife.”

I smile. “That’s cool.” His voice doesn’t reflect happiness. “Is the guitarist spot yours now?” I’d hate it if it wasn’t. I’ve been excited to watch him perform with the band. He’s talented and although he hides under a tough exterior, you can tell he respects Brady and Dex.

“Yeah, I doubt he’s coming back for it.”

“That’s good.” I stare out the window as we pass the campus and head to the opposite side of town.

Rob reaches for the knob and lowers the volume. “I should probably tell you, because you’ll hear it from someone else and for some reason, I want you to hear my side first.” This piques my interest and I twist back his way to give him my full attention.

“The guitarist you saw is Grant, his wife, Jessa, was . . . my girlfriend. Shitty things happened and shittier things went down. End result, Grant got the girl.”

“Oh.” I’m surprised by his revelation and even more of his divulgence so early in our friendship. “I’m sorry.” What else do I say to that? Except for it sucks.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you, except you’ll hear things about me if you meet the other girls. I was an asshole, I admit it, but in the end Jessa got what she deserved. A man who loves her and only her.”

I scrunch my eyebrows and lean back in my seat. I’m not sure how to respond to his declaration. Is Jessa the girl that got away? Confirming to me once again, this boy has secrets. Although, I don’t want to be anyone’s rebound, Rob intrigues me too much to distance myself from him just yet.

I place my hand on his leg, noticing how his muscle twitches beneath my palm. “Don’t worry; I like to make my own judgments about people.” He stares over to me and a small smile forms.

Then his eyes shoot forward and I realize we’re pulling in. “We’re here.” He twists the key out of the ignition and exits the car before I can unbuckle my seatbelt. Touchy subject about his ex and although my curiosity is eating me alive, I’ll wait until he’s ready to open up with me to what happened.

I circle around the car, meeting Rob at the back of his Mustang. Moo’s is a black and white spotted building with pink lettering. Colors matching the company’s mascot, Maisy the Cow. It’s surprisingly not very busy tonight, which will make it easier for me to get to know Rob more. He’s more forthcoming with me and I would hate for that to disappear.

Balloons float to the ceiling from every table and kids chase each other, screaming to one another. I’ve only brought Matty here a handful of times, and I should make more of an effort to do things with him since I’m positive my mom doesn’t.

“What do you want?” Rob stares up at the chalkboard menu hanging from the ceiling.

Inching up to the young guy taking orders, I notice his eyes fixed on my chest. He’s sixteen, it doesn’t surprise me, but Rob does when he steps up, resting his hand on my hip. I furrow my eyebrows up at him and he smiles. “So, babe, what are you having? Your usual?”

I draw back. “Why don’t you order for me? Since you know me so well.” I attempt to hide my smile, playing along like we’re a normal couple.

“Flavor of the day?” My eyes look to the side where the flavor of the day is written—cherry cobbler. I shake my head and the kid across the counter huffs. He’s probably late for his smoke break.

“Oh, honey, you should really make more time to get to know me.” I chastise him and then face the kid, pushing out my chest a little. It’s nice to witness Rob’s jealousy and I’m going to seize full advantage of it. “Brownie sundae, no whipped cream and two cherries, please.”

“Anything else ma’am?” The kid asks and I practically choke on my saliva.

Rob’s head rears back and a howl of laughter expels from him. “Yes, is that all, ma’am?” he repeats and I narrow my eyes to him, digging in my pocket for some cash.

“Strawberry shake,” he orders and then his eyes bore into mine. “Extra whipped cream.”

When I go to hand the money to the kid, Rob’s hand covers mine and pushes it back toward me.

“No, I got this. You made dinner,” I argue and he shakes his head.

“You college students need to keep your money. I got this covered.” He nods to the kid to grab his money.

Once the exchange is complete, I place my hand on his forearm. “Thank you.”

“Do you not like whipped cream?” I’m surprised he didn’t ask this question immediately after I ordered.

“No.” We meander to our seats in the corner, sectioning off ourselves from the other patrons.

“That’s a killer.” I sit down and pick a cherry, biting it off the stem.

“I know I know, how could I not like it.” I’ve heard the jokes my whole life, or worse a sexual reference will sneak into the conversation now.

“I guess I’ll have to think about something else for you to lick off my body.” He chuckles.

“Obviously, you enjoy it.” I point to his milkshake with a dollop of whipped cream sneaking out of the top. “So, you must get hard when you watch Varsity Blues and the cheerleader sports the whipped cream bikini.”

“Want to watch and see?” He raises his eyebrows a few times fast and my stomach flips.

“You find the movie and I’ll watch it with you a seat cushion away.”

“Oh, you sure have that hard to get role nailed.” His lips cover the straw and he sucks in the cold pink fluid. Briefly I imagine his lips around my peaked nipple and the sensations his tongue would stir inside of me.

“We already talked about this. No dating or hooking up. We’re roommates, remember?” I remind him of our earlier conversation.

“We could be roommates that fuck. I’m sure we wouldn’t be the first.” He cracks a smile and I still struggle to master when he’s joking, or serious.

“I think we’ll make really good friends,” I counter and he falls back into his chair, completely exasperated from my consistent decline of his seduction tactics.

“Friend-zoned. That’s the kiss of death for every guy.” Then he props his elbows on the table. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

We sit at the table and I watch the small kids whine to their parents while Rob’s eyes float across the ice cream shop. I pinpoint the exact moment I lose his attention. A blonde saunters in, with her skirt so short her ass cheeks are hanging out. She flips her hair like some eighties shampoo commercial and catches Rob’s eyes glued on her. His focus makes her swing her ass more than before and I swear she purposely drops her keys on the ground just so she can bend over.

“Well she doesn’t desire attention does she?” I glance down at my pajama pants and flip flops, suddenly self-conscious about my attire.

He glances my way. “Oh don’t worry, you naturally catch a guy’s attention, friend.” A part of me wishes he’s staring at the girl because he wants me to be jealous, but I’m not convinced that’s the reason for his unwavering eyes on her. “You don’t mind if I go over there, do you?” he asks, and even though I want to dump my ice cream sundae over his head, I smile.

“Not at all.” He deserts his milkshake on the table as he swaggers over to the blonde currently in front of the refrigerator case perusing the milk and ice cream.

Pulling out my phone to act as though I couldn’t care less that Rob is probably asking little Miss Bimbo on a date, I’m unable to stop myself from glancing their way. She paws at his biceps, her fingers grazing along his tattoos. His black T-shirt fits tight along his shoulders, displaying the lean muscles I’ve been admiring. He tucks his hands in his pockets as he leans against the case. My reaction to the whole unfolding scene in front of me isn’t anger, but definitely not indifference either.

When he grabs his phone out of his pocket, typing something, she giggles and flips her hair again before his foot pushes off the refrigeration case. Like it’s his signature move, he inches closer, whispering in her ear, making her lean into him. You have to be fucking kidding me. Rob’s hands never brush her, but she captured his sole attention during the whole exchange. For some odd reason it hurt that he never even glanced my way.

He steps away from her and I quickly divert my focus to my phone, as though I didn’t just witness him getting a girl’s phone number. “You ready?” he asks, picking up his milkshake and taking a sip.

My sundae is now more of a soup and I muster up a dumb face. “Oh, you’re ready?” I stand up and throw away my ice cream. “Sure, I have to study anyway.” Without turning back around, I exit out the door and straight to his car.

He follows me to the passenger side but I twist around. “That’s okay, I’ve got it. Thank you.” He purses his lips and then back steps away.

“Alright then.” He elongates the ‘n’ and retreats back to his side of the car.

After he climbs in the car, the music starts blaring and I pretend to enjoy it when I’m really just happy for the reprieve. I have no reason to be mad; Rob never pretended to be someone he wasn’t. I told him I didn’t want to date him, or sleep with him. Did I really expect him to not date while I live in the room next door? No, but maybe I just hoped he could refrain in my presence. Unrealistic I remind myself, a leopard doesn’t change his spots and I’ve witnessed my dad pick up random woman my whole life. It goes with the persona.