Текст книги "Four Years Later"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

Соавторы: Monica Murphy
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER 11

Chelsea

Owen drives us out of the city limits and heads up the Skyway, a road I’ve traveled maybe twice since I moved here. But he’s a local, he’s grown up in the area and he knows his way around, all the little-known roads and spots with the best views.

I’m not stupid. We’re not driving to this spot with the awesome view to check out the twinkling lights of the city. I might not have much experience, but even I know that a girl and guy going to park in an isolated spot to check out the view are going to end up making out.

I both can’t wait and am quietly freaking out.

Neither of us really talks during the drive. We listen to the radio. Owen has it on one of those specialty satellite stations that only plays nineties rock. One song comes on in particular and he turns it up¸ a little wisp of a smile curling his lips.

“Candlebox. This song reminds me of being a little kid,” he says wistfully. “My mom loved this band.”

I’ve never heard of them, but Mom always preferred listening to top-forty-type stuff. Grunge rock was not a part of my growing-up playlist whatsoever. “I like his voice,” I say sincerely. It’s a pretty good song, and I’ve come to realize my tastes have changed over the years. I’ve come into my own, found things I like versus what my parents had me listening to, reading, watching … whatever.

“The words remind me of you,” he says softly.

I turn to look at him, shock washing over me. “How?”

“The song is called ‘Blossom.’ Since you told me your middle name is Rose, every time I hear the words rose or flower, blossom, or bloom, I think of you.” His smile grows, but he’s not looking at me. Just tapping the edge of the steering wheel to the beat of the music, his smile growing as he drives in the dark, cold night.

There’s nothing dark or cold about his admission, though. My heart is thumping so hard I’m afraid he can hear it, and I wish I could say something as sweetly poetic as he just did.

Instead I remain quiet and listen to the words of the song. It’s sad, about love and loss, and I wonder what he means by the song making him think of me. Is it only because of the title? Or does he really think we’ll be over before we’ve even begun?

As usual, I read too much into it and worry.

When we finally arrive at our destination, I’m a bundle of nerves. Owen shuts off the car and puts it in park, then turns to look at me. “You cold?”

“I’m okay.” My breaths are coming quick, and I swear I need to get it together before I hyperventilate.

“Want to go outside? I know it’s kind of cold but if we sit on the hood of the car, it’ll warm us up.” He glances in the backseat. “I have a hoodie back there if you want to borrow it.”

“Why do you want to get out?” I keep my gaze locked on the windshield, impressed with the view before us. We’re above the fog line and we can still see the city since the fog is thin and seems to float like a lacy, see-through curtain over town.

“We can see the view even better outside.” I turn to look at him and he’s got that charming, you’ll-do-anything-I-ask look on his face. “Come on, Chels. Live a little, remember?”

“All right.”

“You won’t regret it,” he says, reaching between the seats to grab the hoodie he promised from the backseat. His shoulder brushes against me with the movement and his head is so close to mine, I could reach out and touch his hair.

Instead, I clutch my hands together in my lap.

“You want to use this?” He holds the black hoodie out toward me and I take it, my fingers curling into the cool cotton. It smells like him, fresh and tangy sweet with that hint of spice. I wish I could hold it to my face and inhale.

He’d think I was a total freak.

“Maybe,” I say, holding the sweatshirt close. “Thanks.”

He flashes me a smile, then climbs out of the car and I do the same, meeting him in the front. I stare at the car’s hood, wondering how in the world I’m going to get on there without looking like a complete fool, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, wincing when I hit a particularly sensitive spot.

I’ve been chewing on my lip a lot lately, I guess.

“Never crawl onto the hood of a car before?” he asks.

I turn to look at him, feeling like a dope. “Not really.”

“Need some help?”

“Uh …” I turn back to face the car, contemplating my choices. “I’m not—”

Owen grabs hold of my waist before I can even finish the sentence and I squeal, shocked that he’s lifting me off my feet and setting me on top of the car as if I weigh nothing. He settles me on the hood and I scramble backward, my feet slipping on the slick painted surface, but I’m careful, not wanting to put a dent in his nice car. Thankfully I don’t slide right off and I plant my hands on either side of me, bracing my body as best I can.

He climbs on top of the car like it’s no big deal, all long, strong limbs and graceful ease. Grinning down at me, he swipes his hair out of his eyes. “Want to sit on the roof?”

I glance back at it. “How am I going to get up there?”

“Come on.” He offers his hand and I take it, emitting another squeal when he hauls me to my feet and grabs my waist again, basically tossing me onto the roof. I spread his hoodie onto the very cold metal and settle in, laughing when he scrambles up the glass windshield and sits besides me with a goofy smile on his face, a little out of breath.

“You promised me a warm hood and instead all I get is cold metal under my butt,” I chastise him, leaning in to nudge his arm with my shoulder.

“Come here, then.” Without warning he slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close to him, and my entire side is pressed against his. “Well, I guess that worked.”

“You act like you planned this.” I shove lightly at his chest, my voice sounding breathless, my heart tripping over itself, and I glance down, noticing how perfectly we fit next to each other.

“It wasn’t premeditated. More like a spontaneous thing.” He stretches out his long legs before him, his firm thigh against mine, his body warmth seeping into me. We remain quiet for long, peaceful minutes, the only sound the chirping of a few random insects and the roar of the cars speeding by on the Skyway in the near distance.

Before us, the city lights twinkle and sparkle, the fog a misty veil. There’s nothing but darkness surrounding us, only the silvery light of the quarter-sized moon above us casting its gentle glow.

“It’s beautiful,” I finally say. “I’ve never been up here or seen this view before.”

“Yeah. Not many people have. Us locals know about the location but we don’t like telling you foreigners about it.” He chuckles and the deep sound reverberates through me, making me tingle.

“I don’t blame you,” I whisper, and he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. Our silence is comfortable, soothing. I could so get used to this. Sitting on top of Owen’s car, his arm around me, the top of my head hitting at his chin. He’s so warm and solid, his arm curved around my shoulders a heavy, comfortable weight, and when he starts lightly stroking my bared shoulder with his fingertips, I want to melt.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice a low, sexy murmur that sets my insides trembling.

I nod, unable to form words.

“Still cold?”

“No,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against his chin. His stubble is prickly against my skin and I close my eyes, savoring this new intimacy between us. He holds me closer and shifts, his finger sliding beneath my chin so he’s lifting my face to his.

Oh. God. This is it. He’s going to kiss me. I crack open my eyes to find him studying me, his gaze roving over my face, and I release a shuddery breath.

“Nervous?”

He must think I’m a complete novice. He’s pretty much right if he does. “Yes.”

“Why?” He trails his finger along my jawline, across my chin, leaving a wake of tingles with his touch. “You had to know this was going to happen.”

“Um …” I start but he presses his finger against my lips, silencing me.

“You still going to tutor me after I kiss you? We’re not breaking any sort of code or rule, are we?” I shake my head and he traces my lips, first the top one, then the bottom, pressing gently against the sore spot my teeth have worn. “I hate that you get so nervous that you hurt yourself.”

“I’ve had the habit since I was a kid,” I admit.

“It’s a bad one.” Leaning in, he brushes my mouth with his, the kiss so brief I could almost believe it didn’t happen. “Shit, Chels. Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” My eyes are still open, staring into his beautiful green, glittering gaze, and then he’s cupping my cheek, tilting my head back for his kiss. His eyes shutter closed right before mine do and I see his thick, long eyelashes in my mind just before he whispers, “This,” and then his mouth settles on mine.

I’m lost. Completely and totally lost to the drugging, delicious feeling of his mouth connecting with mine. One gentle, sweet kiss after another, our lips parting with each press and glide, until he slips his tongue inside my mouth, just as he slips his hands into my hair. His fingers tug, his tongue tangles with mine, and I’ve never, ever had a more perfect kiss in all my life.

Sitting on the roof of his car, the faint chirping of the crickets in the tall, dry grass, the even fainter whoosh of the cars rushing by, I’ll never forget this moment. His fingers in my hair, the sound of our lips connecting again and again, the soft whispers and our accelerated breaths.

It’s sensory overload.

He leans more into me, his arm braced around my shoulders, fingers slipping beneath my bared bra strap and caressing my shoulder. I reach out and rest my hands on his chest, feel his rapidly beating heart beneath my palm, and a thrill runs through me.

Owen seems as affected by this kiss as I am. The realization is heady, powerful.

Exciting.

He breaks the kiss first, pressing his forehead to mine, then nuzzling my nose. “This is really uncomfortable, sitting on top of my car, trying to kiss you,” he admits.

I laugh, opening my eyes to see him smiling at me. “Wasn’t this your suggestion?”

“Yeah …” His expression is pained, and I wonder why.

“Let’s go back inside the car, then.”

“You want to go home?” He almost looks devastated.

Slowly shaking my head, feeling bold, I lean in and press my lips to his, letting them linger for a long, warm moment before I pull away. “No,” I whisper.

His eyes light with a hunger I’ve never seen before and then we’re scrambling off the top of the car, Owen jumping down first before he reaches out, his big hands slipping beneath my sweater and grasping hold of my waist as he helps me get onto solid ground. He goes for the back door on the driver’s side and throws it open, indicating he wants me to get in first. I do so, giggling when he slides in behind me, his hands reaching for me, curling around my waist again before he brings me to him, over him, until I’m straddling him with my knees on either side of his hips, sitting on top of him in the most wicked, delicious way.

I can feel him, everywhere. Hovering above him, I stare down at his beautiful face, drink him in, touch him however I want. Wherever I want. I smooth his hair away from his forehead, letting the soft strands sift through my fingers, and he closes his eyes, a low, masculine sound of pleasure escaping him.

I feel that sound pulse throughout my body, settling between my legs, and I press into him, my mouth meeting his, our kiss becoming deep. Deeper. Our tongues slide against each other, our bodies rock, and he grips my waist, stilling me, keeping me in place.

But I don’t want to be kept in place. I feel restless, needy. I want more. More Owen, more of his mouth, more of his hands, more of his tongue. He breaks our kiss to feather his lips across my jaw, down my throat, his tongue darting out to lick, and I clutch him close. My arms wrap around his neck, and I close my eyes as I tilt my head back.

We’re taking it from zero to one hundred between us and I don’t even care. I’ve already thrown caution out the window.

All I want is Owen.

Owen

It’s getting out of control and quick between us. I’d wanted to keep it outside on purpose, for fear I’d get in over my head and want to get Chelsea naked. I had a sense it would be good between us the moment our lips first touched. But I had no idea she would be so incredibly responsive, so eager, feel so fucking right in my arms. I hold her close but not too close, my fingers pressing into the soft skin just above her hips, trying my best to keep her still as I map a path of fire down her neck with my lips.

I lick, I nibble, I taste. My cock is painfully hard beneath the button fly of my jeans and it would be so easy. Easy to strip her of her clothes, touch her in all the right places, show her how to touch me in all the right places and then fuck her right here in the backseat of my car.

So. Freaking. Easy.

But I don’t do any of that. I’m not going to push. She’s totally inexperienced—I can tell just by her at first tentative kiss, how nervous she got, how nervous she’s always been with me. I gotta take it slow for her sake. Gotta remember that before I let myself lose complete control and I get busy corrupting her for the rest of the night.

Breaking our kiss, I lean my head back against the seat, staring up at her. She’s beautiful, her lips swollen from our kisses, her wavy hair in complete sexy disarray around her face, all from my fingers. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace and it would be so easy to slip my hands beneath her loose sweater and feel her. Cup her. Thumb her nipples, make them hard before I draw one into my mouth …

Inhaling sharply, I push those thoughts out of my head. My overly vivid imagination is definitely not helping matters.

“Owen.” Her voice sounds needy, edgy, and I know what she wants. I want it, too. “What are you doing?”

But I’m not going to give it to her. Not tonight.

“I should get you home.” I thread my fingers through her hair, brushing them through the long, dark strands again and again. She slowly closes her eyes, her lush mouth parted, a shuddery little breath escaping her that I feel all the way down to my dick.

“Maybe I don’t want to go home,” she admits.

“We need to get you home.” The disappointment on her face is clear and I decide to be honest with her. “I’m not going to fuck you in the backseat of my car, Chels. You deserve better than that.” For your first time, I want to say but don’t.

What if I’m wrong that she’s a virgin? I don’t think I am. She acts like a girl who has zero experience and for once, I’m okay with that. The mere idea of Chelsea being with another guy fills me with pure, white-hot rage. I can’t stand the thought.

Since when did I turn into such a possessive caveman? Ready to beat my chest with my fists and declare Chelsea as mine. She belongs to no one else.

And I never feel that way about any girl.

Her gaze softens and she leans down, kissing me once. Twice, her lips lingering. Like she never wants this to end. I feel the same way. “Okay.” She sounds sad. Defeated. And I hate that.

“Hey.” I catch her chin, keeping her face close to mine. Her breath flutters across my lips, smelling wintergreen fresh from the mints we grabbed before we left the restaurant. I close my eyes for a brief moment, searching for the strength I’m gonna need to be able to resist her.

Because really, I’d rather do nothing but fuck her in the backseat of my car. I have no problem with that whatsoever.

I open my eyes to find her studying me as she licks her lips, her expression hopeful, frustrated … beautiful.

Fuck, I like this girl. A lot. How am I going to keep her in my life? Will she be able to stand me once everything gets all crazy again? I barely have time for myself, let alone someone else.

“I’m going to be busy,” I say, letting my thumb drift across her chin. “Once I get back on the football team, my schedule is gonna go to hell. And with work and school, it’ll be crazy.”

She exhales softly, sadness etched all over her face. “Okay. I get it. You don’t have time to see me.”

“That is definitely not what I’m saying.” I kiss her because I can’t help it. Her lips are pure temptation. Soft and pink and fucking delicious. “I’m asking you to be patient with me,” I whisper after I end the kiss. “I know you’re busy, too.”

“Right.” She nods, her brow wrinkling. “I am.”

“You work a lot. School.” I smile, trying to ease the wariness I see in her gaze. “I’m trying to say I want to see you again but I’m kind of fucking it up, aren’t I?”

A soft huff of laughter escapes her and she nods. “Yeah, you sort of are.”

“We still on for Wednesday?” I’m referring to our next tutoring appointment.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Do you work after?”

“I do. My usual eight-to-two shift.” She shifts on my lap. I can feel the heat between her legs brush against my erection and I want to lift up and press against her, right there. Let her know exactly what she does to me.

But if I do that once, I’ll end up doing it again. And again. And then I’ll be kissing her, my hands reaching beneath her sweater, her hands beneath my shirt, and then we’re done for.

“You need to quit that job. The hours suck.” I slide my hand that still grips her waist a little higher, touching her ribs, just below her bra. I must have the control of a saint tonight because normally, I’d be tearing into that within seconds.

“I can’t. I need the money.”

“Why?” I want information. I want to know why she works so hard yet sometimes acts like a haughty little rich girl. Is she broke? Cut off from mommy and daddy for doing something awful? I can’t imagine her doing anything to make her parents cut her off. That’s a pretty damn drastic move. She’s a fucking genius; she wouldn’t be that stupid.

“I just … it’s only my mom and me, and I need to work both jobs to afford living here,” she admits, dropping her gaze. “I got a scholarship for school but my apartment, utilities—all that stuff is expensive.”

Finally she’s sharing something personal about her family. I savor it as though she handed over her entire life story. “What happened to your dad?”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she mumbles, her gaze still locked on my chest.

Frustration fills me and I shove it aside. I can’t push. I got pissed at her when she asked about my dad, so I need to respect her wishes. Clearly she doesn’t want to talk about hers.

But that only makes me want to know even more what happened between them.

“We should go, then,” I say reluctantly, letting her slide off my lap. She falls to the side of me, landing on the seat with a soft plop. Reaching out, I grab the handle and open the door, climbing out of the car with Chelsea right behind me. But before I can open the driver’s-side door, she’s grabbing me, pulling me to her so she can kiss me.

I drown in her, grab hold of her so I can press her against the car, holding her in my arms as we kiss, our tongues busy, our hands roaming. Just like that, I feel out of control again. I fucking need to get it together, and quick.

It’s her turn to break the kiss first and she gazes up at me, her eyes wide and fathomless as they drink me in. “I … want you to know that it means a lot to me, you taking me out tonight. Bringing me up here.” She pushes up on tiptoe and presses her face against my neck, kissing me there. “Thank you,” she breathes against my skin, making me shiver.

I tighten my arm around her waist and hold her close, burying my face in her hair so I can breathe in her scent, absorb her heat. “So Chels?”

“Yes?” Her voice is muffled against my neck and another shiver moves through me.

“Was tonight enough of an adventure for you?”

She laughs and pulls away from me so our gazes meet. “Most definitely.”

“Good.” I drop a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Because it’s only just begun.”

CHAPTER 12

Owen

“Autumn and I want to come see you.”

Fable’s words surprise me and I sit up straight, run my hand over my head as I glance around my bedroom, squinting into the darkness since the blinds are closed tight and my door is shut. It’s Sunday, and I always sleep in since if I’m not working Saturday night, I’m usually at a game. Or I’ll play in the afternoon and sometimes if my schedule’s real intense, I’ll end up working that night, too.

Exactly what I did last night—and those are the worst days. I’m fucking beat.

“Autumn wants to come visit me, huh?” Yawning, I stretch my neck, my entire body sore. I almost felt out of shape out there on the field. Taking a few weeks off from practice threw me.

“Absolutely. She misses her Uncle Owen terribly. I miss you, too,” Fable adds.

“So when do you two want to come?” I ask, scrubbing a hand along my jaw, the rasp of my beard poking at my palm. I need to shave, and soon. Chelsea would probably complain if I kissed her with a face like this.

Thinking of kissing Chelsea makes my skin tingle and I fight it. I’m talking to my sister, for the love of God.

“Well, you’re playing a big game this next weekend, right? Archrival team, getting closer to playoff season and all that homecoming crap?” I love her sarcastic enthusiasm for college life. She always felt like an outsider looking in.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty big game next weekend. Starts in the late afternoon, though I don’t remember the exact time,” I say. “I’d love to have you here. It would be just you and Autumn, right?”

“Yeah. Drew will be out of state next weekend. Green Bay.”

Freaking cold and a hell of a team. I don’t envy him that. “You … don’t want to stay at my house, do you?” I’d probably have to fumigate if that were the case.

“Hell no. Are you kidding? That place scares me. I’ll get a hotel room,” she says with a soft laugh.

“Okay, cool. Yeah, if you want to come for the weekend, I’d love it.”

“Awesome. I’ll talk more with Drew about it and figure out the schedule.” She breathes a relieved little sigh. “It’s so nice talking to you on the phone with no baby in my arms. She’s always wiggling around, crying or reaching for things.”

“Where is Autumn, anyway?”

“Taking a nap. I have a sitter coming later. I’m going to Drew’s game tonight.”

“Wish I could go,” I say, like always missing my sister. And Drew. Even the baby, because I bet she’s changed a ton since the last time I got to hold her. Thank God Fable always sends me pictures. Probably too many, considering all the ones I have on my phone and the baby isn’t even six months old yet, but I enjoy every single one she sends my way.

“You should! What do you have going on tonight? Are you working?”

“I’m not, actually.” The drive to San Francisco would be almost four hours. Considering it’s barely nine o’clock—damn, my sister’s mean, calling so early on a Sunday—I could be there in plenty of time.

But do I want to make the drive? This is my one day off. The rest of the week is packed. What with school, practice, work, and Chelsea, I can hardly keep my schedule straight.

I think of Chelsea again and smile. It’s been a week since the night I took her up the Skyway and kissed her on the roof of my car. We’ve seen each other a couple of times since, though never long enough for my liking. And we sort of ruined last Wednesday’s tutoring lesson. More like it turned into me teaching Chelsea the art of slow, hour-long kisses.

She’d been so worried about getting caught, which only made it that much more intense, that much more exciting. I sat on a table, my legs spread, Chelsea standing in between them, her hands in my hair, our mouths fused. Kissing, whispering, her trying to pull out of my arms only for me to drag her back in.

Fuck, it had been hot. Knowing I couldn’t do anything with her beyond kissing. As if I’d get her naked on campus. I want her, but I’m not that stupid.

Besides, I really am still working on my portfolio and need to keep up with my English assignments. Though truthfully, I hardly need Chelsea for any of that anymore. Not that we’ve cancelled our arrangement yet.

Hell, I’m starting to believe it’s the only time I can get to see her.

“I could get you skybox tickets. I usually like to sit on the field, but the skybox is so much fun and the weather is crappy today, so we should definitely sit in the box,” she says, sounding excited. “Though I totally understand if you can’t make it, Owen. You’re busy—you need some time to relax rather than drive all the way here only to turn around and go back.”

An idea forms in my brain, one that would make going to San Francisco to see my family even more worth it. “I want to go. I’d love to see Drew play.” I pause, trying my best to sound nonchalant. “So hey. Can you get me two tickets?”

“Absolutely. Who do you want to bring with you? Wade?” I’d brought him to a couple of games in the past, so her assumption made sense.

“No … I want to bring, uh … Chelsea.” I wince, waiting for the barrage of questions and teasing.

“Owen. Really? You want to bring a girl?” Fable sounds shocked. “The girl who’s your tutor?”

“Well, yeah. I do on occasion hang out with girls, you know.” I’m irritated and I don’t really have a reason to be.

“Right, I do know. But I figured that was all you were doing. Hanging out with them and that’s it. You sound sort of serious about this Chelsea girl.”

“I’m not. Not really.” I grimace at my lie. I don’t know how I feel about Chelsea. We’re having fun. We’re taking it slow. Does she really fit into my life?

No.

But I’m working on somehow making that happen anyway.

“So she’s a friend?” Fable asks.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what she is.” I’m not too far off the mark with that. We are friends.

Friends who like to sit on my couch when Wade’s gone and make out for hours. Until we’re both so worked up I have to practically shove her out the door for fear I’ll strip her naked and jump her bones right there in the middle of the living room. And no way can I take her back to my bedroom. I do that and we’re done for. Naked and me buried deep inside her within seconds, I have no doubt about that.

“Come on. Friends? Really?”

“Really,” I say firmly. “Let me ask Chelsea if she’s able to go and I’ll text you. Is that cool?”

“As long as you tell me as soon as possible. I need to ask for those tickets as soon as you know.”

I hang up and immediately text Chelsea, hoping she’s not sleeping in.

But hey, it’s Chelsea. I’m sure she’s already been working on her homework for the last two hours, knowing her.

Wanna go to a professional football game?

I barely have to wait two minutes before she’s responding.

When?

Today, I type.

Are you serious?!?!

Smiling, I answer her, giving her the details, then asking: Do you have to work tonight?

No. It’s my day off.

I couldn’t make this work out any more perfect if I tried.

Then you should take your day off and come with me to San Francisco.

You really want to take me? What about Wade or Des?

They’ll kill me if they find out I’m going to a game and I didn’t invite either of their asses to go.

Tough shit.

I’d definitely rather take you.

I wait for her reply, nerves eating at my gut. This girl has me all twisted up inside and I don’t quite get it. Still.

My phone rings and I answer it without even looking to see who it is. I already know.

“I know absolutely nothing about football,” she says when I say hello.

“I can teach you.” I lie back on my bed, scratching my chest. I wish Chelsea were in bed with me. That would be a most excellent way to spend a Sunday morning.

“I’m boring. You’ll probably wish you had one of your friends with you the minute the game starts,” she says. “I’ll probably play on my phone or whatever. Or be so completely lost I won’t know what’s happening on the field.”

“You are definitely not boring. And hey, if you’re going to spend more time with me, you gotta learn about football sometime, right?”

She pauses. I can practically hear the cogs turning in her brain as she processes what I just said. “I guess you’re right,” she say, her voice soft.

That soft voice of hers gets me every single time. “I want you there with me, Chels. It’ll be fun. You could meet my sister and after the game’s done, I bet you could meet Drew, too. Come on, say yes.”

“I’d get to meet your sister?” she squeaks, sounding nervous. “Oh wow. I didn’t realize that, though it does make sense.” She pauses again, and I swear I can feel her nervousness come over the phone loud and clear. “Okay. Yes. I’ll go.”

“Good,” I say, relief sweeping through me. I’d truly been afraid she’d say no.

We make arrangements for me to come pick her up within the hour and then I hang up, immediately texting Fable that I need two tickets for Drew’s game.

I can’t wait to meet your Chelsea, Fable answers.

Yeah. I can’t wait for Fable to meet her either. Though she’s definitely not my Chelsea. Despite the occasional possessive wave that comes over me when I’m with her, we are really just friends. Friends who make out. Friends who wish for more, but neither of us is doing anything about it.

I’m almost afraid to push for fear I’ll ruin it all. She’s afraid because … I don’t know why. But taking it slow isn’t so bad.

Most of the time, it’s pretty damn good. Except when I’m walking around with blue balls.

Climbing out of bed, I exit my room and go to the kitchen, on the hunt for something quick to eat before I make my way to taking a shower and getting out of here to go pick up Chelsea.

“What are you doing up so early, asshole?”

I stop short to find Des in my kitchen, eating a bowl of Cheerios and way too much milk. It’s practically sloshing out of the bowl and onto the table. “Good morning to you, too,” I mutter, irritated.

The guy acts like he lives here. It’s annoying as hell, especially since he doesn’t pay rent. Of course, neither does Wade, but that’s the arrangement we made before Wade moved in.

I’ve known Wade since I was a kid. His mom bailed me out multiple times and let me stay at their house way more than she ever had to. She understood Fable was always working and Mom was never around. Wade’s mother always welcomed me with open arms.

It was the least I could do, offering Wade a free place to live while we went to college. His mom may live in the same town but he wanted to be on his own, just like I did.

But Des? The guy is loaded, one of those rich kids from the Bay Area who come to the university looking to party now that they’re free from their parents. He’d been the drug-dealing high school kid in the suburbs and now he’s the drug-dealing college student on campus. I like him, but not just because he’s my dealer. He’s my friend.