First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (148 page)

He dips the tip of his finger in the ketchup then lightly touches it to my mouth. I can’t help it. My tongue flicks out, licking the last of the ketchup off his finger. He tastes like salt and heaven. And he’s definitely real.

Then he’s leaning over me. When his lips graze the corner of my mouth, my back stiffens and Arion pulls his head back to look at me. The teasing smile is gone, and the moment is over. Guilt crashes into me. He has a girlfriend!

“What will Blondie—your girlfriend—think about you kissing me while she’s at work?” If I were smarter, I wouldn’t antagonize him, but I’ve never let that stop me before.

“I’ll ask her, when I get one. Unless you’re applying for the job?”
 

The attraction between us is palpable and out of control. It was one thing to indulge in all the flirting we did in game, but this is crossing lines. Even if I’m starting to hope those lines are drawn in chalk so I can just dust them away. “But what about—”

“Oh, Rachel? She’s one of my waitresses from downstairs.” He says it with the warmth of an ice-cold shower. Which is what I’m going to need if he keeps looking at me like that.

I shake my head, trying to clear the hormones. He’s such an ass! The fact that he doesn’t consider her his girlfriend really doesn’t make me feel any better. I never would have pegged Arion for a player. Just goes to show how little I know him.

“Do you sleep with all your waitresses?” There I go, poking the bear again.

The annoyance that flashes through his eyes is fleeting, but I catch it. Giving him shit feels normal and familiar. It’s how we always were in game, and it’s safer ground that won’t throw me into another land mine of sexual desire. Or so I hope.

“I don’t sleep with any of my waitresses. I’m their boss, and that’s all kinds of fucked up.” His eyes add what he doesn’t say. He might not sleep with his waitresses, but right now he’s thinking about sleeping with me.

Their boss? He manages the bar? I guess that’s how he scored this sweet apartment.
 

He doesn’t owe me an explanation, but seems to want to give one. “The hot water was out in her apartment yesterday, so I told her she could shower here.”

Now I feel like the ass. “Oh.”

His grin is back. “Yes. Oh.”

Arion doesn’t have a girlfriend after all. Not that I’m on the market. “I guess you want to know why I’m here.”

As quick as that his grin fades. “No, Angel. I want to know why the fuck you disappeared.”

I can’t tell him the truth, so I hide behind defiance. “Does it matter? It was just a game; I needed to actually start living.” And nearly dying.

He visibly staggers. I don’t know what he was expecting me to say, but that wasn’t it. “A game? Is that all I was to you? A fucking game?” With each word, his pitch rises and I’m more afraid. This goes so far beyond poking the bear it isn’t funny.

I let my eyes drop, and my shoulders sort of curl into themselves as I try to take up as little space as possible. If it were possible to disappear into the barstool, I would. Coming to Philly was a way to get away from this, and now it’s right in front of me. Inside the styrofoam box, one twisty spiral fry circles around itself like it’s looking for a way out. My eyes watch the tiny golden tip as if that one fry is the only thing that matters. That way I’m not tempted to look up. At him. “I’m sorry.” Then I remember he said not to say sorry so I’ve probably pissed him off even more. I’m so stupid!
 

Arion grips the counter with both of his hands as he looks at the far wall, holding perfectly still while he speaks. That he doesn’t look at me while the words pour out of him says more than his actual words. “You know, I can understand you needing a break and quitting the game. God, we all get burnout. I get it. But what I don’t get, what I can’t get, is why you felt the need to quit me.”
 

I’m not sure what shocks me more:
 
his words or the sincerity of them. Tears well behind my eyes, and no matter how much I beg them to go away, they spill over. One plops onto the counter and then another. I’m consumed by grief and guilt. I never knew I mattered so much to him, and now it’s too late. Any minute he’s going to see I’m not the girl he thought I was.

When we played behind our screens every night, we shared everything. The loot, the fun, and the glory. We were good together. The best, even. We were on the top of the world and on top of the scoreboards. But then my wings were clipped, and the fall to the bottom broke me beyond repair. In game, I was flawless and in control. In life, I’m lost.

“Christ, Angel, don’t cry.”

He’s right. I shouldn’t be crying, but the dam has opened and now there’s no going back. Arion slips one arm around my shoulders, then another under my knees, scooping me off the barstool. When I tense, he whispers into my hair, “I’ve got you, shh. It’s all right now.”

The trip to the bedroom is short, and the next thing I know he’s sliding both of us between his sheets, cradling my head against him. Sobs are still wracking my body, and Arion just holds me tighter. This only makes me cry harder, because I know what he should be doing is letting me go.

Six

Angel

I eye the clock as I wipe down the oak tables, willing the minutes to pass faster. Almost all my closing work is done, so I can leave as soon as my shift is over.

Only ten more minutes until I’ll be on my way home to Arion.

“Are you still open?” Something in the voice causes me to still. I want to look behind me, but I don’t. The way he said it, I’m almost positive there is more behind his question.
 

Leaving the damp rag on the table, I slowly spin, taking in the tall, thin boy—no, man—smiling at me. He’s at least a few years older than me, and I’ve seen him in here before, sitting at the end of the counter, watching me. “For coffee, but the kitchen’s closed.”

“I’ll take whatever you want to give me, for now.” His eyes don’t match his smile. There is something dark and intriguing in them, some hidden depth. Almost a promise of excitement, of exhilaration. This man is different, and I should walk away.

But wasn’t I just telling myself last night that I
needed
different? That things had to change? I’m still undecided as he follows me to the front, taking a seat at the counter while I slip behind the espresso machine and grab a cup. “Okay, what can I make you?”

“Very happy. If you’ll go to the movies with me, that is.”

I gasp, leaning against the counter for support. He’s so forward, and it’s refreshing. Nothing like the subtle innuendo that always floats just between the surface with Arion and me, a constant ‘maybe’ but never a sure thing. This guy obviously doesn’t have a problem saying exactly what he wants, and I like that about him already.

“When?”

“Now.”

I shouldn’t. Arion will be online, waiting for me to log into WarQuest as soon as I get home. But… I smile, making a snap decision. “I don’ t usually go to the movies with people without knowing their name or anything else about them. How about coffee tonight, and the movies tomorrow?” That way, we can keep tonight brief, and when I go home, I’ll tell Arion I can’t make it tomorrow. He’ll be disappointed, but I can’t keep putting my life here on hold, hoping for something that is never going to be a possibility with someone who lives on the other side of the country.
 

His face lights up. “If I don’t tell you my name, do I get more nights out of it, Tess?”

He knows my name? The first seed of doubt burrows into the pit of my stomach. “How—”

“Your name tag.” He laughs. “Nick Guatieri. At your service.”
 

When I wake up, the room is silent except for the sound of Arion’s rhythmic breathing right by my ear. The sound is peaceful and steady, and I’m so groggy that it would be easy to slip back into sleep, if only the memories would leave me alone. There aren’t many things I dislike more than mornings, but today is only going to get harder if I wake up again in Arion’s arms. I should get up now, while I have any willpower left at all.

As close as the bar sits to the street and the university, I would’ve thought I’d hear cars moaning about a morning commute, but I don’t. It reminds me of the desert, where nothing truly comes alive until the nighttime for much of the year. Most everything that is able to remains in a state of stasis until the sun goes down and the temperatures drop. The daytime is a time to survive, to get through. Night, though, that is the time to live. Evenings and into the long hours of the morning were when Arion and I used to play WarQuest, too. I don’t know about him, but I’d wait anxiously all day for the chance to settle down in front of my desk and log into our shared world. At least I did until I started waiting anxiously for someone else.
 

I know he doesn’t understand why I stopped playing so suddenly, but the thing is, I couldn’t tell him then any more than I can tell him now. Nick came into my life like a beacon. The game had started to wear on me, and I needed a break. Honestly the only thing that had kept me there for so long was Arion, but it was getting to the point where that wasn’t enough. No matter how much I adored him, I knew he and I weren’t real.

When I met Nick, it seemed like he was exactly what I needed. A real life. Someone who could keep me warm at night someday, instead of just keeping me company.

I didn’t tell Arion because part of me was afraid he’d be jealous or that he wouldn’t understand. His dedication to WarQuest far surpassed mine, and I was his partner. He would’ve freaked, and I didn’t want to let him down. I know why I didn’t tell Arion about Nick at first. By the time I was ready to, it was too late. The memory of Nick’s jaw hardening, of the anger flickering in his eyes takes my breath away as sharply as if he were standing in front of me. The shattering of my computer monitor is a sound just out of reach, inches beyond my ears. And then the cord—

“No! What the fuck are you doing,” I scream. “He was just a fucking friend.”

“I’m not going to share you, Tess. Not with anyone. Not with anything.”

The excitement I felt about moving in with him earlier that day flees, leaving me as cold as Nick’s eyes as he stalks across the room toward me, snapping the cord between his hands. The destroyed remnants of my computer taunt me from behind him, laughing at my stupidity. I moved in with Nick to take the next step in our relationship—I didn’t realize that step would be off a freaking cliff. As the tears fill my eyes, I send Arion a silent goodbye and pray it will be enough.

I’m not sure if it’s the memories trying to take over, the lack of coffee, or the emotional night before, but my head feels like it’s taken a few too many spins on the tilt-a-whirl. Arion’s arm is cradled beneath me, so I keep my movements slow as I try to scoot away, toward the end of the bed. His breathing pauses briefly but then resumes its steady rhythm. He looks perfect and peaceful beside me, and I know I must look like a freaking mess—like a dishrag that’s sat beside the sink for too long. I’ve got wrinkles in all the wrong places, I’m stiff, and I just feel gritty and coarse all over. Even though my hair’s finally dried, it hangs in disgusting clumps and crinkles, courtesy of yesterday’s downpour.
 

The last thing I want is for Arion to wake up and catch me. It’s better this way. After inch-worming my way out of his arms and off the bed, I scan frantically for my clothes. Where did that bastard put them? Praying my other clothes are still where I left them, I tip-toe from his room, shutting the door behind me.
 

Yes! My clothes are not only in front of the fireplace, they’re dry. I gather them in my arms, trying to be quiet and hurry out of fear that Arion will wake soon.

Seven

Arion

My bed smells like a girl, and that’s just wrong. Not that I don’t like girls, I just sure as hell don’t like them in my bed. That’s one of my rules, and it’s one I haven’t broken—at least I don’t think I have. So why does my bed smell like sunflowers and honey?
 

One of the things I love best about my bedroom is that it doesn’t have any windows, so I don’t get woken up by too much sun at some ungodly hour. The downside is that I have no freaking idea what time it is. A glance at the bedside stand tells me a lot more than the time. I no longer care that it’s only eight and I rarely crawl out from beneath the covers before ten.
Angel.
She should be here, but all that’s left is her scent.

Not again, not again.
I don’t know if it’s a prayer, a plea, or a chant, if it somehow makes her not be gone I’ll take it. I can’t lose her again. Last time hurt too damn much.
 

Stop panicking,
I tell myself as I panic even more. The fucking covers want to tangle around my legs as I extract myself from the bed, stumbling toward the door. Pure momentum carries me through it, and the door slams too hard against the wall as I burst free of the dark bedroom.

How could she do this to me? How could she leave again without even a goodbye? “Fuck!” I swear out loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I don’t even know where she would have gone. Does she know anyone in Philly but me? That stops me for a minute. Is it possible she came all the way here to see me? Then why the hell would she leave so soon without telling me why she’d come? I don’t understand anything other than misery and a sense of smothering grief that what I want—the only thing I want—just slipped through my fingers. Again. Fuck.

“What the fuck, Angel!” I scream, not caring that they might hear me all the way down in the bar. No one will be in this early but the cleaning crew, anyway. As if I give a shit.
 

The kitchen is untouched, but her clothes are gone from beside the fireplace. I need to just accept that she’s gone again. People are counting on me to keep it together. Falling apart like the last time she left isn’t an option. Chelsea is going to be pissed. I’d finally managed to pull my crap together, and now this.