Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set (28 page)

He smiles back and asks, “So what do you do when you aren’t tending the bar?”

“I work at Boston University, with the hockey team.” He looks at me, puzzled. “I majored in sports medicine…so I basically treat their injuries and keep them from banging the hell out of each other.” I smile, watching him intently. My eyes shift down to his lips, watching his tongue roll over his bottom lip. It’s hot.

“Hockey players, huh? Wow…that must be interesting.” He sounds self-conscious, taken aback almost.

“Interesting to say the least. Those boneheads are constantly beating their bodies up. Sometimes I wonder if they do it on purpose just so I’ll have to touch them,” I say, chuckling. However, I notice he’s extremely looking uncomfortable. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He smiles a million-dollar smile back at me, giving me whiplash from the back and forth way he’s making me feel.

We continue talking for the next hour about his job, past college experiences, our hobbies and even our favorite movies. He’s easy to talk to, which I like. He doesn’t make me nervous, but rather he puts me at ease. I’m not sure why he’s so likeable, but he is. He’s attractive, easy to get along with and makes me laugh.

“Well, I’m all finished here. I guess I’ll see you Friday night?” I ask, folding my last shirt and placing it in the hamper.

“Definitely. If you see a bunch of bald guys walk in, they’re with me.” He smiles, leaning in for a small hug.

I hug him back and tell him, “See you then. Bye, Alex.” He smiles as he watches me walk out the doors. My heart is racing, or perhaps it’s fluttering. Either way, it’s amazing.

“Why are you smiling?” Carissa asks as she comes through the door after her shift.

“I kinda…maybe…met a guy tonight.” I can’t help the ridiculous grin on my face as I picture him in my head.

“Oh my God!” she squeals, jumping on my bed next to me. “Spill.”

“Okay, well, it’s actually Kenna’s brother, Alex. I met him at the Laundromat.”

“Shut up! Kenna’s brother! He’s hot. I’ve only seen him from a distance, but I could still tell.” She smiles, looking intently into my eyes. “I can’t believe this, Velaney Wills. A cute guy you actually like?”

“I think I
do
like him…I mean, we just met, but we spent the entire time talking and it just felt so natural,” I gush, smiling.

“Holy shit, Lane. I have
never
seen you like this before over a guy! Like…you have little stars in your eyes or something. Maybe the pussy fairy is finally working her magic,” she says, pretending to wave fairy dust over me. She lets out a loud laugh, making me laugh with her.

“Eh, who knows? He was probably just trying to be nice to me because he recognized me from the bar. He probably has a girlfriend or something.”

“And
there’s
the Velaney I know,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “You need to stop being so self-conscious. Guys don’t sit and talk to girls for long periods for nothing. Trust me.” She crosses her arms, lecturing me. “And considering you were at a Laundromat—
most unsexy place ever to meet a guy
—and yet you met one.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was being nice because he’s Kenna’s brother.”
Too nice.

“You seriously don’t see how hot you are, Lane. I mean, really? Would I have an ugly best friend?” She smirks, making me laugh in amusement.

“Well, he says he’s coming to the bar this Friday with some work buddies. Maybe you can find some man meat for yourself,” I say, rolling off the bed to grab a sweatshirt. I don’t like how my nipples are instantly hard at just the mere mention of his name
.

“Hubba, hubba,” she squeals like a cat in heat. I shake my head at her, jumping back on my bed next to her.

“Down kitty,” I tease.

“Never.”

I spend the rest of the night thinking about Alex and how possibly, just maybe, he could be the one to break down my walls…
break through me.
The mere thought of it makes me nervous as hell.

* * *

I was eight years old when I said my first cuss word. I was at the dinner table with my parents and my sixteen-year-old brother, Aiden. My mom had just passed me a large bowl of mashed potatoes. The bowl was hot and had slipped right out of my hands, landing on the floor. The bowl broke into a million pieces, making the food scatter all over the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!” I squealed, covering my mouth the second it slipped.

“Velaney Rose Wills!” my mother screamed, shocking me with her loud rebuke. I froze in my chair, unable to recover from the word that had just come out of my mouth.

Later that night, my dad tucked me into bed and soothed me by explaining that sometimes bad words slip out. My father was much more understanding than my mother when it came to mishaps. He made me feel better, rubbing my head until I fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of my door creaking open and a glimpse of the hall light shining in. Aiden slipped in, reeking of something so horrible that I have to cover my nose up with my blankets.

“Velaney…sweet little Velaney,” he sang, stumbling to my bed. I sat up, getting a better view of him. Something wasn’t right. He was unstable and not talking clearly.

“What are you doing in here, Aiden?” I asked, mad that he woke me up in the first place.

“I wanted to play with you, silly,” he slurred, barely making any sense. He stripped out of his pants and shirt. He lifted the covers off me and crawled in next to me. He never showed any interest in being around me before, so the fact that he was in my bed now was confusing.

“I was sleeping,” I complained, hoping he got the hint.

“You need to be punished, Lane,” he said in a serious tone, his giddy tone no longer present.

“Why?” I asked, feeling scared.

“You said a bad word. God doesn’t like it when you use those bad words.” My mother had said this to my brother and me hundreds of times. I knew they were bad, but I had heard my dad repeat those words plenty of times when he was on the phone and didn’t know I was listening.

“It was an accident, Aiden,” I pleaded, trying to move away from his heavy body towering over me.

Whatever happened next…I blocked out. I know what he did…I remember how I felt when he did it, but the actual act has not surfaced in my memory ever since. However, I do remember telling my mother. She didn’t believe me. She wanted the perfect family—the perfect children.

I haven’t said a swear word since I was eight years old, besides the random hells and damns. The fear that something bad will happen as a result sits too heavily on me to risk it.
I can’t
. No matter how much I try and how much I want to scream those words…I just can’t.

* * *

I wake up the next morning, pushing all past memories away. I don’t want to think about them anymore. I know I need to move forward, but it seems impossible.

I walk into the kitchen and see a stunning Eric cooking over the stove. He doesn’t hear me, so I take an extra minute just to stare at him.

He turns around and smiles, making me feel weak. “Good mornin’, sweetheart. Are you hungry?” he asks casually.

“Sure...” I continue watching him, wondering what he’s doing in my apartment at seven in the morning. I haven’t figured out how he manages to get into my apartment all the time, but a part of me feels at ease knowing he can.

“I like your just-woke-up morning look. Your hair curls when you sleep.” He smiles, making me blush a little at the way he notices me. I can’t understand him. One minute he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, making me clench between my legs, and the next he’s all over another chick right in front of me.

“I showered last night before bed, so it curls when it’s wet,” I explain.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I made a little of everything.” He motions to the counter where there are plates of French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes.

“Thank you. Why exactly are you here making breakfast?” I ask, taking a piece of bacon.

“I figured you ladies could use some real food for once. Your fridge is practically empty and your pots and pans are never used.” He’s right. We don’t cook very much around here.

“Are you going to tell me how you keep getting in here?” I grab a fork, digging into my eggs. He looks at me as if he’s contemplating revealing his secret.

“Hmmm, I don’t think so.” He smiles, making me roll my eyes at him.

“Are you working today?” I ask, eager to keep the conversation going.

“I work another 48.”

“Wow, that sounds exhausting.”

“Nah, it’s not so bad. When we don’t get calls, we work out, nap and watch TV. It’s like a frat party,” he says, chuckling. “However, unlike a frat party, there are no chicks. So basically, it’s a huge sausage fest.”

I’m in the middle of taking a drink of orange juice and end up spitting it across the counter. “Oh, my goodness,” I say, laughing. He hands me a towel and I clean up my mess. “Never heard that one before.”

“I take it you didn’t party much in college?” he asks, digging for information.

“You could say that.”
We are not going there.

“No old boyfriends to talk about?” He leans on the counter, looking directly into my eyes.

“Just one,” I reply, shoving in another mouthful.

“Just one boyfriend?” he asks, shocked.

“Yeah. I didn’t date.” I shrug casually.

“That’s surprising, Velaney. Seriously?” he asks, still not believing me.

“Yeah, his name was Jake. We dated for a while, but it just didn’t work out.”

“Why, what happened?” he asks, thoroughly interested. I wonder why he would want me to talk about an old boyfriend. Maybe that’s a good thing, though. I can’t let him get close to me on an intimate level…it just wouldn’t work. No, Eric is much better being my friend.
Like a brother…
I try and convince myself.

“Nothing really happened. I just didn’t love him like he loved me. Our feelings weren’t mutual.” In fact, our feelings were not anywhere
near
the same. He was head over heels in love with me. I broke his heart. I didn’t mean to, but I finally realized I just couldn’t love like that.
I wasn’t capable.

“Ahhh…no spark, huh?” he asks, putting the eggs and milk back in the fridge.

“I guess you could say that.” I continue eating as he cleans up the kitchen and sets a plate aside for Carissa. 
Spark.
Is that what I’m looking for? Is that what’s needed?

It’s very evident that I feel that
spark
with Eric. However, I’m pretty sure it’s a one-way street. Alex, on the other hand…could we have that
spark
?

I can’t even believe I’m thinking like this. I never wanted a boyfriend…never even went looking for one. Perhaps there’s a part of me that
does
want that, but I can’t help fighting it so damn hard.

I finish eating and thank Eric once again for making breakfast. I’m still not sure why he did, but a part of me is happy that he wants to watch over me.

“See you in a couple of days, sweetheart.” He leans down, placing a tender kiss on my forehead. His arm wraps around my waist, gripping tight. It’s confusing as all hell.

I smile back, unable to make words come out of my mouth.
Why is he doing this to me?
I suddenly feel angry after watching him leave. I don’t allow myself to have these feelings for a man.
What’s the point?
In the end, you get hurt.

I hustle to get myself ready for the day. Carissa is still sleeping when I walk out the door. Before I step into the hallway, I notice a small box sitting on the floor. I look around to see who dropped it there, but no one is in sight. My mind immediately goes to Eric.

I pick up the box and open it slowly. Inside is a Boston shot glass with a note:

Looking forward to seeing you Friday. First round’s on me.

—Alex

I can’t help the stupid smile that forms on my face as I think about him. I’m not even sure how he knew where I live, but I’m sure Kenna had something to do with that.

I walk back inside my apartment and place the box in my room. Taking the shot glass out, I set it on the table next to my bed. It makes me smile once again, and I know I’m in real trouble now.

The next two days fly by without a word from Eric. I know he’s working, but I can’t help the part of me that misses his unannounced visits.

Work at the university has slowed down, so I decide to take Friday off since I’m bartending all night. I know Alex will be there and it makes me giddy…like a stupid little teenager.
Which I hate…

Part of me hopes Eric shows up, but the other part knows I need to stop thinking about him that way. He obviously doesn’t see me that way, or otherwise wouldn’t he have made a move—or something? He didn’t seem the type to
go slow
considering how many women I’ve seen go into his apartment, so why is he tearing at my heart like this?
Why am I letting him?

I hear the guys at the bar yell it all the time at the sports channel—so I assume it’s something bad. He’s trailing me along like a lost puppy. Leading me on…making me think he could actually want me.

How can I let myself think of him like this? This is so dumb. I need to stop. Stopping right now. From now on, Alex is the only guy I should even be thinking about. Considering I don’t ever think about guys, he’s the only one that I will
allow
myself to think about.

“Ready for a busy shift tonight?” Carissa asks, brushing her long hair in the mirror, taking me away from my thoughts.

“Oh yeah. Hoping for no fights, though. I don’t know if I can handle another,” I say, wiggling into my black shorts. It gets extremely warm on Friday nights, especially behind the bar when I’m running from one end to the other trying to keep up with the demand. I grab a purple top and pull it over my head, adjusting it just right.

“Damn, you look fucking hot, Lane!” Carissa squeals, turning to do a once over. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a specific hottie now, would it?”

I shrug, pretending not to know what she’s talking about. “Maybe.”

“All I can say is it’s about damn time!”