Crazy About Love: An All About Love Novel (15 page)

18 MONTHS, 9 DAYS AGO: 3:00
A.M.

After hours of tossing and turning, I finally drift off into a semi-sleep. My mind keeps swirling around Alec, his confession, and the promise that he broke immediately after he made it. Things have changed, and heaven forbid he return any of my calls.

My phone buzzes against my nightstand, and I reach my arm up there and fumble around for it, cursing under my breath. Under normal circumstances I’d roll over and ignore the buzz, but if Alec has decided to break the radio silence, I want to catch him doing it.

“Hello?” I croak out, not even bothering to open my eyes. There’s no answer, because what I mistook for a phone call was only a text. I open one eye and brace myself for the blinding light of my phone. After my eyes have adjusted, I focus enough on the message to read it.

I need to cash in on the pact we made on graduation. :) :)

Liz needs to find a better time of day to send non-emergency text message— Wait. Graduation pact. The memory starts unfolding in my sleepy brain, feeling almost dreamlike. After months of waiting to hear if we’d be accepted to the same school, we celebrated our NYU status with a trip to the Big Apple to look for housing, dorms, and cute boys, and we skipped our graduation for the vacation. A barely awake eighteen-year-old version of myself rolled over in the hotel bed the night we were officially graduates, knowing I was on the cusp of a brand-new life, stuck out my pinky, and said to my best friend, “Promise when we get married, no matter how many years from now that is, that we are each other’s maid of honor.”

Liz snorted, also in a sleepy daze, drunk on exhilaration and the idea of freedom and adulthood, and linked her pinky with mine. Little did we know that a few short months later she’d be meeting Landon, and three and a half years from then…she’d send me this text.

I sit upright and call her, feeling 99.9 percent excited for my best friend getting married. However, that 0.1 percent of jealousy makes me want to call Eli instead and ask him if he’s ready for me yet. He doesn’t know, but I’ve said no to something that could’ve been extraordinarily special, just to keep my heart saved for him.

P
RESENT DAY

I’ve always appreciated the art of the grand gesture. It was part of the reason I started dating Eli way back when. To be completely honest, I never gave him a romantic thought before he proclaimed his true feelings for me. After the announcement at the football game and the invitation to the prom delivered by the marching band, Liz had to physically hold on to me so I didn’t swoon. Eli’s elaborate surprises were unlimited; every anniversary and birthday he never disappointed. I got used to that love language, anticipated it, even; it’s the only language of love I know how to speak.

Pacing outside the club, whipping my neck around every time I hear the door open, I wonder if I should switch up the language so that Alec understands my intentions. Go with words of affirmation and scream it out to him as soon as he steps through the door? It’s tempting, but…it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough, not after everything we’ve been through.

I check the time, then go back to tapping my phone against my thigh as I pace up and down the walk. Maybe I’ll text him, but I shake my head free of that thought because Alec never checks his phone when he’s out with a woman. Damn his generosity.

The faint smell of spray paint hits the night air, and I cough as I accidentally inhale the strong perfume of it. Someone must be tagging nearby. It’s not an uncommon activity in this part of the city, yet I suddenly feel the need to look over my shoulder.

Twenty excruciatingly long minutes later, Liz squeezes her bundled-up self out of a cab and joins me on the walk. Her cheeks are the same color as her bright pink marshmallow coat, and her big round eyes tell me she already means business, even though we haven’t said anything yet.

“How much do you need?” she asks, stuffing a gloved hand into the pocket of her oversized winter wear. It’s actually quite warm for a New York winter—I only brought a jacket and a scarf tonight, which are currently hanging backstage—but Liz has always been a summer enthusiast.

“Nothing,” I tell her, looking hopelessly at the bar’s door. “I got kicked out of my own event.”

“Oh no.” She winces. “Did you hit a bitch?”

“Didn’t get the chance. She has a bodyguard or something. Massive muscles shepherded me out the door.”

Liz snorts, pulling at her white-faux-fur-lined hood. A chill runs up my arms, and the adrenaline and panic that kept me warm start to fade. Maybe I should’ve called her and told her to abort; this Rian character seems set on taking Alec and having her way with him.

“Don’t look so sad, boo bear,” Liz teases in a baby voice I ought to smack out of her. “I’ve got your back.”

“What exactly is your plan?”

“I’m super-persuasive.” She blows out a breath and begrudgingly unzips her coat. A pair of high-waisted leather pants and an off-the-shoulder rock T-shirt are underneath. Both belong to me, but they flatter her body more than mine.

“ ’Kay,” she says. “Who am I looking for?”

“Short girl, purple hair, lots of tattoos. She has a whole sleeve that goes up onto her neck and a little of her face. Her name is Rian.”

“Rian? The street artist?” She laughs. “Explains the bodyguard.”

“Is she famous?”

“Google will help you out from under that rock.” Liz hands over the coat and shows off her skills by sprinting across the street in her stiletto-heeled boots. I jam my arms into the pink marshmallow before all her body heat escapes it, and then take a deep breath.

Oh my…the spray paint scent in the air really plays with my brain, making me believe that Alec is standing in the shadows of the alley next to the bar. I squint, trying to focus on him. It’s dark, but I think it’s the same blond hair, the same build. Alec has such a false-advertising type of body. He looks so lean, like there’s nothing underneath his clothes but skin and bones. I know much better now, and the feel of his taut and well-hidden muscles are imprinted against every ounce of skin they have been in contact with…so pretty much everywhere. Tingles erupt all over my body, and it’s so not the weather making it happen.

He turns his head, and I swear I see the shadows dip on his cheek, indicating that one deep dimple that transforms Alec’s smile from adorable to panty-dropping. I take a step toward him and nearly run into a man passing me on the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” I say with a smile, and then I jolt back because
he
looks exactly like Alec from behind. I shake my head, and another doppelgänger shows up in my peripheral vision before he gets into a cab.

I stuff the bottom half of my face into the faux fur of the coat’s hood. The fumes are causing Alec-hallucinations, and I don’t want to see any more impostors, only the real deal. So I tear my eyes away from everyone around me and turn all my attention to Google and its abundance of knowledge on Rian. I get a good dose of local celebrity education before I hear a kerfuffle across the street. It takes me a few seconds to realize that one of the girls talking animatedly is my best friend in my jacket and scarf.

“What?” I say when I get next to her. Her eyes round as she turns away from the other girl she was talking to and shakes her head slightly at me.

“I…I just…don’t know what I was doing in there.”

The bouncer lifts an eyebrow at us, and so I take Liz by the arm and pull her to the side of the building that isn’t enveloped in spray paint fumes

“I couldn’t find Rian, so I started looking for Alec, but couldn’t find him either,” she spouts, barely taking a breath. “Then I just started…cawing.”

I hold back a laugh. “Like a bird?”

“Exactly like a bird.” Her shoulders lift like she has no explanation. “It just came out.
Caw!
Caw!
”

I jolt back at her sudden outburst and watch the people passing give us amused grins.

“Well, I grabbed everyone’s attention in there, and I think…Theresa, I’m pretty sure they left. Your co-worker—what’s-her-face, the one with the chunky necklace—she said that all the winners paid and that some left with their bachelors. She’s almost positive she saw Rian leave out the back with Alec.”

My shoulders slump in a heap under the massively fluffy fabric of Liz’s coat. I can feel the weight of a three-thousand-dollar grand gesture searing a hole in my pocket. A sudden craving for chocolate hits me, and I cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth, wishing I had access to a peanut butter cup.

“Well, I love you for trying,” I say with a long sigh. “You’re the only person I know who’d bribe their best friend’s competition.”

She attempts a smile. Her bottom lip trembles and she pulls it with her teeth to try to get it to stop.

“Liz, you’re not crying, are you?”

“Kind of,” she croaks. “I might just be shivering.”

I quickly switch outerwear with her, and she starts shaking her head sorrowfully at me as I button up the jacket over the purple cocktail dress that we found after returning the yellow one. I wrap the red scarf around my neck, and she looks at it with even more sorrow. This was originally Alec’s scarf.

“This was supposed to be your night,” she says with the tone of someone who’s just lost their beloved pet. My defeated heart thumps sadly in agreement, but my mouth says something else.

“We’ve had lots of nights.” I tuck my arms in, feeling the briskness in the air now that I’m not in an overstuffed winter coat. “We’ll get another one.”

“If he doesn’t get swept away by Miss Famous.”

I put my hand to my heart. “Thank you so much for your optimism.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry.”

But she’s just put color into a painting I was already forming in my head. Long, sexy looks. A romantic dinner. Clever conversation. Fun touches that turn into flirty touches that turn into intimate ones. And they’re all with Rian and not me. Each image nibbles at my brain, taking more and more with every bite until my head is completely consumed by the worst of the worst of images. I shake my head furiously at our feet.

“Can we just…can you hang out with me until midnight? Distract me from all the scenarios playing in my head right now? I don’t want to think about what they might be doing or if he’ll even be around at midnight to call or…No, no, I don’t want to imagine it. Distract me, please?”

“Sure,” she says after a moment’s pause. I smile and turn, only to have her grab my arm. “Wait…no.”

“What?”

Her eyes widen. “No. I’m not going to distract you.”

I cross my arms and let out a huff. “You are losing best-friend points.”

She looks at me with the eyes of someone who has just had an epiphany. Her hand grips my forearm with the strength of He-Man. “How many times have you let him walk away, or he let you walk away? You said it already—you’ve had so many nights together. Don’t just let things happen this time, Theresa.
Make
them happen.”

“Hollywood has fried your brain,” I tell her, not even joking about it. What she’s describing is a movie plot.

“Maybe the movies have it right.” Her grip hasn’t loosened. “Maybe instead of going home and watching hours of Jensen Ackles defeat paranormal activity and dreaming of having a man that handsome in your life, you actually go find the real-life man and tell him how you feel. Make a fool of yourself, be obnoxious and crazy, and do it because
this is your night
. Then you guys can kiss and make love all over his apartment and get married and your babies will be friends with my babies and we’ll all celebrate holidays and birthdays and go through life together until we’re old and sitting on the front porch and Landon will be across from his best friend and I’ll be across from mine and we’ll all be holding hands—”

“And singing kumbaya and wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters and having joint Tupperware parties.”

“Admit it—that sounds awesome.”

I purse my lips but say nothing, silently giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she’s right. I want all that—maybe not in the Stepford Wives kind of way, but I do want that kind of life and love, and I want it with Alec.

“What could I even do at this point? He left.”

“Call him.”

“He won’t answer. Not if he’s out on a date.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she lets out a tiny excited squeal. “He will if Landon calls.”

“Why?”

“Landon only calls in an emergency.” She pulls out a silver-cased phone. “And in my rush to get here, I accidentally grabbed the wrong cell.”

“I’m telling you, he won’t answer.”

Liz holds out the phone and swipes across the image of Alec’s face, which even on a screen gives me massive hormonal butterflies. She presses speaker, and we huddle in to listen to the ringer. After five rings, Alec’s voicemail pops on.

“Okay, texting then,” Liz says, not deterred at all, even after the arrogant look I toss her way. “We can at least find out where he is.”

“Are you texting as Landon or as you?”

“I can fake dude texts. No emojis or punctuation.”

I shake my head, but my sad heart starts to pound underneath the thin layers of my jacket and dress. I feel a bit rebellious, a sensation I haven’t felt in a long while. Structure and courtesy and rule-following are simple and make things easier most of the time. But I followed Eli’s rules in our open relationship, and that only led me here—to having lost so much time with Alec that every second he spends not knowing that I’m deeply in love with him makes me feel all the more anxious to spit it out. I think Liz understands, even though I haven’t said it out loud, and I crack a small smile at her face, which is bathed in the light from Landon’s phone.

“Why do you want me to do this now?” I ask, not refuting her, but just wanting to know what response she’ll have for me. “Why not let me wait until his date is over?”

She pauses over the keypad, flicking her eyes up to mine. “Given all the nights you guys did nothing, I think it’s time that one of you finally do
something
.”

18 MONTHS, 8 DAYS AGO: 2:31
P.M.

After spending all morning and a good portion of my afternoon planning an impromptu engagement party for Liz and Landon, I flop down on the living room floor, too exhausted to take the three steps to the much more comfortable couch. I’m sure a good half-hour nap and a 5-Hour Energy will revive me enough to host the all-nighter I have in store for the lovely couple.

My eyes flutter closed, and I roll to my side, using my arm as a pillow. I’ll regret this position, I know it, but right now I’m too close to sleep to care about the inevitable sore neck I’ll have when I wake up.

Soft images start invading my mind, and a stomach flutter upturns my lips into a subconscious sleepy smile. Alec’s red vest is the first fuzzy image I see. He was wearing his Bed Bath & Beyond uniform when I stopped by his place this morning. The engagement of our best friends broke the icy silence he’d been maintaining over the past few weeks, and instead of being infuriated with him, the moment I saw him in that red vest, all seemed forgiven. On my end, at least. There was this moment right before I left when his eyes connected with mine. Alec has always made such great eye contact with me, and though I can’t explain it, I’ve managed to reciprocate. Though if you ask me to have eye contact with anyone else, I get a bit too jittery to achieve the task at hand.

His eyes are green—the next fuzzy image I see. Show me a man with green eyes and I’ll show you a woman with wobbly knees.

Something vibrates against my hip, and my half-asleep mind wants it to be Alec calling, texting, IM-ing, emailing…but my awake mind frowns when it realizes it’s an unknown number.

Since it could be one of the people I invited for tonight, I do the unthinkable and answer it instead of ignoring it, like I do with every other mystery phone call.

“This is Theresa.”

“This is Eli. I come in peace.”

My soft and gentle stomach flutters dip into a heavy tarlike substance, and I sit up, feeling the weight of the familiar voice echoing through the phone.

“H-hey,” I stutter, then clear my throat. “Did you…did you change your number?”

“You know how you told me to stop sticking my phone in my back pocket?” he says, playfulness in his tone. It makes a small laugh sneak its way out of my mouth.

“Did you sit on it? Crack the screen with your bony ass?”

“Worse. Fell into the toilet when I pulled my pants up.” He laughs. “It was a goner.”

His lighthearted tone and humorous story tug at parts of me I haven’t felt in a long while. Suddenly, turning down Alec doesn’t feel like the wrong decision. This reminds me of why I had to tell him no.

“So please save this number,” Eli says.

“Only if this phone doesn’t find your back pocket.”

“It’s in the front. Though I’m telling you, it’s not comfortable.”

“You get used to it.” I run a hand over my knee, noting that a shave before the party tonight is probably in order. “I…I was going to call you, actually.”

“Yeah?”

I shouldn’t be nervous. This is my boyfriend. Sort of. Maybe I shouldn’t refer to him as that because I’ve done what he’s asked. There are certainly more notches in my bedpost, but anyone who got close to taking my heart I turned away. “Anyone” meaning Alec. No one else has come close.

So what does that make Eli? A soulmate, perhaps? If only I believed in that notion.

I wipe my palm on the carpet and switch ears with the phone. “I thought we should check in. This is our senior year.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I wait for more, but he doesn’t give me anything else. So I suppose I’ll go first.

“So, I’ve been having fun,” I say with an airy laugh. He echoes it, which makes me feel better about talking about this at least.

“Me too, T. Me too. Thank you for giving me that.”

Saying
you’re welcome
doesn’t exactly sit right on my tongue, so I just keep going with my original intent. “But my heart…I mean, that’s still yours if you want it.”

The small moment of airiness in the conversation dies between us, my words beating it down with a spiked bat. I can feel the awkward tension oozing through the speaker, dripping down my chin, dropping onto my knees, eating me up and making me dumb. Eli clears his throat, and I just know he’s rubbing his chin or playing with his hair. I wonder if it’s even still long anymore or if he’s cut it. It’s been so long since I’ve looked at his profile pictures.

“T…,” he starts, and my voice comes back, surprising me with the sharp edge it takes.

“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t coddle me.”

A pause. “Okay.”

Now there’s silence. Aching silence that buzzes in my ears, making it not silent at all. I swallow hard, pushing back the intense and scary sting of yet another rejection. I refuse to let this one change me.

“Was I completely naive to think we’d be together after this?”

“No.” He sighs. “We still have a few more months, T.”

“Stop coddling,” I say again. Eli only calls me “T” when he’s trying to calm me down. I realize then that I hate it. I hate that nickname with every ounce of disdain I have in me. I don’t like how he tries to calm me down when I want to feel what I feel when I feel it. He makes me think that the emotions I have are unjustified. I used to think he was my anchor—he calmed the storm and kept me grounded by comforting me with fancy words that sounded logical. But maybe he just didn’t want to deal with my crazy.

Alec has never once made me feel
stifled
. When I’m mad, he lets me feel it. Then he’s always there when I come down.

The comparison knocks me off balance, and my head spins. I touch my hand to my forehead and try to crawl back into the conversation.

“Just be honest with me,” I tell Eli. “Are you saving your heart like you promised? Or was this a plan to let us slowly fade away?”

“My heart isn’t with anyone else,” he says. “But…I can’t say it’s yours anymore either.”

I let my hand drop back to my knee. “Are you capable of a straight answer?” I practically growl at him. “If you don’t say yes or no to the next question, I’m hanging up.
Do you still want me?
”

The pause is so long, I’m tempted to say the question again. Instead he gets to hear the grinding of my teeth.

“Maybe.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and slide the red button. Guess I should’ve told him I was going to hang up if the answer was anything but a solid yes.

A cruel sunbeam shines brightly through my eyelids, making me see orange before I’ve even opened my eyes. The events of last night swirl together in my pounding head, paint and laughter and…kissing. The kissing might’ve been all in my head, though.

With a low groan, I roll over, my brain taking longer to roll with me. The bedsheets feel too rough to be my eight-hundred-thread-count ones from Bed Bath & Beyond. Perks of being friends with the manager.

It takes more effort than it should to lift my heavy eyelids and greet the morning. When they finally budge and let me take in the room, I notice that my sheets have been saved by a couple of towels, one folded and resting under my head and the other spread out and wrinkled from my night of sleep.

I know for a fact that I’m not responsible enough sober, let alone wasted, to lay out a protective barrier. I most likely would’ve tried to wash off all the paint from my body in a hot shower and passed out in the tub. In a small moment of panic, I swing my arm back, half expecting Jace in the bed next to me. The last thing I remember is Liz pushing me down at a table across from him, asking him to make sure I got home okay. Jace and I had a conversation about marriage and how much we both hate it, and I’m pretty sure I propositioned him. He’s safe. He won’t take my heart and keep it for years and years only to tell me he doesn’t want it anymore. All I’d get from him is sex, and after Eli’s call, that sounded like a good fix.

The left side of the mattress is cold, empty, and unruffled. I breathe out a sigh of relief, but without the panicked distraction I’m back to feeling the relentless knocking in my skull. I’d promise myself never to drink again, but I know that I’d break it as soon as I saw a bottle of Riesling.

Other than my excessive refreshment, the engagement party seemed to be a success. Liz and Landon started a paint war that went on for a few hours; I was really only aware of half of it. Even Alec seemed to be having a good time, dancing with Jaycee and a few other girls. I was tempted to dance with him too, but didn’t want to push things. In my state I’m sure that if I got within ten feet of him, I would’ve jumped his bones in front of everybody. As much as I truly believe turning him away was the right thing to do, I can’t deny the physical responses I have in his presence.

I pick up my phone to send a text to Liz. Better apologize in case I made a fool of myself for
her
celebration.

There’s already a message there.

Good morning, drinky! I saw Alec got you home safe. Call me when you get up. Thanks for last night!!!

I sit up and immediately regret it, putting a hand to my head and breathing through the hangover pain. I want to force my memory to come to the surface, but with everything else happening, I highly doubt it will happen. Alec took me home, not Jace. When did they pull that switch? And I have no clue how Liz knows about it, unless Alec told her. He must’ve told her. Seems like a responsible, Alec thing to do.

I swivel my legs over the edge of the bed and wobble up to my feet. I use the wall and my furniture to help me to the bathroom. On the way I pass the closet and notice that my shoes are all organized. Huh. Very unlike me.

After morning business, I wash my hands and notice long blond strands on the counter. Liz must’ve showered here after the party. Good for her. She made it through day one of her sex hiatus. During our conversation yesterday she admitted that her engagement nookie wasn’t as stellar as she hoped, so now she’s trying to go the entire engagement period celibate so that her wedding night is absolute heaven. I’m preparing for a very on-edge best friend for a few weeks until she finally gives in.

I dry my hands off and head to the coffeemaker to get it started while I shower off the stink of last night. Thank God I didn’t sleep with anyone; I’m no stranger to the drunken mistake.

Covering a yawn, I push the coffeepot into place and search the cluttered counter for a clean mug. There isn’t one, and I’m pretty sure I’ve used all the clean ones from the dishwasher.

“Ugnnn…”

At the sound of the low groan, I jump completely out of my slippers, skinning my elbow on the edge of the counter. Alec stretches on the couch, his painted shirt slipping up enough for me to see his happy trail and the cut V of his hips. He hoists himself up, scratching at the green and yellow paint that’s stained his blond hair. A low dip in my gut sends what I thought was a dream to the forefront of my mind.

“Shit.”

His sleepy eyes crinkle at the corners, and he stifles a yawn. “Morning to you, too.”

The feel of his hair, his lips, his body on mine…it comes back to me in a vague sensory memory, like I may have still dreamed it all, but I’m now 70 percent sure that something did in fact happen. I sink to my elbows, covering my face and muttering into my palms.

“Tell me everything. Don’t you dare leave out any details, no matter how embarrassing they are.”

I fan out my fingers to peek at Alec’s face. His eyebrow rises, disappearing into the green strands of hair covering his forehead. He reaches for the towel he must’ve placed on my couch last night and starts folding it into a perfect square.

“What do you remember?” he asks, a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“Nothing. Details aren’t a drunk’s forte.”

He silently laughs and leans against the counter next to me, close enough that I can feel his heat. I really don’t mind it.

“I took you home and put you to bed. It was late, so I crashed here.” His dimple crease fades a little. “Nothing embarrassing.”

“You are the world’s worst liar.” I take a deep breath. “Tell me. I can handle it.”

His dimple makes a genuine appearance now, and he grins up at the ceiling. “You were very friendly.”

“Oh God.”

“And quite vocal about my good looks.”

I toss my aching head back to take his place gazing at the ceiling while he turns his attention to me.

“Handsy, too. Forceful. You’re way stronger than I gave you credit for.”

“Alec…”

He puts his hands up, playful grin on his face. “You wanted details.”

I nibble at my bottom lip. “How naked did we get?”

“Depends on your rating system. I’d say PG-13.”

“Hand stuff, then?”

His eyes widen and a laugh pops from his mouth. “What rating system are you using?” He laughs again. “You just unzipped my pants.”

“That is so not PG-13 material. PG, maybe.”

“You’d let your kids watch that?”

“PG stands for ‘parental guidance.’ People are in their underwear on Disney shows.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, but they aren’t…
excited
.”

“There’s one in
The Little Mermaid
.”

“Only adults and horny teenagers notice that.”

I giggle, then groan and frown because it rattles my headache. Alec’s eyes turn sympathetic and he gently smooths some strands of hair from my face.

“Coffee,” he says, and I nod.

“Do you need any?” I ask while he grabs a mug and cranks on the water to wash it.

“I was surprisingly sober for the evening.”

One of my eyebrows rises. “So, you remember everything with perfect clarity?”

He pauses, his soapy thumbs rubbing circles on the cat design on the outside of the coffee mug. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “As much as I can, given that it’s still early,” he teases, but the joke doesn’t reach his eyes. He really is a terrible liar.

I reach over and open the cabinet that holds all my spices. I take out my small bag of sugar and fill up the sugar cup I keep next to the coffeemaker. “You were excited, huh?” I ask, trying to bring the conversation back to its playful nature.