Give Me You (14 page)

I open my mouth to argue but he rushes on.

“Those shoes, the red ones you bought when we went to the mall a while back? You kicked them into the back of your closet after wearing them once.”

Geez. Why the sudden interest in my shoes?

“I’m sorry, Sky. Did you want to borrow them?” I smirk, but he levels me with a hard glare. I have no idea when he’s so uptight about footwear.

“You’re missing the point.”

“I didn’t realize there was one.” My mouth is suddenly dry. I thought we were going to hang out and play games like the other night. Clearly something is on his mind.

“You toss everything aside when it stops holding your interest, when the new wears off. You get bored easily.”

“And this is a problem because…”

He smiles, but it doesn’t feel real. “Ever had a bad break up, Corin? Ever been so upset that a relationship ended that you cried yourself to sleep?”

More like I cried because I was
in
a relationship. “God no. Every break up I ever had was like ‘good riddance.’ You know?”

He nods as if he does in fact know and I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but the arrogance dancing across his face pisses me off.

I narrow my eyes as he returns his attention to the animated players facing off on the screen. “You trying to say something? If you are, go ahead and say it.”

He’s judging me, I think. That really fucking sucks. He was the one person that I never felt like that with, the one that never seemed to judge me. Aside from Layla, and even I see how her eyes go wide sometimes when I say something she finds shocking or appalling. But never Skylar. And now he is. With everything else going on, I feel vulnerable and fragile and I don’t like it—at all.

“Forget this.” I put my controller down because like hell I am hanging out with him if he’s going to be a judgmental prick. He turns to me with raised brows. “So I like new stuff, so I don’t wear the same old stuff over and over. Maybe I had to do that my whole life and I hated it. So yeah, I work hard so I can buy red stilettos I’ll only wear once. I don’t need your fucking approval.” My voice breaks, damn him to hell. I don’t know why his few words feel like needle sticks to my soul but they do. Shoving up off the floor, I snatch my black flats up and prepare to leave. Layla and Landen are in the dorm so I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll figure something out.

“Hey,” he says evenly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down awkwardly into his lap. “Calm down.”

I swallow and resist the urge to bolt. Breathing heavily, I look into his eyes. “What’s with the psychoanalysis, Sky? I do something to make you mad?”

He shakes his head no. “No, babe. You didn’t. I didn’t mean to be an ass or make you mad. I just thought I should warn you.”

I lean back a bit because sitting on top of him like this is doing things to me. I’m tingling everywhere our bodies are touching while he remains perfectly calm and collected. “Warn me about what?”

His lips curl slowly upward and he leans his forehead in until it rests on mine. “I see you, how you are. How things catch your eye briefly before you move on to the next shiny thing before you get too attached.” I wiggle in frustration, but his hands hold me to his lap. “It’s not going to be that easy with me. I just thought you should know.”

“I’ve never had trouble moving on…from anyone.” Not even my own mother, not that he needs to know about her.

“Because you never met anyone worth missing. Until now.”

I huff out a breath, because for some majorly messed up reason, I think he might be right. “Can we just play the damn game, Skylar?” I gesture to the television and he nods.

His lips flatten a bit before he smirks again. “Sure, sweetheart. We can play the game. If that’s what you want.”

My heart is pounding as I slide off of his lap over into my spot. I wipe my sweat slick palms on my jeans and face the screen. Why am I so worked up over this weird ass conversation?

Because you never met anyone worth missing.

Until now.

I wake up and glance to the window. Not quite daylight yet. Rubbing my eyes as they adjust, I remember where I am. Skylar’s friend’s studio apartment. Someone put me in the bed. I’m fully dressed and Skylar is nowhere in sight.

Stretching, I get out of the enormous bed. We must’ve dozed off watching that God awful sci-fi movie he turned on after playing Mortal Combat until our fingers cramped. After using the restroom, I check over by the couch. He’s asleep on it.

He gave me the bed.

He’s on his side and dark mussed hair falls in his face. Leaning down, I tuck it back a bit and stare at him.

Here, alone in the quiet hours of dawn, it feels like we’ve figured out how to escape the world. Like we’re alone here in a place where nothing can hurt us, where no one can touch us. Where are roommates aren’t making our lives a living hell and my past won’t ruin how he feels about me.

But that’s the problem with the quiet. The things I try to drown out bleed through to the surface, reminding me that this, this whatever it is, it’s temporary. Skylar calling me sweetheart, wanting to get to know me, video games and wrestling matches over the cordless remote controller. I smile sadly, biting back a laugh about watching him get mad because the only move I’m good at is tripping his character over and over.

He might whisper his dirty thoughts to me on a regular basis, and his eyes roam my body like it’s a work of art on occasion. But the truth is, what I have with Skylar is one of the most innocent and authentic relationships I’ve ever shared with another human being.

The most, Connelly. It’s THE MOST innocent and authentic relationship you’ve ever had. With anyone.

God, my subconscious is a pushy bitch sometimes. The truth catches in my throat, causing my breath to hitch and stutter on its way out. Before I can stop myself, my fingers reach out and gently graze his lips. Then the stubble on his jaw.

I close my eyes, savoring the way his skin feels. Masculine. Firm.

The old me would’ve stripped naked and woken him by sliding my hand down his pants. I miss the old me about now. Because, Lord help me, I want him so bad it hurts.

Too bad I’m not ready to let go yet.

And therein lies the biggest barrier between us. I know something that he doesn’t.

Once he gets to know me,
really
gets to know me, we’re done.

He stirs and his arms ensnare my body.

“Corin,” he says into my hair before blinking himself into the land of the conscious. His hand slides down to my waist “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to attack you in my sleep.” He starts to sit up so I can have some space on the couch.

“Don’t,” I whisper, needing this from him, the closeness, the comfort, and burying my head deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t move yet.”

A
fter two weeks of Maniac O’Brien, I’m ready to lock him and Layla in a room together. He’s been insane on the soccer field and in the weight room. We’ve both been put in as starters but his drive isn’t based on the desire to go pro like mine is. Layla won’t see him and Corin won’t talk to me much about it because she doesn’t want to betray her friend’s confidence.

Understandable but it still sucks.

I decide to stage an intervention because something has to fucking give. I walk into the weight room after practice. One of the trainers is removing the stiches from Landen’s forearm.

I hang out while he begins maxing out at the weight bench.

“Killing yourself won’t make her want you back,” I say, moving over to spot him.

“I thought I was alone.”

I groan under the weight as I replace it on the bar. It’s twice what he normally benches. “You will be if you don’t get your shit together.”

Landen lets out an angry snorting sound. “Worry about your own shit, Martin. Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?”

I move to stand in front of him and he legit looks like he’s ready to bash my face in. Anyone’s face, really. I just happen to be the one standing here.

“I would,” I tell him. “But your shit’s affecting my shit. Fuck, I shouldn’t call her shit.” I rubs the back of my neck and try to phrase my concerns a little more articularely. “Corin’s upset. More than upset. Layla’s barely even speaking. Cor said she goes to class, she smiles like a goddamn robot, and then she just sleeps all the time.”

“
Cor
needs to get a fucking life of her own. Or wait, she doesn’t have a
fucking life,
does she?” He sneers at me and now I’m the one seeing red. What Corin does or doesn’t do is none of his goddamn business.

“I’m gonna give you a pass this once, because I know you’re dealing with a…whatever the hell it is you’re dealing with. But I won’t comment about your freaky chick and you don’t comment about mine.” I know the instant the words are out, that I shouldn’t have insulted Layla. She’s a sweet girl and not really freaky at all.

I don’t get time to apologize though, because Landen’s fist connects hard with my jaw.

I bull-rush him to try and settle him down and something falls, clanking loud and hard beside us. Probably not the safest location for a brawl.

“Goddammit, O’Brien,” I growl, trying to pin the raging bastard after he sucker punches me in the gut.

He gets the jump on me, taking advantage of the fact that I lost my breath, and I’m the one on bottom when I hear footsteps coming toward us.

The team pulls us apart and Coach Wicks gives us both the evil eye.

“What the hell happened here?” Coach asks, looking back and forth between us.

“My fault, Coach,” Landen says, because it’s true.

“Girl problems,” I mutter, hoping this won’t get either of us suspended or worse. I should’ve known better than to confront him.

“Won’t happen again,” Landen says, looking guilty as hell.

“You’re damn right it won’t. O’Brien, you’re off the team. Get your shit and go. Martin, get your ass in my office,
now
.”

My head spins. This is my fault. I should’ve just left him be or talked to him at the dorm.

“Yes, sir,” O’Brien says, grabbing his bag and storming out.

“Wait,” I call out but he doesn’t turn around. I follow Coach into his office and do my best to explain. “That wasn’t all on him. It was stupid but I knew he was dealing with some—”