Let Me Go (3 page)

“Whatever. You are crazy!” Sadie screeches and everyone at the table cracks up.

“Then come over and prove it.” Brady’s chair slides out from the table and Sadie wastes no time straddling him. When Brady’s hands land on her ass, she jolts in his arms as he picks her up.

“We’ll see you guys later.” He swiftly steps out the back door. “Oh, it was nice meeting you, Paige. Stop by whenever,” he hollers.

“You too, thanks for the help,” I scream back as the screen door slams shut.

“Sit,” Chrissy demands like I’m a child being reprimanded. She stands back up and Dex groans.

I hand her the bills for a portion of the pizza. “Here’s some money.”

She pushes my hand back. “Nonsense. It’s on us as a welcome.” I continue to hold it out, not wanting something for free. “Really, Paige. Rob covered it anyway. That happens so rarely, we are all taking full advantage of it.” She laughs, grabbing a piece of pizza with more meat on it than cheese and strides back to Dex.

“Thanks, babe,” Dex says, with his eyes glued to a spiral notebook in front of him. Taking the pen, he scribbles across it.

When I sit down, I peer over, wondering what he’s working on. “What’s that?”

He holds up the notebook in his hands. “A new song that Brady just wrote. We have a show tonight and he wants us to perform.

“Yeah, Paige. Do you want to come down to Aces?” Chrissy plops down next to me.

“Oh, I really have to unpack and get settled. Plus, classes tomorrow.” Chrissy’s lips turn down in a pretend pout and the word okay is about to slip from my lips when the number-one reason I shouldn’t go swaggers into the room.

His jeans are swung low on his hips, and a white T-shirt strains across his shoulders. His presence alone causes goose bumps to scatter up my arms, and I suck in a deep breath at how gorgeous he looks. My heart races watching him make a beeline my way with his eyes glued to mine.

“Let’s go, Hulk.”

“Okay, but Brady just carried Sadie out of the house. I’m thinking we have about a half hour now.” Dex shrugs, and Rob throws himself in the chair.

“More like five minutes, but that just gives me more time to get to know our new roommate.” A slow smirk slides across his mouth and I look down trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck.

“Rob,” Chrissy warns, but when I sneak a glimpse from the corner of my eye, Rob’s eyes are completely on me.

“Don’t worry, Chrissy, I’m pretty sure hot guitarists aren’t Paige’s thing.” I remain quiet, not wanting to lie because they are completely my thing.

When Chrissy and Dex begin talking plans for tonight, I stand up. While I’m at the stove, grabbing another slice of pizza, Rob ventures over. He leans over my shoulder and reaches for the Parmesan cheese. “Heads up, I may have just lied. I’m one hundred percent positive you’re into hot guitarists because I bet if my hand slipped down your pants, I’d feel your panties that soaked through, when I walked into the room.”

Inhaling a deep breath to calm my nerves, I face him and whisper, “Joke’s on you, I’m not wearing panties.” His head rears back and desire floods his crystal blue eyes.

His tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth. “I’ve underestimated you.” He chuckles and then walks away back to the table.

I’m silent for the rest of the meal while Rob and Dex discuss the songs Brady wrote. Chrissy asks me a few questions about my Economics class and if I’m struggling because she’s heard rumors about how hard the class is. Rob glances over to me from the corner of his eye, as though Econ class piques his interest.
Does Econ pique anyone’s interest? I think not.

Suddenly, he flies up in his seat. “I’ll be out in the garage until it’s time.”

He doesn’t look back and the screen door shuts with a bang.

Chrissy places her hand on my shoulder. “He’s kind of . . .” She shrugs, looking at Dex.

“Temperamental?” Dex fills in.

“Moody,” I clarify and they both nod.

“I gotta go.” Chrissy springs up, kissing Dex on the cheek. “Ten minutes, babe.”

Then she turns my way again.

“You sure you don’t want to come? It will be a lot of fun.” I see the hope in her smiling mouth.

“Next time, I swear.”

She nods. “Okay. I’ll keep you to that.”

“FUCK!” I FLING
the lid to the pot across the room. The flame sizzles out once the water pours over the side. I was positive I could nail this new recipe tonight. This is my consequence for watching a cooking show at three in the morning half asleep. Every time I dream about the damn dish and then wake up craving it. Stupidly, I try to recreate it from memory and fail miserably.

Go figure, me fail at something.

“Sounds like the dinner’s winning.” Paige sails through the back door, her backpack swung over her shoulder and a smile in place as always. The girl is definitely posing a cheery act, because no way can one person be so damn nice and happy as much as her.

“I got it, just wait and see.” I grab the potholders and pour the pasta into the strainer. “Dinner is in fifteen,” I call over my shoulder and she scurries behind me, stealing a noodle.

She sucks the long noodle through her lips, and I watch her, imagining a specific part of my body in that delicate mouth. “Ummm . . . good.” She smiles and then sneaks past the doorway.
Man, she’s got me wound tighter than a guitar string.

Paige is easy, not requiring a lot of effort on my part to be around her. She allows me to sexually entice her, and she politely shoots me down even though I’m positive her insides scream for me. Not sure if she’ll ever allow me to show her exactly how fucking should be done, but I’m enjoying this chase of come and get me. It’s like an adult game of hide and seek, except my prize will be a hell of a lot better.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I try to save the spaghetti sauce in the pot before it all burns to the bottom. I place the spoon back down as Hulk’s name flashes across my phone.

Hulk: Sorry man, Chrissy and I are hung up. We won’t be there for dinner.

Well, damn. Chrissy’s the one who organized this whole chart of who makes dinner and when. She said something about us being a family and we should have dinner together at least three times a week. I’ve tried to be at every one and the first time it’s my turn to prepare it with Paige here, they bail. A sly smile crosses my lips figuring Chrissy’s probably shitting herself thinking about Paige and I alone. I can’t allow this moment to go without some torture.

Me: I wanted some “quality” time with Paige, anyway.

That should build a rise out of Chrissy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran through the door panting in the next ten minutes. Splatters of red dots fly to every surface of the white stove and I quickly twist the knob of the burner off. Taking two plates out, I scoop two spoonful’s of pasta and then pour my homemade sauce over. Right as I place them on the table, Paige comes in with her long hair up off her neck and another T-shirt and pajama pants outfit. I swear this girl has more pajama pants than I have guitar pics.

Taking a sip, I catch the words on her pajama pants and almost spit out my beer. “Is that a fact?” I ask, eyeing the Satisfaction Guaranteed stamp, printed from waist to feet.

“I thought you’d like these.” She laughs, wiggling her ass a little as she opens the fridge to grab a drink. My eyes ransack her perfect apple ass and I examine closer when I don’t spot any panty lines. Then I wonder what she’d do if I cornered her against the fridge and my hands slipped into her waistline, molding her flesh in my hands. She pivots around and I quickly step to the left as nonchalant as I can. “Don’t steal them,” she giggles and then moves over to the table.

“Hell, they mold to your body a little too nice. But I’m thinking of a pretty sweet tattoo at the moment.” I hand her a fork.

“Thanks.” Her one leg is propped up and rests on the seat of the chair as she twirls the pasta around her fork. “Where are the others?” She asks right before she piles the ring of noodles into her mouth.

“They ditched us.” I sit down across from her, trying to keep as much space between us as possible before I ignore Chrissy’s wishes and up my speed with Paige to full throttle.

She nods and swallows her first bite. Her eyes light up and she places her fork down. “They are missing out. I have to admit I had some doubts when I walked in earlier.” From the humor in her eyes, I know she’s joking with me. I’ve begun to figure out her humor and when she’s serious after only one week.

“I kind of wish I ruined the dinner.” I wait for her to look up from her plate with confusion. When she peeks up with furrowed brows, I give her my reason. “Then I would have taken you out.” She tries to mask the corner of her lips bending up, but I catch it. She’s weakening.

“Maybe we should lay this out on the table.” She places her fork down, wiping her mouth with the napkin. Hugging her one leg tight into her chest, she stares me directly in the eye, placing a veil of seriousness over her face.

“The dinner is already out on the table.” I divert her because I know what she’s about to argue.

“Rob, we’ll never date.” She angles her head and I concentrate on one loose, curly strand falling down the side of her face. Her hair is perfect for winding around my finger and tugging right before her orgasm racks her body.

“Whoever said dating?” I arch my eyebrows at her, but this time her face forewarns no emotion to my humor.

“Or anything else that dirty mind of yours has in store.” She picks up her fork and points it to me before digging back into the pasta.

Picking my own fork up, I laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’d find great pleasure if I conducted the dirty thoughts in my mind on you.” This earns me a peek up through her eyelashes before she shakes her head slowly. She might think she’s hiding her face, but I don’t miss that smile sneaking through.

“I have a feeling you don’t give up easily,” she quietly murmurs in to her noodles.

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

We sit in silence, the sound of forks scraping plates for a few minutes. The quiet is excruciating to me. Remembrance of that night in the hospital. After all the chaos, sitting there in that private room, hearing the words we already assumed. All we could do was sit there in deafening silence. It’s the reason I’d rather be the loudest in the room than to hear nothing at all.

“What are you majoring in?” I figure I might as well get to know the girl I share a bathroom with.

“Business.”

“Care to elaborate?” I pry for further details. “Business is about as generic as me saying I drive a car.”

She giggles and I hate what that sound does to my stomach. “True. Hospitality Management.” When I continue to sit there, staring at her for more details, she laughs again. “I’d love to run a hotel someday. One in New York or L.A. Definitely, in a major city.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you. You’ll think it’s stupid.” She stands up from her chair, moving to the fridge. I watch the swaying of her ass back and forth and then adjust in my seat.

“Try me.” She holds up a beer in the air, silently asking if I want one. “Water, please.” She nods and then grabs two waters, placing one in front of me. “Thanks.”

She twists the cap off her water and props up her foot on the chair again. “I went to this hotel once with my dad. I was eight and he left me in the room. Me being the curious kid I was, ventured out of the room and began to explore the hotel.”

“Sounds like something I would do.” She smiles and nods.

“I ended up following the manager around for most of the day, and there was something about how he flawlessly handled so many things. Moving from the kitchen, to a business meeting, to a press conference, to just greeting people in the lobby. It piqued my interest and it seemed like a cool job. You get to make people happy, help them create memories.” She shakes her head. “I told you, stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She hesitantly looks up at me, and I smile to reassure her it’s not. “Eventually, he caught on. Asked me what room I was staying in. I told him that my dad left and then he let me spend the whole day with him. He took me to the kitchen, asked someone to make me a giant ice cream sundae. Since we were staying at the hotel for the whole week.”