Love to Love Her YAC (11 page)

I begin to stand, but stumble backward
slightly, feeling a bit lightheaded. Without thinking I grasp at
her thin waist to steady myself.
Goddamn she feels so good
.
I withdraw my fingers more slowly than I probably should, checking
her face to be sure I haven’t freaked her out. Her pupils are
dilated, but outside of that she’s not giving anything away.

I turn to check myself out in the mirror over
the sink. She’s kept it long on top but trimmed around my ears and
shortened it up a bit at the back. I’m impressed with the perfect
blend up the back and sides and the straight edge across the back
of my neck. It’s spot-on what I wanted.

“What do you think?” she asks nervously. “I
can take more off the top if you want.”

I turn to look at her and smile. “Don’t you
dare touch it,” I say. “It’s perfect.”

She grins back, seeming happily relieved. My
heart soars at the sparkle in her amber eyes. “Do you have a
broom?” she asks.

I look down at the tiled floor, now covered
with mounds of hair. “Don’t worry about sweeping,” I reply, “I’ll
get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

She nods, then glances at her watch.
Disappointment wells in me as she bites her lip and glances back up
at me. “I should probably go,” she says tentatively.

Will she stay if I ask her to?
One way
to find out… “Let me make you something – late lunch, early dinner,
whatever you wanna call it. Please, it’s the least I can do.”

I hold my breath while she mulls it over. She
squints a little as she looks at me, seemingly deep in thought. At
last she sighs and says, “Rain check? I really need to get more
studying done before I meet someone for dinner later.”

My heart, which was soaring along at cruising
altitude, now plummets in my chest.
Someone?

Slowly I nod, knowing I have no right to ask
any further questions. “All right. Just say when.”

Her face is transformed by a coy smile. “Oh,
I will. I never forget to collect.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I reply, following
her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she scoops up
her backpack from the floor. I want so fucking badly to ask her who
she’s having dinner with – it seems like it’s taking superhuman
willpower to refrain from doing just that as I walk her to the
door.

She pauses when she reaches the entryway, her
hand poised on the doorknob. “Thanks for having me over,” she says.
“Even if you did put me to work.”

Every neuron in my body is screaming for me
to touch her, but I hold back, probably managing to appear
completely unyielding in the process. “The pleasure was all mine,”
I tell her sincerely. “Seriously… Thank you for the hair cut – and
the mind-blowing scalp massage.”

She lifts her chin a fraction of an inch as
she smiles. “You’re welcome.” She turns the knob and throws the
door open, then takes a step through.

My hand reaches out unbidden and clutches
softly at her slim upper arm. “Oh, and Rhiannon?” I say. “For what
it’s worth…I believe you now.”

“I figured you would,” she says. “See ya
around, Blake.” With that she walks out the door, leaving me
bewildered and somehow completely unfulfilled.

Thursday, September 27, 8:00 PM

I
’ve been on a
cleaning rampage ever since I got home this afternoon, knowing
Rhiannon is coming over after dinner. She invited me over to her
place to watch a movie, but for selfish reasons I like having her
here, lighting up my normally drab surroundings.

She buzzes the intercom at eight o’clock on
the dot. I press the button on the box next to the door to let her
in, then step out into the hall to wait for her. I watch her as she
comes toward me down the long hallway in a white tank top, gray
ankle-length skirt and sandals. The skirt looks like t-shirt
material; it forms to her hips in a very flattering way. A woven
straw purse hangs crossways on her body, the strap over her right
shoulder, her cheeks are flushed and her strawberry blond curls
have been diffused by the breeze. In short, she looks downright
mouthwatering.

“Come on in,” I say when she’s close enough
to hear me. I wish I could tell her how pretty she looks, but
that’s probably crossing a line – not that I haven’t set a
precedent of overstepping that line repeatedly over the past week
or so.

She shrugs off her purse once she gets to the
kitchen and loops it over the back of a chair. “Thirsty?” I ask. “I
have Fanta and beer.”

She laughs, that beautiful, musical laugh. “I
can never turn down a Fanta.”

I hand her a drink, and we move down to the
living room. Rhiannon walks over to the entertainment center and
stoops to examine the various electronics housed on each of its
glass shelves. “Is this yours?” she asks, pointing to the
PlayStation on the second shelf.

“Adam plays, too, but yes, technically it
belongs to me,” I reply.

“What do you play?”

I shrug. “I mostly play shooter games. I
think Fallout is in right now. Adam likes role playing games like
Skyrim and Final Fantasy.” She nods, chewing it over as she reaches
her right hand around the left side of her neck and scratches at
the smooth, pale skin at the back of her shoulder. It’s amazing how
such a simple gesture, coming from her, can appear so goddamn
alluring
.

She turns to face me as I come down the steps
to join her. “Can I watch you play?” she asks.

“Really? Why?” I watch her face fall a little
and hurry to smooth over my rough question. “I mean – Sure, but
wouldn’t that be kinda boring for you?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she replies. “I’ve never
really been around anyone who played video games. I wanna know what
they’re like.”

I smile and reach around her to power on the
console. “Okay,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t want to play,
too?”

“Not right now,” she replies.

“All right, but tell me if you get
bored.”

She flops down on the couch directly across
from the TV, and I take the seat next to her and pick up the
controller off the end table. I try to explain a little to Rhiannon
about the game’s story line as I play, and she asks me questions
about how I do certain things, which buttons I’m pressing to change
weapons and so on.

Sometime later, I hear a key turning in the
front door.
Shit, Adam is home
. I hunker down, leaning over
on my knees, resolved to stay focused on the game – maybe if I
ignore him I can avoid getting the third degree in front of
Rhiannon.

I hear him toss his keys on the kitchen table
followed by the crinkling of plastic bags – sounds like he went
grocery shopping. “Hi, Adam,” says Rhiannon.

He chuckles as he walks over to the edge of
the steps; I can see his hulking form in the edge of my peripheral
vision. “Wow, dude, I should nominate you for host of the year.
What, did you just offer her a drink and then sit her down to watch
you play video games?”

Rhiannon laughs as she answers for me.
“Actually I requested this. I haven’t really been around video
games before, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Really?” he asks. I can hear him prying the
cap off a beer, and I pray for him not to join us as he comes down
the steps and drops onto the loveseat.
Fuckin’ A
.

Abruptly I stop playing and press the button
to pause the game. I turn to look back at Rhiannon, who seems
perfectly content curled up next to the armrest. “Have you seen
enough?” I ask, silently pleading with her to say yes so we can
escape somewhere else. “We could do something else.”

“Actually, could I try?” she asks.

I smile in spite of myself. “Yeah of course,
you can try.” I hand her the controller and wait while she
positions her hands. She stretches her thumbs out and moves them in
circles before placing them on the buttons.

“Okay, all warmed up,” she says. I chuckle as
I scoot over next to her and begin explaining what each button is
used for. Eventually she bats my hand away, claiming to have it
down.

I turn back to face Adam and try to keep the
irritation from my voice as I say, “You gonna stick around,
man?”

Adam takes a sip of his beer then says, “This
is her first time playing? Hell yeah, I can’t wait to see
this.”

Rhiannon gives him an indignant look, and I
inwardly smile as I dig my heels in and prepare to spend the rest
of the evening with my roommate hovering over us. Rhiannon presses
the button to restart play and uses the joystick to swivel and then
run forward. Suddenly a guy in a gas mask charges out of the cave
to her left, and she agilely swings around and blasts him square in
the head. A beat later more men start pouring out of the opening,
and she continues to pepper them with bullets, picking off one
after the other until the ground is littered with her collateral
damage.

Um…what the hell?

“Holy shit,” breathes Adam. “I think I’m in
love.”

I ignore his banal comment and snap around to
look at Rhiannon, who appears perfectly composed as she continues
to work the joystick. “Are you sure you haven’t played before?” I
ask suspiciously.

She bites her lip and nods, but doesn’t take
her eyes off the screen. “Beginner’s luck, I guess,” she says
absently. I let out a laugh and shake my head as I settle back in
my seat.

Forty-five minutes later Rhiannon has
delivered a thorough ass kicking to all her opponents and advanced
me a level in the process. All I can do is grin in disbelief as she
relinquishes the controller to me with a yawn. Adam is cracking up,
equally incredulous at the spectacle that’s just occurred.

“So, what did you think?” I ask as I power
down the system.

She shrugs. “It was pretty fun I guess.”

I laugh. “Tell me something – is there
anything you’re
not
good at?”

She grins at me, a devilish sparkle in her
eye. “That’s for me to know and you to always wonder.” She sends me
a subtle wink as she stands and walks up to the kitchen with her
empty Fanta bottle.
Fuck it – kill me now
.

Rhiannon – 4:45 PM

I
t’s a Friday
evening, and Ruthie, Corinne and I are sprawled across different
parts of the sectional sofa in their living room. Ruthie is
pretending to read her sociology textbook while Corinne paints her
toenails.

“God, I’m bored,” Corinne laments as she dabs
neon orange polish on her big toe. “Pretty soon I’ll be all dressed
up with nowhere to go.” She blows on her right foot to dry the
polish.

“Amen,” grumbles Ruthie. “If I’m still
reading this stupid book in fifteen minutes, please just put me out
of my misery.”

“We shouldn’t stay in and be lame,” Corinne
agrees. “This could be the last warm weekend of the season!”

I lie on my back, watching the indolent
rotation of the ceiling fan as I listen to their exchange. I’ll go
along with whatever the girls decide, but in truth I wouldn’t mind
an evening filled with nothing but napping and movies. Such is the
state of my existence these days…at least when I’m not with a
certain someone. It isn’t that I’m
physically
tired; it’s
more of a mind-numbing emotional exhaustion that’s translated into
my current sloth-like behavior. I hate that I’m so hung up on a guy
who can’t be mine, and I hate even more that my thoughts rarely
stray far from that fact.

Blake and I hung out a few times over the
past week. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about everything from
our childhood pets to our favorite books to our future plans. One
topic that is glaringly absent from our conversations, though, is
Blake’s girlfriend Jordan. I know she must be a big part of his
past if they’ve been together for six years, so I can only assume
the omission is due to a fear on his part that he’ll hurt my
feelings or something. I can’t stand that I’m the one with the
unfulfilled longing in this scenario, because it makes me feel
somehow weak.

Then again, I know I can’t be purely
imagining the palpable sexual tension between us. When I left
Blake’s apartment last weekend I could swear he almost kissed me –
and that wasn’t the only close call we’ve had. What’s worse is the
fact I probably would have let him. There’s no denying our
chemistry; I just wish it was enough.

My phone alerts me to an incoming text
message from Spencer.

SOS…You have to save me from my boredom.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones without
plans for the evening,” I say. “Spence just texted me.”

“Tell him to come over,” Corinne says without
looking up.

I tap the screen to type out a reply, but the
phone chimes again before I can hit Send. This time it’s Blake.

Adam and I are heading down to the lake. Come with
us.

“Aren’t you Miss Popular?” says Ruthie,
quirking an eyebrow at me.

“That was Blake,” I say. “He wants to know if
we want to go to the lake with him and his roommate.”

“Um, hell yes,” replies Corinne. We look up
at her, taken aback by her exuberant response. “What?” she says
defensively. “I’m bored, and Adam is cute.”

“Ruthie?” I ask.

“Yeah sure, I’m in.”

I send a text message to Blake letting him
know we’re up for it, wishing I could resist him for once but
knowing I can’t. I send a second one to Spencer inviting him to
join us.

5:30 PM

H
alf an hour later
the four of us are piling in the bed of Blake’s truck, while Blake
and Adam sit up front. The sun is beginning its descent as we shoot
south on Lincoln Highway, but the warmth in the air is
unbelievable, and my mood improves significantly the closer we get
to Zephyr Cove.