My Side (6 page)

When we stopped at
Gerry’s apartment, Lochlan got out and helped carry everything up to the door.
I climbed out to help but Lochlan had it all in his huge arms. Gerry gave me a
hug but looked at Loch first, “Lochlan, the hide-away key is under the
mailbox.” He turned back to me “It was lovely to meet you. I suppose we’ll see
you at a show then?”

I opened my mouth to
say no but I couldn’t. I wanted to see it. I nodded, “Yeah. When is the next
one?”

He smirked like he was
daring me to come, “Tomorrow night.”

“Okay, good. I’ll see
you then.” The conversation was awkward. I was awkward. I didn’t know what had
changed. I didn’t want to know.

I got back into the
car. When he got back in, he gave me a look.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head
dismissively, “You hungry?”

Not in the mood for
his bizarre behavior, I looked out the window, “No thanks.”

When he parked outside
of our place, I dreaded dragging everything up the stairs but he grabbed most
of it. I grabbed a couple things and ran and got the door for him. He was
halfway up the second flight of stairs, when a watermelon started to slip from
his hands. I didn’t notice until he had it pinned to the wall and wasn’t walking.

He nodded at me, “Grab
this.”

I slid my free arm
under it, cradling the huge thing in my bicep. Our bodies were pressed against
each other. I froze mid-rescue when he smelled my hair.

Lifting it out safely,
I quickly ran up the stairs with my now full arms.

He smelled my hair?
What was that? Was he turning on the charms? Shit… Hair smelling was pretty
hot. Unless he was like, what was that bad smell and then smelled my head? Or
if he was a crazy stalker, that wasn’t hot. Shit, did my hair stink?

I placed down the bags
and unlocked the door for him. He didn’t even thank me. He dumped everything on
the counter and started putting it all away.

I gave him a confused
look, “What happened at Costco? Why were you and Gerry suddenly not talking?”

He stopped and watched
me for a second. “He thinks I should ask you out and try to keep my rep a
little cleaner. He thinks a nice girl like you is the answer.”

I swallowed hard,
“Nice girls don’t like boys like you.”

He stepped towards me,
“I find nice girls aren’t usually being honest with themselves. They’re trying
so hard to be normal, that they forget to have fun. When you get them to loosen
up, it’s like striking gold.”

I gulped, “I like
normal. It’s safe. It’s predicable and easy.”

He gave me a confused
look,
“You have one chance in life to make it something
special. Why would you waste it on mediocrity? Safe and easy is for pussies. Be
amazing and different. Be grateful for the uniqueness in you.”

I rolled my eyes,
“Thanks, Tony Robbins.” I wanted to be friends with him but mocking him was
safer.

He snorted, “That’s
how I want to live my life. You never know when choosing safe is stopping you
from being incredible.” He lifted my new book, “On a lighter note, the Brothers
of County Claire? Maybe you’re not such a nice girl after all. Maybe you’re
naughty girl.” His eyes were on fire.

I reached for the book
but he lifted it. I ended up standing with my chest against his as I reached
for. He lowered it with a smug look.

I snatched it from his
hands, “I like reading. Nice girls read.” My stomach was aching. I wanted to be
‘naughty girl’. His motivational speech made me think about the things I was
missing, like him.

He gave me a look,
“How many books you reading a week? You think I haven’t noticed you’re here
every night? All you do is hang here.”

I frowned and started
putting things into cupboards, “I’m getting in the habit for school. What does
it matter?”

He grabbed my hand and
I watched the shift. He went from joking with me for being a nice girl, to
trying to take my pants off. He leaned against me, pushing me into the counter.
He cocked his head, glanced down the top of my shirt, and then placed his hands
on either side of me, trapping me, “My sister reads those. Calls them
one-handed reads.”

My cheeks flushed but
I didn’t back down. I leaned into him, pressing my chest right into his, “Yeah,
that’s what all girls call them. Nice girls just don’t say it out loud. They’re
better than the real thing. The Brothers of County Claire don’t leave their
shit everywhere or have mood swings. They don’t check out other girls. They get
me off and get lost, and I don’t need shots and regular check ups.”

His eyes locked on
mine, “Maybe you just haven’t had the right real thing.”

I fluttered my lashes
at him, “Oh, you mean being graced with one whole night with the lead singer of
Thin Ice?” I pushed him off me and walked past him, “Thanks but I’ll pass.

He grabbed my arm, but
I dropped my book and went for my mace. He looked startled, dropping his grip.

He put his hands in
the air, “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I would never. I thought we were messing
around.”

I swallowed and looked
down. I bent and picked up my book. My breath got caught in my throat. I turned
and ran for my bedroom. I closed the door and gripped the book to my chest with
my back against the door.

I didn’t want him to
see it. I was strong once. I didn’t need help. I had to be strong.

I curled up on my bed
and started my book. I saw every face as his. He made my one-handed read better
than it had ever been. Fantasy was so much better than reality.

I fell asleep as I
finished the book but the night was a hot one.

I tossed once more
before flinging even the last sheet off of me. My tank top and boxers felt like
a sweaty death trap. Even with the windows both open, the heat was intense. I
growled, climbing out of the bed, and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. I
opened the double-door fridge and let the cool air blast me. I sighed, throwing
my head back. The heat was too much.

I glanced at the
carton of almond milk he swore by and took it from the fridge. It was cold and
damp in my hands. I held the cold carton against my chest. I lifted my tank
top, tucked it under my boobs, and grabbed another carton. I held it against my
stomach, flipping them both as they heated from my sweating body. I closed my
eyes and moaned. “Mmmmm.”

“That’s a good sound.”
He interrupted my cooling bliss.

I jumped, putting the
cartons back. My cheeks flushed, not that it mattered. They were flushed
anyway.

The light of the
fridge shone down on my guilty face, like a spotlight.

He leaned against the
counter, in boxers only. I could just see his tattoos in the
dimly-lit
room.

I turned, closing the
door, “Sorry.” The kitchen was nearly pitch black with the fridge closed.

He switched on the
small light above the stove, “Did it feel good?”

I nodded, “I’m dying.”

He walked around the
counter, his heat made my skin burst into a fresh layer of sweat. He reached
beside me, brushing his hairy arm against my thigh, pulling the freezer drawer
out. He pulled a bag of edamame we got from Costco, and passed it to me. I took
it and smiled.

“How was the book?”
His tone was laden with absurdity.

I laughed, “Good.
Predictable. I like that.” I went to put the frozen bag on my chest but he
shook his head, taking it back.

He reached around
behind me, “On the back of your neck.” I jumped when the shocking cold hit my
skin. He held it there, looming over me with his intense stare. I made a
sound,
I don’t think either of us were sure what it was.

He looked confused as
I stepped back.

“That’s cold.”

He nodded, “Yup.” He
grabbed a bag of peas and did the same thing. “So you like predictable?” he
asked, as he opened the fridge and passed me a bottle like a beer but it
wasn’t.

“Yeah.” I turned the
top, taking a drink and sighing. It was a cranberry lemonade alcohol.

He grabbed a beer and
drank it.

I raised an eyebrow,
“You got these for me?”

He shook his head, “I
like to have lady drinks on hand.”

I groaned, “Ewww. I’m
drinking a whore lemonade, aren’t I?”

He laughed and
stretched, flexing all his glistening muscles. I didn’t mind the heat suddenly.
If it made him look like that, it had to be good. Well, until he opened his
mouth, “You’re so judgmental. Don’t you ever just get laid for the sake of
getting laid?”

Even in the dim light,
my horrified face could not be hidden.

“Okay, I guess not.
Maybe you should try it, instead of just reading all the time. You’re awfully
stuck up, princess. I can help you relax, if you want.”

I gasped, “I am not.
Why? Because I don’t want to give myself to everyone I meet? I have more
self-respect than to let someone like you touch me.”

His stare turned cold
and intense. The amused look on his face was like a distant memory. He stepped
into me, brushing my chest against his abs, “If I touched you, you would like
it.” He lowered his face
close to mine, “If I wanted to kiss
you, princess, I would and you would love it and beg me for more.”
He
lingered.

My discomfort was
muted by the intense animalistic instincts rushing through my body. He grinned
and backed off, “You want me, as much as I want you.”

I shook my head,
“You’re egotistical. I would never let you touch me. Not someone like you.” I
stepped back and around the counter.

I felt him watching me
as I slapped the edamame on the counter and retreated to my stifling bedroom. I
closed the door, but he was there within seconds opening it. I pressed my back
against the cold wall, as he looked down on me. His body was huge and
frightening in all the right ways, looming over me like that. He spoke softly,
 
“We need the windows and doors open for
the cross breeze. Trust me, you Northerners have no clue how to cool a house
off. I got this.”

I sipped my lemonade
and relived every second of the kitchen.

The
feeling of his arm hair brushing against my thigh.
His sweaty, hard body standing so close to mine that my braless breasts
squished against his abs. I breathed through my mouth and shook my head.
He was right
,
I wanted him
. And
even worse, I loved that he wanted me.

The memories of the
redheads and the trashy blonde, and the sleazy look he got on his face in
Costco, were hard to reach with that much blood being gone from my brain.

My attraction was
undeniable. As was his ability to sleep with everything he spoke to. That had
to be a deterrent but no, my body wanted him and my brain was even on board.
Didn’t I care that he slept with every girl he spoke to?

I wasn’t sure that was
accurate. He probably didn’t even have to talk. Had he kissed me in the
kitchen, I would have done it. I would have leapt into his strong arms and let
him have me on the counter.

I held the
condensation-covered bottle to my forehead and took deep breaths. I grabbed my
phone and emailed Tom to see how the apartment hunting was going. Lochlan and I
had been roommates for a couple weeks, and I was ready to do things I hadn’t
done in a long time. Things I hadn’t ever done with someone I barely knew.

Within minutes I
noticed a difference in the temperature in my room. The air felt new and clean
again, instead of tasting the way I imagined he did, heady and salty.

He leaned in my
doorframe, “Told you.”

I sighed, “Yup. I
guess being a country bumpkin is good for something.”

He folded his arms,
“You think you got me pegged, don’t you?”

I laughed, “That
display in the kitchen, pegged you. You could try not to drag me into your
perversions and overly fluffed ego, and I might not think so little of you.”

He walked into my
bedroom and sat backwards in the chair at my desk. He sipped his beer.

I had to force my eyes
not to even try to peek at his boxers in the moonlight, “This is a bad idea.”

He frowned, “What is?”

I pointed at him, “Me
and you living together. A single guy and a single girl cannot be roommates and
friends. I’m pretty sure Harvard has done studies on this.”

He leaned forward,
“Can’t keep it in your pants, princess?”

I sipped my lemonade,
“Oh, I can.”

He grinned, “Wanna
make a wager on it?”

My gaze narrowed,
“What kind?”

“The kind where
whoever gives in to the obvious attraction between
us,
moves out.”

I laughed, “Done.
Deal. Sold. You want to start packing now or wait till it’s light out.”

He chuckled, taking
the last of the beer in a huge gulp, “You underestimate me.”