The Real Thing (22 page)

“What’s that?”

“I love that you’re close with your family.”

I breathe out a laugh and sit up again. “You do realize my mom’s going to be asking you about grandbabies once she finds out you’re living here.”

Her cheeks go a little red and she tucks her phone under her butt. “Yeah … I love that, though.” She dips her spoon into her bowl. My workout stops as I watch her eat, slurping and dribbling milk down her chin. I love that she’s comfortable with me. I open my mouth to tell her, then she swipes at her bottom lip. And it smacks me in the chest …
hard.

I’ve loved Em since we became friends. I’ve always known that. But this moment, right here, while I sweat like a camel and she’s in her pajamas—that one swipe of her finger across her lip …

It’s the moment I fall
in
love with her.

Emilia Johnson

2 hours ago

Pop quiz. Is there a female cereal mascot?

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Eric does another sit-up, nearly knocking my cereal from my hands, heaving and oofing like it’s sit-up number two hundred, not fifty. He drops back to the floor and says, “Dude, I quit.”

I laugh and set one of the dry purple Froot Loops on the tip of his nose. He makes a show of trying to get it with his tongue, but can’t quite do it. Still not able to stop my bubbles of laughter, I lean down and bite it off his nose, then kiss it all better. I’m back to chewing my cereal, slurping and really not being sexy or attractive, because who the hell cares, and I catch him staring at the milk dripping down my chin. I eat like a five-year-old, and I don’t even swipe it away this time. I move my hand around like it’s the hottest thing ever, and he shakes his head and gives me a smile that melts my insides.

I really love that smile. I’m lucky I get to see it so often.

Scooping up another spoonful of Froot Loops, I try to ignore his stare and keep eating like I would if he wasn’t here, just like we agreed on when we started living together. I have yet to see him without a shirt, though. If only I had mind powers. I’d take it right off him while he’s sleep—

“I’ve decided I’m in love with you.”

I don’t mean to. I really don’t. But my entire bowl of cereal falls from my hands … right on his face. Froot Loops and milk cascade over his nose, his pinched eyes and mouth, and he doesn’t even reach up to clean it off. He lies there with my breakfast all over him, a green Froot Loop in the crease of his lips. A blue one between his eyes. Yellow and orange plastered to his forehead. He does nothing but keep the same pinched expression while I try to figure out how the hell to respond.

I’ve been told “I love you” before. Kyle said he loved me in the middle of sex. I think he said it because he thought he had to. It was awkward after that, and all I said was “Thank you.” And then he avoided me like the bubonic plague.

Then a guy named Daniel told me he loved me when we were grinding on a club dance floor, and I knew when he said it that he was trying to get me back to his room. It was the way his eyes stayed on my boobs and my ass when he slurred the words at me. Also because we’d known each other two seconds.

Jaxon was the worst, though. Because I honestly wanted him to mean it, and I could tell he didn’t. We’d been dating for a year, and I think he thought it was the thing to say. He was taking long drafts of his beer and staring at the ceiling while I played with his chest hair when he said it. “I love you …
babe.
”

He called everyone “babe.” The girl bartender, the hotel hostess, the room-service lady … I was just another babe. I knew it by the way he said it.

As I look down at Eric, milk and cereal still stuck to his adorable face, it’s the first time I’ve felt like I could say it back and 100 percent mean it. Maybe it’s because even thousands of miles away, even when we were with other people … it’s always been
him.

And he tells me when I’m slurping milk in my ratty pj’s, when my hair hasn’t been brushed, and I still have on makeup from last night. He doesn’t say it like he feels like he has to. He says it because he feels it. Straightforward, beautiful, my best friend … and I love him, too.

Holy shit, I love him, too.

I drop the bowl to the side of the couch and land in a straddle over his hips. I flick the Froot Loops off one by one, then take the bottom of his sweaty shirt and wipe the milk away. His eyes slowly open to mine, and I know he’s waiting for something. A kiss or a return of affection.

Well, he’s getting both.

“I’ve decided I’m in love with you, too.”

His mouth turns up, and he pulls on my arm to get me closer to his lips. “We’re going to kiss now, aren’t we?”

I laugh, letting that warmth from my heart pump all through my body, let it tingle my toes and send shivers up my spine. Our lips slide together, and I feel like it’s a new kind of kiss. The kind people talk about in books and movies. The one that changes not only you, not only him, but the two of you together. Everything from here on out is me and Eric. Eric and me. Every decision, every thought, every fear … it’s us together now. No more secrets. There can’t be any more.

I should be floating with that thought, skyrocketed through the air with how much love is growing between us, but the IM I have sitting on my phone weighs me down. It pushes at my thoughts and ruins the moment. I want to scream at myself for letting something so innocent guilt-trip me to death.

But even as I think that, if it was so innocent, why am I hiding it?

“Are you okay?” Eric asks, breaking away from my lips and playing with loose strands of my hair. I hear his voice and I’m back in the real world with him, and I kiss him lightly.

“I’m perfect.”

That makes him smile, and even if it’s not the complete truth, it’s enough truth to make me forget what an awful person I am. We kiss until my head is doing nothing but drowning in Eric and his love for me. My love for him. Our love for each other.

Eve registered for the entire baby section. After scrolling down the page four times, I click over to my camera and gesture for Eric to get in the shot.

“Come on,” I say, tugging on his arm, but it’s hard at this angle. I’ve got no leverage in the shopping cart, but after a couple of grunts, Eric gives in, pressing his cheek against mine.

“Awww! That’s a good one.”

“And I bet it’s going right to Facebook.”

I playfully tap his hand before he starts pushing the cart toward the baby toys.

“Twitter, actually.” But I’ll probably put it as my profile picture soon. We look adorable together, and to be honest, I love it when my friends tell me how hot my boyfriend is. That’s right, people, I snagged a good one!

@Eric_Matua helping me shop for @Evenstar’s baby! #goodboyfriendpoints #someonemightgetlucky

“Hey, what do you think about this?” Eric asks, pulling me out of my phone. His arms huddle around me as he squeezes the center of a Cookie Monster doll. It growls “Coooookies” at me, and I snort and take it from him.

“I like it. Little guy can roll over on it in his crib and keep Eve and Paul up all night.”

“We should get them a lot of things that make noise.”

“Yes, I know Eve would
love
that.”

He laughs and kisses the side of my head before setting the toy back on the shelf. “I’m going to get my kids lots of noisy toys.”

“Really?”
I adjust in the cart, wincing as the grate digs into my butt. “Bet your wife will end up tearing out all the batteries.”

“And she’ll hand them books instead.” He winks, and my stomach twirls.

“Well, books are better anyway.”

Eric turns down the diaper aisle. “How many kids do you think she’ll want?” His voice is light, but there’s a serious undertone that has my twirling stomach spiraling into my throat. I know he’s talking about us—or he’s really mean and asking about some other woman—but I’ve never seriously thought about kids.

I reach over the cart and grab a pack of Pampers, then shove them under my butt for comfort.

“I’ve always pictured two,” Eric says when I don’t answer, and I play with the metal on the cart.

“Let me guess. One boy, one girl.”

“Of course.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail so my head tilts toward him. “But not for a while.”

I smile and kiss his nose. “I can’t even imagine handling kids right now. And here I am buying my pregnant roommate diapers.”

Eric runs his hands over my arms, then rests them on my cheeks. My forehead hits his chin when he nips at my bottom lip, and it makes me smile and giggle and love that he’s getting more and more comfortable with expressing his feelings physically.

“I bet whenever it happens, even if it comes out of the blue, you’ll be a great mom.” He winks again and I start to wonder how much he’s actually thought about this. Because sitting here in the diaper aisle, getting sweet kisses from the man I love, and talking about our future, I
want
to think about it. And it’s not as scary as I thought. It’s kind of exciting.

“I’ve always wanted two,” I say, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “One boy, one girl.”

Eric grins against my lips. “Boy first?”

I nod. “And we’re putting that Cookie Monster on the registry.”

“We?” he teases.

“I’m not good with the metaphorical thing.”

He twirls the shopping cart around, nearly throwing me to the floor when the wheels pop up on the left side. I squeal and he’s laughing, talking about how we could totally do the parent thing. Spend our days lying on the floor with the kiddos, and our nights reading them Dr. Seuss. He’d call our son Bubba and teach him how to play bongos, while our girl, Babsy Jane, learns how to beatbox. The whole time he’s spinning me, even though I know he’s joking, I’m thinking, why not? After college, I could jet off to Vegas with him and get hitched, settle in a suburb and raise some cute half-Samoan children with this superhot man. I never thought about a future with anyone before. I want to have what Scott had with his Mia. And then I toss my head side to side to rid my brain of his name.

Eric. The guy who’s out of breath and smiling so huge I’m surprised he’s able to form words. He’s the guy I’m with. The guy I want a future with. Or at least can picture this wacky future he’s painted for us.

I’m totally, 100-percent knocked senseless in love with this man.

He leans over the basket, wiggling his nose against mine, his warm breath on my face. I lose all sense of where we are, the basket digging into my butt bone, the smell of diapers in the air … it’s just Eric and me and my winged heart that’s about to fly out to him so he can have it forever.

“Make love to me.”

Eric Matua’s birthday is tomorrow

Send him a gift

If requests could cause heart attacks, I’m pretty sure Em’s just did. I blink and grip the side of the cart, putting most of my weight on it.
Breathe, damn it.

“Eric?”

I clear my throat, eyes never leaving hers. After my gut unties, I force a half smile. “Right here? I mean, I’m all for making statements and such, but I don’t think I want my first time to be in the diaper aisle at Target.”

Em smiles and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m serious. I want you to make love to me. Tonight, tomorrow, next year … at some point, I want you to love me with
all
of you. Please?”

I wait for my breath to leave me, but it doesn’t. And it makes my mouth curve into a grin. “I thought you couldn’t get any sexier, and then you throw this one at me.” I lower my lips to hers, lightly tapping them before I smooth my hands around her waist and pull her from the cart. “I’ll make love to you, tonight, tomorrow, next year … or whenever it’s right for us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but … we’re going to have to go—”

“Slow.”

“I’m sorry.” I kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips, then squeeze her to breathe in her neck while she breathes in mine. “You work tonight?”

She sighs into my collar. “Yes.”

“I’ll get you to myself tomorrow, though, yes?”

She jerks back, eyes wide as she nods.

My fingers dig into her lower back, bringing our hips even closer. Every single nerve in my body zaps to life and I wait for Ali’s voice to break into my thoughts, but Em scratches the bottom of my chin, keeping me here with her. A breathy laugh flies from her gorgeous lips.

“What?” I ask.

“I really wish we weren’t in public right now.” She nods at a man who just turned the corner, baby in the seat of the cart.

“Damn the public,” I whisper into her ear.

“Why can’t we be the only two people in existence?”

“You want to get out of here?”

“I have to be at work in an hour.”

“Yep.”

“So we better leave now.”

“Yep.”

She pulls the diapers from the cart and tucks her hand in mine. I didn’t think Em was that strong, but she’s tugging me toward the checkout lanes so hard my arm might come out of its socket.

Before we can get too far, she says, “Oh, wait!” and drops my hand, bolting back to the toys. She comes back with two Cookie Monsters, cheeks flushing deep red. We don’t say another word, but I can’t stop touching her anywhere I can reach, even with her pulling her phone out and answering whatever it is on there.

The next time she talks is when she asks the cashier to put one of the Cookie Monsters in a separate bag.

Ten minutes into our drive home and my excitement at having Em to myself for an hour is shot to hell. She has her phone out, texting every ten to twenty seconds. I grind my teeth as she looks at her phone resting on her thigh
again.

“Em, the road.”

“I know, I’m watching,” she says, but she’s
not
watching. She’s sliding her thumb around the screen, eyes flicking to the windshield in half-second intervals.

“Can it wait till we get home?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but I’m shit out of luck. “Or do you want me to answer for you?”

“No.” She jerks the phone away and sets it on her opposite thigh. Her eyes settle in front of her, and I relax for a minute … then her cell vibrates and her hand is back on it.