The Trouble With Before (28 page)

“Stop it!”

We both turn to see Lisa. How long has she been standing there?

“Will, I get it. I’m not trying to mess up Willa’s life, I swear to God. That’s why I gave her to you,” she says breathlessly as she runs between us.

Will looks at her, his contempt and hatred toward me melting a bit.

“I’ve been . . . I really have had the worst time this past month, and today I had a little bit of sunshine brighten the storm that’s been my life and I realized that Willa is sunshine for me.” Her voice cracks a little. “I was wrong for not letting you know that I needed some time.” She turns toward me. “I didn’t tell him what was going on, Aidan. He’s been trying to reach out to me, and I just didn’t know what to say. I was wrong for that!”

She touches my chest, and I feel immediately calmed. Her finger tips soothing the wrath that’s itching to get out of me.

“Willa loves both of you, so beating the crap out of each other will not be good. Right?” she asks with a weak smile.

Will puts his jacket back on. “Let me know when you figure things out,” he says quietly before walking off to his car.

I wonder if he had a sudden change of heart because I was going to kick his ass or because of Lisa. We watch him walk to his truck, and she doesn’t move until he pulls off. She turns toward me and lets out a deep sigh. She looks at me with big bright eyes, puts her hands on my chest, then rests her head there.

“Thank you,” she says breathlessly.

I fight the urge to wrap my arms around her and tell her I love her, that I won’t let anybody treat her like crap again. I’ll kick all their asses before she deals with this alone again, but for now, I just pat her lower back. “I need a drink.”

THE LAST THING
I expected to see when I made it home was Aidan and Will in the middle of a confrontation. It was so heated, they didn’t even notice I was there. I didn’t know what to do, and when I heard that it was about me, I froze. It was just another bad thing that was my fault.

I had just wanted to see Willa. I didn’t think how Will would react after I ignored all of his text messages, but when Aidan started in on him, I was floored. I knew Aidan cared about me and that he’s always been protective about his friends, but hearing him defend me, I’d never felt more loved. To be completely honest, I even felt a little bit turned on.

When I realized they were about to come to blows though, I woke up and had to do something. I didn’t know if I could stop them, but I had to try. I was actually shocked when Will just left without berating me or telling me he’d never let me see Willa again. I guess Aidan’s verbal assault sort of got to him.

We’re quiet as we go into the house. Aidan turns on the lights, adjusting his shirt, which he was about to throw off to kick Will’s ass. I can’t help but grin. He heads into the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of tequila. I grab him a cup.

“On the rocks?” I ask quietly.

He nods, leaning his body on the counter. I swallow hard before grabbing ice out of the freezer. I drop a few cubes in his glass, and he fills it up halfway.

“You joining me?” His eyes smile at me, but his lips don’t.

His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, and it makes me bite my own. I just nod. He pulls another cup out and sets it on the counter. I drop a few cubes in the glass before returning the ice to the freezer. Once I’m done, I see he’s only given me a quarter of a cup.

“Stingy, are we?” I ask playfully.

He releases his bottom lip and grins at me. His stare is playful and daring, and it makes my stomach feel as if it’s floating. I feel as though his silence is heightening the tension in the room. It’s not like Aidan to be quiet and still, and his silence is intimidating. Words need to be said—some from him, some from me—but none are being spoken. Our eyes just dance with each other.

“I’m going to turn on some music,” I say, sounding light and airy.

He nods, heading into the living room. I follow him, hit the music, and turn around to see him sitting on the floor, his knees up and his arms resting on them. I choose to sit across from him on the couch. I watch him take a long sip from his drink, and I take a short sip out of mine. My eyes trail down his shirt. I think of earlier, when I could see his physique in all of its glory. I take a longer sip of the tangy liquid. I’ve always been more of a whiskey sort of girl. I look at Aidan, whose eyes seem to be climbing steadily up my body, and I feel a wave of heat and tingles shoot down my back.

“Guess who I ran into today?” I say way too enthusiastically.

“Who?” he asks with the mildest curiosity.

“Amanda,” I answer, sounding like a cheerleader on crack.
Tone it down.

He gives me a lazy smirk, licks his lips, and I let out a small breath.

“Is it hot in here to you, or is it just me?” I ask, waving my hand in front of my face.

“I read your story.”

My heart stops. I emailed it to him a while ago and he never said anything about it. I honestly didn’t think he’d be into it. I thought he’d think it was stupid and too girly, so my heart clenches now. I suddenly feel as if I’m sitting naked in front of him. His eyes have seen something no one else has, a little part of me that I’ve kept hidden.

“What did you think?” I ask, afraid to hear his words.

“It was amazing.”

It’s one of the greatest sentences I’ve ever heard.

The smile he gives me stops my breath. “It was really good. I’m not that much of a reader and it kept my attention.” He sort of chuckles.

My cheeks are on fire, and I fight off a smile.

“Do you have any more?” he asks.

I’m flattered, but I shake my head. “No, I haven’t written anything since . . .”

He nods in understanding. He shifts a bit, stretching out his legs, and my eyes trail up his long, hard body. It’s solid and perfect, like he was sculpted with the greatest care, as if he was God’s own special project.

“You kept saying that the girl, Kaitlyn,” he says, and I can’t help but smile. He actually knows the character’s name. “You said she never felt anything except for that one dude. How is that possible?” he asks, his head slightly cocked.

“She just never did,” I answer with a shrug.

I feel his eyes willing me to look at him, but I glue them to my lap.

“So she’s been out on all these dates and they make out, but she never feels anything . . . I guess what my question is, what is it she
feels
? Like, she never gets horny?” he asks in an almost innocent way.

I lean back into the couch and look at the ceiling for a bit. “No, she does . . . obviously she’s human. Before she meets Carter, she never felt butterflies or tingles. She never felt desire so strong it clouded her judgment.”

He looks into my eyes as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “And after him?”

I have a feeling he’s not talking about Kaitlyn anymore; does he realize that Katie is me?

“I haven’t finished the story yet.” I give him a half grin. It’s the coward’s way out. I can’t tell him that she has, and again she has feelings for a man she can’t explore anything with. She’s learned that some things aren’t worth possibly ruining a relationship that means so much to her.

“Why were you into him, Lisa?”

His question is like ice water thrown in my face. He has never been afraid to ask questions that make people uncomfortable; I used to ask the same questions, believing answers were for the greater good. Then I didn’t go over my answers in my head before saying them, and I never really believed my words mattered much to him, or it could be that I want them to mean something to him, because his words mean everything to me.

Things have really changed.

I start to ask which
him
Aidan is talking about, but that would be insulting to his intelligence. If he’s read my story, he’s figured out that it’s partially based on that long ago fall. The characters’ names have been changed to protect the guilty instead of the innocent. Our story, even his and Chris’s, is intertwined with words that should just be fiction but are really the parts of me that I wish weren’t real. When my eyes meet his, I expect to see disgust and contempt. Instead, I see slight annoyance and curiosity. I swallow hard. I don’t want to give him the answer; I feel as though it’ll change things.

I shift in my seat and cross my legs. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“I want to talk about it.” His voice is low and husky.

There’s an energy buzzing in the room. It’s almost tangible, like waking up in a room full of gas and my answer could be the match that sets everything on fire.

He leans forward a bit and shakes his head. “Out of every guy you’ve dated, kissed, slept with, he’s the only one who gave you”—he makes air quotes—“‘the feels’?”

“Yes.” I try to read his face. I try to note the change when his curiosity changes to disgust, but it doesn’t. Instead his eyes hone in on me, and a sly grin spreads across his face.

“I don’t think you’ve been with the right guys.” He sort of shakes his head as he says this. There’s a defiance in his voice, as if I’ve just offered him a challenge, and the mischievous look in his eyes says that he’s accepted.

He pushes off the floor and walks toward me, each step making my heart pound as it never has in my life. He looks down at me as if he’s waiting for me to make a slick comment or ask him what he’s doing. But I can’t. My throat has literally closed up, and it’s taking everything in me to just keep breathing. I have to look away from him, my heart is pounding so hard.

Then I stretch my neck to take all of him in and see his face. I think back to the year that he outgrew me. When we were in the 7th grade, he and I were five one. Over the summer, his mom dragged him away as she always did, and he came back as five four. He reminded me of his height advantage in every argument, and as each year passed, his inches steadily surpassed mine. By high school, not only inches made us different—muscle was layered on him. Lean, beautiful muscle wrapped around his body, and there was no question of who could take who in a scuffle, unless I kicked him in the nuts, which I always reminded him.

But looking up at him today, not yet thirty, he is at the height of masculinity. His body is ripped to shreds, and he’s standing in front of me looking at me as if he wants to devour me. No, as if he’s
going
to devour me. My friend, not just a friend of a friend anymore. He’s my best friend, the only other man whose given me butterflies and made every muscle inside me clench and the
only
man who’s made goose bumps break out on my body like a rash with
just
a look.

He kneels so we’re at eye level, staring directly into one another’s eyes. His hands land on my thighs, and I remind myself to breathe as he pulls them apart and pushes his body between them. His strong arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me toward him, so close our chests are touching. His fingers trickle up my back, and his touch shoots electricity through me.

I had the feels with Will, but this right here isn’t the feels.

It’s
everything.

He looks at me with such intensity, a passion that’s intoxicating. Is this why girls go crazy over him? If he looks at other girls how he’s looking at me, I see why they don’t want to let him go, why they want him to promise to be only theirs. If he does this with a look, I’m afraid for his lips to touch mine, but they’re so close, I can almost taste the tequila on them.

“How does this feel?”

His voice vibrates through me. His heartbeat is slow and steady while mine is frantic. Can he feel it? I lean forward the tiniest bit, wanting him to take my lips, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes me back into the couch until my upper body is stretched before him. His lips find my stomach, and I let out a moan. He looks up at me, his eyes grinning as they trail upward, and with each inch, he lifts my shirt. Until my stomach is in full view.

He kisses my belly button and trails lower, undoing my pants. I’m literally frozen. I’m not the shy girl who sits back and enjoys the ride. I usually take control. I’m aggressive with my sexuality, but now I feel as though I’m not me, I’m someone else watching all of this happen. He pulls my pants below my hips, and my shirt goes over my head like I’m a ragdoll.