The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 14

If he had texted the very next day, I would’ve ignored with ease. But this was day three.
Day three and I was missing him too. He was my best friend. How could I not?
I should’ve deleted the text, but dammit.
Three stupid days, and I was surrendering.
I was spineless. That’s what I was.
Letting out a curse, I called Samantha. She’d been my other best friend since my Fallen Crest glory days. I needed strength not to text Channing back. I hoped she’d give it to me, but when she answered, the moment her face popped up on my phone’s screen I knew I was in trouble. Black hair, almond eyes, a stunningly beautiful face, and she was glowing. I’m sure it was the light behind her, but there was a damn halo around her head.
I sighed. “You’re actually glowing.”
She laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell Mason. He thinks I’m miserable, and he’s going overboard with making sure I have all the food he can think of. We have one freezer full of cookie dough ice cream and a fridge drawer of just pickles.”
Samantha was pregnant, and while I loved her dearly, her happiness was like a fist being forced down my throat. It got all the way to my stomach, grabbed hold, and yanked.
I blinked back sudden tears.
I hated those things, but fuck it. She was happy. She was pregnant. She was loved.
My reason for calling didn’t seem so important now, “How are you?” I asked instead.
Everything had been swept away. It was like the bad shit moved aside and all the good shit replaced it inside of me.
Knowing how happy Sam was, I was filled with a sudden desperation to see Channing.
But before that, Sam and I would talk.
She was six months along. Happy. Eager. And in love. Despite all of Sam’s demons and haunts, I always knew she’d end up happy.
She asked how I was and I caught her up on everything except two things: the ache inside of me and my relationship with Channing. After we hung up, I texted him.
Me: Want to come over tonight?
Channing: Fuck yeah.
Channing: I have to stay for closing. I’ll be over after.
A pause. Then,
Channing: Missed you.
I grinned stupidly; I couldn’t help myself.
Then there was a knock at the door. Brandon poked his head around.
“Suki and the cook are fighting.”
Of course. It was a day that ended with y.
Time to get back to work. I stood up. “Over what?”
“She saw him with a dull knife.”
She was the manager. I shrugged. Made total sense.
13
Heather
It was almost three in the morning. I had a history with this time in the morning.
Cruz would’ve closed Manny’s, but I’d opted to stay. I wanted to be working instead of twiddling my thumbs at home.
Until we finished. That was an hour ago.
Channing was coming over, and the waiting was putting me on edge. Oh, who was I kidding? Since our chat this afternoon, I couldn’t get Sam’s face out of my mind. Mix that with Channing coming over, and there was an extra layer of nerves lining my insides.
Dread. Excitement. Envy. Grief.
Love.
There was that too.
I didn’t want to deal with any of it.
I looked around my room at home. I could clean? I considered it, but I wasn’t sure if Brandon was downstairs or if he’d gone somewhere else for the night. I’m sure he left a note if he had, but I didn’t want to chance a run-in. He’d been watching me all evening with a cocked eyebrow. He knew something was up. He just kept his mouth shut.
I had a good brother.
But I still didn’t want to talk to him right now.
The air conditioner wasn’t on, so my window was open, though no breeze came in. I glanced over to my nightstand at the bottle of Jack. I’d already had two shots, and I didn’t want any more. I was going to sleep. Was. Was. Was.
My mind was going to do what it wanted.
I let out a sigh.
No matter how much I tried to ignore how he affected me, it was useless. He’d worked his way under my skin in first grade. He’d declared us best friends in third. We held hands in fifth. We shared our first kiss in seventh, and he’d been a headache ever since.
Then I heard a single crunching sound outside my window, and even though my room was on the second floor, I turned my head. I knew whose head would pop through my curtains, and there he came.
A feeling of right filled me.
Channing hauled himself through my window, stepped once on the floor, and was in my bed in a heartbeat. He’d practiced that motion countless times since we were kids. Whether we were fighting or not, he had never stopped coming over.
And like so many nights before, I rolled to my side and faced him. “Hey.”
His lazy smile washed over me, matching my insides, as I’d started to relax the second I’d heard that small crunch.
His eyes weren’t relaxed, though. They were alive and fierce.
His dimple showed as he faced me. “Hey.”
“You’re hyper.”
His eyes narrowed briefly. “I’m jacked up on adrenaline.” He turned his back and held his hands up to inspect them. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, and I didn’t need the moonlight to see the blood there.
I winced. “Is that dry?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t ask for details.
“What?”
“Huh?” I glanced at him.
“What’s going on? You’re sighing more than normal.” His eyes darkened. “You’re pissed I snuck out the other night?”
I raised my eyebrows. He knew I was. That was a stupid question.
He smiled. “Can I tell you what it was about?”
I shook my head against the pillow. “Please no. I don’t want to get pissed at you all over again.”
He laughed softly. “Fair enough, but I think you’d understand if I told you.”
I gave him a look.
He laughed again, reaching for me, curving his arm around my waist. He pulled me against him.
“This is nice. I’ve missed you. Fuck. I’ve missed you.”
I opened the door the last time at his place. I’d pushed it open, talking about the “issues” and now he was continuing. We weren’t going right to the sex. We were doing the talking, the touching, the cuddling, the moments that made us yearn for each other. We were doing the whole “best friendship” thing.
And of course, just as I thought that, his foot started tapping. I stifled a grin.
Or not. Maybe we were going another way.
The edge was leaving him because he was with me, but he wasn’t relaxing. An image of a caged and restless tiger came to mind. Beautiful to look at, but he needed to run, rumble, or hunt.
His eyes took on a lustful glint. His hunting was going to be me.
I readied myself.
He snaked his other hand between us. His thumb traced the inside of my palm, and my body started to warm.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
Some of my own restlessness pushed forward. I spoke before I realized I was talking.
He laughed. “Pretty sure you know.” He shifted to his back, his hand pulling out from behind me. He moved our palms to my stomach and let go to edge beneath my shorts. His fingers spread wide, and he waited.
Goddamn.
This guy.
I looked at him, really looked at him.
Full lips. A strong jaw. High and chiseled cheekbones. Eyes that promised so many dark and lustful pleasures.
I throbbed between my legs. My breaths grew shallow. My body had warmed, needing him, but something beneath that wasn’t letting me ignore it. Not anymore. It’d been with me all night.