The Impact of You
Page 7

“Another,” I tell the guy.
He grins and dutifully refills my glass while Madison shoots me a surprised look. Jase is watching me and I want him to feel the same confusion and helplessness I just felt watching him with Stacia. I down the second shot and slam the glass down on the counter. My eyes tear up and I’m not sure if it’s from the liquor or the strange emotions flooding my system. It’s been so long since I let myself be interested in a guy, and he’s the absolute worst choice I could have made. I should walk away from him right now. That would be the smart thing to do.
“Enough,” Jase growls beside me, his fingers clutching the exposed skin of my hip, pulling me back from the counter.
I glance around, making a show of it. “Where’s Stacia?”
His eyebrows pull together. “She left. Wasn’t feeling well.”
He’s smooth, I’ll give him that. He stands over me; his presence alone sending chills of awareness through my body. I wave him off. “Give me another,” I say to the cute blond guy holding the bottle.
Jase steps closer, intensity rolling off him in waves. “What are you doing?”
Madison glares at him. She doesn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him. His good deed of getting Noah inside earlier is obviously forgotten.
“I’m doing what we talked about…little challenges to get outside my comfort zone. What’s the problem?” I tap the shot glass against the counter, waiting for my next pour.
Jase’s gaze dares the poor guy to pour me one and see what kind of crazy is unleashed. If I was him, I wouldn’t pour me one either. “Fuck, Avery.” He grips my hand, towing me from the kitchen.
I stumble along behind him through the crowded dining room, the two shots already hitting me. Jase pulls open the sliding door and the cool night air is a welcome reprieve. It cools my flushed skin and clears my head the tiniest bit.
He slides the door shut behind us, the music causing the glass to vibrate softly. Without any pretenses, Jase stalks forward. He cups the nape of my neck and angles my mouth to his, before leaning in to kiss me. His mouth is soft at first, but when I kiss him back, he groans low in his throat and coaxes my lips apart to deepen the kiss. His tongue touches mine and all sense of right and wrong is lost. This is heaven. His other hand finds my butt cheek, and gives it a none-too-gentle squeeze. I can feel everything in this one kiss…how much Jase wants me, how badly I wish I could do this… My brain is screaming at me to stop, but my body begs me to continue.
Jase
Her mouth is soft and damp and the way her tongue flirts with mine makes me instantly hard again. Her tongue glides along mine and she balls my shirt in her fists. Her ass fits perfectly in my hand and I grip it, holding her firmly against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me.
Avery plants her hand against my chest and breaks the kiss. “Jase.” Her eyes are alight with passion, her voice breathless…but her tone is all wrong. “We have to stop.”
I reluctantly pull away and meet her eyes. They’re blazing green and swimming with emotion. Shit. I don’t know what I did wrong – and whether to apologize or hush her fears with more kisses. This is why I didn’t kiss her earlier. I shouldn’t have taken it that far. But Avery arouses in me things I’ve never felt. It’s insane. She’s not even mine, and I’m acting like an over-protective alpha male.
She swallows and pulls in a deep breath, the confusion on her face fading. “I’m sorry.”
I take another step back. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have rushed you.”
Avery shakes her head. “I’m not even close to being ready.”
Shit. I could punch myself. I’ve read the situation between us totally wrong. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being you’re ready to rip my clothes off…”
She bites her lip. “I’m like a negative six.”
“Shit. That bad, huh?” I take a sniff of my armpit, and she laughs. It’s so good to hear her laugh and I relax just a bit.
“It’s not you,” she says, still smiling. “How could it be?”
I pull her into my arms, and kiss her forehead softly. “I’m not going to rush you. When you’re ready, you let me know.” I want her. And I will have her. I just have to figure out what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers.
She nods wordlessly, but returns my hug, bringing her arms around my neck. “Thank you. I just…I like what we have.”
I look down at her. “Me too.”
“Can we just…focus on being friends?”
“Friends.” Great. “Of course.” Blue balls, here I come.
I release her and she steps away from me. Friends apparently don’t rub their erections against their friend’s stomachs. My bad.
“I…I need to go,” Avery whispers. I watch as she ducks her head and disappears inside.
Shit fuck.
Sometimes she seems so innocent….and then other times, not. The way she took those shots like a pro, and the way she kissed, that was anything but novice. Her tongue met mine, thrust for thrust, and we moved together effortlessly. There was nothing timid about her then. Blood flow is still directed south as my body struggles to regulate.
I can’t figure this girl out. And I want to. Hell, I need to. When I’m with Avery I don’t think about the pile of crap that is my life. How crazy everything’s become. She’s like the fresh start I didn’t even know how badly I needed.
Chapter 10
Avery
After class, Jase stops me on the sidewalk, placing his and on my lower back and leaning close. “Come home with me,” he says, his ridiculously pretty blue eyes making it impossible to look away.
My mouth twitches and Jase laughs. “Not like that. I mean we’ll study, come up with our strategy for your upcoming assignments. Being a life coach is a big responsibility and I want to make sure I do right by you.”
I do have some homework to do. And Jase’s bed is super comfortable. I don’t want to second-guess and overthink every decision I make. We can do this as just friends. Friends study together. “Lead the way.”
Before I can even question it, I’m falling into step beside Jase. Being near him is increasingly throwing me off. I’m distracted watching the way his long, lean form does amazing things to a pair of jeans and a thermal tee when I realize I’ve almost stepped out into the street.
Oops.
He takes my hand in his, weaving his fingers between mine. The warm, calloused weight of his palm is new and electrifying. It sends a tingle up my arm and into my chest. I file that under Information Jase Does Not Need to Know. “Is this really necessary?” I make a point of looking down at our joined hands.
“Since you seem oblivious to oncoming traffic? Yes. Yes, it is.”
I arrange my mouth in a polite smile to avoid snapping at him. I’d underestimated the distance of one car at that last crosswalk, and suddenly he thinks I need a helmet. I roll my eyes at Jase, but keep my hand within his.
Once inside Jase’s room, he turns on some music from his laptop and plops down next to me, making the mattress dip.
The music is soft in the background, but soulful and deep. I like it. “What’s this? A study playlist?”
He shakes his head. “A playlist? Nah. It’s the Black Keys. I buy whole albums, not individual songs. I’m not afraid of commitment, babe.”
I smirk at his strange innuendo. “Good to know.”
We arrange various books and study implements across the bed, lying side by side on our stomachs. Studying with Jase is pointless. I can’t concentrate with him so close, but it’s much more entertaining than studying alone in my dorm.
After a few minutes, I look up to find Jase watching me. He’s abandoned his psych homework and is watching as I nibble on the end of my pen, trying to decipher my sociology assignment.
I remove the pen from my mouth. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His voice comes out too high and he clears his throat, and tries again. “Hi.” Deeper this time.
Gosh, you could cut through our sexual tension with a knife.
“I’ll be right back.” I rise from his bed, needing a moment to myself to collect my thoughts. “Is there a bathroom I can use?”
“There’s one just down the steps, second door on the left.”
“Kay.” I start for the door, and Jase stops me.
“Actually, let me come with you and scope things out. It’s probably due for a cleaning.”
“Oh, okay.” I want to tell him I’ll be fine and don’t need a chaperone, but knowing how truly disgusting this house is, he’s probably right. A dozen guys sharing a bathroom…ew…I shudder at the thought.
Jase directs me to wait in the hall while he cleans up. I hear the bottles of cleaners being sprayed and the sounds of Jase hastily shoving things into drawers. His friend Trey walks by just in time to get hit in the face with a stray T-shirt Jase tosses from the bathroom. “Get your shit out of here, man.”
Trey catches the shirt and frowns. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, like seeing someone clean is the strangest thing he’s ever witnessed. Heck, maybe it is given the state of this house. “The cleaning lady’s coming tomorrow,” Trey adds.
“I know,” Jase returns. “But Avery needs to use the bathroom.”
Trey chuckles to himself. “I didn’t think it was possible to be pussy whipped when you’re not even getting any pussy, but you just proved me wrong.”
My cheeks burn pink and I look down at my shoes, thankful Jase didn’t hear that. Jase emerges a few moments later.
“Okay, all yours,” he says.
I mumble my thanks and flee inside the bathroom.
* * *
I’m not even sure how it started, but for the past two weeks, Jase and I have been talking on the phone every night before bed. I haven’t seen him outside of our human sexuality class and the quick coffee dates we have after class, but I know I’m getting too close. Jase has continued issuing challenges and I brazenly accept. So far, they’ve been innocent – flirting with the guy at the coffee shop, sleeping naked when I admitted being undressed makes me uncomfortable, things like that.
Jase stirs up feelings I can’t process. He gives me courage and strength I haven’t felt in the longest time. It’s like I can handle anything – take on the world – or maybe just deal with the stuff in my own small world, but either way, I like it.
But tonight, as I lie in bed all snuggled up, listening to Jase’s deep voice coming through the phone, I suddenly tense. He’s asked me to do something I don’t know if I can. He’s challenged me to contact the adoption agency to get my records. I’m silent while I weigh the decision. On the one hand, it’s something I’ve thought about doing the last few years, and I like how my conversations with Jase push deeper than the surface level crap I talk about with most people. But I don’t know. Once I’ve seen what’s in those files, I can never go back to not knowing. Right now I can romanticize the idea of my birthmom – she could be a supermodel, a senator for all I know. But what if the truth isn’t as pretty? What if she’s horrible and wants nothing to do with me? Can I live with that?
“Avery? You still with me?” Jase whispers.
I swallow the lump that’s taken up residence in my throat. “I’m here. Just…thinking.”
He releases a sigh and waits me out. A moment later, my voice leaves my body, independent of my head, ranting, rambling, but I can’t stop it now. “What would I do, track her down, show up out of the blue and say, ‘Hi, did you give a baby up for adoption nineteen years ago?’ That sounds freaking terrifying. What if she’s crazy and horrible? What if she wants nothing to do with me? Maybe I’m safer not knowing.” I bite my lip, waiting for him to confirm I’m as crazy as I feel.
He chuckles softly into the phone. “Relax, babe. Breathe.” I pull in a deep breath, making sure it’s audible over the phone for his benefit, and Jase continues. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t. I could come with you…if you want.”
“You’d do that?”
He’s quiet for a second. “Of course I would.”
“Why would you do that? You hardly know me.”
“So.”
“So…she probably lives across the country for all I know.”
“Lucky for you I like road trips. Besides, if I’m your life coach, it’s my responsibility to see you to her doorstep safe and sound. It’s practically part of the job description.”
I don’t say anything for several minutes as the meaning of his words sink in. I swallow a wave of emotion. Jase has been nothing short of amazing, and we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks. I still find it odd that he’s appointed himself my life coach, but it’s also totally endearing. His gesture is too much, and it’s in these moments with him that I feel like I could actually be whole again.
I can hear him breathing, so I know he’s still there. “And if she’s horrible, I’ll take you out for ice cream, hold you, let you cry on my shoulder, whatever you need, babe.”
Holy. Crap.
“Let me sleep on it,” I whisper.
“I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t want. I just thought maybe you needed a little shove. And I’ll be there with you. I’ll help however you want me to.”
No one in my life had ever really encouraged me to explore my adoption in this way. Even my best friend in high school, before she jumped on the Avery-is-a-disgusting-whore bandwagon, thought it was a bad idea. My dads were awesome, she argued. I had cooler parents than anyone. My birthmom didn’t want me, so why should I waste my time worrying about her? Yet there wasn’t a single childhood memory that wasn’t soured by the feeling my mom missed out on it. I always thought of her during major life events, birthdays, holidays, graduation, prom, and, of course, the silent nothingness of Mother’s Day. I also thought of her during insignificant moments, like studying myself in the mirror and wondering which of my features I got from her – and to a lesser extent, my birthfather. Since I had the love of two dads, he wasn’t the one I missed, despite never knowing. That hurt was reserved just for her.