“We need to go,” I repeat for what feels like the millionth time.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I almost want to laugh.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I shake my head. He pushes off the bed, pulling me up so that I'm standing in front of him. “I'm just going to be honest so that things don’t end up crazier than they already are,” I tell him, taking a step back. “First, thank you for the ride home last night.” I look up into his amazing brown eyes and get lost for a second. He’s so handsome; part of me wants to just say, “Screw it; Que Sera, Sera”, throw caution to the wind, and get lost in bed with him for a day. But I can’t do it; that’s not me. I would end up crying or confessing my feelings for him, and he would walk away with another notch on his belt, while leaving me feeling alone and empty. “I'm going with you today to see July, but after that, I think that it would be best if we went back to the way things were. I'm not having sex with you. Just because I'm not a virgin doesn’t mean that I'm going to sleep with you.” I say in my most serious voice.
“You were going to sleep with me.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling tears clog my throat. “Thankfully, that didn’t happen. I mean, how humiliating would it be to have slept with you, then have you walk away without ever talking to me again,” I laugh, but it’s humorless and full of hurt.
“Listen, I was f**ked up, okay? You’re so innocent; I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“So now that you know that I’ve had sex, you think it’s okay to sleep with me?” I'm so confused by his logic.
“Stop f**king saying that you’ve had sex,” he growls, his hands sliding down his face. “Jesus, I don’t want to f**king talk or hear about that shit.”
“Okay,” I whisper, startled by the pissed off look on his face.
“I said I was sorry for that shit.” I try to think back, but I'm pretty sure that he never apologized. “It’s in the past; we’re moving on and going to be best friends.” I shake my head, wondering what it must be like to live in his universe. And why the hell does he keep saying that we’re going to be best friends? I was starting to feel like I was in a bad episode of Barney. “We need to go,” he says, walking out of the bedroom. I follow him out and watch as he bends to put on his shoes. He grabs his keys off the counter, I grab my bag, but when we get to the door, he stops and turns to me. “This is going to happen.”
“What?” I ask, my eyebrows drawn together in confusion. His finger comes up and skims down the center of my face, forehead to chin.
“You and I, we’re going to happen.” He kisses me, then opens the door, putting his hand on the small of my back to lead me out. “We can get your bag later.”
“I have my bag.” I lift my hand, showing him my bag that’s hard to miss since its hot pink and covered in glitter.
“Your overnight bag, baby.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
“I'm not staying overnight with you, so I don’t need an overnight bag,” I say, as he helps me into his truck. He has to lift me into it because it’s so tall, and there are no sideboards to step onto.
“You are,” is all he says, slamming the door and walking around the back of the truck. He slides behind the steering wheel, looking over at me. “So where does the douche live?” I give him directions, and then we’re on our way.
Chapter 3
Trevor
I wake up feeling Liz’s body pressed against mine. Her small hand is tucked under her cheek against my chest; her thigh is over my hip, and my hand is full of her pink lace-covered ass. Yesterday, after she gave me directions to douchebag Bill’s house, and made me promise not to call him douchebag Bill to his face, we drove the thirty minutes a few towns over to his house. He lived in a newer neighborhood; the houses all looked the same. They call it “cookie cutter”; I call it lame. “This peach house is his?” I asked, looking over at Liz. “What the f**k is wrong with this guy?”
“Trevor, please be nice, okay? He’s helping me find my brother.”
“You want me to be nice? There’s a f**king Mini Cooper in the driveway, a yellow Mini Cooper, Liz. What man drives that kind of f**king car? Jesus,” I said, shaking my head and looking back at his house.
“Please,” she whispered, her soft, sweet voice pulling at my heart. Looking into her beautiful eyes, I saw fear of rejection; she was still guarded. I f**ked up with her. I didn’t want to do that again; I needed her to trust me so we could move forward. I had been a coward, didn’t want to admit what I was feeling for her, so I took the easy way out, found something that I thought I didn’t like and latched onto it with both hands. Now, every time she said she wasn’t a virgin, I wanted to rip someone’s head off. No one should touch her but me, and from now on, no one would.
“I won’t call him a douchebag to his face,” I told her softly.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, leaning across the seat to kiss my cheek. Something about that small act gave me hope. When we got out of the car, the front door opened, and Bill walked out wearing a pink polo and plaid shorts. I looked at Liz to see her looking at me, her eyes telling me to remember my promise.
“You didn’t call me last night,” Bill said, walking towards Liz, his face red.