Give Me You Page 15

  “Wait, Corin,” I plead, pressing my hand to the door before she can close it. “Just…if you need anything, or you decide you want to hang out, or if you just want to talk, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.”

  She nods but her demeanor says hell will freeze over first.

  Fuck.

  It’s been a week since Skylar dropped a bomb on me. A long week.

  He’s leaving.

  Two months of school, technically less if he takes finals early, which I’m sure he’s already arranged because he’s Skylar.

  First Layla, then him. I’m starting to develop a complex. Befriend me and you will need to leave the country.

  I’m happy for him. I am.

  At least I’m trying to be.

  I miss him.

  He told me the truth about Fallon and I believe him. Deep down I know I shouldn’t have run back here that next morning without talking to him. But I’d humiliated myself with the damn messages. I turned right back into that girl I was trying so hard to leave behind. It’s like I picked her up and put her back on by going back to New York and the thought of that was horrifying.

  My memories from our time together in New York keep repeating over and over in my head like a song the radio won’t stop overplaying. The cuddling, the tears, the honesty. Breakfast and flowers.

  His mouth on me.

  Knowing I will probably never feel the way he makes me feel again is heartbreaking.

  I still have his shirt—the one from his room that I slept in the night of the auction. It’s draped across my chair and after I’ve showered, I do the stupidest thing possible.

  I put it on.

  Pulling my knees in under it, I lower myself onto the futon in the half-empty common room. My wet hair lays heavy on my back as I breathe his scent in.

  Why did stupid Fallon have to show up and bid on him? In a way, I know I’m the one that convinced him it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. God it was.

  I chew my thumbnail and let my eyes drift around the room. Those stupid red stilettos catch my eye and I hate seeing them. They remind me of what he said the night we fell asleep playing video games. He brought up the damn shoes and then psychoanalyzed me.

  Screw this. I am not, will not, and cannot be this girl. Standing abruptly, I decide to do what I always do when the going gets tough. I’m going dancing. And I’m wearing my red fucking heels.

  Take that, Skylar Martin.

  The club is packed, and yet, I feel strangely isolated. Probably because every one else is with someone, at least one someone, and I’m alone. If Layla were here she’d be with me.

  But she isn’t. Because she took a risk—one you convinced her to take, Connelly.

  Yeah, yeah. My stupid subconscious is my worst enemy sometimes. It’s a wonder I can even hear it over the pounding techno music.

  A few guys give me inviting head nods as I walk past. I’m channeling Sandra Dee in my tight black dress under a leather jacket. The only thing I’m wearing that isn’t black are the red stilettos. Making my way toward to center of the dance floor, I stop and order three shots before I shake my ass for the world to see.

  After the third one, the room goes fuzzy and I stupidly check my phone to see if he’s called.

  He hasn’t.

  Why would he? You basically told him to fuck off.

  Aren’t internal thoughts supposed to be in first person? Mine aren’t. Mine are more like having an inner bitch that likes to scold me and put me down. No wonder I have self-esteem issues.

  Making my way through the throng of couples bumping and grinding reminds me of the night Skylar and I danced for the first time. God, how he could move. Sensual and rhythmic, as if he anticipated my every move and could match it, was prepared for it.

  That’s how he’d be in bed. But you’ll never know.

  I switch my bitchy inner monologue off.

  But when I start dancing, an unwelcome truth invades my brain.

  So many guys. I’ve given it up to more than I can count. Well, four that I willingly slept with by choice. I don’t count Eddie’s friends or the times I got paid for it. Kind of like when I’m waitressing I don’t count how many cups of coffee I serve. But Skylar, the one good guy in my life, him I can’t sleep with. Him I shut out and scare off.

  Why are you so fucked up?

  “I don’t know,” I say aloud, realizing as soon as I do that I’ve answered my own thought. Great. I’m going insane.

  “What’s that, baby?” A male voice from behind me says.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, bumping into a tall guy in white oxford button down as I try to escape the overcrowded corner I’ve somehow backed myself into.

  “Want to dance,” he yells over the music. His beer sloshes out of the bottle when someone bumps into him. It spills onto his shirt but he doesn’t notice. He just takes another drink, eyeing me curiously as he does.

  “I think I’m good. I’m just here to dance—by myself. Thank you, though,” I say, trying not to be rude.

  “Come on, babe,” he says, swaying against me so that I can’t go anywhere. His free hand lands on my hip. “Dancing alone is no fun. One dance.”

  I swallow and nod. It’s easier to just dance with him than make a big dramatic scene. He’s a big guy, taller than Skylar but meatier and less muscular. And slurring enough that I know he’s drunk.

  I dance half-heartedly, facing away from him until the song ends.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I say, knowing how formal and lame it sounds but needed to get away from him and trying to do it in the least offensive way possible. “I’m going to head over to the bar and grab another drink. Have a nice night.”

  “Hang on, babe.” His hand grips tighter on my hip as his erection presses against my ass. My stomach roils at the contact. “One more, then I’ll buy you a drink.”

  I shake my head. “My friend is waiting. I need to go.”

  “What friend?” He looks over the people around us. “I don’t see anyone looking for you.”

  Because I don’t really have any friends.

  “He works here,” I lie easily. “He’s a bouncer.”

  His eyes scan over me as if he’s removing my clothes already. “Okay. Well go get your drink and come back, sweet cheeks.”

  I nod, forcing a tight smile, thankful that he lets go of me. That is until he slaps me, hard, on the ass.

  “Are you infuckingsane?” I scream, whirling around to glare at him. “Do not just hit a woman you barely know on the ass, you creep.”

  A guy next to him turns from the skinny blonde grinding on his dick to see what the fuss is all about.

  “Crenshaw? Everything all right here, man?”

  I turn my glare to the guy in the blue polo shirt. “No. It’s not. In fact, you should teach your friend some fucking manners.”

  “He didn’t mean it,” polo shirt promises me. “He’s wasted. It’s his twenty-first birthday.”

  “Good for fucking him.” I turn to leave, but a hand pulls my arm, wrenching me backward.

  “How about a birthday kiss? Or you can join me in the men’s room and show me if the drapes match the curtains.”

  What the hell is this guy’s damage? Drunk, I understand. But I’m thinking he might be brain dead.

  “Get your hands off me,” I yell, jerking out of his grasp.

  Polo shirt pulls his friend aside. “She’s not interested man. Back off.”

  “She’s a frigid fucking bitch is what she is.”

  He sneers at me and his friend laughs.

  I just wanted to dance.

  I make my way through the crowd just as Skylar’s favorite song comes on. It’s a remix, but I can hear the lyrics buried under the bass.

  The words strike me hard in the chest.

  I miss him so much it hurts. I miss Layla too, but I know she did the right thing. Why can’t I?

  I lectured her about hiding from life and I’m doing the same thing. Sort of. She was hiding from life, and I’m hi
ding from love—or the possibility of it at least.

  Tears threaten the corners of my eyes as I reach the bar and order another shot. I down it quickly, before ordering another, knocking each one back without the customary lime chaser and embracing the burn. I’ll take a cab back to the apartment.

  Then what?

  Then I’ll lie alone in my empty room wearing his shirt, wishing I were with him.

  I’ve been so afraid of getting caught up in him and losing myself, but the truth is, the only time I feel like I can be myself is when I’m with him.

  Then why did you run?

  I really don’t know for sure. It was a combination of things. I was angry, jealous, and then mostly too embarrassed to face him.

  Before I realize what I’ve done, I’m outside of the club gasping for fresh air. It was stuffy as hell in there and I can’t even remember why I wanted to come.

  Skylar’s last words play on a steady loop in my head.

  If you need anything, or you decide you want to hang out, or if you just want to talk, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.

  I need him. And I never meant to need anyone, but it’s the truth.

  My hand finds my phone in my pocket and as scared as I am of what or who he’s doing at one in the morning on a Saturday night or what he’ll say about me calling this late, I pull up my favorites.

  His name is first.

  When a week passes and I don’t hear from her, I’m a fucking lunatic. O’Brien would be so proud. I can’t even go to Jax’s place because she lives there now so the whole team has been watching me come apart at the fucking seams.

  I went out with a few of them tonight and I checked my phone half a dozen times before they started calling me a chick.

  “You waiting on a booty call, Martin?” Blackburn took special joy in screwing with me. “Maybe she found someone with a bigger willy, mate.”

  Doubtful. Mine’s pretty damn big and the last thing she seems to want. Unless she’s hammered, then she talks me to my knees. That husky voice, telling me to come home so she can show me how much she misses me is haunting my dreams. I should’ve left Fallon at the ER, but it felt wrong. And I was scared. Me, Skylar motherfucking Martin, scared shitless. I was scared of screwing up and losing Corin’s trust. Sleeping with her that night when she was vulnerable and half-wasted would’ve been a surefire way to do just that.

  After a few hours, I decide to bail on guy’s night out. Blackburn calls out insults to my back as I leave, but I have no fucks to give.

  I’m unlocking the door to my dorm room when my phone rings. I open the door and step inside while retrieving it from my pants pocket.

  Red, my screen says.

  Finally. I feel like I can actually breathe for the first time in forever. There’s my girl.

  “Hey, baby,” I answer, hoping she’s calling to tell me I can see her somewhere, somehow.

  “You were right,” she says, sounding like she’s been crying.

  “I usually am, sweetheart.” I wish I could see whether or not I’d made her smile. “But what about this time?”

  “I miss you,” she whispers like it’s a secret she’s ashamed to admit. Air leaves my lungs so abruptly that I don’t say anything right away. “I’m at Shortie’s,” she continues. “Come and get me?”

  “Be right there.”

  The cab pulls up to the curb in front of the club and I see her standing there. She’s wearing the red heels and holding her black leather jacket tightly around herself. I jump out before the driver brings the car to a complete standstill.

  “Corin,” I call to her, feeling like the world falls away and there is only her. I don’t know why, but this girl, this girl is so unlike every other girl I’ve known. This girl is my girl.

  “Hey,” she says shakily, making her way over to me. “Sorry to call so late. I could’ve just taken a cab, but—”

  She doesn’t get to finish her apology. As soon as she’s close enough, I pull her to me and press my lips firmly to hers. I want to hold her all night, like I did in New York.

  Something’s wrong, and my usually strong girl is fragile tonight. I let my tongue slide inside her mouth and I taste tequila. She’s been drinking, but I don’t care. She called me. She could’ve gone home alone or with some other asshole, but she didn’t.

  I know what a huge leap this is for her. Trying to be independent, trying to focus on school, but tonight she needs me.

  So tonight, I’m hers.

  He tastes so good. I can’t get enough. Sweet like some type of minty gum but underneath I taste expensive beer. Ale. Not the cheap stuff the rest of us drink. He pulls me into the cab and I scramble onto his lap, devouring his mouth and tangling my hands in his hair.

  “You came,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Of course I did, crazy girl. You told me to.”

  I smile and continue my greedy exploration of his mouth.

  “You’re not going to rub it in?” I pull back and search his face for the familiar traces of arrogance. “That you were right?”

  I bite my tongue and wait. He can gloat. I deserve it.

  “Maybe later.”

  His lips land on mine and I can’t stop myself from turning to straddle him.

  “You didn’t call,” I say stupidly. Obviously he knows this.

  “I was busy.”

  I suck in a breath, because shit, that stings. “Oh yeah? Busy got a name?”

  He brushes his nose against mine and there is mischief gleaming in his gaze. “Yeah. I was busy climbing the fucking walls trying to figure out why you left and how to get you to say those dirty things to me while you were sober.”

  I groan and let my head fall to the crook of his neck. “I can’t remember what all I said, but I can imagine.”

  He places a chaste kiss on my forehead and lets his head rest against the seat. “Something about being naked and wet in my bed. And needing my help with something.”

  I moan my despair and he tightens his grip on me.

  “Easy on the moaning while you’re in my lap, babe.”

  My lips press to his neck because I can’t not kiss his smooth throat when it’s this close to my mouth.

  “I was jealous. And then I was drunk and jealous. Not the best combination.”

  He tilts his head away to grin down at me. “Oh, I don’t know. It was…enlightening.”

  “I bet.” I hide my face again. I’m blushing. Me. Blushing. I pray he can’t tell in the darkened backseat.

  “We’re here,” he says at the cab pulls up to the curb in front of Jax’s—well, my place now. “Can I come in?”

  I nod. “Yeah…I was hoping that you would.”

  The apartment is dark when we step inside. Skylar pulls me tight against him and devours my mouth.

  “Sorry,” he says, pulling back before I’m ready for the kiss to end. “I had to have one more taste.”

  “Just one more?”

  He nods. “You’ve been drinking. And I’ve got two months, Corin. I’m not going to fuck it up on day one.”

  I’m not sure what he’s implying but when he starts setting up the game console, I’m more than a little disappointed.

  But as we play, or as I kick his butt at Mortal Combat for the millionth time, we settle into something I’ve grown to realize feels like home.

  “That first night, you gave me the bed,” I mention casually. “But you didn’t try to get in with me and make a move.”

  Skylar clicks a few more buttons on his controller before turning to me. “Yeah?”

  “How come?”

  He’s quiet for so long I’m not sure he’s going to answer. After he takes my player down and gloats for a few seconds he says, “It wasn’t exactly a date. We were here because Layla and Landen needed to be alone, not because you were into me like that. I got that you were guarded. I figured I was pretty special that you were spending time hanging out with me alone. Didn’t want to do anything to make you regret it.”

  �
��I don’t,” I say barely loud enough to be heard. “Regret spending time with you,” I clarify.

  Skylar nods and disregards the game completely, setting his controller aside. “I’m glad. I know I haven’t exactly been a gentleman at all times and I have fucked up royally more times that I can to count. But I hope you know that while we may not have the fairytale romance that Landen and Layla do, we do have something, Corin. Something that matters to me. A lot.”

  I watch him, memorizing his face, his jaw, his eyes and the dark lashes that line them. “I like our story better than the fairytale anyways,” I tell him.

  “You do?” His brow creases. “How come?”

  I smile and touch his cheek with the palm of my hand, enjoying the stubble on my sensitive skin. “Because it’s real. And it’s ours.”

  “You know what I realized, during our weekend of cross-country insanity?”

  “That you will never have a better cheesesteak than you did in New York?”

  He laughs lightly. “Naw. I think Philly still has you beat, sweetheart.” Before I can argue, he continues. “I realized that as different as our backgrounds may seem, we’re actually very similar.”

  “Uh, Sky, I was raised in a shoe box. You lived in a mansion the size of this building.”

  “Nuance,” Skylar informs me. “That’s just the technicalities. We both have parents that focused more on themselves and were oblivious to how that affected us. We both learned how to have our own backs. But that’s what I want to talk to you about…”

  “Getting me on my back?” I tease.

  One corner of his mouth lifts in response. “Whenever you’re ready, Red. But no, that’s not what I’m referring to.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Skylar looks so intense and serious it feels like he’s about to propose. “I have your back, Corin Connelly. I want you to know that. Wherever I am in the world, wherever you are. You need anything, you tell me, okay?”

  I contemplate his words carefully. “Layla was the first real girl friend I ever had. Not sure what that says about me that it took nineteen years to make a friend. And now, there’s you. So…yeah. I accept. And I promise to have your back too, Sky. I might not being able to knock guys out in a single punch, but I can cut a bitch if I need to.” I nudge him and he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.