Forever with You Read online

  His gaze swung to mine. “You sure as hell didn’t have a problem with getting naked with me two weeks ago.”

  “I didn’t. Then you opened your mouth with your chauvinistic pig shit and ruined all the warm and fuzzies.”

  “Chauvinistic pig?” he repeated, brushing the hair back from his forehead. “Okay. I know I’m a dick. Trust me, but you and I—­”

  “We had one night. You’re right. We hooked up. You left my place without an ounce of expectations between us, and I was cool with that. That’s what I wanted. But you obviously think the whole damn world revolves around you.” My eyes narrowed. “I enjoyed what we did, but just because I like sex doesn’t mean I’m desperate, a whore, or stupid.”

  He took a step back as his hands dropped to his waist. Surprise flickered across his face. “I never said you were those three things.”

  “You didn’t?” I laughed dryly. “You might not have said those three words exactly, but the fact that you think I came here looking for just you insinuates that I’m desperate. The fact that you think you can get with me after speaking to me the way you did tells me you don’t think very highly of me. And after one night with me you think you can dictate to me where I can go and what I cannot do? You must think I’m stupid.”

  His brows flew up. “Steph—­”

  “Don’t.” I lifted a hand, stopping him. My middle finger might have been extended as I stepped around him and snatched up my purse. “This conversation ends with a—­how about you go fuck yourself.”

  Chapter 6

  Dressed in cotton sleep shorts and an old Shepherd University sweatshirt, it was a little after one in the morning. I’d returned from the bar and eaten half a carton of ice cream. Now I clutched the gray chevron pillow to my chest as the countdown began on TV and the camera zoomed in on Drew Barrymore. Her eyes were big, reflecting all the hope and anticipation every girl has ever felt when it came down to the moment you’d find out if your one true love felt the same way.

  God, this—­this—­was one of my all-­time favorite scenes in all the movies in the whole wide world. The moments leading up to when Sam appears at the baseball field, proving that he cared for Josie despite her betrayal.

  Man, I was such a goober.

  But I had no regrets. None at all.

  One of my girlfriends from college, Cora, absolutely hated Drew Barrymore. It was the most bizarre thing ever, but her rage had never been able to dampen my love for this movie.

  Granted, there was very little romantic about a twenty-­something going back to high school and pretending to be a teenager while falling in love with her über hot and sensitive English teacher. That movie would so never be made nowadays, but there was just something about that first kiss between them that caused my heart to turn to goo.

  I sat up, squeezing the pillow as the clock ran out of time and poor Josie looked heartbroken. Cameras panned on the audience, capturing their expressions of sympathy, and then a low murmur rose, turning into cheers. Everyone turned and there he was. Sam. A.k.a. Michael why-­won’t-­you-­be-­my-­baby-­daddy Vartan. He hurried down the bleachers, and I could feel a girly squeal building in its intensity as my hold tightened on the pillow—­

  “Ouch!” Dropping the pillow, I folded my arm over my breasts and pushed against the sudden ache in them. They’d also been tender this morning. “Owie.”

  I had started to mentally calculate when my period was due when there was a knock at the door, jarring me. “What in the world?”

  A sliver of unease brewed. It was damn near one-­thirty in the morning and someone was at my door? Hell. The time didn’t really matter because hardly anyone knew me well enough to know where I lived.

  Snatching the remote off the arm of the couch, I paused the movie right when Sam hit the field. The knock came again just as I stood. I tugged down on my sweater and crept toward the door, visions of serial killers dancing in my head. Stretching up, I peeked through the peephole.

  “What the hell,” I muttered.

  Nick stood on the other side of my door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he looked around the empty hall. I dumbly stared at the distorted view of him. I had no idea why I realized he didn’t have his helmet with him, because that wasn’t important. What was he doing here? I was sure my parting words earlier in the night made it clear that we were so not on friendly terms. Nick was arrogant, but he couldn’t be stupid enough to come here to hook up.

  Curiosity overrode my common sense in about a nanosecond. Knowing I should just turn off all the lights and ignore him, I reached down and opened the door.

  Nick turned to me, pulling his hands out of his pockets. Those light green eyes dipped briefly, all the way to the tips of my fluffy sock-­covered feet and then back up. Seriously? Pressing my lips together, I folded my arms across my chest and cocked an eyebrow.

  A faint pink bloomed on his cheeks and he offered a sheepish grin as he extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Nick Blanco.”

  Uh, what? I eyed his hand and then my gaze flicked up.

  “I was thinking that we could start over,” he continued, wiggling his fingers. “We kind of have gotten off to a bad start.”

  “I think we got off . . . to a very good start.”

  The grin became amused. “Okay. That’s a good point. We did get off on a very good start.”

  “But then you ruined it.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “Really ruined it.”

  Now the grin slipped a fraction. “You’re right. That’s why I’m here.” His fingers wiggled once more. “I want to start over.”

  Suspicion seeded. Normally I wasn’t a paranoid or distrusting person, but I didn’t get the point in this. “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeated, his hand still hovering between us.

  I nodded. “Yeah, why? We hooked up. That’s all. And it seems to me that you’d be fine with never seeing my face again. That you prefer that, so why would you want to start over?”

  My statement must’ve caught him off guard, because there wasn’t a faint flicker of a grin on his face now. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  Both my brows flew up. “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “Normally, I would be fine with never seeing a girl’s face again. That’s the way it is—­the way I like it.”

  My eyes widened. “Well . . . at least you’re honest, but that kind of just reinforces my question.”

  “I know.” Nick’s fingers danced again, beckoning me. “I just . . . look, can I come in and talk? It’s kind of chilly out here and I really don’t think your neighbors appreciate our one-­in-­the-­morning conversation.”

  I glanced over his shoulder and shifted my weight again. “I don’t know . . .”

  “You’re a hard one to crack.” He lowered his hand.

  “I’m uncrackable, that’s why.”

  His lips tipped up. “I don’t think uncrackable is a word.”

  “What are you? The grammar police?”

  The grin was now back, softening the harsher lines of his face. “I am that person who silently corrects everyone’s grammar.”

  “Oh. Wow. So not only are you a dick, but you’re also an annoying dick.”

  Nick laughed deeply, surprising me. It was the same kind of laugh I’d heard at the bar tonight, before he realized I was there. A deep and infectious laugh. “And you really do say whatever is on your mind, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much,” I replied. “You have a problem with that?”

  “No. Not at all.” He sounded surprised. “So you’re going to let me in or is this it?”

  I mulled over what to do. Nick had been a jerk to me, and his view on hookups was beyond archaic. He thought that he could tell girls that once they had sex they weren’t allowed back in the bar? What in the hell? But then again, maybe the girls fully knew that going into it.
I hadn’t, but for some reason, Nick thought I had.

  ­People made mistakes and screwed up all the time, and it wasn’t like me to hold a grudge, but this had just happened. And truthfully, underneath the anger there was hurt. While I hadn’t expected much from Nick, I wasn’t expecting that kind of greeting. It stung. I was only human.

  “By the way, not sure if you’ve realized this yet or not, but Reece lives in the same condo. Upstairs,” he said, flicking his gaze up. No. I had not known that. “And Roxy spends a lot of time here. They’re probably on the way here once she gets off, so it’s going to get real awkward, me standing out here and them strolling on by.”

  My eyes narrowed into thin slits. “I haven’t seen either of them, but that makes sense. I’ve seen the police car a bunch of times.”

  Uncertainty flickered across his handsome face until I sighed and stepped back. “You’re not getting any,” I warned.

  His thick lashes lifted. “I didn’t come here for that. No. Seriously,” he said when he must have read my doubtful look. “As hard as that is to believe—­and I’m not going to lie, when I look at you, sex isn’t too far from the brain—­but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “You always say what’s on your mind, too.”

  “Guilty.” He stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him. “I know it’s late, but I don’t have your number or I would’ve called you.”

  “You could’ve just waited till the morning.”

  He glanced at me as he shook his head. “Actually, it would’ve driven me crazy all night if I didn’t come and at least try to talk to you.”

  Unsure of what to make of all of this, I bit the inside of my cheek and stepped around him. Nick glanced at the TV and raised a brow. “Never Been Kissed?”

  “You say one bad thing about this movie and you can walk right back out that door.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

  “Uh-­huh.” I plopped down on the couch, placing the pillow in my lap. “So are you going to apologize or something?”

  Nick sat on the couch, his gaze fixed on the paused TV. For a moment I got kind of lost in staring at him. The guy didn’t have a bad angle. His profile, with the high cheekbones and cut jaw, could launch a thousand razor blade campaigns. “I am . . . I am sorry about the way I acted. I’m kind of a dick about certain things,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “I know that’s not a good enough excuse. I do know you didn’t do anything to deserve the way I acted. That was all me.”

  I decided to drop a little of the attitude. “When I went to Mona’s tonight, I honestly wasn’t going there just because you worked there.”

  “I know.”

  I took a deep breath. “But you were an added bonus of going there.”

  His gaze cut to mine and held.

  “Not a huge bonus. A small one,” I added.

  Nick smiled as he leaned back against the couch. “A little bonus, huh? I’ll take what I can get.” Lifting his left hand, he knocked the hair off his forehead. “You . . . you surprised me.”

  Hugging the pillow close, I averted my gaze. “How so?”

  “I don’t know,” came his now familiar response. “I don’t really know you, so everything about you should surprise me, but it runs . . . deeper than that.”

  “I surprised you because I didn’t think it was cool of you to expect me never to step foot in the bar again?” Incredulity seeped into my tone.

  “I know how it sounds. Trust me. I know.” Suddenly, the weariness was evident in his voice, dragging my gaze back to him. He was staring at the TV now, his brows knitted. I quickly looked away as he exhaled deeply. “I don’t do relationships.”

  A laugh climbed up my throat and I cut it off. “That sounds . . . cliché.”

  He chuckled, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw him smooth his long fingers under his mouth. “Yeah, it is. But that kind of shit . . . well, it’s not my thing. The . . . the women I get with, they know it. I don’t lead anyone on.”

  “You didn’t lead me on, but I honestly didn’t know you’d flip out if I came to the bar.”

  “I guess I thought you wouldn’t. I mean, I knew you’d come to the bar the first time, but I didn’t think you’d come back.” He paused, and I could hear the wall clock ticking. “I’m probably making no sense right now.”

  Not really, but I wanted to try to figure him out. Some ­people said curiosity killed the cat, but I was on the side that believed knowledge brought it back. “You said something at the bar—­something about having rules?”

  “Yeah.”

  My gaze slowly drifted back to his profile. I really needed to stop staring at him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “You really have rules about these things?”

  “Don’t you?” he replied.

  “No. I . . .” I trailed off. That was a good question and he had gotten me. I did have rules. “Well, I guess I do. Always use protection. Make sure I don’t have different expectations than the other person. I have to like them. There has to be some kind of connection,” I rambled on. “But I don’t have to never see them again.”

  He rested the back of his head against the couch and turned his cheek toward me. “I have that rule so no one gets the wrong expectation. I don’t like for things to get . . . complicated or messy.”

  I considered that. “Or you just don’t like to get close to someone.”

  “Do you?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  “So why do you have sex with some guy you just met? Look—­I don’t mean that as a bad thing. I’m thrilled that you do—­did with me. But that doesn’t seem like a way to get close to ­people.”

  I shifted, curling my legs up against my chest as I pushed the pillow away. “Maybe it’s because I have no problem hanging out with or getting to know someone I had sex with.”

  His grin turned wry. “Okay. You got me there.” There was a pause. “But why don’t you have a boyfriend? Someone like you can’t be single for long.”

  “I’m not sure I like how you keep referring to me as ‘someone like you,’ ” I admitted.

  “It’s not an insult.” His serious stare met mine, and my gaze skittered away. “I mean it, it’s not.”

  Wrapping my arms around my knees, I decided to let that go for now. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I laughed. “Totally by choice.”

  “Explain,” he demanded. “I need more details on this.”

  “Why is it so surprising? You don’t have a girlfriend and you’re hot. Granted, you are a dick, but a lot of chicks will overlook that for a nice set of abs.”

  “You think I have nice abs?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know you have a great stomach.”

  He chuckled. “I told you why I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t do relationships.”

  “Well, neither do I.”

  There was a pause, and then, “I guess we are a lot alike.”

  Looking at him, I tapped my fingers off my knees. “I thought so.”

  “Past tense, huh?”

  I nodded slowly. “I don’t have anything against relationships. I’m just a firm believer in not wasting your time unless you see a future with someone. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy each other, but why put the effort into something when you know it’s not going to go anywhere?” I shrugged one shoulder. “That’s my motto.”

  “And you’ve never met someone that you thought would go somewhere?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh,” he murmured. A distant look crept into his features.

  My fingers stilled. “You have?”

  One shoulder rose after a moment. “I did once before. Apparently I was wrong.” The smile reappeared and was quickly gone. “Way wrong.”


  “So . . . like I said, you don’t like to get close.”

  “No,” he countered with a frown. “That’s not the case.”

  I arched a brow as I laughed softly. “Okay. Whatever.” Unfurling my legs, I stretched them out in front of me. As I wiggled my toes, I could feel his gaze on me, and even though I told myself not to, I glanced over. Our gazes met briefly, and then I looked away, swallowing. “By the way, I accept your apology.”

  “You do?” he asked softly.

  Refusing to look at him, I stared at my socks. “I still think you’re a dick, though.”

  “Kind of hard to believe you really accept my apology if you think that.”

  “Well, it helps that you’re really attractive. I’m shallow like that.” I was lying. I wasn’t that shallow, but I enjoyed his reaction.

  A surprise laugh burst out of him. “I feel like I’m being exploited over here.”

  “Don’t let my shallowness mean more than it does,” I advised, fighting a grin.

  “So I guess that means you—­”

  “If that sentence has anything to do with sex, I suggest not finishing it.”

  Nick chuckled. “Actually, I was going to say I guess that means you . . .” He trailed off, and when I peeked at him, he had the most boyish grin I’d ever seen on a guy his age. “Okay, I lied. Totally had to do with sex.”

  Smoothing my hands over my face, I hid my grin. “You . . . you are terrible.”

  “Possibly.” A heartbeat passed. “I like the hair, just FYI.”

  Luckily my hands were still on my face, so he didn’t see my smile grow. I’d forgotten that I had put my hair in pigtail braids when I got home. “Thanks,” I said, my voice muffled by my hands.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I lowered my hands, twisting toward him.

  He dipped his chin, causing that damn lock of hair to sweep across his forehead. “You were staring at me earlier, weren’t you?”

  Dammit. I tried to fight it, but I felt warmth creeping up my neck. “You’re so arrogant. I was not staring at you earlier.”