Only when its us, p.25
Only When It's Us, page 25
“Okay.” Becks swallows nervously. “Okay, so that was a little shitty, to prey on your drugged state. But the intent was noble.”
“Noble.” Scrubbing my face, I stare up at the ceiling, reminding myself murdering them will put a cramp in my outdoorsy lifestyle. Jail’s claustrophobic as hell, I hear. Barely any time outside.
“Shave that thing all the way, man,” Becks has the balls to say. “Look less like a doomsday woodsman and a bit more like a collegiate hottie.”
Tucker snorts. “Hottie’s a stretch.”
“Please.” Becks rolls his eyes. “We all know why Ryder grew the beard. Because he got too much attention clean-shaven, and when his ears went to shit, attention was the last thing he wanted.”
“Damn. Okay, Dr. Phil.” I let off Becks’s throat and trudge back to my bathroom, eyeing the damage.
They’re stupid enough to follow and stand behind me as I face the mirror. I tip my head from one angle to another, trying to figure out how to salvage this without shaving my entire beard.
There’s no way.
“Unless you want mutton chops,” Tucker offers. “But considering I grew up next door to a creepy guy with mutton chops who always tried to offer me popsicles, I’d get very strong pedophilic vibes. Your facial hair would be triggering, so for my emotional safety, that only leaves fully shaving your face.”
I stare at him in the mirror. “You have serious balls to shave a landing strip on my face, then make up emotional triggers and a pedophilic neighbor.”
Tucker groans. “You’re too hard to lie to.”
“Nah. You’re just a shit liar,” Becks chimes in.
I throw up a hand, silencing them. “Both of you. Out.”
Tucker fist-pumps the air. “You’re going to do it?”
I level him with a look that makes his hand drop slowly to his side. “Right. We’re leaving.”
“Sorry again,” Becks says right before they shut the door.
Staring at my reflection, I heave a long sigh. When I pull open the vanity drawer, the hair scissors sit right in front, gleaming as if they’ve been waiting for me.
Joy’s voice echoes in my head. “Promise me something. Don’t give up on her, okay?”
“All right, Joy.” I tug the first chunk of beard away from my face, then drag the scissors through it with an echoing snip. “This one’s for you.”
I feel naked. As I walk campus, it’s just like those recurring dreams I had as a kid. The ones in which I showed up at school only wearing my parka. The moment the dream became a nightmare was when I began to unzip my coat, only to realize I had nothing on underneath. In my dream, I’d yank the zipper up and hide in the coat closet until Mom came to get me.
But this time, there’s no zipper to secure me, no mother on her way to save the day. The beard is gone, only faint blond stubble lining my jaw. A warm wind drifts over my face, reminding me how little now protects me from the outside world.
I had no idea how much I hid behind that beard until it was abruptly taken from me. At least I still have my flannel shirts. This one’s Willa’s favorite. Blue and green plaid. Her eyes always lit up a little bit more when I wore it.
Becks, damn him, is not wrong about the attention my face gets without the beard. I feel more eyes on me as I walk. I don’t want more eyes. I want Willa’s. I tug my ball cap lower and check my phone when it buzzes. Old habits die hard—I still keep my phone on vibrate rather than ring, and I still hope it’s Willa every time.
It’s a text from the man who started this shit. I spy a hottie.
I growl. I’m going to kill Becks. Glancing around, I try to find his hiding place. As I’m distractedly searching for him, my head high over the sea of most others that I wander by, I suddenly slam right into a small, compact body.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going…” Willa’s voice dies off as she stares up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She sways alarmingly, so I grip her arm, frowning at how much less mass is there. She’s thinner. An odd giggle bubbles out of her.
“Something funny?” I ask.
She shrieks and jumps back. “Who the fuck are you?”
I raise my eyebrows, tipping up the brim of my hat. “Sunshine, are you serious?”
Willa makes a small, pained noise. “What the hell, Ryder?”
Her eyes roam my face as she leans toward me and bites that dangerous bee-stung lip. When her eyes lock with mine, I drag my thumb along her mouth’s soft fullness, tugging it free from her teeth.
Her eyes sparkle with what looks weirdly like tears. “The squirrel tail’s gone. You’re even beautifuller.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Shut up, Sutter.”
“No, I’m…” She groans, as her forehead hits my chest. “Oh, dear.”
“We had a whole Beauty and the Beast thing going. I had to make sure you liked me for my stunning personality, not my mom’s cheekbones.”
“Cheese,” she mutters. “I could totally slice some Swiss on those puppies.”
It makes me laugh again. I haven’t laughed for months. Dipping my head until my mouth is close to her ear, I whisper, “Can I hug you?”
Willa nods against my chest, followed by a sniffle. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms tight around her shoulders and squeeze until she’s flush against me, until I can feel her heart beating against my chest. God, it feels so good to hold her like this. She smells like sunscreen and fresh air and flowers and I want to kiss her so badly, I can barely think about anything else.
Her hands creep tentatively around my waist and then lock at my back. “I missed you,” she whispers.
I press a kiss to her hair, one hand slowly rubbing between her shoulder blades. “I missed you, too.”
“I’m sorry I disappeared,” she mumbles into my chest. “My reasons for shutting everyone out felt undeniably necessary at the time, but my grief counselor has since explained that while understandable, it wasn’t the healthiest choice I’ve made.”
“You took the time you needed, Willa. I was always going to be here waiting.”
She nods and sniffles again. “I know. I knew that. And that meant…a lot. Thanks for all the food, too. And the back rub. And playing with my hair like Mama—” Her voice catches.
“She did that for you?”
Willa nods. “She also whistled at my games, like you have.”
“How did you know that was me?”
Setting her chin on my chest, Willa peers up. “You were the asshole lumberjack wearing an unmistakable flannel plaid shirt, whistling so loud, they heard you in Orange County. When I caught that sound, I knew rationally that Mama wasn’t there, but it felt like she was. You made her feel close.”
Willa’s eyes search mine curiously. “Maybe you remind me of her a little. Is that weird?”
My heart aches. I knew Joy Sutter only a few insufficient weeks, and I miss her so much. I have no idea how much Willa’s hurting, or how hard it must be to talk about her. I only know it’s the highest compliment from Willa, to be told I remind her of her mother.
I rub her back some more and smile down at her. “It’s not weird. We had a few things in common. Excellent whistlers. Blunt delivery. Impervious to your bullshit.” My fingers slide through her untamed hair. “A deep appreciation of your crazy hair and your weird metaphors and the bizarre things that come out of your mouth.”
Willa leans and bites softly into my shirt. It sends a shudder through my body, as I tighten my grip on her back. “Behave yourself.”
She smiles. “Now why would I start doing that, Mountain Man? You like me just the way I am.”
Things aren’t easy overnight, but Willa doesn’t disappear anymore, and she answers my texts. A few nights later, she agrees to have dinner with me, so long as the boys and Rooney are there too. She’s still putting up every possible barrier between it being just the two of us, for as long as she can manage it.
I understand why. Everything she said at Christmas still stands. She’s heading out of this place with the soccer world to take by storm, and as far as she knows, I’ll be teaching canoe lessons in The Middle of Nowhere, Washington. Her heart’s still tender, too. She’s grieving. She’s going to be grieving for a long time.
Right now, she needs a friend. I might be a friend who’s about to die with the need to be more, but I’m her friend nonetheless. Or, more accurately, back in old, familiar territory: her frenemy.
“What the hell do you call this?”
I glance over my shoulder. Willa’s poking the guacamole I made with a disdainful look on her face.
“It’s guac, Sunshine. You need glasses or something?”
“I’m aware it’s guacamole, Brawny. Or it was until you threw mango into it.” She tosses down the mixing spoon in disgust. “What the fuck?”
“There’s something wrong with you. Everybody loves jazzed-up guac.”
“This here woman does not. Tucker? Becks? Rooney?”
Tucker and Rooney are playing FIFA on the Nintendo. Becks stares at their game. None of them answer her. Willa turns to me and shrugs. “Kids these days. Addicted to the tube.”
I have one of those moments that’s becoming harder to tamp down—the fierce urge to heft her by her fantastic ass, wrap her thighs around me and kiss her senseless.
Willa’s gaze flicks between my mouth and my eyes. “You look hungry.”
“I am.”
She swallows loudly. “O-okay. Well, tacos are pretty much ready. We can eat.”
I turn away from her, willing my body to cool down. It doesn’t work. Nothing stops making every inch of me burn for her. It’s fucking torture. Platonic hugs and kisses to her forehead. Swaying her in my arms and keeping my breath steady. Every little brush of elbows and hips. The swish of her hair and its tempting scent that never leaves.
Hands slam down on my shoulders, interrupting my thoughts. I turn to face Becks as he releases his grip with a squeeze. “Smells great.”
Tucker and Rooney trickle in, grabbing toppings and fixings. Once again, my eyes snag on Willa. We stand there as if life is in slow motion, our friends circling us in a blur.
“You guys?” Tucker pokes me. I finally whip my head his way, making him jump back. “Jesus, you’re scary. You have psycho eyes. You need to go for a run or what?”
“That’s exactly what I need—or what,” I mumble.
Willa’s cheeks pink. She holds the stack of plates and white-knuckles them. When I walk up to her, her chest is heaving, a flush darkening her neck and ears. “Can you stay after dinner?” I ask.
Her eyes bug out of her head. “Um, what?”
“Just stay after they leave. I want to put something to you.”
Another one of her snort-giggles sneaks out. I’ve figured out it’s her nervous laugh. “That sounded filthy, Bergman.”
Raising an eyebrow, I take the plates from her. “Pervert. Sit your ass down and eat some tacos.”
She bites her lip, and for the first time, in a long while, she smiles like the Willa I used to know. The one who had something in life to smile about.
Tucker and Becks are college guys, so they destroy a serious amount of food. Rooney’s not far behind them, but it’s Willa I watch, picking at her black beans, popping them into her mouth like she’s willing herself to eat at all. My eyes lock on hers, as once again time and space fade to the periphery. I need everyone to leave so I can ask her. And then I need her to say yes.
Willa’s eyes flick up and meet mine. First, they widen like, whatcha looking at? But as I hold her gaze, they narrow to irritated slits.
Becks pulls out his phone. “Timer.”
“Bets,” Tucker calls.
Rooney tosses down her taco in disgust. “Nope. I am not enabling this any longer. I’m sick of Mom and Dad fighting.” Standing, she rips the phone out of Becks’s hand, shoves Tuck’s money into his shirt, and yanks both of them up by the arms. “Out. These two need to get the hell over this astronomical sexual tension and deal with it the old-fashioned way.”
Willa’s jaw drops as she looks over at Rooney.
“Seriously, Rooster?”
Rooney shakes her head. “I’m so over this. You two. Talk. Touch. Fuck. Please, God, just end the torture. I’m drowning in it. I’m contact-horny around you guys—”
“I can help with that,” Tucker offers.
Becks smacks him upside the head. “Cut it out.”
“I can handle myself fine, boys,” Rooney says before she directs herself to Willa and me. “The point is this: It’s enough. Work it out.”
Rooney drags the guys with her out the front door and slams it behind her.
Willa tracks their movement, but eventually, her head turns back my way, disbelief tightening her features. She looks wildly uncomfortable, and when Willa Rose Sutter is uncomfortable, she does not talk about it. “Well, that was out of nowhere.”
Correction. She’ll talk about it if it accomplishes downplaying or denying.
“Not really, Willa.” I stand and collect plates, stacking them until they’re a tower of teetering leftovers.
Willa sputters while she jumps up and gathers the fixing plates, sweeping shredded cheese off the edge of the table and dashing in with her handful. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I round on her, dumping the plates in the sink with a clatter. Willa carefully shoves her arms’ contents onto the counter, then turns to face me.
“I told you what I wanted at Christmas.”
“Yeah,” she snaps. “And then my mom died, forgive me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” A sigh rushes out of me. “I’m saying Rooney’s stating the obvious.”
Willa’s jaw clenches as her eyes spark furious copper. “It’s not obvious. We’re not obvious.”
“Oh?” Slowly, I walk toward her. Willa steps back in synch with me, until her ass bumps the counter. I place my hands on its surface, bracing my arms so that she’s caged inside my body. She has to crane her neck to look up at me. Her pulse slams at the base of her throat. Color floods her cheeks. Her nipples are diamond bits beneath her threadbare Mia Hamm T-shirt, and she presses her thighs together.
“Head to toe, Sunshine, says you want me. Look at me and tell me you don’t see the same thing.”
She juts her chin up, her eyes meeting mine. No beard to hide my own blush or the way my throat sticks when I try to swallow. My shirt does nothing to cover my rapid breaths. My jeans are a lost cause. No possible material could hide that I’m rock hard for her. My fingers are white-knuckling the counter. We’re a combustion reaction the moment before its elements meet.
I dip my head, sliding my lips along the shell of her ear. “Tell me you don’t see it, Willa.”
She shudders. “I see it.”
“Because you want it,” I whisper against her neck, then trail faint kisses down her throat.
“I don’t want it…any more than you do.”
A dry laugh leaves me. “What if I told you I want it so bad I can’t think straight?”
She swallows. “Well, then I’ll admit I want it that bad, too, just not how you do.”
“And how do I want it?” I whisper against her neck.
She huffs a frustrated sigh but leans into my touch. “You know what I mean. You want warm fuzzies. And I just want sex.”
“That’s bullshit, Willa.” I straighten and press my pelvis to hers. Willa whimpers. “You want more. You’re just scared.”
“Am not,” she rasps.
“How about this. Come with me to the cabin up in Washington over spring break. Give me that time to show you there’s nothing to be scared of. You. Me. The woods. Four days.”
Willa bites her lip. “I should stay here and study.”
I push away from the counter. Yanking a towel off the handlebar, I throw it over my shoulder. “Study at the cabin. Study naked. Study clothed. I don’t care. I’ll cook. You rest. You need some R and R.”
She’s staring at me. Her irises are nonexistent, her legs scissored shut. Her hair practically crackles with raw energy. Willa’s warring with herself, battling over what she wants and how she’s lived her whole life. They’re mutually exclusive. You can’t give yourself to someone and wall yourself off.
She’s cornered and she knows it. I’ve called us for what we are—two people who care so much more, want so much more than we’ve allowed ourselves to admit. First, we were both too pissed to see what was really there. Then as the heat of our tension began to boil over, and the real structure of our dynamic revealed itself, we were both too shocked and apprehensive to do anything about it.
That was then. This is now.
I’ve spent the last eight weeks without Willa in my life. I never want that to happen again. I’m done pretending this stilted frenemyship works. I can only hope Willa is ready to give up the act, too.
“You wussing out on me, Sunshine?”
Her eyes narrow and darken. “Bullshit, I am.”
“Good.” I turn toward the sink and run the water. “Then it’s a plan.”
“Ryder, I don’t…I mean, it’s not…” She chokes on her words and comes up short. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Stomping over to me, she presses her front to my back. “You need to understand that this is a lost cause. I am not girlfriend material. You are not going to change my mind. When you see sense, we’re going to fuck like rabbits, but it’ll be no strings, no commitment. Then I’ll wreck you with one emotionless orgasm after another, for which I expect to be repaid in Swedish meatballs and those delicious mini-sausages you made at Christmas.”
Slowly I turn to face her, leaning a hip against the counter. Willa’s bravado fades a bit when she sees my eyes. “Willa, if anyone’s getting wrecked, it will be you.” Pushing off the edge, I take a step toward her and wrap a curl of hers around my finger. “I’ve always played clean with you, Sunshine, but I don’t have to.”
