Before You: Standalone Contemporary Romance (3 page)

I pulled the shirt of Dave’s that I’d used to sleep in over my head and put on my bra before stepping into my jeans. Once I’d buttoned them up, I grabbed Dave’s shirt from the end of the bed and moved to toss it on the pile of clothes I planned to launder for him later that day.

That’s when I saw André, standing in the living area with a grocery bag in his arms, blatantly watching me dress. Everything in my body tingled. The way his eyes took in everything at once, stole my breath and it took me a moment to react.

“How long have you been standing there?” I quickly grabbed my sweater and turned my back to him as I pulled it over my head.

“Long enough to know you should probably close your door when you’re dressing if you don’t want an audience.”

I quickly twisted my hair in a knot on top of my head and secured it as I spoke. “I thought I was alone.”

“That’s becoming a habit.”

“So is turning up when people aren’t expecting you.” I walked up to him and took a hold of the bag of groceries from his arms, needing him not to see how affected I was by him. Although, it didn’t quite work out as the bold move that I’d anticipated. The moment I took a hold of the bag, my hand brushed against his.

A tingle shot up my arm.

I gasped.

His grip tightened around the bag.

Our eyes met.

A moment passed between us as we both held on.

He feels like a panic attack. Why can’t I breathe around him?

“I’ve got it,” he whispered. I can’t explain the way it felt when his voice entered my ears. There was something in it that rippled through me and allowed me to exhale. Like, he was giving me permission.

Slowly, I released the bag and nodded. Then I followed him to the kitchen, my cheeks feeling heated as I watched him set down the bag and begin to unpack its contents and line them up on the counter.

A white paper bag that looked like it came from a bakery. Milk. Bread. Butter. Beef strips. Vegetables. Coffee. And...Nutella.

“Nutella?” I couldn’t stop the smile from quirking at the side of my lips.

“I like it on sandwiches,” he stated simply, before picking up the white bag and handing it to me without making eye contact. “Here. Eat.”

I took it and whispered thanks, able to smell that there was some sort of Danish inside. I looked in, there were two apricot pastries. “Is it OK if I make coffee?” I asked, closing my hand around the packet he just purchased.

“It's a free country.” He shrugged, his voice now cold and edged with some sort of dissatisfaction. It made me wonder if I'd imagine the way he looked at me – the way he spoke to me after. I found him... confusing to say the least.

I moved to the other side of the kitchen where the coffee machine was located. “Would you like one as well?”

He shook his head. “I had breakfast with a friend.”

I turned on the faucet to fill the pot with water. The moment he mentioned the word ‘friend’ my chest tightened, and I wondered who she was. He hadn’t said it was a girl, but of course it was. Men like André didn't meet other guys for breakfast. Men like André had women waiting for them, hoping for that phone call, and most the time it would never come. But I guess they never learn. Women are blinded by beautiful men just as men are blinded by beautiful women. And André was definitely beautiful.

“That’s nice,” I said quietly, finishing with the coffee machine before I switched it on and began opening cupboards in search of a mug.

André stepped in my way and reached up to open the cupboard two doors down. My eyes immediately fell to his waist, instinctively knowing that I was about to get a glimpse of his stomach as his charcoal T-shirt separated from his dark jeans. And there it was. The V that makes us girls go ga ga.

Of course he had one.

My mouth went dry.

“Here.” He handed me a red mug that was white on the inside. It had some business logo on the outside of it that was also white. But it meant nothing to me.

“Thanks.” I turned away from him, feeling confused in my mind and wishing my body wasn’t jumping about excitedly in his presence. What was it about this guy that had me feeling this way? I’d never been like this before. I'd always been good with the opposite sex; always able to hold my own in a conversation whether I liked the guy not. But with André, I had this tightness in my chest when he was near, and I didn't know if it was telling me to run a mile or to run my tongue along that V of his.

Hormones could be very confusing.

“Your coffee is ready.”

“Huh?” I was so busy in my head that I didn't quite hear him.

“Your coffee. It’s ready,” he repeated, before making a face that was probably akin to an eye roll as he took the mug from my hands and poured the steaming liquid inside. “Here.” He handed me back the mug and pointed out the sugar, letting me know that the milk was in the fridge. It's as if he thought I was a complete airhead.

Suddenly, I felt a flash of annoyance, and I angrily scooped in two spoons of sugar then stirred them through. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I’m just tired, and well, you’re not exactly the nicest person to be around.”

He pulled out the milk and handed it to me. “Yeah, I’m such an asshole. I brought you some breakfast and poured you coffee.”

“You seem to be forgetting the whole, grabbing me by the arm and throwing me out of the apartment then watching me get dressed part of our short time together.”

I poured some milk into my coffee then handed the bottle back to him. He returned it to the fridge.

“Last night was a misunderstanding, and I’m sorry if I was rough with you. And today, well, you left the door open...” He paused and his eyes traveled down my body. Everything in me tightened. What was this?

“You still shouldn’t have looked.” I picked up my coffee and the bag with the pastries and went to the kitchen table. It was small, round and had only three chairs. Why three, I’m not entirely sure, but it looked like it came from a thrift store, so I hoped it would be something that we wouldn’t have to add to my house later.

As I ate and drank, I was still aware of his eyes being on me. And it took all of my will to ignore it and focus on my food. Eventually, he moved away and picked up a couple of boxes from the stack in the living area.

“Do you know how long we have before we need to be out of here?” he asked before he entered his room.

I looked up, surprised. “You didn’t know you lost the apartment?”

He gave me a small smile. “As I imagine you already know, your brother isn’t exactly the best communicator. Besides, I was in Afghanistan, I wasn't so easy to reach.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, not really knowing what the right thing to say would be.

His eyes moved around the apartment. “Don't be. It was just a place to sleep – a place to keep my stuff. Your place will be the same. As will be the next.”

“And a place to display the things you've seen,” I added feeling sad at the way he seemed so resigned to being displaced. “Your photo wall in there, it's quite spectacular.”

He glanced over his shoulder then turned back to me and nodded. “It made you cry.”

I shrugged. “Maybe it did. Or maybe it was just allergies...”

A smile spread across his lips. It was small, but it was there. He was amused by my denial of something that was so obvious. “Those allergies can be a real kicker.”

I smiled in return. “I should probably see a doctor about it.” I took a bite of Danish and relished the buttery sweetness on my tongue as it mixed with the aftertaste of coffee. “By the way, thanks for breakfast. And to answer your question, the moving van is coming on Monday. We need to be packed up by then.”

Nodding, he began to chew his lip, continuing to look around the apartment, assessing everything in sight, before returning his deep green eyes to mine. “Thank you for offering somewhere for us to stay. I do appreciate it.”

I laughed a little as his words made it out that I was some kind of charity who helped people. “I didn’t exactly offer – Dave called and told me what was happening. The house I live in, it’s his too. So I didn’t have much of a choice. But, you’re welcome nonetheless.”

André frowned. “You bought a house together?”

I pulled a small piece off my pastry and rolled it between my fingers. “No. It was the house we grew up in. Our...our parents died a decade ago.” I kept to the facts. “They left it to us. I moved in there after college and Dave came out here. But, since your landlord is selling this place and your production company has relocated to LA, he wants his old room back, so to speak.” I forced a smile, meeting his eyes while knowing exactly what I’d see when I looked into them. He just learned that I’m an orphan. He’d feel sorry for me and at the same time would want to know how my parents died. It’s always the same. Each and every time.

Instead, he let out a sigh and simply nodded as if accepting it as a simple fact.

“That makes sense,” he said.

I gave him a curious look so he clarified.

“Moving to LA – it makes sense. I’ll try not to be in your way for too long. I’m sure I can find somewhere more suitable fairly quickly once we’re there.”

“It’s fine, André. Like I said, it’s Dave’s place too. I flew out here to move you both back to LA. So as long as we can deal with whatever this weirdness is between us, you can stay as long as you like. With the amount you and Dave travel, it will be more of a storage site than living space. And the place is huge so...”

He frowned. “What weirdness between us?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but instead, I clamped my lips together and shook my head. “Nothing.” I waved my hand in the air to dismiss what I’d said. “Let’s just get packing. We only have until the end of the week, and this place needs to be empty and cleared out when we leave.”

Nodding once, he picked up the boxes again and went into his room, closing the door quietly behind him as I sat at the table and took the first large gulp of air I’d been able to take since I’d caught him staring at me.

My body was still tingling.

––––––––

F
or an apartment that seemed so sparse, just packing up Dave’s room had taken up my entire day. I’d once again skipped another meal, not realizing it had passed lunchtime until the scent of cooking meat floated through the air and tickled at my nose. My stomach growled audibly, and I stopped what I was doing and immediately went to the kitchen. I imagine I would have looked a lot like a cartoon character, floating through the air as an enticing smell beckoned.

“Please tell me some of that food is for me too. Otherwise, I’m going out right now to eat before my stomach turns itself inside out with hunger.” I leaned across the counter to look inside the wok André was moving about as he splashed some dark sweet smelling sauce inside.

“Of course it’s for you as well. I’m not about to cook for myself then eat in front of you.” He stopped what he was doing and turned my way, slaying me with those eyes of his.

I let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean...I wasn’t trying to say that you’re an asshole, André,” I started, and he quirked an eyebrow in this way that told me he knew I was lying. “Well, not entirely anyway. We just...we got off on the wrong foot, and I suppose I can understand why you reacted the way that you did, and if we’re going to be living together for a while, then I’m going to have to get over that and try to see what it is about you that makes Dave swear you’re such a good guy.”

He flicked his wrist, bouncing the contents of the wok in a colorful display of dark meat and bright vegetables. “Dave said I’m a good guy?” He looked like he didn’t believe me.

“Well, he gave me his word that you’re a ‘stand-up guy’. And since you know Dave, you’ll know that his word means more than any sort of promise. So, that’s good enough for me. And if you give me your word that you won’t go watching me get dressed again then we can move past all this and try to be friends.”

He turned off the heat then looked directly at me. “I can give you my word, but I’m afraid my word doesn’t mean as much as your brothers.” His eyes moved over my body again, and suddenly I felt that I could possibly be dinner.

I sucked in my breath, and turned my head away.

“Where are the plates?” I asked, quickly changing the mood as I rushed for the cupboard he’d gotten the mug out of earlier. The plates were there too, so I took two out and placed them on the counter before moving out of the way as he transferred the beef stir fry from the wok. I busied myself again by getting forks out of the drawer then met him at table where he’d already place the two dishes and was walking back toward the kitchen where he fetched two beers from the fridge.

“Is this fine?” he asked, holding the bottles of
Hofbrau Original Lager
up for me to see. “It’s either this or tap water.”

“Beer is fine,” I said, suddenly feeling as though this was more than just ‘two people who had been packing all day’ sharing a meal. Although, it was silly of me to think like that. Logically, little sisters didn’t hook up with their brother’s friends. Logically, people didn’t hook up with their roommates to be. Logically, people didn’t fly across states to help some guy they’d never met move, while constantly obsessing over how hot that someone was.

Hot.

God, he was hot.

The color of his eyes was transfixing.

The way his brown hair had golden tones that shone in the light was fascinating.

The way he had just the perfect amount of facial hair – captivating.

His hard broad body.

That V...

I cleared my throat and pulled at the neck of my sweater.

Was it getting hot?

“Everything OK?” André asked. “You’re not allergic to peanuts are you?” There was concern in his eyes. I liked seeing it there, directed at me.

I shook my head. “No. I’m fine. I’m just a bit warm in this sweater. I’ll take a shower and change when were done.”

His eyes darkened the moment I said the word ‘shower’. Then they roamed. Static crackled in the air.

I had to clear my throat again. “Allergies,” I lied, giving him a quick smile as I speared a piece of carrot with my fork then crunched down, focusing on chewing to keep myself from staring at him.