Changing Forever (22 page)

A few minutes before the lecture starts, I see her out of the corner of my
eye. She stops briefly in the aisle right next to my row, but after a short stare down, she continues to the front.

My focus stays on her for most of the class. Her hair is tied up in a bun at the top of her head, and she’s wearing these ridiculous dark-rimmed glasses that are actually kind of cute on her.

For sixty minutes, I wait for her to look back at me. I keep thinking that maybe she’ll glance back and show the smile that I miss so much. It’s rejection. It’s fuck you.

When Professor McGill ends her lecture, I stay in my seat, anxious to see what Emery’s next move will be. Not surprisingly, she walks straight up the center aisle without even glancing in my direction.

My chest aches, but in the end, watching her was the best thing for me. It gave me the push I needed to do what I should have done a long time ago.

D
RAKE
IS
A
MISTAKE
. A bad choice. I’m part of a game he plays, and he plays it well. He won me over, but if he’s winning, someone has to be losing.

And this is why I stick to my game plan, because if I don’t, I lose.

And I’ve most certainly lost this one.

“Are you doing okay?”

I glance over at Kate who’s driving us to one of Beau’s parties. I made her promise at least ten times that Drake wouldn’t be there tonight. “Yeah, I’m actually looking forward to getting out. It’s been a long week.”

She smiles sympathetically as she turns down Beau’s street. “Tonight’s going to be a good night. I guarantee it.”

I survey the street, noting that it’s not quite as packed as it usually is during one of these. “Where is everyone?”

“We’re a little early. I told Beau we’d help setup,” she says, putting the car in park and straightening the front strands of her hair in the rearview mirror.

“What is there to setup?”

She opens the door, ignoring my question. “Are you coming?”

I climb out of the car and follow her, smoothing out the leather miniskirt she talked me into wearing along the way. It was on clearance at one of those discount department stores, and I think there was a pretty good reason for that.

The nerves don’t start to set in until we’re on our way up the stairs. I came to have one last hurrah before I bury myself in my books again, but I don’t need to see Drake, or replace him with another Drake.

Kate starts fidgeting with the rings on her fingers as we come to a stop in front of Beau’s door. Usually, she’d be the one to knock, but she hasn’t done it yet.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to read the expression on her face.

She shrugs, clasping her hands in front of her. “Beau and I had a little argument earlier, and I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“Like you have anything to be nervous about,” I say, knocking on the old wooden door. Honestly, that guy will love her until the day he dies no matter what she does.

As the door opens, my eyes go wide.

Kate’s hand wraps around my arm, pushing me into the apartment. “Don’t hate me. This was the only way I could get you here.”

The apartment is dark for the most part, lit by a few candles set up on the dining table. There are six white tulips in a vase in the center, and table settings for two. Soft music plays in the background, but it’s all too muffled to make out because my heart is beating into my ears.

I turn to Kate who has her bottom lip hidden between her teeth. “What’s going on?”

Before she gets a chance to answer, I spot a dark figure coming around the corner. It’s hard to make out who it is at first. “This is our first date.”

“Drake,” I whisper, recognizing the voice. This is … this is just not okay.

“Em, I want another chance to do this right. I fucked up, and this is my apology.”

“What are you sorry for?” I swallow the huge lump in my throat. A part of me wants to back out the door and run home; the other part of me wants to stay.

He takes two steps toward me, the candlelight allowing me to see his face for the first time. “For treating you like you were just another girl.”

Two more steps. If he really wanted to, he could touch me.

“Because you’re not just another girl.”

With a couple more steps, his chest touches mine, and his lips tentatively press to my forehead. He smells so damn good … like clean citrus. Warmth pools between my legs forcing me to shift on my feet. It shouldn’t be this hard to stay away from him.

Why does he have to be my exception?

“Words are just words without meaning. Tell me, Drake, what makes me different?”

I’m expecting him to stumble, to have to think about his words, but he doesn’t hesitate. “You’re feisty. And you don’t put up with my shit. You don’t care that I’m the quarterback. You’re the girl who wants to know me, not just be seen with me. You’re also the girl who’ll come to my room to fix my injured shoulder even though I’ve been a dick.”

He cups my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along my cheekbones. “You’re the only one who can wake me up from my nightmare.”

Closing my eyes, I lick my lower lip. For once, I’m going to choose my words carefully. Let my thoughts simmer before I release them. Making hasty decisions hasn’t worked out too well for me lately.

“What do you want from me Drake?”

“I just want to be with you, Em. I’m done with this back and forth, this tug-of-war … I want to erase the doubt you feel every time we’re together. I want you to know after I leave that I’m coming back. I want to know that you’re there for me even when I try to push you away.” He leans in, his warm breath tickling my skin. “What’s holding you back? What can I do to fix this?”

Wrapping my hands around the back of his head, I pull his lips to mine. He’s my vulnerability, or maybe my strength. Time will tell. All I know right now
is it’s been five days since his lips were on mine, and that’s too damn long.

This kiss is gentle, his lips simply slow dancing with mine. When I press my tongue against the seam of his lips, he denies me, kissing me softly one more time before pulling back. “We’re just going to talk tonight.”

For once, that word disappoints me, but at the same time, I know we need it. “Okay,” I whisper.

He smiles. “I made you dinner.”

“You made me dinner?”

Grabbing my hand in his, he leads me to the table. “It’s nothing too fancy, but we have roast, potatoes, and carrots. It’s my specialty.”

“It sounds better than anything I can get in the cafeteria.” He lets go of my hand and pulls my chair out, allowing me to sit down.

I watch as he walks to the kitchen. His jeans mold to him perfectly. His blue flannel shirt hugs his chest and arms, showcasing all the hard work on the football field. He could wear just about anything, and it would look good on him. As he comes back my way with a large dish filled with food, I inhale, letting the savory smell overwhelm my nose. “It smells delicious.”

“Let’s eat. The smell has been playing with my stomach all day. I can’t take it any longer. Ladies first.” He sits in the chair next to me, adjusting the tongs so I can reach them.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling at him.

We’re quiet for a couple minutes, each loading our plates with as much as they can possibly hold. It’s weird how things don’t happen the way you expect them to, but yet they end up happening exactly the way you need. My walls are caving in little by little. It’s as if I’ve stepped into this whole new world of living that makes me wonder if I was ever really alive before.

“You look nice. I like that skirt,” Drake says, breaking through the silence.

I feel my face turning a deep red … I’ve never been more grateful for a candlelight dinner. “Thank you.”

He laughs, reaching across the table for my hand, brushing his fingers across my knuckles. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” I whisper, feeling the gentle squeeze of his hand.

Everything is quiet again as we enjoy our dinner. It’s delicious … the roast is tender, falling apart in my mouth. The potatoes and carrots are seasoned to perfection. It’s really the best thing I’ve tasted in a really long time.

“I make this for my sisters all the time. It’s the one thing besides grilled cheese that they’ll both eat.”

“Yeah, what are their names by the way?”

He’s talked about them here and there, but he’s never called them by their names.

“Tessa and Quinn.”

“Tell me about them. Are they anything like you?”

He hesitates, eyes focused on his half-eaten plate. If he would just open up … “Tessa is the younger one. She’s eleven now. She likes basketball, but other than that, she’s a typical girl. Boys, shoes, and an incredibly large collection of clothes. Quinn is fifteen, and she’s a little more complex. I guess you could say she’s the female version of me: stubborn and driven.”

I entwine my fingers with his. “What about your mom?”

His eyes snap to me. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Not right away, anyway. When he’s finally able to speak, his voice is so hushed I can barely hear him. “Em, there are some things that are just really hard for me to talk about. She’s one of them.”

I run my thumb along the inside of his fingers, feeling the rough, calloused skin I’ve become accustomed to. “At some point, you need to. You’ll get a lot further if you leave the past behind. It’s weighing you down.”

His jaw works back and forth as he closes his eyes. I wait patiently, hoping that by not pushing him, he’ll be able to take this step all by himself. Today might not be the day he opens up to me, but he will someday … he needs to.

“It’s so hard when you rely on someone for everything, and then one day, they’re gone. Completely checked out. It’s so hard to see her there but not actually feel it.” His hand leaves mine,
and he rests his elbows on the table, gripping his hair between his fingers. “This might sound bad, but in many ways, losing my mom the way we did was worse than losing Dad. At least with him, we knew he wasn’t coming back.”

I scoot my chair closer to his, rubbing my hand across his back. His eyes are still pinched shut. It’s a way to keep the painful emotions inside. There’s so much we release through our eyes without realizing it. “Your sisters are lucky to have you,” I whisper, pressing my cheek against his shoulder.

He rests his head on mine. “They might not see it that way when they’re ready to date.”

“I assumed you weren’t going to let them.”

He scoffs, nudging me with his shoulder. “We both know that the will of a woman is nothing to fight. They’re going to do it whether I let them or not. I might as well just lay down some rules.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, as long as they stay away from guys like their brother, they’ll be great,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

I sit up straight, searching for his eyes. I wait until I find them before speaking again. “Really? I don’t think he’s so bad.”

“And you’ve seen the worst parts of him,” he says, running his thumb along my lower lip. I stare at him, letting the silence speak for me while I wait for his mouth to touch mine. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long.

When he’s done eating, he picks his plate up and reaches for mine. “Are you finished?”

I push my plate forward, a signal for him to take it. While he wanders off to the kitchen to rinse the dishes, I put the leftovers in containers and stick them in the fridge. The normalness of all this puts a smile on my face. Tonight we’re acting like a regular couple, doing regular things, and it’s by far the best first date I’ve ever had.

After I’m done, I stretch out on the couch and wait for him. The stupid skirt is cutting into my stomach, and I’m learning that leather is something I should avoid when I plan on eating more than a few leaves of lettuce.

When he’s still not back a couple minutes later, I open the movie cabinet by the TV and search for something to watch. I don’t know how much time will actually be spent looking at the screen, but I still want to pick something we’ll both like.

The first one that catches my eye is
The Fugitive
. I’ve had this weird obsession with Harrison Ford since I was a kid.

Settling back on the couch, I pull a blanket over me and make myself comfortable.

“
The Fugitive
, huh?”

I lift my head, noticing Drake standing at the end of the couch. “If you don’t like it, we can watch something else.”

He walks to me, placing one hand behind me on the couch and the other in front, effectively caging me in. “The movie is fine. Do you care if I join you?”

“I’ve been waiting.”

He leans in, tenderly kissing my lips. “Wait no more.”

He climbs in behind me, pressing his chest to my back, tangling his legs with mine. It just feels right.

“Em,” he whispers, pressing his hand to my stomach. “I need you to know this isn’t about sex for me. It never has been. I just … I don’t want you to feel that way.”

I flip around to face him, staring into his dark eyes while brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. “If I ever thought you were just in this for sex, we wouldn’t be here now.”