Let Me Go (4 page)

I interrupt. “The whole week?”

She bites in the inside of her cheek. “Yeah . . . my dad travels a lot for work. But anyway, I learned the ins and outs that week of running a hotel and something about it just stuck with me.”

“That’s cool.” I pick up my dish and walk it over to the sink.

“It was.” She finishes her last bite and then brings the dish to the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean.” Her hand slides along mine, and she plucks the sponge out of my hand before knocking her hip to mine.

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” She smiles over to me. Her perfect teeth sparkling and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to deny myself. I want her.

She hands me a dish. “So, what about you? What’s your major?”

“I’m the drop out of my group.” I’m not ashamed of it. Do I occasionally wish I would have stuck with it and finished that last year of school? Sometimes. But truth is I’m not sure what I’d even want to do for the rest of my life.

“Oh,” her voice lowers. “So, is music your dream?”

“Maybe,” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m kind of all over the place.”

“Oh,” she repeats and suddenly the casualness of the room tenses.

“Why do I feel like I just disappointed you?” I place the pot in the dishwasher, not missing she’s yet to look at me again.

Her head snaps up. “No! That’s not it. It’s just I assumed you were in school. If music is what makes you happy, you should do it.”

“That’s the question of the year, isn’t it? I’m not sure yet. I mean, I love the guitar, I love being on that stage, but I’m not sure I have a future at it.” I’m more honest with her than anyone else except my therapist.

She spins around and leans against the counter, drying her hands with the towel. “If you could have a future in music, would you go for it?”

“That’s the thing. I went on tour with a band one year and lost my cool. Let’s say things didn’t go as planned and if it wasn’t for the smallest glimmer of light that guided me out, I’m not sure I would be standing here.” I’m sure she doesn’t understand my cryptic message, but she’s not supposed to. “I’m just not sure the music industry is for me, but I’d still love to be in a stadium with thousands of fans screaming my name.”

Her eyes focus on the floor and her hands twist in the dishtowel. As though she recovers, she peers up at me with a smile on her face. “You should pursue your dreams. You know, no regrets later on.”

“You sure philosophy isn’t your major?” I joke and she softly giggles. My undeserving need to hear that sound again, I don’t stop the words before they fall out of my mouth. “You want some ice cream?”

She hesitates, her eyes peering over to me and then a slow nod. “Sure.”

Perfect.

FUCKING MUSICIAN. OF
course, how did I even allow my subconscious to convince me he was in school? Chrissy told me how Dex double majored, and that Brady has some great job. I guess I assumed they all were enrolled in college, or had graduated. But just my luck, the one guy I’m interested in dropped out. The story of my life, falling for guys exactly like my dad. Except, my dad didn’t even graduate from high school. He left his senior year and he’s damn lucky where he ended up.

Even though my body wants to sleep with Rob, my mind is able to stay in check because I can’t lose this room for rent. I’ve witnessed it a zillion times; roommates become lovers and then you’re out of the house.

Rob makes it hard. I find his eyes on me too often. When our vision connects and he licks his lips, or his breathing falters when I’m near, I find my control weakens. I swear I’ve even seen his hands reaching out to graze me, but he always pulls back. There were a few times I debated in my head, what if? Could I even deny him if he just sidled up to me and kissed me? Now, after finding out he’s entertaining a career in music, I have to steady myself and not let my body’s lust overrule my head.

His keys swing around his finger as we exit the house to his car. He’s casual, suave, and everything I hate that I love in a man. Acting like a gentleman, he follows me over to the passenger door. His hand brushes the small of my back and I arch from the surprise contact. “Sorry,” he says with too much sincerity and his hand retreats.

“It’s okay.” He opens the door and I flip around his way, smiling in some sort of assurance to his lingering touch. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind those shivers up my spine again.

We don’t talk much on the drive to Moo’s, an ice cream parlor. Music occupies the awkward silence, and I begin singing along. “You know this song?” he asks and I giggle.

“Did you think I didn’t know The Invisibles?” They’re the best-kept secret in Western and I’ve been a regular at their shows since last year.

“You never said anything?” he asks, eyeing me from the corner of his eye. His proud smile isn’t hard to notice. He’s impressed and I love that he is.

I shrug. “I guess I assumed you would expect me to.” I didn’t really think much of it. “But I don’t remember you at any of the shows.” When I face him, his lips purse and he nods his head.

“I left the band when I went on tour with Krypto. I was the original guitarist, but when I left they found someone to take my spot.”

“The blond guy?” He was good, but nowhere near as talented as Rob from what I overheard this morning coming from his bedroom.

His head spins in my direction. “Yeah.” He withdraws there and I sense whatever happened caused some disgruntled feelings.

“But now you are back with the band?” He nods again. “What happened to the other guy? They just kick him out?”

He stares out the window for too long and I wonder if he’s going to tell me. “He had a baby. Him and his wife.”

I smile. “That’s cool.” His voice doesn’t reflect happiness. “Is the guitarist spot yours now?” I’d hate it if it wasn’t. I’ve been excited to watch him perform with the band. He’s talented and although he hides under a tough exterior, you can tell he respects Brady and Dex.

“Yeah, I doubt he’s coming back for it.”

“That’s good.” I stare out the window as we pass the campus and head to the opposite side of town.

Rob reaches for the knob and lowers the volume. “I should probably tell you, because you’ll hear it from someone else and for some reason, I want you to hear my side first.” This piques my interest and I twist back his way to give him my full attention.

“The guitarist you saw is Grant, his wife, Jessa, was . . . my girlfriend. Shitty things happened and shittier things went down. End result, Grant got the girl.”

“Oh.” I’m surprised by his revelation and even more of his divulgence so early in our friendship. “I’m sorry.” What else do I say to that? Except for it sucks.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you, except you’ll hear things about me if you meet the other girls. I was an asshole, I admit it, but in the end Jessa got what she deserved. A man who loves her and only her.”

I scrunch my eyebrows and lean back in my seat. I’m not sure how to respond to his declaration. Is Jessa the girl that got away? Confirming to me once again, this boy has secrets. Although, I don’t want to be anyone’s rebound, Rob intrigues me too much to distance myself from him just yet.

I place my hand on his leg, noticing how his muscle twitches beneath my palm. “Don’t worry; I like to make my own judgments about people.” He stares over to me and a small smile forms.

Then his eyes shoot forward and I realize we’re pulling in. “We’re here.” He twists the key out of the ignition and exits the car before I can unbuckle my seatbelt. Touchy subject about his ex and although my curiosity is eating me alive, I’ll wait until he’s ready to open up with me to what happened.

I circle around the car, meeting Rob at the back of his Mustang. Moo’s is a black and white spotted building with pink lettering. Colors matching the company’s mascot, Maisy the Cow. It’s surprisingly not very busy tonight, which will make it easier for me to get to know Rob more. He’s more forthcoming with me and I would hate for that to disappear.

Balloons float to the ceiling from every table and kids chase each other, screaming to one another. I’ve only brought Matty here a handful of times, and I should make more of an effort to do things with him since I’m positive my mom doesn’t.

“What do you want?” Rob stares up at the chalkboard menu hanging from the ceiling.

Inching up to the young guy taking orders, I notice his eyes fixed on my chest. He’s sixteen, it doesn’t surprise me, but Rob does when he steps up, resting his hand on my hip. I furrow my eyebrows up at him and he smiles. “So, babe, what are you having? Your usual?”

I draw back. “Why don’t you order for me? Since you know me so well.” I attempt to hide my smile, playing along like we’re a normal couple.

“Flavor of the day?” My eyes look to the side where the flavor of the day is written—cherry cobbler. I shake my head and the kid across the counter huffs. He’s probably late for his smoke break.

“Oh, honey, you should really make more time to get to know me.” I chastise him and then face the kid, pushing out my chest a little. It’s nice to witness Rob’s jealousy and I’m going to seize full advantage of it. “Brownie sundae, no whipped cream and two cherries, please.”

“Anything else ma’am?” The kid asks and I practically choke on my saliva.

Rob’s head rears back and a howl of laughter expels from him. “Yes, is that all, ma’am?” he repeats and I narrow my eyes to him, digging in my pocket for some cash.

“Strawberry shake,” he orders and then his eyes bore into mine. “Extra whipped cream.”

When I go to hand the money to the kid, Rob’s hand covers mine and pushes it back toward me.

“No, I got this. You made dinner,” I argue and he shakes his head.

“You college students need to keep your money. I got this covered.” He nods to the kid to grab his money.

Once the exchange is complete, I place my hand on his forearm. “Thank you.”

“Do you not like whipped cream?” I’m surprised he didn’t ask this question immediately after I ordered.

“No.” We meander to our seats in the corner, sectioning off ourselves from the other patrons.

“That’s a killer.” I sit down and pick a cherry, biting it off the stem.

“I know I know, how could I not like it.” I’ve heard the jokes my whole life, or worse a sexual reference will sneak into the conversation now.

“I guess I’ll have to think about something else for you to lick off my body.” He chuckles.

“Obviously, you enjoy it.” I point to his milkshake with a dollop of whipped cream sneaking out of the top. “So, you must get hard when you watch Varsity Blues and the cheerleader sports the whipped cream bikini.”

“Want to watch and see?” He raises his eyebrows a few times fast and my stomach flips.

“You find the movie and I’ll watch it with you a seat cushion away.”

“Oh, you sure have that
hard to get
role nailed.” His lips cover the straw and he sucks in the cold pink fluid. Briefly I imagine his lips around my peaked nipple and the sensations his tongue would stir inside of me.

“We already talked about this. No dating or hooking up. We’re roommates, remember?” I remind him of our earlier conversation.

“We could be roommates that fuck. I’m sure we wouldn’t be the first.” He cracks a smile and I still struggle to master when he’s joking, or serious.

“I think we’ll make really good friends,” I counter and he falls back into his chair, completely exasperated from my consistent decline of his seduction tactics.

“Friend-zoned. That’s the kiss of death for every guy.” Then he props his elbows on the table. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

We sit at the table and I watch the small kids whine to their parents while Rob’s eyes float across the ice cream shop. I pinpoint the exact moment I lose his attention. A blonde saunters in, with her skirt so short her ass cheeks are hanging out. She flips her hair like some eighties shampoo commercial and catches Rob’s eyes glued on her. His focus makes her swing her ass more than before and I swear she purposely drops her keys on the ground just so she can bend over.

“Well she doesn’t desire attention does she?” I glance down at my pajama pants and flip flops, suddenly self-conscious about my attire.

He glances my way. “Oh don’t worry, you naturally catch a guy’s attention,
friend.
” A part of me wishes he’s staring at the girl because he wants me to be jealous, but I’m not convinced that’s the reason for his unwavering eyes on her. “You don’t mind if I go over there, do you?” he asks, and even though I want to dump my ice cream sundae over his head, I smile.

“Not at all.” He deserts his milkshake on the table as he swaggers over to the blonde currently in front of the refrigerator case perusing the milk and ice cream.

Pulling out my phone to act as though I couldn’t care less that Rob is probably asking little Miss Bimbo on a date, I’m unable to stop myself from glancing their way. She paws at his biceps, her fingers grazing along his tattoos. His black T-shirt fits tight along his shoulders, displaying the lean muscles I’ve been admiring. He tucks his hands in his pockets as he leans against the case. My reaction to the whole unfolding scene in front of me isn’t anger, but definitely not indifference either.