Head Over Feels - Page 13

“I’m never too busy for you. I mean that.” I catch her eyes on me before her gaze slips to the night sky again. “And for the record, just in case me calling him a fucker wasn’t clear, I’m glad you’re not with Steve.”

“I love you for saying that.” The warmth heard in her words fills my chest. This girl has always taken up a lot of space in my heart. Doesn’t matter that she adds, “So much for letting the cat out of the bag.” I’m not sure if she means her breakup with Steve or loving me, but I’ll go with the latter.

She sits up, hugging a pillow to her chest. “He never liked you. That should have been a sign for me to dump him the first night he met you guys. God, how he ranted about Rad Wellington. I never really understood why he felt competitive with you. He’s not even an attorney. He’s an engineer for a pipe company.”

I leave her to find her own answers to that question, though it doesn’t surprise me to hear about his insecurities. Steve once cornered me to ask if I had a thing for Tealey. I’d made a joke, and she laughed. Everyone did, except him. I suppose my silence as I walked away didn’t offer any comfort. Good. Fuck him.

Rolling her head to the side, she smiles as she stuffs the pillow behind her back. “I’ll pay better attention with the next guy.”

“There doesn’t have to be another guy . . .” What the hell am I saying? I grab my glass and finish the remains. Distract. Distract. Distract. “The moon is huge tonight.”

She looks up, but her knotted brows top a curious look that she aims back at me. Swinging her feet back to the deck, she leans forward, the fire flickering between us. “What do you mean there doesn’t have to be another?”

I stand, gathering the glasses and the lighter. “Nothing other than you don’t need to jump into another relationship.” Glancing at her, I add, “See how things go on your own for a while.” This time, the grin is subtle, but the round apples of her cheeks redden.

“You’re right. I know you are.” She sighs. “I don’t even remember how Steve and I started our relationship. We went on a date, and the rest fell in line for a time.”

“That’s not love. That’s a habit. Some habits are great, and some—”

“And some are like lamps.” Standing, she grabs the blanket and stuffs it in the trunk. “Ready to show me the bedroom?” Would I ever. “I’d like to get a lay of the land.” Ah.

“Sure.”

I lead her back downstairs and drop the glasses off in the kitchen before making our way to the extra bedroom. Flicking on the light, I then step aside. “You can decorate it however you’d like. I’m sure it will be an upgrade to how bland it is now.”

When she enters the room, the effects of alcohol have rested in her features. Quite a contrast to her gripping the seat under the Brooklyn Bridge. “It’s bigger than I expected.” Her fingers graze my arm as the tips slide down to the top of my hand before she’s out of reach. “If I sold my furniture, I could probably fit my boxes in here instead of renting a storage unit. But I can’t afford to buy new stuff. I need to save as much as I can for the security deposit and moving expenses.”

“I can cover it if you’d like—the moving costs. Save your money for a few new pieces. Do you still have that futon from college?”

She starts laughing. “It’s not so bad.”

“Start with replacing that piece of junk.”

With a little laugh, she pushes the curtains aside and looks out the window. “I might get rid of it. I should. It’s so uncomfortable.” Turning back, she adds, “But I’m not taking your money, Rad, not borrowing or accepting a loan. I could have followed in my parents’ footsteps and become a physical therapist. They make a good living, but that wasn’t my goal. Unfortunately, my chosen career doesn’t pay much, but it’s my dream. It pays enough to get by. I just . . .” I lean against the doorframe and watch as she explores the room. Her eyes find the window, and she pauses. “I’m not sure my job is the dream I imagined in my head.”

It’s interesting how I’ve known her for so many years, but tonight, I’m seeing more of who she is on the inside. The dynamics of six can overshadow the individual. She’s more than the pretty face, the girl with a great smile and charitable soul. She’s more than the few parts I’ve seen. I’ve wasted so much time keeping her at a distance that I’ve missed being a part of the story. She’s ethereal. And I want more of her.

Tags: S.L. Scott Romance
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