First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (149 page)

No girls in your home, no girls in your heart. That’s the rule, but I’d never considered Angel just a girl. A mistake I’d better fix fast. This time, I’m not going to let myself pine over her. Good riddance. I don’t need her anyway, not anymore. Not ever again.

The stool she sat on at the kitchen island is askew, and I kick it back into place a little too forcefully. I’m not satisfied until it’s perfectly aligned and orderly, as if I could erase the chaos she’s brought over me if I just concentrate hard enough.

I can’t sit here at home, surrounded by her absence, but I can’t go out like this, either. I’m dirty from the hours at the bar last night, and a steamy shower might do me some good.
 

For one brief moment, the world stops turning as I open the door and step into the bathroom. It occurs to me that the door shouldn’t have been closed about two seconds before I spot Angel huddled in the far corner, with an iron toilet paper stand clutched beneath her white knuckles. A damp towel is wrapped around her, tucked between her arms and her chest. This is the second time in as many days I’ve come through a doorway to find her soaking wet in all of the wrong ways.
 

Even as her shoulders tremble, her eyes burn with determination. That’s the Angel I know. A fighter who won’t take crap from anyone. I don’t know what’s happened to her, but right now I know without a doubt she isn’t broken, maybe just a little bent. Somehow, I’ll fix this.

Scattered toilet paper rolls create a minefield between her and me, but I don’t care. I walk right over them, determined to take her in my arms and convince myself she’s really here. She didn’t leave me again.

The moment I reach toward her she screeches like a banshee, jumps to her feet, and lifts the toilet paper stand turned tire iron. My dumb ass doesn’t think she’s actually going to hit me, and I don’t duck. The iron slaps across my shoulder, driving pain down to my wrist. My fingers instinctively clench, but I force them to unfurl immediately while I wrestle my anger back into submission.

“What the fuck was that for?”
 
I’m panting as I try to keep my focus. I can’t believe she just freaking hit me.
 

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieks.

Pure, unfettered wildness fills her eyes and tears at my heart.
 

I reach out, gripping the toilet paper rack. If she strikes again, I’d rather it not be with that. Thank god she didn’t aim for my jaw. Once I’ve calmed her down, I might mention that. If she’s gonna be picking fights, she should at least do it right.
 

One of her hands is still occupied with securing her towel; the other tries to free her weapon from my grasp.
 

“We’re going to set this down now, together, okay?” I try and keep my voice slow and soothing, without a hint of the remaining anger. I’m pissed, but now I’m not even sure at whom. When she left me before, it took a long time for me to learn to control my emotions, and eventually I did. Now I think that might have been the best thing I ever did, because something tells me if I let her see how pissed I really am right now, she’ll walk out of my life forever.
 

I’ve never seen a girl shake her head more vehemently. Taking it from her wouldn’t be hard, but I don’t know how she’d react. “Fine,” I say. “You can keep it, but just know if you hit me with it again, I will restrain you. Understood?”

She huffs out a breath but gives me a tiny nod. Those wild eyes of hers are still watching me, and I know I’m on shaky ground. I release the bar and let my arm drop to my side.
 

“You’re afraid of me.” I’m not sure who I’m accusing, me or her. Either way it sucks.

My acknowledgment seems to feed her confidence. “I heard you out there.”

Of course she did. I’ve been stomping around the apartment cursing the girl I thought abandoned me—again—all while she hid in here listening to it. “I thought you’d left. It’s what you fucking do. You just leave, and I just…” I just can’t handle it again. I silence myself before I sound like even more of an idiot.

“You can’t stop me! If I want to go, I will.” Her chin juts out, and it’s kind of cute, in that pissed-off, defiant chick way.
 

The fury is dying in us both. I nod while trying not to listen to her words, instead paying attention to the fear driving them. She doesn’t want to leave; she just doesn’t want to be forced to stay. “I won’t try and stop you, Angel. I promise.”
 

Long tangled strands of nearly-black hair drip rivulets of water around her, and my gaze watches one roll down her chest, slipping behind the towel.
 
I’m not sure what I crave more: the chance to run my fingers through her hair, straightening it and feeling it caress my fingers, or to lick the water away. Even furious, she’s beautiful.

She rolls her eyes as I mention making a promise. “Whatever. If you’re done with your tantrum, close the door so I can dress.”

My eyes flick to the heap of clothes on the vanity, then back to the towel wrapped around her. I’m not sure if the tightening in my pants is giving me courage or making me stupid, but it sends a plea straight to my lips. “I don’t want you to go. Ever.”

Sadness consumes the spark of fury, and her eyes go dull. Her voice is barely a whisper. “That’s why I have to.”

I can’t understand why she came all this way just to turn around and go, but I refuse to beg. “What time does your flight leave?”

The brief glimpse of uncertainty that flashes through her eyes gives me hope.
 

“Um—”

Victory! She might have not decided yet if she’s staying, but she also doesn’t have a solid plan to leave. “You don’t have a return flight, do you?”

She heaves out a resigned breath then hangs her head. “No.”

“Then where are you going?” I’m praying the answer is nowhere, but it won’t be, unless she gives me a chance to convince her.

“I don’t know.” Her fingers loosen on the toilet paper stand, and she sets it on the floor beside her.

A crumb of an idea tumbles into my brain, and I snatch it. “Let me take you to lunch. We can talk, like we used to. You can tell me why you’re here, in a safe, open, public place. I can tell you why I flipped. And when we’re done, I’ll take you wherever you ask.” Hopefully, she’ll ask to come back here.

For a moment, I think she’s going to say no. I really don’t know what I’ll say if she does. A smile tugs at the stubborn corners of her mouth, and she almost loses her frown. “Okay.”

My lips aren’t stubborn, so I beam at her. “Great. Now, I came in here for a shower, if you don’t mind.” It’s all or nothing, and I’m tossing in my chips. I only have through lunch to convince her to stay, and I’m not planning on losing. I begin stripping off my jeans.

Eight

Angel

Disbelief. Utter. Total. Disbelief.

I have no freaking clue what just happened, and my confusion is like a fog that only gets thicker the more I try to figure it out. When confronted with my crazy, he decides the best thing to do is…take off his jeans?

This can’t be happening, but no matter how many times I blink, the scene before me doesn’t change. His fingers are peeling the denim away from his hips with no sign of hesitation. My eyes flick up toward his face, and the anger of just a moment ago has been replaced by a cocky grin. He sees me watching, and he likes it.

Yanking my eyes away, I snatch my pile of clothes from the counter and burst past him like a cannon shot toward his bedroom to dress. Arion is way too hot for my own good, and it’s only cementing my resolve to go. The chemistry he and I shared in game is but a fraction of what I experience every time he stands before me in all his irritating perfection.

If I’m going to stay strong over lunch, I need coffee. Once I’m dressed I start tearing through his kitchen cabinets and find a can of instant coffee mix hidden behind a can of some men’s after-workout shake powder. As if Arion needs any help in that department. I hate instant coffee, but I hate a lack of coffee more. I pop a mug full in the microwave, wrinkling my nose.
 

First I’ll apologize for intruding into his life and for hitting him, and then I’ll go. I hate to do it, but I might have to ask him to spot me enough for a ticket to Florida. When I get there I can find a job and pay him back. And maybe, once I get my head straight, I can come see him again and we can start over. Because as much as I might want to run right now, I’m realizing I don’t really want to let Arion go. Not again. The last time was awful enough. We went from talking every night and texting some days to just… nothing. I can’t do that again, not to him or myself.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Arion is standing there, watching me sip his awful instant coffee while he towels his hair. He’s put his jeans back on, and I ignore that part of me that wishes he hadn’t. A million regrets are twisted into his smile, and each one of them breaks my heart a little more.
 

“You’ve already decided it doesn’t matter what I say, haven’t you?”

“Even if I go, I’ll have to come back. You obviously need a woman to shop for you. Your cabinets are a disgrace.” My tone isn’t quite as light as I intended. No matter what words are coming out of my mouth, a seed of jealousy was planted when I saw Blondie—er, Rachel—coming out of his apartment yesterday, and the thought of another girl in here only waters it more. He isn’t mine, not yet. I don’t know who said it, but some important person said something like ‘you have to be okay with yourself before you can be okay with someone else.’ I believe the truth in that, and I need to get myself okay for both us. My philosophy has always been if you’re going to play, win. And I’m not strong enough to win at the whole dating thing. Not yet.
 

Arion disappears into his bedroom, returning with a loose shirt and a tight smile. I can’t help watching as he buttons it up, and I imagine taking it off him. When we used to flirt, things were so easy, so comfortable, and they still seem to be that way for him. But the last year has changed everything for me, except my attraction to him. That’s still very much there, even if I know I can’t give in to it.

We stop downstairs on the middle floor to move my clothes into the dryer then head out the side door. I can’t believe he washed my clothes for me. I also can’t believe it’s raining again, even harder than yesterday.

“Do you mind walking?” he asks as he opens an umbrella he snatched from the washroom. “It’s only about two blocks, but we can take the truck if you prefer.”

I glare at the drops of misery pelting down from heaven above, wincing as they splash against the pavement. “Does it always rain this much here?”
 

He shakes his head. “Nope. Sometimes it snows.”
 

I shudder. “Is walking just a ploy to get me wet?” I arch an eyebrow at him, taunting him like I used to when I had two thousand miles to hide behind.
 

He rewards me with a grin that makes me forget the rain and everything I left behind.
 

“If I want to get you wet, Angel, it won’t take a ploy. Just maybe a dash or two of patience.”

It would be impossible for him to know just how right he is. “Lead away,” I say, dashing out of the safety of the doorway and clutching at him for dear life. As long as I stay pressed against him, the umbrella shields me from the worst of the cold droplets that continue to pour from the sky, but that leaves me exposed to the unavoidable heat radiating between us.

At last we step under a green-and-white striped awning, and I suddenly understand why dogs have the urge to shake after getting a bath. A neon sign blinks invitingly in the window, announcing ‘Del’s Deli.’ I do the best I can to brush the water from my sleeves, wipe my feet on the doormat, then let Arion lead me inside by the hand.

The waitress behind the counter waves at him, and I don’t think her smile could get any brighter if she swallowed a lightbulb. Maybe she should. My fingers tighten around Arion’s, causing him to glance back at me and smile. Miss Megawatt’s smile falters briefly as she follows us to a booth in the corner, but she plasters it back in place before Arion notices.

“What can I get you, honey?” she asks with eyes only for him.
 

“I’ll have coffee,” I speak up, and the waitress snaps her eyes to me then back to Arion as if tethered by a rubber band. Her smile grows in both size and insincerity as she scribbles on her pad.
 

“Water for me, and we’ll have two cheesesteaks.”

“Whiz wit for both?” Miss Megawatt’s smile switch-flicks from fake to fangirl as she talks to him.
 

Not only is she utterly fake, she’s talking nonsense, and I can barely contain my disgust.

Arion must mistake my glare for confusion. “‘Whiz wit’ means with Cheese Whiz, and it’s a necessity of a classic cheesesteak. Trust me. Do you like onions?”

I shake my head. Onions are like mornings, rain, and instant coffee. They should all be shoved in a barrel with presumptuous men who think they need to order for women and rolled down a hill, never to return.

“Widout on hers.”

As soon as the waitress is gone, I lean across the table. “I’m quite capable of ordering my own food, you know.”

“I had assumed you were.”

His easy smile only infuriates me more. “So why the show of chauvinism, then?”

Arion shrugs. “I promised you once that if you ever came to Philly, I’d buy you a real cheesesteak, not that imitation crap you get out West. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

I had, but now he’s jogged the memory of him rambling on and on about there being a proper way to everything about cheesesteaks, starting with how they’re ordered. Whatever. “You still could have asked.”

He just smiles knowingly and leans back against the red leather booth while the waitress drops off our drinks. “Don’t worry, I have other questions.”

Remind me to add this to the miles-long list of times I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m saved, for the moment anyway, by Bartender Barbie striding furiously into the diner. Her friendly smile from last night is gone and so is her condescension. Now, she’s obviously a woman on the warpath, and I wonder who pissed her off.