Geez, if looks could kill, I’d most definitely be dead.
She probably thought I was Braden’s latest hook
up. I mentally shook my head. That was one thing I was determined to avoid. And minus the drunken incident the other night, I’d done a pretty good job of avoiding it.
My emotions would get entirely too involved where Braden was concerned. It would most certainly end with me getting my heart trampled on... I was sure of it.
Braden opened the door for me and I stepped out into the balmy night air. As usual, the slight breeze did little to ease the humid Carolina air. As we headed to our cars, I noticed Braden sneaking peaks at me. Finally I stopped, turning to him and putting a hand on my hip.
“Is there some reason you keep looking at me?” I asked.
Braden tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes rake over my face. Then he smiled. “Yeah, you have some marinara sauce on your face.” He knew I had an unreasonable fear of marinara sauce.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No I don’t. I checked the mirror in the break room before I left.”
Braden reached over, gently pushing back the strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail. “How can I help looking at you when I’m walking next to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”
And surprise of all surprises, he looked dead serious when he said it. His green eyes had snagged mine and the look in them almost had me believing every word.
I let out a slow breath. “Braden.” I’d meant to say his name in warning, but damn if it didn’t come out sounding like I was begging for something. And I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol.
His eyes darkened and he used a hand to tilt my chin up, looking deep into my eyes. “I want you, Presley. I have from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Deep down, I
really
wanted to believe that.
I watched as his lips descended on mine, closing my eyes just as our mouths brushed.
And then it hit me.
What the hell was I doing? Did I have absolutely no self-restraint?
Apparently, with him I didn’t. I was usually an expert at maintaining an emotional distance. And yet I was letting emotions and hormones take over every time he was near me. I had strict rules for myself on relationships.
And Braden Worthington was quickly becoming my exception to the rule.
I pulled away abruptly, turning with every plan of making a beeline for my car. “See ya, Braden,” I called back. I was stopped short when he caught hold of my hand. I turned slowly around to meet his eyes.
Braden was looking at me intently, almost reverently. “That song was for you, you know.”
I shook my head slightly in confusion, totally caught off guard and still reeling from our almost first sober kiss.
“The song I sang at the concert. ‘Desperate for You.’ I wrote that about you.”
My eyes widened, my lips parting in shock.
Me? Braden Worthington had written a song about me? Wow.
I had known Braden long enough to know when he was flirting with a girl, and the look on his face was dead serious: not flirtatious, but honest, open, and vulnerable. And it blew my mind. “Desperate for You” had been about a girl he was in love with, one that he considered the only person meant for him, but who wouldn’t give him the time of day. It had broken my heart listening to it, and to know that I was the one that had provoked such raw emotions in him.... I just didn’t have the words.
And there was no way I could wrap my head around that the fact that he harbored that kind of emotion for me. I was scared of what effect that bit of information might have —how far I might let that knowledge take me down the road that led to me being a broken version of my former self when he moved on. And I was still convinced he would.
He was the one person I was sure could soundly break my heart... and the one person I wanted more than anything, despite that.
Our eyes locked and held as I stood there in absolute shock, a world of other emotions swirling just below the surface.
I’m not sure who moved toward the other first, or if it was both of us. One second we were a foot apart, and the next our lips were crashing together in an almost-desperate kiss. One that we’d both been holding back and depriving ourselves of probably since the day we’d first met.
This time neither of us had been drinking.
And holy crap, was it intense. Passionate and breathtakingly perfect.
And it scared the living daylights out of me.
Pulling away quickly, I looked at the ground, trying to gather my shattered wits. I looked up and he was watching me closely, probably trying to figure out my reaction to what had just happened.
My voice was barely above a whisper when I finally breathed out, “I’ve got to go.”
I quickly turned around, unlocking the white Infinity my father had given me the year before for my birthday, and hopping in. I took off without looking back.
As I drove to my apartment, the scene with Braden replayed in my head.
Whew
, that had been.... a complete and utter mistake. And breathtakingly lovely.
If only Braden knew how to have a relationship. But then again, even if he did, he’d be leaving to finish recording his album and touring, and I was certain he’d be way too busy being famous to worry about a girl he left behind in Wilmington.
One of the many girls he’d left behind in Wilmington, actually.
I gripped my steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I’d have to be extra-diligent in making sure I didn’t let my guard down again with Braden.
I slipped on an oversized t-shirt and climbed into bed. But not before I peeked out of my window to sneak a look over at Braden’s apartment. I had no idea what I was looking for. Maybe a girl or two leaving his apartment. Maybe some kind of confirmation that he didn’t have the feelings for me that he’d claimed.
To both my relief, and disappointment, I recognized the cars parked in front of his building and there was no trail of girls going in or out that I could see.
I settled back on my pillow and was just closing my eyes when my phone rang.
I groaned when I saw that it was my mother. I considered not answering, but knew she’d just keep calling. I sighed and answered it.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Hello, Presley. How is school going?”
I raised an eyebrow. My mother could care less about my grades. We both knew that, but I’d have to answer anyway. She’d probably be much more interested in hearing about how my latest manicure appointment went. My mother’s core beliefs went as follows: pearls go with everything; always smile, whether you’re talking to your best friend or your worst enemy; and putdowns given as compliments are an art form. That about summed it up, but she was my mom, and I loved her anyway.
I had to stop myself from letting out an annoyed sigh. “Really well,” I answered. “Grades are good. I think I’m going to maintain my 4.0 GPA this semester.”
“That’s good.” Her voice was
so
not interested. “How’s Wyatt doing? Do you get to see him often?” My mother was just not that interested in education. She’d gotten a good deal of money during her divorce from my father and had never really had to work. I think she pretty much thought that
that
was the only thing men were good for.
And while I looked like a younger version of my mother, that was where our similarities ended. Our way of thinking was totally different. And
that
particular way of thinking really disgusted me.
“Yes, Mom. Wyatt’s fine. I hardly get to see him, though. We have different schedules.” My mother and Wyatt’s mother were in the same garden club and lunched together often.
“Oh.” She paused a minute. “Have you heard from your father lately?”
So now we’d got around to the real reason for the call. I rolled my eyes, thankful she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, he called the other day to complain about a charge I’d put on the credit card he gave me. I had to spend $400 on new tires and he was mad I didn’t ask first. But I thought that was what the card was for. And I had to have them, so…”
My mother sighed heavily on the phone. “You know your father, Presley. He has no problem at all showering his new wife with anything her heart desires, but when it comes to providing for his only child —he pitches a fit.”
I shook my head. Mom was
always
downing my father for one thing or the other. When I was little, and I came home from my dad’s excited that he’d taken me out for ice cream, she’d complain that he was filling me with junk food. If he didn’t take me to do something special, she’d complain that he never spent any quality time with me. He couldn’t win for losing with her and I really couldn’t blame him for avoiding her the way he did.
And honestly, I probably should have at least let him know that I’d had to use the card to get new tires. He had plenty of money to spare, but he was a total control freak and liked to know where every penny was being spent. I had definitely inherited that from him.
I just liked to control other aspects of my life. Like my feelings for a certain Braden Worthington.
And as if my mother could read my mind, she asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”
I would have to make very sure to keep my voice as neutral as possible when I answered. If my mother had even an inkling that I was falling for someone, she’d do everything in her power to convince me of what a disaster it would be. Unless of course he was pre-law or loaded with family money. Somehow I didn’t think “in a band” would be something she’d approve of, no matter how successful he was.
And I didn’t need her to ruin my chance at happiness; I was doing a great job of that all by myself.
“Nobody serious, Mom. And if you don’t believe me, ask Wyatt.”
“No need for that. I’ll take your word on it. You need to find some nice guy who’ll be able to provide for you. Someone like your father. You don’t need to get distracted by a guy going nowhere.”
My mouth dropped open. Did she really just say
like my father
?
“Mom, seriously? You can’t stand Dad and you want me to find someone just like him?” My mother could be so infuriating to talk to.
“Presley. Your father is an executive at a large company. He has provided well for us over the years. I just want to make sure you’re happy in life.”
I could only shake my head in disbelief at her horribly misconstrued way of thinking. But, if there was one thing I knew about my mother, it was that arguing with her would be absolutely pointless.
I swallowed back what I really wanted to say and instead pointed out, “Um, Mom. That’s why I’m going to college, remember? So that I can take care of myself.” I really needed to end this call. My nerves were already fried from sorting out my feelings for Braden. I seriously didn’t need my mother’s prying right now.
“Look, Mom. I’m exhausted. I’ll call you later.”
“Fine, Presley. But next time you talk to your father, remind him about that trip to Europe that we have planned. He’ll need to contribute for your part in that.”
One. Two. Three…. I counted to keep from losing it on her. Talking to my mother was
painful
sometimes. Truly.
“Okay. Bye.” I ended the call and flopped back on my bed, my head sinking into my huge down pillow. The faint vibration and buzz of my phone next to me had me groaning out loud. If this was my mother again…
I grabbed it and checked my text messages. My heart dove into my stomach when I saw whom it was from.