Seeing Red (18 page)

Alexander was smiling, which bothered Jill even
more. She had a plan to get him out of her apartment. Since they
were ignoring each other—well, she was ignoring him and he was
obeying her wishes of being ignored—she changed the channel from
the football game that he was watching, sure it was some sort of
important Bowl game, and instead put on a reality show about
fashion.
This will get him out of my hair
.

He didn’t so much as blink. He continued eating his
cereal and watched most of the show. But, when he was surely sick
of the show, he grabbed the bag that he’d left there the previous
day, spread out all his books, and began reading. That really got
under her skin.

She kept watching television, trying her best to
pretend she was not affected by his presence. What would my plans
have been had he not been here? I would have gone for a jog or
swim, cleaned the apartment, and then studied. She decided to do
just that. She went into her bedroom, put on a sports bra and short
shorts—very short—and her sneakers. She wondered if he’d follow.
She stepped out of her bedroom.

***

Alexander

Alexander looked up from the pile of books.
Hell,
she’s going for a damn jog. Who jogs with a hangover?
He
stopped his studying to look at her. She looked hot—those were the
smallest shorts he’d ever seen. She didn’t have an inch of fat on
her stomach—which surprised him considering how much junk food she
ate. He loved her legs—always had. They were long, lean, and very
toned. The muscles that ran along the side of her thighs were
prominently defined. Her hair was picked up in a jumbled curly red
mess on her head. The evil witch decided to stretch in front of
him, bending to touch her toes right in front of him. Every time
she bent down, her shorts inched up and he could see the bottom of
her ass perfectly. She was going to kill him; he was sure of it.
But the kicker was, he knew she wasn’t doing it intentionally,
which made her even more desirable. She had no idea how sexy she
was and the effect she had on men.

Alexander saw Jillian put on her ear buds and grab
her iPod, He sighed. He really didn’t want to go jogging in this
heat—or at all for that matter. Reluctantly, he reached into his
bag and took out a pair of shorts and sneakers that he kept in the
bag for when he went to the gym. He had a shirt but decided against
it.

Alexander knew she wasn’t unaffected by him. Right
there, in the living room, by the front door, while she stretched
and pretended to be oblivious to his presence, he took off his
shirt, slid his jeans down—very slowly and deliberately —her mouth
dropped and her eyes glazed—and when he was in only his snug white
boxer briefs, he slid on his gym shorts and put on his socks and
sneakers. He winked at her. She scowled.

Alexander saw Jillian shake her head side to side as
if it would help remove the image of his naked body from her head.
He saw the movement and cackled loudly.
Point for Alexander.
But he was still behind because she got like five points for the
short shorts, the sports bra, the stretching, the fact that she was
doing it in front of him, and for the jog itself. She was still one
up on him, but he was not going to let her win. Their relationship
was a competition. That’s how it had always been. She could be pig
headed, but he was not going to let her out of his sight until they
could figure out why the front door was unlocked. Even if she
didn’t want him, and he was sure she did, he was going to keep her
safe—even if it meant jogging a marathon out of spite. He hated
running.

He stood by the front door and held it open for her
in a gesture of
bring it on baby; I’m on to you.
When she
was able to grab her bottom jaw from the floor and close her mouth
from the shock, she stomped past him and made a low growl. He
closed the door behind her and she took off immediately. This would
not be a light jog. Shit, he had not even had a chance to stretch.
She blasted the music on her iPod—he could it hear coming out of
her ears—and she took off running. Not jogging. Running!

Hauling ass, actually!

Clearly, she wanted him to lose him, even if by pure
physical exhaustion, but he was right next to her. Every time she
sped up, he sped up. After fifteen minutes, they were
sprinting.

Fuck, she’s going to kill me!

***

Jillian

Fuck, how long can I keep this pace? God, he looks
good. Like, really good.

Jillian was the first to start slowing down. She
noticed he was clutching his side but didn’t stop. She knew he’d
rather die, literally die, than lose. They were now at a jogging
pace, but after a fifteen-minute sprint in the dry Texan heat and a
twenty-minute fast-paced jog, they were on the brink of collapsing.
Jillian bent down and put her hands on her thighs, gasping for air.
She stomped her feet on the sidewalk like a bratty toddler, “Damn
it! Fine, you win. I’m going home. Jerk!” She punched him on the
shoulder, turned around, and headed back to her apartment.

Winded, clutching his spleen and gloating, he
gasped, “Point for me!” Jill suspected that this little war was not
going to end well. One of them would surely drop dead at any
moment.

When they returned to her apartment, she opened the
door and went to slam it in his face, but he caught it before it
shut close. She didn’t change clothes but instead went straight to
the kitchen and started grabbing cleaning products from under the
sink.

She started frantically cleaning.

“Babe, you can clean until your arms fall off, as
long as you’re safe in the confines of this apartment.”

“Shut up.” She threw a detergent-soaked sponge at
him and kept cleaning. He laughed, catching it mid-air.

While Jillian fulfilled her OCD cleanliness issues,
Alexander settled back down at the kitchen table and resumed
studying. She cleaned for three hours. She made noise and moved
things and did everything possible to distract him from studying.
She cleaned the table he was using twice. Twice! She made it a
point that every time she bent down to scrub, her cleavage was in
his face and every time she reached up to dust, her ass was in his
face. He wasn’t budging and she was beyond annoyed. When there was
not one square inch of apartment left to clean, she decided to take
a shower. Who knew that trying to outsmart Alexander would be such
an exhausting endeavor?

Emerging from the shower thirty minutes later, she
looked curiously at Alexander. He was lying down on the couch.
Bathed! Refreshed! Grinning! She stomped into Heather’s bathroom
and looked around and saw that he had used it. She slammed the door
shut, shaking her head in disbelief. He was seriously not going to
leave. All this silent fighting had made her hungry. He was
probably starving.

She made herself a sandwich, not offering him
anything, used her arm to swipe his books away from her side of the
table—some of the books fell—and ate the sandwich while reading one
of her law books. She noticed he was looking at her sandwich as if
it were the last glass of water in the desert. She may have seen
some drool—there was definitely salivating involved. But, he still
didn’t budge.

After an hour or so, she looked up and saw that his
eyes were heavy and about to shut, but he was fighting it. Jillian
felt bad about her nastiness towards him; he was only being a good
friend: an infuriatingly good friend.

“Just go home and go to sleep. You’re obviously
tired.” They were the first words that had been spoken in
hours.

“I’m not going home, Jill. We can figure out what’s
going on, or we can keep doing this standoff thing. It’s up to
you.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that? I kicked your
ass with the run; you’re obviously super tired. Just go take a nap
in my room. I’m going to keep reading.”

“Yeah right, so that you can sneak out while I’m
gone. No way. And, by the way, I clearly outran you and can do it
all over again if you want.”

“Please, I stopped because your spleen was about to
come out of your mouth. I saw you clenching your side like a little
baby. I felt bad for you.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe.” He closed
the book he was reading and threw himself on the couch and turned
on the television—to football.

“I promise I won’t leave. Just go nap. Your eyes are
closing.” He looked at her and didn’t say anything. “Have I ever
lied to you? I’m not leaving, I promise. Here, hold on to my keys
if you want. Just go nap.”

“If I didn’t know better, you seem concerned about
my wellbeing,” he said while grabbing her keys and heading to her
room. A moment later, when Jillian went to check if he needed
anything, Alexander was already snoring.

How was she going to get him to go home? She had to
think of a way. Admittedly, she was a little concerned about the
situation with the note and the unlocked door, but she wasn’t
scared, and she couldn’t understand why. She should be scared. The
tension between her and Alexander was not letting her think
clearly.

She promised herself she would start reading the
journals immediately because she felt that those journals would
answer the question about the red-haired man, the note, and the
unlocked door. Today, in fact, she would sit and read today. She
had an idea to get Alexander out of her apartment.

First, Jillian made sure Alexander was sound asleep.
Once she was certain, she went to the corner of the kitchen and
called Heather.

“Hi, Heather! How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Hey, hon’. It was great. I’m still stuffed from all
the food. I have a big plate of food to take back to you. How are
you?”

“Yum, that sounds great. I ended up spending the
evening with Alexander. But we had a big fight and now I need your
help.”

“Okay. Why are you whispering?” She replied to
Jillian in a whisper too.

“I don’t want him to hear, but, Heather,” Jill
giggled, “you don’t have to whisper too.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Heather let out a silly snort.

“I gotta make this quick. I’ll give you all the
details on Sunday when I see you, okay?”

“Okay. So, what do you need?”

“I need you to call me back when I text you and just
play along.”

“Okay. That’s strange, but okay. I expect a full
explanation on Sunday.”

“Sure. Have your phone on you so that when I text
you, you call me right away, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, bye.” Jillian sat back down and booted up her
laptop. In an effort to kill time until Alexander awoke, she
checked her email. She had an email from Oliver.
Finally!

Hi Jillian,

What’s up with you and Xander? I know you both too
well. Why aren’t you spending Thanksgiving together? Both of you
used the same excuse—studying. That’s bullshit—you both need to
eat. You’re both so stubborn you’re probably both eating a
ready-made microwave dinner instead of calling each other and
having a big ol’ turkey with stuffing. I’m going to kick both of
your asses when I get back.

Anyway, I’m upset at Alexander for not forwarding my
emails to you. It’s hard to email, and all my emails have been
quick, but I have specifically said to forward them to you. I’m
sorry you were worried. I’m fine. In fact, the expedition was cut
short, and I’m writing you from a four-star hotel with lots of
WiFi.

Baby, you can’t imagine how much I’ve missed a hot
bath and a good ol’ fashion hamburger. I ordered room service and
am writing you from inside a giant hot tub in my room. (I know
you’re picturing me naked right now—stop that!) I am heading home
tomorrow. I have three layovers, but I’ve decided to go straight to
Austin instead of California. I should be seeing your pretty little
face within a week.

Jillian, I’ve had lots of time to think while I’ve
been away, and I really want to talk to you. I know you have a lot
of things going on, but I want you to know something. It’s hard to
say this after so many years, but I want to let you know now so
that you have time to think about. Okay—here goes . . .

Jill, I think I love you. I mean I love you, love
you. These months away from you, not being able to talk or email,
have been hell. That almost-kiss four years ago is the subject of
most of my dreams. I think—and hope—I’m not the only one feeling
this way. Could you possibly feel the same way? Please think about
us.

WOW. I don’t know whether to send you this email or
delete it. I’m going to go out on a limb and press send.

Can’t wait to see you.

Love,

Oliver

She wrote back right away.

Oly!

Wow. I really don’t know what to say. I think our
relationship is too important to take this step, but I can’t deny I
feel something for you too. I guess I do have a lot to think about.
We can’t confuse loneliness and familiarity with something else.
But I’m so happy you’ll be here soon. I’ve missed you so much.
You’ve no idea. We’ll talk more about this when I see you because
we have to consider so many things—including Xander. By the way, I
did end up spending Thanksgiving—yesterday, actually—with Xander.
We fought and are currently not on speaking terms. I’ll tell you
all about it when I see you. We are currently in a sort of
standoff. Now, I have something else to be mad at him about—not
forwarding your emails. He’s an ass!

Anyway, I was NOT picturing you naked, but I was
picturing you devouring a hamburger and fries with extra ketchup.
(Okay, maybe I was picturing you a little naked while eating the
hamburger.) I can’t wait to see you. Send me your flight
information, and I’ll go pick you up when you arrive.

Love,

Jill

Talk about bad timing. If she didn’t have enough
problems, she could add Oliver into the mix.

It was 6 p.m. when Alexander finally woke up. His
long dark-blond hair was a mess, and the red lining of his eyelids
made the blue in his eyes even more intense. He stepped out of the
room with his arms stretched out to the ceiling in a yawn. Again,
she got a glimpse of that delicious lower abdomen. Mutely, he
walked to the refrigerator, took out the orange juice, opened it,
and drank straight from the carton. She snatched it out of his
hands, almost spilling it, and made a low growling noise. She
grabbed a glass, poured it into the glass and handed it to him, and
shoved the carton back into the refrigerator, annoyed.