Author: Cheryl McIntyre

I’m not a mathematician, but Annie’s mom just celebrated her forty-first birthday. That’d put her about twenty—twenty-one when she was pregnant with Annie. Annie’s dad isn’t around. Hasn’t been for as long as I’ve known her. And I know Guy’s dad was Jenny’s third husband. That has to be hard on any kid. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before, but Annie’s desire to always be perfect—to have the perfect relationship—makes more sense to me now. I’m not going to over psychoanalyze her—everybody has issues—it just makes sense.

“I think,” I begin slowly, choosing my words carefully, “sometimes, people are stupid. They give up too easily or too quickly. Some people don’t understand what they have or they don’t realize how important their presence is. But,” I add, “if two people are meant to be then age doesn’t matter. If they really love each other, they can make it work. They’ll fight to make it work. It depends on the people involved. Not every scenario is going to be the same. Not every relationship is going to have the same outcome.”

She bites her lip as she contemplates my words. I touch my thumb to her mouth, pulling her lip free, and smooth the skin there. Her gaze drops until she’s staring intently at her sheets.

“What do you think will happen with us?”

“Whatever we make happen.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine and she smiles. That must have been the right answer because she lowers herself until she’s lying across my chest, her legs interlocking with mine. Strands of her soft, blonde hair fall forward onto my face, but I don’t move them. This, with Annie’s chest pressed against me, her scent engulfing me, her hair, silky smooth against my cheek, this is perfection. Everything she’s tried so hard to achieve is reached in these moments.

Annie is my definition of perfect.

“When did you get so smart?” she asks, her voice low and breathy.

I grin. “I’ve been telling you for years, you just wouldn’t listen. I’m a freaking genius. Einstein ain’t got shit on me.”

“And you’re losing me.” She pushes her palms into the mattress on either side of my head, as if she’s going to get up, and I grip her hips, pulling her closer.

“I’m not letting you go,” I whisper. And she can take that any way she wants. Because I don’t mean just at this moment. I want her. All of her. I always have and I always will. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to make her mine.

“Who said I was going anywhere?”

I lick my lips as I trail my fingers up her sides. She shivers and brings her face closer. God, I can’t stand how much I love her. It’s consuming me. And I want to tell her so badly—hell, I want to tell everybody I come in contact with—but I’m terrified. Plain and simple. I’d rather never tell her than scare her off.

“You don’t have to say it when you always have one foot out the door.”

“My feet are both right here.” She wiggles her toes against my legs, but I don’t laugh.

“I’m more concerned where your heart is.”

Annie’s eyes widen and she inches closer until her lips are pressing against mine, feather light. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I don’t have one.”

My hand slides from her ribs to her chest, resting over her heart. It pounds erratically against my palm. “You have one,” I say. “A good one.” She gasps, pulling the air from my mouth into hers. “It’s okay if it belongs to you,” I continue hoarsely. “I just want you to share it with me someday.”

“I’m scared.”

“You don’t ever have to be scared of me. I’ll never hurt you.”

“No, Chase. You’re the one I have to be the most cautious with. You have the potential to cause the most harm.”

I sit, pushing her back in order to see her better. “Never. I will never hurt you in any way.” I’m practically yelling, but how the hell can she think I would ever do anything to damage this? Us? Her?

She shakes her head causing her hair to hide her face. I brush it back, needing to see her expression. Shit. She really is scared of me. She’s shaking and her eyes are glossy. Her bottom lip trembles and she pulls it into her mouth, biting down.

“I thought…” She sighs and closes her eyes. “At the beginning, I thought I loved Loden, but it became clear quickly that I didn’t. Couldn’t. I never gave him my heart. What Loden broke in me was physical and psychological. He messed with something that was already fragile, but I can repair it. I’m working on it.” Her eyes flutter open and she fixes them on me, holding me in place. “You’ve become so important to me. If this doesn’t go well, what you’ll break…I don’t think I’ll be able to fix it.”

I don’t know how to take that, or how to respond, so I watch her quietly. Give her time to finish her thoughts or take them back if she needs to.

“I don’t know if I can ever fully give you my heart, but I know I don’t want anyone else to have it.”

I still have nothing. I’m confused—I don’t know whether to be hurt she doesn’t trust me with her heart, or happy she doesn’t want to give it to anybody else either.

Though I have fifty questions, I have no words.

So I kiss her.

There’s always time to worry later. Right now, I just need her touching me.

39

The Heart Never Lies

Annie

I’m in limbo and I’ve dragged Chase along with me. We live in this in-between. We hug. We kiss—God, do we kiss. We touch. We make out like high schoolers at a basement party. We go on dates that we don’t refer to as dates. We spend every available free moment together.

But we’re not together.

Weeks have passed this way. Just passing and passing. I feel myself slipping, falling for him deeper and deeper. I know he wants more. I want more, too. Every time he touches me I’m ready to take that next step. But then my fear gets the best of me and I pull away. Is there a future with Chase?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

It’s Halloween and he’s taking me to a party. A costume party. It might feel good to be someone different for a little bit.

I don’t have the funds to purchase a costume. I was just going to throw something together until Hannah, taking pity on my complete lack of imagination, removes a nurse’s costume from the back of her closet. It’s nothing like a real nurse’s uniform. This is a short, white halter dress with red buckles down the side, ending in a ruffle skirt. It’s complete with a stethoscope and little white hat with a red medical symbol.

“Eric and I like to role play,” she says with a shrug.

I crinkle my nose. “I can’t wear this.”

“It’s been dry-cleaned. Don’t worry.”

“No,” I say quickly. “It’s not…that. You’re like three inches shorter than I am. It’s going to be really short and I’ll feel—exposed.”

“You’ll be hot and your guy won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” She grins and wiggles the hanger at me, the dress swaying. I take it, cocking my head to the side.

“My guy?”

“Chase? He’s going to love this.”

“Chase isn’t… We’re not…” I sigh. “Chase isn’t ‘my guy.’”

“Oh,” she says, stretching out the word. “You’ll still look hot.”

I stare down at the dress in my hand and decide to go with it. The old Annie would never be caught dead wearing something this…revealing. She was more of a sexy, yet elegant girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But this new Annie, she’s vowed to take chances.

And in all honesty, I want to see Chase’s face when he sees me in this outfit.

~*~

I’m pacing my room, too scared to venture into the common room. I’m having horrible costume remorse and it only gets worse with each pass by my mirror. I look slutty—like I’m trying way too hard.

There’s a knock, and I freeze, staring at the door. I scramble through my thoughts, trying to come up with an alternative costume quickly. I wish I had my old cheer leading uniform—which, by the way, covered a hell of a lot more than this nurse’s dress.

The door opens and Chase peeks inside. His eyes fall on me immediately and his mouth parts in surprise. My stomach clenches.

He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He’s dressed in all black—black tee shirt, black jeans, black worn Converse, and a black leather jacket. His bass is across his back, the strap, also black, angled over his chest.

Chase’s eyes slowly slide down my body, and then make a languid trip back up. When he lands on my face, he busts out the grin that always causes my heart to race. “You look so fucking good,” he breathes huskily.

“So do you,” I say. He looks more than good. Mouthwatering comes to mind.

I watch him pull the bass over his head and prop it against the wall. And then he stalks toward me. “I’m not feeling very well,” he states as one hand slides around my waist. The other toys with the stethoscope hanging between my breasts. “Maybe we should stay in and you can nurse me back to health.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. He arches a brow as he places the disk part of the stethoscope against his heart.

I pull the ear pieces from around my neck and slip them into place. It really works and I can hear his heart thumping rapidly in my ears.

“What do you hear?” he whispers.

“Your heart. It’s beating really fast.”

Chase guides them off my head and fixes them in his own ears. My breath hitches as he brings the disk to my chest. It’s warm from being pressed against him, but I still shiver. His eyes flick up to meet mine and I can read the desire burning in them. I step into him, trapping his hand between us.

“What do you hear?” I repeat his question back to him, though I already know the answer. I can feel my heart pulsing swiftly, pounding against my ribs so forcefully I’m surprised they don’t break.

“I hear your heart answering mine,” Chase says softly. “It’s like music. I could listen to it all night.” He releases the stethoscope, replacing it with his hand, flush against my skin. “I love how that feels.”

“So do I.”

He closes his eyes and I just watch him. He looks like he’s struggling with something, agonizing over some decision. It scares me that it might be me.

Finally, he opens his eyes, drops his hand as he plucks the ear pieces off, and slides them around my neck. “You ready?” he croaks.

I nod, because I can’t manage words.

He definitely likes my costume.

~*~

I’m beginning to really enjoy Halloween parties. Hannah was right. Chase hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me all night. Regardless of the other eighteen “nurses” in the room, his gaze lingers on me. And he continually reaches out, skimming his fingers along the soft ruffles, as if he wants to do more, but only allows himself this.

His restraint is stronger than mine. It’s getting harder and harder not to touch him as the night goes on.

We’re standing in a corner, talking to some guy about his elaborate zombie costume, which I admit, is impressive. Chase fingers the hem of my dress absentmindedly, and then he notices my lingering gaze. He sets his cup down, excuses us from the conversation, and grips my hand, tugging me to the dance floor. Without giving me an opportunity to react, he slides his fingers onto my hips, and pulls me against him.

We should be moving to the music—that’s what people do on a dance floor—but apart from our chests rising and falling with our breaths, we’re still. Chase angles his head down, inching toward me. This goes against our privacy agreement. I mean, I know we aren’t technically telling people—not with words. But kissing in public is a pretty big announcement.