Page 14 of Until We're More
The seat belt cut high on my neck, and I tugged it to the side and dragged my finger along the edge. “You’d totally know how to take out all the bad guys, wouldn’t you?”
“For sure,” he said. “I’m with you on the sandwich, though. There’re way too many options.”
I grinned, and the tingly happiness that flooded me pushed my worries to the back of my mind.
Liam pulled into a parking spot in front of his apartment complex, grabbed my bag of books, and then met me in front of the hood of his truck. We climbed the stairs to the third floor, and he opened his apartment door and held it for me.
“By the way,” he said as he set my books on the stand next to the couch—I liked how he realized there was no point in taking them into my bedroom, since I’d need to sort them out here and stack them in the order I planned on reading them. “I’m glad you’re not very good at following through on the silent treatment.”
“My rambling skills are at your service anytime.” I added an over-the-top curtsy, and his grin spread across his face. I was glad he found me so amusing.
The way my heart skipped a beat even though I kept telling it to not read too much into statements like that…?
I was a little less glad about that.
Chapter Six
Liam
The cat stood perched on the kitchen counter Monday morning, glaring at me like I looked at every guy who’d ever shown interest in Chelsea. Suspicion mixed with distrust, along with a threat to use claws. Not that I had claws, but… Yeah, I was overthinking this.
Yesterday afternoon while Chelsea and I had watched TV after a lazy morning, the cat had grown a bit bolder. We’d gone right from giving each other space to him climbing between Chelsea and me, making it clear he was claiming his territory, to a standoff in the kitchen. So much for the peace offering of ham I’d tossed him a moment ago.
“She was mine first, you know,” I said, because someone needed to take the cat’s attitude down a notch or two.
He turned, showing me his asshole, and then sat facing away from me.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
He didn’t acknowledge my statement, but his ears twitched.Yep. Definitely not a cat person.
I finished making the scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and poured two glasses of orange juice. When I called out to see if Chelsea was ready for breakfast yet, she came down the hall.
She stopped to wish George a good morning, sticking her face in his. He bumped his forehead against hers as she scratched her fingers down his spine and cooed at him about what a good boy he was. Then I swear the fur ball shot me a smug look over his shoulder that seemed to say,She’s mine now, bitch.
Chelsea lifted her head, and I took in her super-straight, shiny red hair and the dressy white top and black slacks she had on. As she rounded the counter, her heels clacked against the floor. They were black and pointy and added at least four inches to her height. Another corporate-monkey joke was on the tip of my tongue, but it didn’t fit. She looked more like one of those women in movies who made it clear right away she was a ball crusher, and the masochistic side of me wanted her to take a try at mine.
Lately my thoughts kept straying from where they should be as far as Chelsea was concerned. I’d made that throwaway comment about her not having the right type of sex after the movie, and then I’d accidentally wondered if anyone had taken care of her, the way she deserved…
My blood heated, and my heart pumped faster in my chest. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about that? Or her legs? Yeah, she had nice ones that went on forever, but again, not a news flash, and I wasn’t going there. She was my best friend, things between us were finally good again, and we were fucking living together for the next month or so.
This past weekend was the last time since I could remember that I hadn’t been consumed with stress. I needed us to stay uncomplicated and drama-free. Needed to preserve that sense of calm our friendship brought into my hectic life.
Good thing we were going back to our normal schedules today, because I also needed to get my head straight. And I should stop only thinking about myself—she had a lot at stake right now, too. “Nervous for your first day?”
She bit her plump lower lip, my Chelsea back in place of the businesswoman who’d temporarily replaced her. “Yeah. They’ve already hired on a couple people, and I can’t stop hearing my supervisor say that I need to be more assertive. But as much as I tell myself I can do it, it’s hard for me to be as bold and bossy as I need to be. I want the new people to respect me, but…” She dragged her fingers along the edge of the counter. “Is it so bad that I want them to like me, too?”
“You don’t need them to like you.” I made a slicing motion with the spatula in my hand. “In fact, forget about that.”
“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
I placed one of the plates of food on the counter in front of her. “I know that you want everyone to like you and that you’re nice to a fault. But you’re not there to make friends.”
“That’s what every person on those awful reality TV shows says.”
“You mean the people who win?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not sure. I can never watch them because I don’t like how mean they are to one another. You get off on competition. I don’t.”
