Page 5 of Until We're More
“I didn’t realize it was a hard question. A few days? A week?” I couldn’t help but hope it was more than the weekend, but hope led to disappointment, and if a couple days was all I could get, I’d make the most of it.
“Not sure this will help my claim that I’m not a corporate monkey, but I’m on a team that’s been sent here to open a new branch. I’d like to say it’s because my boss sees my potential, but it’s more like I asked, and he figured I already knew the town and maybe that’d end up being beneficial.”
Everything inside me froze for a couple seconds. If she moved back, it would be amazing, but it also meant she’d have to deal with her family, as well as other complications, and I’d never wanted to celebrate and screamnoso much at the same time.
“I wanted to surprise you. So”—she made a swiping motion with her arms, hands spread as wide as the toothy grin she pulled—“surprise!”Again, she studied me, and I had a feeling I was failing the Right Reaction Test, something I often failed no matter who I was talking to. Although Chelsea used to be the exception.
Her attention dropped to her lap, and she picked at a spot of sugary glaze on her yoga pants. “Anyway, we have six weeks to get things up and running. Not long enough to find a place of my own and a bit long and expensive for a hotel. I figured I’d save some money and stay with my mom and Jesse.”
My fingers curled around her knee as I bit back the harsh words I wanted to say about her so-called family. Family took care of one another, and hers was more of a one-way street where they ran Chelsea into the ground. I’d made my opinion on the matter clear many times before, but it always caused a fight, so I had to tread carefully. “Won’t that cause you extra stress?”
She shrugged. “I can deal.”
I didn’t want her to have to deal. Getting her away from her family was the entire reason I’d pushed her to go for that job. The fact that it fit so well with her career goals and that she hadn’t received the offers she’d hoped for here added to it, but I knew she couldn’t stay at that house without getting sucked into the destructive cycle that always left her questioning her strength and self-worth.
“Or you could stay with me.” It came out before I fully thought it through, but the more I considered it, the more the idea appealed to me. Sure, I was beyond busy running the gym, coaching, and keeping up with my own training, but that was only more reason for her to crash at my place. Otherwise I’d hardly get the chance to see her, and being around her calmed me in a way nothing else did. Plus, it’d help us get things back to normal faster, and I wanted that. Needed it, really. And she could use someone looking out for her instead of looking for ways to use her. “I have an extra room.”
She bit her lip, and I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or attraction that quickened my pulse. “What about George?”
Who the fuck is George?Even more troubling, why did I want to kill him for simply existing? “George?” Let it be a testament to my iron control that I managed to sound so civil when I said the guy’s name.
“My cat. Don’t you remember? I got him from the shelter a couple months ago?”
The storm brewing inside me calmed. Her cat. “Right.” I did remember she’d adopted a cat but hadn’t recalled the name, just that it wasn’t your typical pet name. I should probably examine why I was so relieved it belonged to a feline and not a dude, but I’d rather ignore that and do whatever it took to convince her to stay with me instead. “Mi casais George’scasa.”
She wrapped her arm around the back of my chair and twisted to fully face me. “You say that, but I don’t think you understand how literally George will take your offer. He thinks everything is his. He’s…persnickety.”
“I don’t mind persnickety,” I said. “Anyway, I don’t think I do. I might need a dictionary first.” I ran my gaze over her. “Where do I type in words to get a definition again?” I placed them over her thigh like it was a keyboard. In high school, I’d often called her my walking dictionary. She’d saved my ass in my English and literature classes—math, where the answer was always the answer and not open to interpretation, was more my thing. “P-E-R-snickety.”
Her lips quivered as she fought back a smile. “Fussy, particular. Often grumpy. Basically, George is the cat version of you.”
My jaw dropped, and I gave her knee a light shove. “I don’t remember asking for sass with my definition.” Her smug smile only made me want to wrap my arms around her. I’d hit my hug quota for the year today, and yet I wanted more.Thisfelt like us, the effortless friendship that’d gotten me through a lot of ups and downs through the years, and I liked to think I’d done the same for her. “I can deal with a grumpy cat if it means more time with you.”
“You’re saying it could be like that one weekend both of our parents were out of town and we watched movies and ate junk food for two days straight, but for, like, six whole weeks?”
I’d forgotten about that, but memories of eating more candy than I’d ever consumed—and more girlie movies than I ever wanted to watch—came back to me. “I can’t get away with that much junk food thanks to my job, but I’ll provide you with as much as you want. I just moved to a place a few blocks from the beach, too.”
Her eyes lit up, the way I knew they would. She loved the beach. Loved making sand castles and reading under an umbrella and feeding her lunch to those damn seagulls that would then attackmeformyfood.
“So?” I nudged her with my elbow. “What do you say?”
Chapter Three
Chelsea
Stay overnight with Liam for six weeks straight? In an apartment where he’d probably walk around shirtless, smelling like that intoxicating Prada cologne I’d talked him into during a super-rare trip to the mall, or all soapy fresh like right now? Where he’d constantly be looking at me with the same blue eyes that were currently pinning me in place, unraveling me in the best possible way?
In order to keep my goals, it wasn’t just a bad idea; it was an epically bad one. But my momwasa vortex of neediness and guilt trips, one I got sucked into every time. My stepdad didn’t want me there, either. Since he was also allergic to cats, George would be restricted to my old bedroom that’d been converted into a craft room, which meant I had to unbury the bed before I could use it. Mom had also added that I’d have to deep clean the room before I left, including paying for the carpet to be professionally steamed. George wouldhatebeing cooped up in such a small space and would undoubtedly enact revenge by shoving every item he could get his paws on to the floor, and then I’d end up replacing them, and by the end, it probably would’ve been cheaper to book a hotel.
Plus, Liam and I would have so much fun together, and we had months to make up for. I could totally keep myself in check. Maybe gethe’s my best friendtattooed on my hand. Or stomach, since it needed to be a place he’d never see. Then again, we might go swimming, so that left my boobs or my butt.
“It’s okay if you’d rather stay with your parents,” Liam said, and I might be projecting, but he almost sounded sad. The barest hint of sadness, really, but for a guy who didn’t often show emotions, it seemed huge to me. “I just thought it’d be—”
“I’d rather stay with you,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Like, it’s not even a competition. I just don’t want it to get weird, and what if you get sick of me?”
He reached out and tugged the end of my ponytail, his callused fingertips brushing my neck and sending a cascade of goose bumps across my skin. “Chels, I’ve missed you like crazy. I’ll never get sick of you.”
“But what if you get sick of George?”
