Page 74 of Sweet Little Lies
Chapter 28
Mica
By the time I hear the knock on the door, I’ve checked the mirror at least a dozen times and have gone through two dozen outfit changes.
I’d finally landed on a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt because I didn’t want to look too eager or sexy. Okay, maybe a little of the latter, because the t-shirt happens to be crop top, exposing my navel.
Crap, maybe this was the wrong thing to wear.
He’s not coming over for a booty call dammit. The only reason he’s called me is to make amends. I know this, yet I still have hope. I’m such a pathetic girl. Now I’m second-guessing myself and my motives.
It’s just that I’ve missed having a boyfriend. I’ve missedLanceas my boyfriend. And I just want him back. I’ll probably fall to my knees the minute I see him and beg him to return.
I said I was pathetic.
I’ve gone through every level of emotion there is in the last three months. My heart was broken and every day there was a reminder that Lance was gone and didn’t want anything to do with me. There were times where I’d see him on campus from afar and the pain in my heart would threaten to send me running home in tears.
He’d returned with a fresh lease on life, learning to live without me. I was happy for him, but I was hollow and hurting. What hurt the most was that he hadn’t responded to any of my attempts to contact him. Not even my letters. I’d poured my heart and soul into those letters and I had no idea if he even read them.
There were days I was so angry at Lance for making me care so much about him. For loving him so deeply and letting him shatter me to pieces like this. Other days, I realized it wasn’t his fault. He was fighting for his life against an addiction that had controlled his life.
I’d hear a few updates here and there from Ainsley and Cade, but they were generally good about not bringing him up in my presence. I knew he’d successfully graduated out of rehab and was doing well. I’d heard he was also going around to those he let down, asking for their forgiveness. The very reason he is outside my door tonight.
And here I am wearing clothing options in hopes he’ll want to be with me again. Pathetic.
He knocks again and I yell out, “Coming!”
No time to change, so I’ll just have to go with this.
Turning the handle on the knob, I inhale deeply and let it out, replacing my frown with a bright smile.
And then I’m knocked off my feet when I open the door and stare at the man before me.
Somehow, he looks bigger than he was three months ago. Buffer and bulkier, if that’s possible. His broad shoulders take up most of the doorframe, his biceps formed with ropey muscle exposed under the sleeveless shirt he wears.
His scent is subtle but powerful, masculine and spicy. I think I swoon when I stare up into his deep gray icicle irises and find him smiling timidly down at me.
Thankfully my hand on the door holds me up, otherwise I’d be a puddle on the floor.
“I’m like a vampire, you have to invite me inside,” he chuckles, his humor still intact.
Realizing I’m in the middle of the doorway and haven’t moved, I nervously shuffle out of the way, allowing him step across the threshold, breathing in his scent as he walks by.
After closing the door, I turn to find him staring at me with an intense gaze. His eyes travel the length of my body, starting at my bare toes, up my bare legs, up and over my bare belly, up further still to my neck and face. And then returns to my stomach.
He looks noticeably uncomfortable and I chide myself again on my clothing choice.
I’m sure I appear desperate and needy. Pathetic.
“Come on into the kitchen. I have some huevos rancheros ready to go-”
I’m stopped short when his fingers wrap around my wrist and he pulls me back unexpectedly.
“Wait, um…can we talk first?”
This surprises me, because Lance is always hungry and ready to eat. I nod my head and we move over to the couch. It’s the only piece of furniture I have in my living room, besides an end table and an old TV.
We sit down, turning to face each other, neither of us really knowing where to place our hands. I think he’s afraid to touch me, because he within seconds of grabbing me, he dropped my wrist as if I’d burned his skin.
