12. VANESSA
VANESSA
As Paris guessed, I have a sprained ankle, and I have to wear a brace until the Ravens’ physio checks me and gives her diagnosis Monday morning.
I called Coach Lauda on the way home to get it over with, thinking she’d be mad as hell.
She was only concerned about my well-being, which surprised me.
I’m feeling dejected just the same. My shoulders slump as I stare at my phone.
“What’s wrong?” Paris asks.
“I’m not sure. I thought I was gonna get my ass chewed by Coach Lauda.”
“Why would you think that? What happened was an accident.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because I know it could have been avoided. If I hadn’t been drinking, and if I hadn’t let you get under my skin, I’d have seen the hole in the sand.”
“I got under your skin?”
Shit . I can’t believe I let that confession roll off my tongue.
I let out an exasperated sigh and look out the window. “Yes, Paris. You did. Are you happy now?”
His calloused hand covers mine and squeezes, sending a zing of pleasure up my arm. My heart takes off, chasing the butterflies that sprang from my stomach. I glance at him, nervous all of a sudden.
“I’d be happier if you’d forgive me for all the crappy stuff I did to you in the past,” he says.
A huge lump gets lodged in my throat. I want to believe him so badly, but can I? There were many occasions where Paris acted like a jerk, especially throughout high school.
Unbidden, the prom night humiliation scene comes to the forefront of my mind. Paris and I were elected prom king and queen, but when it came to the official dance, he left me standing alone in the middle of the ballroom like an idiot and danced with Lydia instead.
“The list is a mile long.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Only a mile? I can deal with that.”
My heart skips a beat. Damn it. I won’t be able to keep my crush hidden if he keeps slinging his charm my way. Is that his intention? No, he’s probably trying to clear his guilty conscience. That’s all.
I realize I’ve been staring for far too long without saying a word.
My phone’s ringtone breaks the spell. Unfortunately, it’s my mother calling again. I’ve ignored her calls since we escaped the wedding, texting her only to let the family know I was on the way to the ER, but I didn’t say which one.
“Are you going to keep blowing off your folks? It’s only gonna get worse.”
“I know, but if I tell them I’m home, they’ll come running, and all I want to do right now is take a nap.” I reach for the door handle, ready to hop out of his truck. We’ve been parked in front of my house awhile now and there’s no need to prolong the awkwardness.
“Hold on. I’ll help you.” He’s out of the truck before I can protest.
My rebellious side wants to jump out before he has the chance to walk around the vehicle, but my stupid heart is looking forward to Paris’s help. I want his hands on my body again. They felt too damn good. Man, I’m in trouble. I can’t allow him to linger, or I’ll end up doing something regrettable.
I do open the door myself and swing my legs to the side of the seat. He steps forward but stops suddenly, frowning.
“What’s wrong? I don’t think I gained a hundred pounds on the ride from the hospital. You can still lift me as if I weigh nothing.”
With a shake of his head, he replies, “I... that’s not it. I don’t want to be handsy like before. It wasn’t cool.”
I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Paris. I know you didn’t mean anything dirty by it.”
I wholeheartedly believe my statement until I catch a flash of guilt in his eyes.
Maybe his mind was in the gutter when he touched me.
Now I really want him to touch me again.
I’m actually dying for him to pick me up caveman style.
I can’t even blame my crazy thoughts on painkillers, since I refused them. Maybe I’m still drunk.
“Do you want me to carry you to the front door?” he asks.
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
And I’m in his arms again. Anyone seeing us wearing our fine clothing would think we’re newlyweds. A bubble of laughter goes up my throat.
“What’s so funny?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Vanessa. You’re going to make me self-conscious. Am I not carrying you right?”
“You’re fine. Let me get the key from my bag. You can put me down.”
He does so and waits nearby while I fish the small object from my tiny purse. I’m glad I kept it with me when I decided to hide from everyone at the beach.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask as I open the door.
“I thought you wanted to take a nap.”
Damn it. He caught me.
“I do, but… I don’t know. I think I should offer you a beverage for your troubles.”
He narrows his eyes. “I will come in on the condition you tell me what you were laughing about.”
“Oh my God, Paris. Why do you care?”
“My pride is at stake here. Laughter is not what I expect when I’m carrying beautiful women in my arms.”
My heart swells and then shrivels. He thinks I’m beautiful, and yet jealousy pierces my chest, even though the upturn of his lips tells me he’s joking.
Why did he have to use the word in plural?
I hop on one foot into the house, leaving the door wide open for him to follow.
I must look ridiculous, but they didn’t have crutches for me at the hospital. I need to get some tomorrow.
“It’s silly,” I say, and wait until he closes the door behind him to continue. “It just occurred to me that we looked like we just got married.”
I didn’t expect the confession to bring a blush to my cheeks, but here we are. I’m glad that I don’t turn red like Heather does. Yippee-ki-yay for my tanned skin.
Paris chuckles. “What kind of ceremony did we have that I ended up with a ripped jacket and you have red wine stains all over your dress?”
“Uh, the fun kind?” I smirk.
His face splits into a radiant grin, and I neglect to breathe. I forgot how beautiful he is when he smiles.
“You were right. You are a silly girl. But it’s good to hear your laughter. I’ve missed it.”
Okay, now I forget how to do all the basic stuff. I don’t move, I don’t blink, I just stare at him like an idiot. Finally, I croak, “You’ve missed my laughter?”
He maintains my stare, and the intensity in his gaze turns up several notches. “I’ve missed you, Vanessa.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
And clearly that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, judging by how his face seems to crumble.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” He glances at the kitchen. “How about that beverage?”
I swallow the lemon-size lump in my throat and say, “Make yourself at home. I have to sit down.” I head for the couch and plop there. Ideally, I should get out of this binding dress, but I don’t want to leave his company just yet.
“Do you want anything? Tea with honey again?” he asks.
“God no. I need something stronger, please. There’s tequila in the cupboard above the sink.”
“Can you handle the burn?”
I give him a droll look. “I’ve drunk tequila before, Paris.”
“I know, what I meant was…” He shakes his head. “Jesus, why can’t I get my thoughts straight when I’m around you?”
“Uh, that sounds like a trick question.”
“I never asked you how your throat was. It seems you didn’t bruise after all.”
Oh, and here I thought there was more to his statement. I touch my neck. “The wonders of makeup.”
Instead of veering into the kitchen, he sits next to me on the couch. “How bad is it?”
Now it’s my turn to get my thoughts in a jam. His nearness is doing in my head. “I… not that bad.”
“If you hadn’t stopped me last night, I would have bashed his face in with my fists.”
“I know. That’s precisely why I stopped you. He’s not worth getting arrested. He’s a weasel, a vermin who doesn’t deserve the air he breathes.”
I can’t believe I let Ryan fool me with his good-guy persona. My ego was bruised, and I needed someone who treated me well, which Ryan did in the beginning. Then his true colors started to show.
Paris nods, then gets up. “So, let’s have some tequila.”
“Are you drinking too?” My eyebrows arch.
“One shot won’t hinder me.”
“Well, you can always stay.” Holy shit. Did I seriously say that out loud? “I mean, on the couch like last night.”
He laughs. “I got your meaning the first time. I think you’re trying to use me as a buffer against your parents.”
Relief washes over me that his train of thought went in that direction. “You wouldn’t be a buffer—on the contrary. You’d be gasoline poured over fire.”
“True.”
I watch him grab the tequila and then get out two shot glasses without having to look for them.
I wonder for a moment how he guessed their location.
Maybe he already knew where we keep them from the last time he was here, partying with my sister.
I’m not bitter at all about that. I wonder if he brought his bitchy ex with him.
They were still dating at the time, so there’s a high chance that he did.
He returns to my side and fills up the glasses. Then he hands me one and lifts his for a toast. “To your speedy recovery.”
“ Tim-tim ,” I reply in the Brazilian way, then I toss my head back and swallow the shot.
It burns down my throat in a good way.
Paris shakes his head and shudders. “I haven’t had tequila in ages.”
“You could have grabbed lemon and salt.”
“Nah, that’s for amateurs.” He picks up the bottle. “Another?”
“Yes, please.” He fills my glass again, but his own remains empty. “So, I’m to drink alone from now on?”
Looking sheepish, he rubs the back of his neck. “As much as I’d love to keep drinking, I can’t. I have to drive home eventually.”
“Right.” I gulp the second shot, slam the glass onto the table, and melt against the back of the couch. My body is tingling and as light as a feather. I’m getting a good buzz.
“You look tired. Maybe I should go.”
I grab his arm without thinking. “Don’t go just yet.”
His gaze bounces between my eyes as if he’s searching for something. I don’t know if he’ll find what he’s looking for in them, but I’m certainly getting pulled into his orbit. I lean forward, dropping my own gaze to his full lips, which are partially open.
“Vanessa…” He says my name like a caress.
I press a hand to his chest, loving how warm his skin is under his shirt. “Your heart is beating so fast.”
He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “I know.”
Our mouths are getting closer and closer… we’re seconds away from making that regrettable mistake I shouldn’t want, but really do.
The sound of a key turning pulls Paris away from me as if he was yanked backward by an elastic band stretched to the max. He jumps off the couch just as Heather walks in.
Fucking great.
“So, you’re home already. Thanks for letting us know.” She bangs the door shut and trudges into the kitchen.
“I just got home,” I say.
“If you don’t call Mom, she’s gonna have an aneurysm.”
“I will.”
“I should go,” Paris announces
I want him to stay, but now that Heather’s home, it’s better if he leaves.
“Yeah, you definitely should,” she pipes up. “If you want to keep your nut sack attached to the rest of your body.”
“What the hell, Heather!”
She gives an I’m just telling the truth shrug before she uncaps the water bottle she got from the fridge. “Mom is convinced Paris is up to no good. Again .”
If a person could die of embarrassment, I’d be in extreme danger of biting the dust.
“Messaged received,” Paris replies. He glances at me. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Drive safe. And thanks for the ride.”
“Any time.”
No sooner does he walk out the door than Heather takes his place on the couch. “All right. I could have bought that you were just hanging out last night, but after today, that excuse won’t fly anymore. What the hell is going on with you and Paris?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not lying!” I grab a pillow and hug it to my chest. My pitiful shield against my sister’s inquisition. “And you’d better not start spreading rumors about us.”
She gets up in a huff. “Please. With the way you two are behaving around each other, I won’t need say a word. The rumor mill will turn into a damn factory.”