2. Chapter 2
2
A fter stopping by the store to get enough ice cream to fix all our problems, we head to Blake’s apartment. We can't go to mine in case Jett is there. I'm not ready to answer the seven times he’s called me, let alone face him.
I empty the bags onto the counter, lining up our junk food buffet style while Blake changes. When she comes back a few minutes later, she grabs bowls and places them on the counter next to the spread.
“I grabbed you some of my comfy clothes. Ice cream tastes better when you have an elastic waistband,” she says and hands me the clothes.
“Thanks. I can’t decide between mint chocolate chip or cookie dough. Mind dishing me up a scoop of both while I go change?”
“Sure thing!” Blake bumps my hip with hers before I walk down the hall towards the spare bedroom. A phone rings and I instantly freeze, but remember that I turned mine off when we got to the apartment, so it’s nothing I need to worry about.
I close the door behind me and unfold the clothes Blake's clothes. While I'm not a big girl, she is noticeably smaller than me. Where she is slim and toned, I have curves and softness. So when I put the shorts on, they hug me a little too tight. I am equally surprised and relieved, though, when I pull the shirt on over my head, and it hangs down to my thighs.
Padding back to the kitchen with my bare feet, I grab the bowl Blake left for me and head to the couch to have a much-needed girl’s night with my best friend.
“Holy shit. Is that Libby?” I stop mid-shovel with the spoon at my lips. The sound of Blake’s brother’s voice registers in my mind and I turn on my heels to walk away. “I already saw you, Elizabeth Clark. How the hell are you?”
Tyson Miller is two years older than Blake, but they may as well be twins. They both have the same wavy brown hair, dark caramel skin, and bright green eyes. Each with larger-than-life personalities, but Tyson really is bigger than life. Six-foot-three and made of pure muscle. It’s as if he’s built specifically to play basketball, which is exactly what he does, playing point guard for the Travelers, New Orleans’ NBA team, for the last two years.
“Hi Ty.” I reluctantly take a seat next to Blake, facing her phone that’s propped up on the table with the FaceTime call.
“Oh my God, Ty! Jett proposed to her, and she said okay , but then literally ran away! It was literally the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Blake waves her spoon around as she retells the moments that I wish I could forget.
“You’re kidding. That’s badass Little Bird! That douche never deserved you. He’s probably the biggest tool I know, and I know a lot of them.”
“Alright, that’s enough about my life, you two. What have you been up to, Ty? How’s basketball going?” I ask, putting my bowl on the coffee table. I’m not willing to shovel ice cream into my mouth with Tyson watching me.
“Ball’s good. Practice is kicking up with the season starting — wait…” a cocky smile spreads across his face and my stomach drops knowing he’s looking at me like that. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
Shit. I snap my head towards Blake, eyes wide.
“Huh,” she says nonchalantly, “I didn’t think about that when I grabbed it. I just figured you’d want something baggy since we're pigging out tonight.” My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Could this day get anymore embarrassing?
“I must have left it there when I visited last month. Looks good on you Little Bird, maybe I should—”
“Actually that’s my shirt.” A tall, dark, and handsome man strides across the screen behind Tyson, never stopping or looking toward the camera.
“Who the hell was that?” I whisper mostly to myself, but make eye contact with Blake.
“Go to hell Colt. Why do you gotta ruin all my fun?” Ty shouts towards the man.
“Was that your new roommate?” Blake asks, and I find myself relieved that she did.
“Yeah.” Tyson rolls his eyes. “I was happy he took me up on bunking together, but the guy has busted my balls more in the last three weeks than he has in the past three years of our friendship. I never realized how up-tight he was until we lived under the same roof.”
“I’m sure you’re laid back enough for the both of you,” Blake says matter of fact.
“I guess. I just wish he would go out once, or have a beer with me." He stops talking as his eyes trail something off camera. "So what’s with all the ice cream? Isn’t leaving that asshole a good thing? You should be out celebrating with drinks and getting laid, not eating ice cream in some other man’s shirt that you haven’t even slept with.”
“Tyson, I’m not a slut. Why does everything with you have to involve sex?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You’re a pretty girl, Libby. And sex is healthy. You should be having lots of it. You know, I could help you with that now that you’re single.” His smug smile is back.
I open my mouth to respond, but am cut off by Tyson's roommate. “Who are you trying to get to sleep with you now?” He flops onto the couch next to Ty. His jeans are worn, his dark blue t-shirt fits tightly around his shoulders, and he has untied his dirty work boots. With his deep brown hair disheveled, it’s clear he’s been sweaty at some point in the day.
“Libby here.” Ty motions to me on the screen. “She left the scum bag she was with after he proposed to her. I was just telling her she needs to go out celebrating and get laid. Not trying to convince her to sleep with me, simply offering my body as a sacrifice for the greater good.”
The roommate, I forget his name, leans forward with his elbows on his knees and I notice he has a tattoo covering one of his arms, though it’s hard to tell what it is over the phone. His hands look strong, as if he works with them all day. When I finally pull my gaze from his arms, I’m drawn to his eyes. We may be on Facetime, but I can see as they roam down me on the screen. My cheeks instantly heat.
“Gee, thanks Ty.” I shift in my seat, uncomfortable from the attention.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to offer your services when the girl is wearing my shirt.” His eyes linger on what I can only assume are my legs before settling on my — his — shirt. “Looks good on you… Libby, is it?”
“Yeah,” I croak, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
“Libby.” He repeats my name as if committing it to memory. Looking directly into the camera, a smirk crosses over his face.
I stare at him through the screen, unable to look away, and completely forgetting there are two other people on this call until Blake not so subtly fake coughs.
“Well, as fun as this is, we are going to go,” she announces. “We have bowls of ice cream screaming our names.”
“Alright.” It’s Tyson that speaks this time. I can hear his voice, but my eyes are still locked on his roommate. “You girls enjoy your night. Just remember Little Bird, if you’d rather something else be screaming your name, I’m always here.” I see a flash of annoyance cross the other man’s face right before the call ends and the screen goes black.
“Well, that was fucking awkward.” Blake grabs our bowls and heads back to the kitchen.
“I had nothing to do with that. You could have told me this was your brother’s shirt!” I pull at the fabric while following her as if she doesn’t know which one I’m talking about.
“I’m not blaming you. My brother is a horn dog, but he knows my friends are off limits. Plus, I’d rather not be around when he tries to woo anyone. It’s not something any sister should hear.” Blake rinses our bowls of the ice cream that’s now melted and pulls the pints back out of the freezer. “But apparently that isn’t even Ty’s shirt. His new roommate is a hottie, huh?”
My cheeks warm, remembering how he looked at me. “Uh, yeah, he is good looking.”
Blake stops mid-scoop and looks at me. “Uh, yeah, he sure is,” she mocks with a knowing smirk.
“What? I agreed he’s attractive. But I’m still in a relationship. I think.” I take the ice cream scoop from her and keep filling our bowls.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You definitely aren’t in a relationship anymore, so there isn’t anything wrong with fantasizing about the man.”
I drop the scoop into the sink with a loud clunk. “I am not fantasizing about him! And I’m pretty sure I’m still in a relationship since I accepted his proposal not even twelve hours ago.”
“Libby, I watched as Colt basically undressed you with his eyes. And I for sure noticed the way you salivated over him doing it.”
Colt . I make it a point to remember his name. I know nothing about him other than his looks, but it suits him. It's strong. Masculine. Like the veins in his forearms and how they encased his muscles. Or the beard that coated the bottom half of his face.
“Whatever.” I surrender. There’s no point in arguing with her. I can deny it all I want, but we both know the truth. Seeing him eye me like I was a piece of meat did something to my insides. I should be ashamed; women have fought to be seen as more than something to be devoured, but something about Colt makes me think he savors every bite he takes. So no, I’m not embarrassed by my reaction. I’m only embarrassed that we had an audience.
“Exactly.” Blake pulls me out of my thoughts. “But going back to your earlier statement, did you forget that you ran after you accepted Jett’s proposal? And you haven’t spoken to him since. I think by default that means you are no longer together.”
I don’t have an answer, though I’m not sure Blake is even asking a question. Is she right? Am I single now? My palms begin to sweat as the panic sets in. Change has always been a big issue for me, even if it is for the best.
“Actually, I think I’m just going to try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”I don’t want to start panicking in front of Blake. It’s the one thing I’ve always kept from her
“Suit yourself.” She scrapes my bowl into hers. "More for me then." She looks slightly disappointed, but I need to get away before my anxiety gets debilitating. I give her a hug and a small smile, then retreat to her secondary bedroom, where I have slept many times.
I get under the covers, preparing for the battle my head is about to impose on me. So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. This time last night I was laying in my bed. The one I had slept in for the last three years. On the other side was the man that I had shared my life with for half a decade. Everything was comfortable. Not without its challenges, but nothing is perfect. At the end of every day, I knew where my head was going to lay, how my next morning was going to go, and that every night I would have dinner at my kitchen table with the man that promised to be my constant. It was a sure thing.
But then he had to propose to me. Jett knows I hate surprises. I need to count on things, not blindsided. It throws me into fight or flight every time.
Panic prickles at my neck.
It’s been a long time since those instincts have kicked in. It’s why I have to keep things comfortable and consistent. My childhood was anything but, and I promised my younger self that I would give her a better life than what she had when things were out of her control.
Now here I am, in my best friend's apartment, in another man’s clothes, and no idea what tomorrow holds. I don’t know if I’m single or engaged. Nor do I know when I’m going to talk to Jett about what happened. I’m not sure I even want to, but there’s no way around it.
The sensation moves lower, sitting heavy in my chest.
I need to let go of what happened today and try to relax. Everything can wait until tomorrow. Now that I have had time to mull over the whole engagement thing, maybe I’ll be able to handle the situation better. Surely Jett will hear me out. He isn’t known for having a sympathetic side. But if he really loves me, enough to want to marry me, then surely he’ll be open to talking.
My breathing kicks up a notch, and I try to shake out my now tingly fingers.
I close my eyes, hoping I can fall asleep quickly. But as I lay here in the empty bed, I can’t stop the memory of a certain set of brown eyes trailing over my body. Or reminiscing about how it felt when he looked directly at the camera, as if he wanted me to feel like he was looking into my soul on purpose. I wonder what it would be like to have those same eyes on me in person.
Sigh . My life is too messy to afford that kind of fantasy tonight. Maybe one day.