Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
JULIEN
Holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder, I’m half listening to Elijah while I finish draining the corkscrew pasta. One of Liz’s favorite dishes was pesto pasta with pine nuts and black olives. So that’s what I’m making her for lunch.
After putting it off, the guys and I told our families about Liz over a video call earlier this morning. We spent the first hour explaining everything we knew so far, the next thirty minutes crying together, and then another hour convincing them not to come. They’re desperate to see her, but she needs time to reacclimate before our families descend on her.
It took me for- fucking -ever after we ended the call to get Jay and Ry the hell out of the condo with the promise to stay gone for the rest of the afternoon.
With Elijah working today, I get Liz to myself. No distractions. I’m anxious to reconnect and spend time with my best friend. Fuck, how I missed her.
“What do you think?” Elijah asks.
“About what?”
“Matt and I are basically done. I can join you and Liz for lunch.”
Wiping my hands off on the dish towel, I engage the speaker and prop the phone against my glass of iced tea on the counter.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to spend some time with her alone.”
“I understand. See you tonight?”
Grabbing the can opener from the utensil drawer, I open the can of sliced black olives.
“Tonight?”
“Date night.”
Fuck me. I totally forgot our standing Saturday date nights. We had planned to grab dinner and go see a movie.
“Do you mind if we skip tonight and do it tomorrow?” I cringe when I ask it.
“Sure.”
His reply is stilted, and it makes me feel like shit. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place with my boyfriend, who I promised I’d always put first, on one side, and my best friend, who I haven’t seen in over a year, and…oh yeah, doesn’t remember who the hell I am, on the other.
I want to bridge the awkward gap that now exists between us and her, caused by what happened to her and too much time apart. It’s not going to be easy. We aren’t going to have the carefree existence and easy friendship we used to share. Liz has changed. She’s more wary. Mistrusting. Not sure of me and the guys. But we’ll get there with patience and love.
“I was thinking of taking Liz to Belly’s later. Karaoke night. I think she’d get a kick out of it.” Liz was so musically talented. Guitar, voice, drums, piano. I hate karaoke, but I’ll do it for her. “Want to come to Belly’s with us? I can text you when we get there.”
Silence, like a room full of crickets silence. “That’s okay. You two have fun. Say hi to Liz for me.”
“I will. I love?—”
The line goes dead.
Goddammit .
With my mind a whirl of jumbled thoughts, I go back to finishing lunch. Just as I open the jar of pesto, the doorbell sounds. I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s just Liz.
Reaching for the doorknob, I count to five before I open the door—and there she fucking is.
Liz has braided her long, pink-tinted hair into two pigtails that hang down past her shoulders. All my worries dissipate when she smiles at me.
“Hi.” That one word bursts out of me like a pinata full of enthusiastic confetti.
She holds up a pink box that smells like vanilla.
“Hope you don’t mind that I brought dessert. I found this local bakery near my apartment. Their mini cakes looked good.”
Her smile grows when I grin like an idiot. I can’t help it.
“It may taste like shit,” she says, biting her lip.
I can’t hear anything she’s saying over the loud pounding of my heart.
“Um, Julien?”
Stop being a weirdo, dumbass.
Moving out of the way, I hold the door open for her to come inside.
“I’m almost done. Just need to add the pesto, and then we can eat.”
She stops and sniffs the air. Closing her eyes, she hums. “Smells delicious.”
Her compliment makes me stupidly happy. My normal culinary skills don’t go beyond chicken, tofu, steamed rice, and some sort of vegetable. The dietary regimen while we’re in training and playing matches sucks, but I adhere to it. The offseason is another story. I let loose and gorge on pizza and junk food.
Taking the dessert box from her, I lead her into the kitchen. She looks around with interest. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice the slight discoloration on the wall where Ryder and I patched the hole. We couldn’t find an exact match to the eggshell paint color at the hardware store, but it’ll do for now.
“Nice place.”
“It can get messy and loud at times with three guys. Four counting Elijah, but he’ll move back into the dorms soon.”
My heart already aches at the thought.
I pull out a barstool at the island for her to sit on, then go around it to wash my hands.
She props her elbows on the granite, those pale verdant eyes on me. “Can I help with anything?”
“I’m just about done. You can keep me company while I finish up. Want something to drink?”
She points to my glass of iced tea. “Whatever you’re having.”
I grab the pitcher from the fridge, fill a glass, and hand it to her, not able to tear my gaze away. There’s just something different about her I can’t pin down. Or maybe it’s just my imagination since I haven’t seen her in over a year.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m trying to figure out what’s changed.”
She laughs—deep and throaty and wonderful. “Like plastic surgery different? Weight loss different?”
My lips pucker to the side as I consider those and dismiss them almost immediately. “I can’t describe it. You do look more muscular than I remember.”
Liz flexes her arm, and I may gawk at the definition of her biceps. Damn, she really is packing some serious strength behind her feminine figure.
“Months of PT and the gym. I like to run, too.”
She runs now?
“We used to have to bribe you with coffee and scones just to get you up in the mornings for school. The only time I ever saw you run was when Jay was chasing you.”
Her smile abates slightly. “How long did we date?”
I peer up at the ceiling, doing the mental math. “You first hooked up the summer before eleventh grade.”
Her hand flies to her mouth to stop iced tea from spewing everywhere. “Hooked up?” she coughs out.
“No! Sorry. Not then. You guys did that at prom.”
Oh my god, shut up.
Her eyes flare comically wide until they practically take over her entire face.
“Ignore me. I tend to get verbal vomit sometimes.”
Her smile returns. “I guess twins tell each other everything.”
“Pretty much.”
Those wide eyes return.
“Not everything ,” I baldly lie because Jay and I don’t keep secrets from one another.
However, we don’t freely gossip about personal stuff. If he asks me something, point blank, I tell him the truth, and vice versa.
Going back to what we’d been talking about, she comments, “How long have you played soccer?”
“Since I was able to walk on two legs. You’ll need to come and watch a game sometime. I miss having my cheerleader in the stands.”
“I’ll be sure to bring pom-poms.”
“Elijah would love that. He has his own pair.”
Liz adjusts on the stool and crosses one leg over the other. “I like him. He’s sweet.”
Getting two plates out of the cabinet, I set them down next to the stove. “He’s the love of my life.”
“He’s also insanely gorgeous. You’re a very lucky guy.”
Pride and love cohabitate inside my heart. “I really am.”
I finish mixing the pasta and spoon some onto a plate, then add toasted pine nuts before placing it in front of her. “Dig in. Hope you like it.”
Her mouth quirks. “You did say it was my favorite.”
She scoops up a large forkful and moans in delight when she bites into the pasta. “This is so freaking good. You’re a talented chef as well as a talented soccer player. Any other talents I should know about?”
“I’m good with my hands.”
I catch the unintentional hidden meaning just as she does, and we both start laughing. Just like old times.
Taking a large swallow of tea, she replies, “Good to know.”
“I promise that I’m not this inept in social situations.”
I tuck into my food. It is really good. Best I’ve made yet.
“I think you’re funny. There haven’t been a lot of things to smile about since I woke up in the hospital.”
That sobers me up better than a bucket of ice being dumped over my head. I reach across the counter island and cup her hand. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
She flips her hand, palm up, and squeezes mine. “Me, too.”
After we consume the entire pot of pasta, I suggest we take dessert out to the balcony. The day is too pretty to stay stuck indoors the entire time.
Turning on the overhead fan to provide some breeze, I wait for her to choose an Adirondack chair before I sit down in the other one.
“What’d you bring?”
She pulls open the top flap, and inside is a small Bundt cake with white icing dribbled down the sides. Using one of the forks I grabbed from the kitchen, I dig in.
“Here,” I offer, holding a piece out for her to taste.
“Where’s my fork?”
“Just eat it.”
She arches a blond brow. I almost drop the fork when she grabs my wrist and directs my hand toward her mouth.
“One bite is enough for me,” she groans. “I’m stuffed. You may have to roll me out of here.”
Liz settles back in the chair and kicks her feet up on the railing.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, sliding the patio door open and going inside.
Last night, I printed a couple of photos for her to have. One of our prom photos together in front of the Eiffel Tower, and another of all of us posing along the fake New York skyline cutout. I easily could’ve texted her the pictures, but I thought she’d like the hard copies. Something tangible.
When I return, I find Liz with her eyes closed and head tipped back against the chair. I’m still in disbelief that she’s here. There are too many emotions to quantify.
She must hear me come back out because one eye cracks open.
“I thought you might like these.”
She takes the printouts from me. “I remember seeing these on your phone.”
“I’ve always loved that picture of us at prom.” I tap a finger on the group photo. “Liz and her three prom dates.”
She lightly chuckles. “Three fucking prom dates. I must’ve been such a hussy.”
The times I’ve heard Liz cuss are in the single digits. The changes in my best friend may be subtle, but they’re there.
Her pale gaze slowly lifts, and the pain I see in them is startling. “I feel it, you know. You, Ryder, and Jayson. That pull. I don’t understand it, but I feel it.”
Swallowing thickly, I reply, “This past year has been hell without you.”
She sets the photos down on the patio table and pushes to her feet.
“Julien, I have an odd request.” She holds out her hand for me to take, then pulls me out of the chair. “I need to kiss you, and I need you to let me.”
“ What? ” I rasp, all coherent thought pulled right out of my head, along with my sanity. My throat suddenly feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when I croak out, “Liz, I’m with Elijah.”
She focuses on my mouth. Frowns. Shakes her head.
“I know you are. It’s not about that…it’s just…dammit, it’s hard to explain. You look like him. Jayson. I just need to see…” She heaves in a tortured breath. “I feel safe with you. I need to see what this pull is. If it’s him or…I need to understand it. Does that make sense? I need to start making sense of all this confusion. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. I just need to know.”
Her tormented plea breaks my fucking heart.
I didn’t protect her. I didn’t stop her from leaving that night. She has suffered so much because I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. Because of my failure.
Fuck. I don’t know what to do. If I let her kiss me, even if I don’t feel anything or reciprocate in any way, am I cheating on Elijah? Friends kiss and hug each other all the time, right?
“On one condition. We have to tell Elijah. I won’t keep this from him.”
“Okay.”
“And it has to be quick. Like a peck.”
She nods.
I close my eyes, not able to watch what’s about to happen. “Okay. I’m ready.”
I’m so not ready. I’m freaking the fuck out. My stomach clenches when I feel her rise on tiptoes. I wait and wait, getting more nervous as each second passes. When nothing happens, I open my eyes. She’s right in front of me, mere millimeters separating us.
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” she says.
And then?—
Liz kisses me.
Okay, it’s not really a kiss. At all. It’s more like an over-before-it-started half press of the lips. I barely felt anything. Doesn’t stop the instant regret from consuming me. That one non-kiss slices me open with a thousand deep cuts.
Liz and I take a step away from one another at the same time.
Her nose wrinkles. “That was?—”
My face scrunches. “Awkward as hell.”
So fucking awkward.
“Like kissing my brother.” She groans with self-deprecation. “That sounded bad. Forget I said that. Thank you for being my guinea pig. You just helped clear something up.”
I’m afraid to ask, so I don’t because I’m sure it has something to do with my brother and the way she was looking at Ryder yesterday.
“You know,” she says, trying to instill some humor, “you’re my first kiss. The first one I remember, anyway.”
I laugh, allowing the tension to drain from my body. “I haven’t kissed a girl since fifth grade. I hope it didn’t suck too bad.”
“ Eh .” She shrugs. “It really wasn’t a kiss, but it was nice, I guess.”
Needing things to go back to a semblance of normalcy, I pick up the dessert box and grab her hand. “No man ever wants to hear a woman say his kiss was nice . Come on. I promised you a tour around town, then I’m taking you to Belly’s.”
“What’s Belly’s?”
“You’ll see.”
I drag her into the kitchen and put the box in the refrigerator.
“Always so cryptic,” she says.
“That’s what makes it fun.” I take my phone out. “Give me a minute?”
She waves me off. “Take your time.”
Me: Leaving the condo. Are you sure you don’t want to come to dinner with us?
The dots start dancing, so I know he’s reading it.
ForeverYours: I’m sure. Enjoy your evening.
Me: Miss you. Love you.
ForeverYours: XXXOOO
I worry my top lip.
Me: I need to tell you something. When will you be home?
ForeverYours: Around ten.
Me: See you then. heart emoji
It’s after nine when I slam the front door open and stumble backward to close it. It may have taken me about three tries with the key to unlock it. I’m slightly inebriated. Other than that one beer I had at the team cookout a few weeks ago, I don’t drink anymore. Because of Jay, we have a no-alcohol rule in the house. Tonight, I may have consumed a little too much, if one beer and three shots can be considered too much. After a long dry spell of eight months, the answer is a definite yes. My body isn’t used to it anymore. I forgot how much it sucks.
When Liz saw it was karaoke night at Belly’s, her face lit up like Christmas. We played pool, she sang, she forced me on stage to do a duet with her. That was embarrassing. But fun. She wanted a beer, so I used my fake ID— thank you, Fallon . We sat in the back of the bar because it was quiet and didn’t attract the attention of the waitresses.
We drank. Liz outdrank me, which is shockingly surprising because Liz was a complete teetotaler in high school. By the time we did our third shot of tequila, my head was swimming, and I called it quits. Liz was fine. No effects. Which should’ve been impossible. She’s half my size. Does having amnesia make you immune to the effects of alcohol?
“Jules, is that you?” Ryder calls from his open bedroom door.
“ Yuup! ” I weave a path into the living room and face-plant onto the couch.
Footsteps come down the hall, and I wince when a light comes on.
“Fuck, man. Turn it off.”
He pokes me in the back of the head. “Are you drunk?”
Not too drunk to give him the middle finger. Ryder’s booming laughter makes my head throb.
“Buzzed, not drunk. And please be quiet.” I turn my head before I suffocate myself. “Is Elijah back?”
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
Groaning like a man in the throes of death, I roll over. “I need to sober up before he gets here.”
Ryder’s entire countenance changes. “You didn’t drive, did you?”
Horrified he would think that, I reply, “Hell, no. And thanks so much for assuming that I would be so fucking stupid. We took an Uber.”
“Good. Okay.”
Ryder walks off.
Lifting my hips, I make several grabs for my phone in my back pocket.
Me: Never drinking again.
Liz: Poor baby. Insert mwah-ha-ha evil laugh here. devil emoji
Me: Not funny.
Liz: A little funny.
Me: Glad I can amuse you.
Liz: You’re a fun drunk.
Me: I’m NOT drunk. I’m just not used to tequila. That shit hits fast.
Liz: Thanks for today. I had fun. Get some sleep, pretty boy.
Me: I’m waiting for Elijah to come home.
Liz: If you want me to be there with you when you tell him, I’ll come over right now. I can try to explain.
Me: Thanks, but I need to do it myself.
Liz: I feel awful putting you in that position.
Me: Liz, it’s OK. Stop worrying.
Liz: You sure?
Me: Yes. I’ll text you tomorrow.
Liz: OK. Good night, Julien.
Me: Night.
I throw my phone across the floor and collapse back. When I next open my eyes, Ryder is thrusting some nasty green shit in a glass at me, along with a couple of pain relievers.
“Drink this, followed by these. You should start feeling better in an hour.”
Like a newborn babe on trembling arms, I sit halfway up to take the stuff. I eye the green liquid for a long time before I force myself to drink it.
“This stuff’s rancid,” I complain as I guzzle it all, then down the pills.
Ryder takes the glass from me and sets it on the coffee table.
“Looks gross, but it works. I used to make it for Jay.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
Ryder sits on the sofa arm next to my head. “At a fight. How did today go with Elizabeth?”
I had texted him and Jay earlier to let them know what we were doing. Jay was not happy at all when he wanted to come, and I said no.
“It was really good. She let her guard down. Laughed a lot. I took her to Belly’s. We danced. We sang bad karaoke. She drank me under the table.”
Ryder’s chuckle stops abruptly. “Wait. You bought her alcohol? Elizabeth doesn’t drink.”
“She does now,” I inform him.
Ry thinks about that new revelation. Just another facet of Liz’s new persona that we’re discovering.
“When are you meeting up with her at the track tomorrow?” I ask.
“Around two. I’m going to head out there early to test drive Fallon’s new Radical RXC before she arrives.”
Fallon tends to buy a new car every other week. Ah, the life of the insanely wealthy.
“Lucky bastard,” I comment.
Ryder pats my shoulder. “I’m turning in. Need help into bed?”
I glare squinty eyes at him. “For the last time, I am not drunk.”
I actually feel a lot better. That Soylent green shit really works.
Grabbing the remote, I turn the television on at low volume, stopping on a John Wick movie that I don’t pay attention to because my nerves are absolutely shot. That panic increases tenfold when I hear the front door open.
“Hey.”
Elijah stops under the large archway that separates the living room from the foyer. A vast ocean opens between us, its waters turbulent and unsettled.
“Hey back.”
Trying to think of a way to ease into telling him about what happened, I ask, “Have you eaten?”
Food and confession. It’s worth a try.
Elijah rests his shoulder to the jamb, arms crossed over his chest. “Had some pizza earlier, but I could eat.”
An opening.
“Grilled cheese?”
His arms uncross. “Sounds perfect.”
I stand up and traverse that invisible ocean, my desperate need to connect with him overriding any sense of caution. I wrap my arms around him, holding on as if he might disappear at any moment.
Empathetic as always, he picks up on my troubled emotions.
“Something happened.”
Not a question.
Tears gather and spill over. “Yeah.”
His arms come around me, warm and perfect and comforting. “Tell me.”
I press my face to his neck, taking in his familiar scent and drawing courage from it.
“Liz asked if she could kiss me,” I profess, my voice breaking.
He tenses but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“She said she trusted me to test something out because I looked like Jay. She kept rambling about ‘the pull,’ whatever that means.”
I didn’t understand half of what she said, but I think I got the general gist. I don’t think Jay is ever going to get her back, and I’m terrified of what that will do to him.
“Show me,” Elijah suddenly demands.
I jerk back, confusion etched all over my face. “Show you?”
His eyes eclipse, intense and fierce. “Show me,” he repeats.
I want to dismiss it as a joke, but he’s dead serious.
“What?” I rasp.
He fists the hair at my crown and pulls. Something hard and possessive flashes behind his eyes. “Show me how she kissed you.”
My stomach ties itself into knots at the thought of recreating that moment with Liz.
“Do it,” he says, brokering no argument.
Instantly nauseous and with my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest, I lean in and kiss him the way Liz kissed me. When our lips briefly meet in a quick, dry peck that lasts less than half a second, it feels more like an open wound in my soul than an act of love.
Elijah’s mouth downturns. “That’s it?”
“Yes,” I croak.
A wicked smirk forms. “That’s not a kiss. This is a kiss.”
Before I know what’s happening, his mouth crushes mine.