3. Liliana
Chapter 3
Liliana
I erase the first line of my article for the fifth time and let out a loud groan. This is ridiculous. It shouldn’t be this hard to focus.
I massage my temples and skim through my notes again. I need to do a good job on this article. It’s going to be hard enough to get Bill to print it. He believes Stubbs is innocent in all of this and Owen is just trying to make himself look good.
I don’t personally know Owen, but I’ve heard enough about him and how he runs his franchise to know he’s a decent guy. I don’t believe he’s lying. I think Stubbs dug his own grave and now he’s paying for it.
I'm about to turn back to my article when there’s a knock on my apartment door. I glance at my phone and see it’s not even three o’clock. Who could possibly be at my door?
Taking slow and quiet steps towards the door, I peek through the peephole and roll my eyes. What is Smithy doing here?
I nibble on my bottom lip and debate on ignoring him. If I open the door, he’s going to come in and he’s not going to leave. I don’t need that right now. But he knew I had to write. If he’s here, it could mean something’s wrong.
“Open the door, Sweets,” he murmurs softly as he drops his forehead against the wood.
I sigh as I twist the lock and pull the door open. I can't turn him away right now. He’s upset and I know it.
Smithy lifts his head enough to glance up at me through his lashes. He looks so tired and defeated. I don’t know what’s going on, but I grab his arm and tug him inside. Leading him over to the couch, I shove him down and go search for a couple bottles of water.
“What’s going on?” I glance at him as I tug the fridge open and squat down so I can check the bottom shelf. All the way in the back there are three bottles left. I grab two and head back to the couch, handing him one of them.
“Why does something need to be going on? Aren't I allowed to stop by because you’re my best friend and I miss you?” He arches a brow, but he can't fool me.
“Nice try. I can see it in your eyes. I saw you…” I glance down at my watch before meeting his gaze again. “I saw you two and a half hours ago and you should still be at work. Clearly, something happened.”
Smithy wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me onto his lap. He twists his body so his back is resting against the arm rest and his long legs are stretched out on the cushions. He scoots down until his head is on the arm rest and takes me with him. I'm pinned between his hard body and the back of the couch, but I'm not complaining.
“Smithy,” I groan his name, regretting it almost immediately. It sounds way too intimate. “I’m supposed to be working and you know it.”
“I know, but I need you for a few minutes, then I’ll leave.”
“Promise?” I arch a brow, not believing a word he says.
“Yes.”
“Fine.” I let out a dramatic sigh and lay my head on his chest.
Every once in a while, Smithy gets super touchy feely. I love those times. For just a little bit I can pretend we’re a real couple and not just friends. I cherish those moments and think about them on the nights I wish I had a man in my life.
“I’ll just go.” He sighs and tries to slip out from underneath me, but I stop him as my brows tug together. This isn't like him.
“No! I don’t want you to leave.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on as tightly as I can. I don’t want him to be upset with me.
“Are you sure about that? You seem annoyed I'm here.”
I peek up at him, finding his eyes shut and a deep V formed between his brows. There’s no playful grin tugging on his lips or glimmer of mischief in his eyes. This is the raw and vulnerable version of Travis Smith. The one I fell in love with years ago.
His brown hair is tousled and there’s a thick layer of scruff on his jaw. I want to run my fingers over it and feel the roughness against my smooth skin.
“I'm stressed out about this article, but that doesn’t mean I'm annoyed to have you here.”
“What if you work while you sit with me? I promise I won't talk to you, I just want to be here.”
“We can do that, but I have to actually sit. I can't lay with you.”
“Can you give me five minutes like this?”
“Five minutes. I’m setting a timer.” I climb over Smithy and grab my phone off the table where I left it. I know if I lay on this couch with him and don’t set a timer, I'm going to fall asleep and never get this article written.
Once I have it set, I try to figure out how to get back into the same position we were in already. Somehow, he takes up the entire couch even though I was just lying next to him.
Smithy rolls on his side with his back against the couch and stretches out his arms to reach for me.
“C’mon, Sweets.”
I lay down with my back against his chest and he tightens his arms around me. His nose gets buried in my hair and every time he exhales, his breath fans across my skin and tickles me.
I’d never tell him this, but I set my alarm for thirty minutes. He’s always been needy, but never like this. His head isn't in the right space and I'm sure that’s why he’s here and not at work.
“Where’s your head at, Travis?” I whisper as I grip his forearm and run my fingers softly back and forth along his skin.
“I can't stop thinking about her,” he says softly.
“Who?”
“My dream girl.”
I want to roll my eyes and scoff, but it wouldn’t matter. He’s been in love with this mystery woman for as long as I can remember. He won't tell me who she is or anything about her. At least not anything that could narrow down who she is or help me figure out her identity.
“I think you need to give up on her and move on.”
“That’s like telling me to stop breathing and find a new source of oxygen. It’s never going to happen, Sweets.”
“What’s so special about her?” I work hard to keep the jealousy out of my voice. The last thing I need is for him to realize how I feel about him.
“The better question is what isn't special about her?” He murmurs in a sleepy voice.
“Are you ever going to tell me who she is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe one day.”
“No, I want to know now. I don’t want to wait years.”
“I’ll make you a deal. On your wedding day, I’ll tell you who my mystery girl is.” He slips his hand down my arm and intertwines our fingers. He kisses my knuckles before resting our joined hands across my stomach.
“That’s not fair. I'm not engaged and I don’t see that changing any time soon.” I pout. I hate when he doesn’t tell me stuff like this. I’m an open book with him, but he’s always been secretive about this woman’s identity.
I can't imagine any woman not wanting to date him. It’s always made me wonder who this could be. Who could possibly turn him down? That’s insanity.
“It’s called motivation, Sweets.”
“You want me to get married just so I can discover your secret?”
“I don’t want you to get married unless it’s to me,” he mumbles.
“Why would we get married? That’s crazy.” I roll my eyes, but my brain runs with the idea.
I imagine coming home from work and finding Smithy in our home gym. He’s working out while our kids play in a pack and play. He stops every set and talks to them while they smile up at him like he’s their entire world.
“There’s nothing crazy about that, Sweets. It sounds like heaven. Who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend?”
I try to find some sort of response, but when I come up with nothing, I snuggle a little deeper into his chest and press a soft kiss to his arm. He tightens his hold and kisses my neck.
“Let’s close our eyes for just a few minutes.”
My alarm goes off thirty minutes later and I know I was smart to set it. Smithy has a way of being all consuming and making you feel like the world doesn’t exist around us.
“You set that knowing we’d fall asleep, huh?” Smithy murmurs against my neck making goosebumps spread across my skin.
“It happens every time.” Reluctantly pushing away from him, I sit up and stretch my arms above my head. I need a nicer couch, this thing sucks.
“How about I go get us some dinner while you write?”
“That sounds nice. Thank you.” I peek over my shoulder and smile.
Smithy looks adorable with his chocolate hair all messy and sleepiness still showing in his eyes. It makes me think of all the mornings I’ve seen him like this. I always hope one day this will become my normal, but it never happens.
No matter what he says, Smithy and I getting married is a wild dream that will never happen.
After grabbing my laptop and a blanket, I curl up on the couch and begin writing. Smithy takes his time getting up and shuffling around my apartment. He doesn’t come here often because I like his place better, but he always acts like this is his home, just like I do at his house.
“I’ll be back in a few.” He kisses the crown of my head as he grabs my keys so he can get back into the apartment without me getting up.
As soon as the front door shuts behind him and I hear the lock engage, I turn to my computer and try to block out everything else. I probably have less than thirty minutes before he’ll be back. I need to get as much done as I can. Something tells me he plans on staying all night and that means working will be hard for me.
Almost an hour later, Smithy walks through the door with a takeout bag. He ignores me as he places it on the small table and grabs two plates. He hums to himself, taking a few containers out and laying them in a perfect line. He’s such a perfectionist and he doesn’t even realize it.
Setting a plate on the coffee table, he places a bottle of Dr. Pepper next to it. Then grabs his own food and drink, settling next to me on the couch.
He still stays silent and I think he’s trying to be respectful of me working, but I can't sit here and be silent as we eat. That’s just weird.
“Why are you being so quiet?”
“Well, I'm worried if I'm loud or distracting, you’ll kick me out and I don’t want to leave.”
“You’re always distracting.” I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling.
“I don’t mean to be.” He frowns down at his plate full of sushi.
“Do you want to talk about what’s going on? Something’s off with you.” I place my laptop on the table and tuck my legs under me before grabbing my plate.
“No.”
“You have approximately fifteen minutes before I'm going back to writing.” I arch a brow.
“Fine. Our interaction today really screwed with my head,” he grumbles under his breath.
My head snaps to face him and my brows pull together. How did our interaction bother him? I only spent like five minutes with him. I couldn’t possibly be the cause of this weird funk he’s in.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He runs a rough hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “You just… you almost seemed embarrassed to be friends with me and I don’t know how to take that. Are you?”
“Am I embarrassed to be friends with you?” The question comes out as a squeak and I mentally facepalm myself. Why do I have to be so awkward?
“Yeah. Are you still friends with me out of an odd sense of loyalty or do you actually want to be friends with me?”
Smithy leaps off the couch and begins pacing back and forth. This really is bothering him. I’ve never seen him like this. Normally he’s so confident and easy going.
‘You know he hides his true feelings most of the time,’ my brain screams at me.
I reach for him and tug him back onto the couch. I hate seeing him so broken up over this.
“Travis, are you serious right now? You’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want to spend a day on this planet without you around.”
“Are you sure? You seemed like you just wanted me to leave earlier. And then when I got here, you weren’t thrilled to see me.” He stares down at my hand still holding onto his forearm.
“At the stadium, it was awkward. You flirt, but I know it isn't real; you’re just being you. But it makes it weird for me when people ask if there’s something going on between us. I answer questions and have to insist we’re just friends every single time I'm seen with you in public.”
I give him a few seconds to process that. He still won't meet my gaze, but I can see his emotions flickering across his features. There’s a hint of sadness and I don’t know why.
“And when you got here, I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to open the door.”
“What the heck, Sweets?” He finally lifts his gaze to meet mine and there’s so much hurt swimming in his gray eyes. They’re darker than they normally are and I wish I could sneak into his head and know what’s going through it right now.
“I’m majorly stressed about this article. Bill’s pushing for something speaking against Owen.”
“You can't do that!” He sits up so quickly he almost falls off the couch.
“I'm not going to,” I try to soothe him, but I'm not sure anything can calm him down tonight. “I’m going to report the truth and the truth is Stubbs’ is an asshole. He’s always treated me poorly and I don’t have a problem sharing that with the world.”
“You never told me that.” Smithy’s brows form a deep frown. “What did he do?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over and I don’t need to deal with him again.” I wave off his concerns. “We’re fine though, Tavis. You don’t have anything to worry about. I'm not going anywhere. I'm in your life for the long haul, unless you want to kick me out.”
“Never, Sweets. I want to keep you forever.”