Chapter 7
Ella
“Hey, Dad,” I say, answering his call. “You coming home soon?”
It’s Sunday, and my dad gave me the afternoon off so I could catch up on homework.
I didn’t get much done. My mind kept going to Briggs, missing him and hating him at the same time.
I’m so conflicted about Briggs. He goes from being the guy I could fall in love with to the asshole who lies to me and threatens me and turns down my very generous and forgiving offer to be friends again.
I still can’t believe he turned me down.
What a jerk. Why did I even ask? And why do I miss him? I should never want to see him again.
“I was thinking of going over to Susan’s place,” my dad says, “but I wanted to check with you first. I know we talked about going to dinner but—”
“Dad, don’t worry about. I’ll just eat leftovers. Are you going to be out late?”
“Probably not, unless we go to a movie. I’ll let you know.”
“Are you coming home to clean up before going over there?”
“I’ll clean up at her place. I left some clothes there I can change into. You sure you’re okay with this? You’ve been alone all afternoon.”
“Dad, I’m fine, and you don’t have to keep asking my permission to see your girlfriend. I think it’s great you’re spending time with her.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you later tonight.”
He’s been going to Susan’s place a few nights a week, but I didn’t know he was keeping some of his stuff there.
It’s like they’re already moving in together.
I like that he’s happy, but I didn’t think he’d move this fast with the first woman he’s dated since my mom died.
He took some of my mom’s pictures off the shelf, the ones with just the two of them.
He left the ones of my mom and me and all of us as a family, but I wonder if those will go away soon, too.
It’s probably good he’s finally letting her go, but I’m not ready yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.
A knock on the door startles me. It couldn’t be Charlotte. She’s out with Asher.
The knocking continues. I look out the living room window, but can’t see to the front. I sneak to the door and peek out the skinny window that runs along the side of the door.
There’s a guy walking away. It kind of looks like Briggs, but what would he be doing here?
I open the door. “Briggs!”
He turns around. “I didn’t think you were home.”
“I just took forever to answer. I thought it might be a serial killer.”
He smiles, and I feel a flutter in my chest. Dammit! He just smiled. He didn’t even touch me, and my heart goes crazy.
“It’s not a serial killer,” he says, walking back to me. He stops at the door. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
He could’ve just called. I almost tell him that, but then decide not to.
“You want to come in?” I ask, stepping aside.
He hesitates. “Is your dad home?”
“No.”
Briggs’ eyes lower to my body, then return to my face as he scrubs his hand through his hair. “Maybe we should just talk out here.”
“It’s hot, and I just took a shower. I don’t want to get all sweaty.”
He comes inside, and I shut the door.
“You want to sit down?” I ask.
“I’m good,” he says, looking around. He’s acting really strange.
I stand in front of him. “So what do you need to ask me?”
“I think I know who’s texting us.”
“Who is it, or who do you think it is?”
“I think it might be Ms. Higgins. The texts keep telling us to do stuff for other people or be nice to people we’d normally make fun of. That’s totally something Ms. Higgins would do. She’s one of those save-the-world type of people.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not, except when she forces people to do shit they don’t want to do.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t give to charity unless you were forced to?”
“I’m saying she doesn’t get to decide that. She’s using this to control us, which is wrong, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about. I’m here because I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I need you to find out if it’s her. She likes you more than anyone else at school, which means she’ll tell you stuff if you ask.”
“She’s not going to tell me she’s the one sending the texts.”
“She might, if she thinks you’re on her side.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not getting the texts. That tells me she’s protecting you, keeping you out of this so you don’t get in trouble.
She knows you don’t like me, or Finn and Parker, but if you play it up more, and tell her how much you hate us and how you hate when we get away with shit, there’s a chance she might confess and tell you she’s the one who was there that night. ”
“I don’t think she’d do that. She knows you and I have been getting along. She sees us working together in class. She’s not going to believe me if I tell her I hate you and want to see you get in trouble.”
“Then we’ll make her believe it. We’ll start fighting during lab. Yelling at each other. Refusing to work together.”
“We could try it, but I still don’t think she’ll tell me anything.”
“Would you just talk to her and see if you can find anything out?”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” He pauses. “That was it. That’s all I wanted to ask.”
“I finished our assignment,” I tell him, not ready for him to leave. “You want to see it?”
“You can just send it to me. I’ll look over it later.”
I nod, wishing I could make him stay, but I don’t know how. I shouldn’t even want him to stay, but I do. I miss him — more than I should — and having him here is bringing back all the feelings I keep trying to deny.
He’s looking at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he says, “Okay, well, I guess I’ll be going.”
I walk him to the door. He opens it, but instead of leaving, he stands there a moment, then closes the door and turns to me.
“Was there something else?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He looks down as he rubs his scruffy jaw. “What you said the other day . . . about being friends?”
“Yeah?” I say, thinking he changed his mind.
“I shouldn’t have left things that way. Without an explanation.”
I wait for him to continue, my pulse racing as his eyes lift to mine.
“We can’t do this, Ella. Whatever we started needed to end, not just the physical stuff, but us. Being friends. Talking. Confiding in each other. It needed to end.”
The hopefulness I felt just seconds ago is replaced by disappointment. I thought he was going to tell me he wanted to get back together. I thought he missed me, but I guess not.
“I understand,” I tell him. “I only brought up the friend thing because I didn’t want us to start fighting again. I didn’t want to go back to being enemies.”
“Maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be. Maybe we were never meant to be friends, or anything else.”
“Maybe.” I look down. “If that’s it, you can go.”
I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
When I look up at him, he seems torn and maybe a little confused. I’m confused, too. I don’t know what’s going on here, why he isn’t leaving.
“Ella.” His hands go around the sides of my face, his eyes locked on mine.
“What?”
“I lied.”
“About what?”
He kisses me, and just the touch of his lips makes my body come alive with a desire so strong I can’t control it. I want more. I want him to touch me, kiss me, be inside me.
I grab his shirt and pull him towards me as I walk backward into the house.
I stumble over something on the floor and almost fall, but Briggs catches me, then scoops me up in his arms and takes me to my room.
He sets me down, and I shove his polo shirt up, wanting it off so I can feel his smooth skin, his taut muscles, his warm body against mine.
He yanks his shirt off, then looks at me, breathing hard. “What are we doing, Ella?”
“What we’ve been wanting to do.” I look in his eyes. “I missed you. I wish I didn’t, but I did.”
“I missed you too, so fucking bad.”
I jump into his arms and kiss him, and any and all hesitation we had about doing this is gone.
Clothes are stripped off and tossed aside, and we’re in my bed.
Briggs sighs, almost in relief, at the feel of being inside me again.
I know exactly how he feels, relieved to finally stop denying myself what I wanted — and needed.
I don’t just mean the sex, but being with Briggs, the guy I’m supposed to hate but who somehow found a way into my heart, and into my soul.
I don’t understand how or why we ended up together, but questioning it doesn’t change anything. I still have feelings for Briggs — deep, strong emotions that tug at my heart when I’m not with him, and this undeniable need to be near him, to feel him beside me, to feel his touch.
Doing this with him is only going to make that need stronger and the emotions deeper, but I couldn’t tell him no.
It’s what I wanted, and I don’t want it to end.
Briggs must be thinking the same thing because he’s taking his time, moving in and out of me at a slow, steady pace as he kisses me on my lips, along my shoulder, and up and down my neck.
He whispers in my ear, telling me I’m beautiful, and hot, and how he can’t stop thinking about me.
This is the Briggs I’ve been missing, the one I fell for, the one I could love. Where has he been? I wish he’d tell me. Maybe later. Maybe this will change things and get us back to how things were.
“I don’t want this to end,” he whispers over my lips, “but shit.” He thrusts into me faster, like he’s losing control. He slides his hand between us and touches me, rubbing his fingers in just the right spot.
His touch sends me over the edge, and I gasp, my back arching up, my hands gripping the sheet.
He slides his hand out and pumps into me harder, faster, until he comes. He collapses back on the bed, and I turn and lay my head on his chest. His arm goes around me, and he smooths my hair and kisses my head.