Prologue
Lia
Seven Years Ago…
“I love you.”
The words had just…fallen out of my mouth. I hadn’t stopped to think about them, nor was I worried about how my best friend, Zeke Conner, would interpret the statement.
In my more-than-slightly-inebriated state, I just didn’t care about what might happen tomorrow. Or the next day. I was in some kind of lovely live-in-the-moment reality, and the only thing that seemed to matter was finally letting Zeke Conner know exactly how I felt.
I had no idea why it was suddenly of the utmost importance that Zeke be informed that he was not only my best friend, but the subject of every single erotic fantasy and wet dream I’d ever experienced over the last several years.
I’d done a very good job at keeping those carnal secrets to myself before I’d gone barhopping with Zeke tonight, and sampled what seemed like every single cocktail in a bartender’s handbook.
Was it so important because I would have never said those words had I not been three sheets to the wind, and I wanted to get them out before I was sober again?
Yeah, most likely.
Sober, I was almost certain that my fear of losing Zeke as a friend would keep me silent. I’d just keep pretending like I didn’t want to get down and dirty with the guy who had been my best friend and confidant since I was barely fourteen years old.
But I’m not that adoring kid anymore, that girl who had initially looked up to Zeke like he’s some kind of protective big brother.
It was my twenty-first birthday, dammit. Even though Zeke would probably always be my hero, it had become absolutely impossible not to see him as the hottest guy on the planet, too.
“I love you, too, my adorable, drunken little friend,” Zeke answered indulgently as he hoisted me onto my bed.
I watched as he patiently removed the stupid high-heeled shoes that had hindered my ability to walk on my own in the first place.
Maybe wearing those fuck-me shoes had been a big mistake. I was more of a comfortable sneakers kind of female, so my practice at prancing around in a pair of high stilettos was somewhat limited. I think I’d done okay at the beginning of the evening, but somewhere around my third drink…or was it my fourth?...I’d started to get a little wobbly.
“Better?” Zeke asked as the second shoe hit the floor, and he started rubbing the arches of both of my feet.
A tiny whimper of pleasure escaped from my lips as his strong fingers dug into those aching muscles for several minutes before he finally tucked my body between the covers, and pulled the sheet and comforter over me.
“Zeke? Did you hear me say that I love you?”
“Yep,” he acknowledged as he sat down on the bed. “I told you that I loved you, too, Jellybean. Did you miss that?”
I grimaced as he grinned down at me, making it perfectly obvious that he was just humoring me.
Okay, maybe I needed to try again, so he’d really understand what I meant. “I want to have sex with you,” I confessed, my words sounding a little slurred, but he ought to get what I meant this time, right? How much blunter could I possibly get?
His grin grew ever broader. “Everybody wants to have sex when they’re drunk, Lia, and honestly, sometimes we’re not all that picky about how or who that happens with when we’re shitfaced.”
I frowned at him. Here I was, spilling my guts to him, and he wasn’t taking me seriously. At all. Judging by the teasing smile on his face, he wasn’t buying a word I said.
I sighed, and shot him a displeased glare.
Okay, so maybe he had good reason for doubting the words of a drunk woman.
I folded my arms across my chest, meeting Zeke’s sexy blue-eyed gaze with my own stubborn stare of determination. “I don’t want to have sex with you just because I’m drunk,” I informed him. “You might be my best friend, but I’d have to be blind not to notice how ridiculously gorgeous you are, too. I don’t want to just have sex with anybody because I’m plastered. I only want to have sex with you.”
A small smile still lingered on those sexy lips of his as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’m damn glad it’s me who’s with you right now, Jellybean,” he mumbled against my skin. “Any other guy would have you naked and on your back right now.”
I grasped the front of his button-down shirt with one hand before he could move away, and used the other to poke an exasperated index finger into his chest. “Will you please stop calling me that ridiculous nickname, and stop treating me like a child who has no idea what I want,” I huffed indignantly.
Zeke had been calling me Jellybean since I was fourteen, and he’d discovered my love of almost every flavor of Jelly Bellies. Okay, so maybe I still had a thing for those stupid gourmet jelly beans, and a flavor I associated with almost every emotion or occasion, but I was over that silly nickname.
I watched as his expression changed, his face so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath as he let out a masculine sigh. “I never realized the nickname hurt you, Lia,” he said huskily. “It was never meant as anything more than a term of endearment.”
My heart somersaulted inside my chest as his tender, contemplative gaze swept over me. I had a love/hate relationship with that look.
I loved the fact that Zeke always cared enough to try to read my emotions.
And…I hated it because I’d never seen anything except concerned friendship in that assessing glance.
Exasperated, and remorseful that I’d snapped at him, I released his shirt and let him move away. “You never hurt me, Zeke, and sometimes I like it when you call me Jellybean because I know it’s meant to be…affectionate,” I confessed. “I guess I’m just being pissy because I’m trying to tell you something from my heart, and you’re treating me like I have no idea what I’m talking about.”
I shivered as he reached out and pushed a wayward lock of blonde hair from my eyes, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he performed the loving gesture. “You’re out of your head, Lia. You know I have complete respect for anything you have to say, but I was also the guy who watched you put away nearly as many drinks as a college frat boy could handle tonight. So yeah, maybe I’m not taking you seriously at the moment because I’ve been just as shitfaced as you are right now, and when I was, nothing I said really made sense. I’ll be surprised if you even remember any of this tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes like a sulky adolescent, and flopped back onto my pillow. I shot Zeke a look that probably would have killed him if the daggers coming from my eyes were actually real weapons.
Unfortunately, Zeke didn’t even flinch at my furious stare. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are when you’re drunk angry?” he asked, his deep baritone so cajoling that I knew he was trying to tease me out of being pissed off.
I didn’t answer.
“Come on, Lia,” he coaxed. “You know it kills me when you’re angry at me. Give a guy a break. I did carry you when your feet got tangled up with your high heels, right? Not that I’d ever mind carrying you when you couldn’t walk, but you could at least toss a couple of brownie points in my direction.”
I pulled my gaze away from his face because I knew what was coming. The two of us rarely had big disagreements, but on the rare occasions when we had, Zeke would hound me relentlessly until he found a way to get me laughing again.
It had never taken him very long to accomplish that mission, either. One glance at the silly, puppy dog look he always used to get me to relent usually did the trick.
Damn those sexy eyes of his that could speak volumes without him saying a single word. Once those slightly pleading baby blues caught and locked onto my gaze, I always caved in like a building that had been hit with a massive amount of dynamite.
Not. This. Time.
My eyes stayed stubbornly planted on my bedroom wall. I didn’t feel like laughing right now.
He got to his feet. “Okay, so maybe you need a little more time?” he asked hesitantly before he started to stroll toward the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” I yelled irritably to his retreating figure before I flopped back against my pillow.
“I’ll be back,” he called.
I tried to decide if the bed was really starting to spin, or if it was just my imagination, as I listened to him rummage around in the kitchen.
It wasn’t like it was difficult to hear every move he made.
My new apartment was tiny, but I loved it. I’d just moved out of my grandmother’s house a few weeks ago because I’d gotten promoted to manager at the coffee shop I worked in.
Someday, I desperately wanted to open my own place, but in the meantime, I was learning everything I could about the business of all things coffee. When the time came for me to launch my own store, I was going to be ready, and I planned on giving customers a coffee paradise that would keep bringing them back for more.
I sighed as Zeke sauntered back into the room. It wasn’t easy having a male best friend who looked like him. Especially not when I wanted to be so much more than just his friend. How could I not? He was so damn hot that just looking at him was torture. His thick, sandy hair was just willful enough to be sexy rather than messy, and it was still hard to decide if Zeke’s hair was light brown or blond. Truthfully, it was both, and those various shades and highlights threaded together so naturally that he could be classified as either one. Add a pair of soulful blue eyes that seemed like they were ever changing from indigo to turquoise. Top those off with a strong jawline, great bone structure, and that was Zeke Conner.
Really, with a face like his, was it fair that he’d been blessed with a body worth salivating over, too? He was tall, broad, and incredibly fit. He wasn’t bodybuilder muscular. I knew he wasn’t into pumping iron, but Zeke was ripped because there were very few physical activities that he didn’t enjoy and excel at while he was doing them.
Honestly, putting the fact that the guy had won the genetic lottery aside, one of Zeke’s most endearing qualities was the fact that he was just an all-around…nice guy. Unlike some other gorgeous guys I’d met, Zeke wasn’t focused on his physical appearance, nor did he act like he noticed that he turned a lot of female heads whenever we went anywhere together. He was that guy who’d do anything he could to help a friend or a perfect stranger. The kind of man anyone would be lucky to call their friend.
Someone I’ve always been fortunate to call my best friend.
There were so few things that I couldn’t discuss with Zeke. He’d push me up when I was down, laugh with me when I was happy, and support me when I needed someone to be there for me. Maybe the only thing I’d never been straight with about was the way my feelings had changed for him over the years.
Correction, I’d never been able to share that with him…until tonight. Which, apparently, might as well have never happened since Zeke didn’t believe me, anyway.
“I know you’re probably still mad at me, but drink some of this, and take these,” he insisted as he sat on the bed and handed me a bottle of water. He put a few more bottles on the bedside table.
I held my hand out unsteadily, and he took it so he could tuck the aspirin into my palm and close my fingers around them.
I took the pills because he seemed to be waiting for me to do it, and gulped down some healthy slugs from the water bottle he handed me.
He nodded toward the bottle with an expectant look. “Drink water as long as you’re awake. Lots of it. It will help flush the alcohol and toxins out of your system. I’ll be back in the morning with some food, whether you want to talk to me or not,” he said gruffly. “You’ll probably end up with one hell of a hangover, so you’ll need to put something into your stomach in the morning.”
I blinked as I looked at him, trying to stop the tears that were suddenly welling up in my eyes from falling. He was obviously done with trying to tease me out of silence, and it didn’t take a completely functioning brain for me to sense that he was actually…hurt.
Zeke and I had always had some kind of weird connection that felt like we could actually pick up on each other’s emotions. Not in some odd psychic way. The bond was more instinctive than otherworldly, a unique closeness between two people who really cared about each other.
My heart sank, and I hated myself for being a bitch to the one person who’d been there for me every single time I’d needed him. The friend who was still trying to take care of me even though I’d hurt his feelings.
Maybe we weren’t lovers.
Maybe Zeke would never want me the same way I wanted him.
Maybe it was painful to look at him sometimes and know that we’d never be anything more than best friends.
But…I’d rather suffer through some of that crap than not have Zeke in my life at all.
“I’d better take off,” Zeke said awkwardly as he rubbed his hands over his jean-clad thighs before he started to stand.
“Don’t,” I said in a breathless voice as I put a hand on his forearm. “I’m not angry anymore, Zeke. I was just frustrated because I was talking, but I felt like you weren’t hearing me.”
“Oh, I heard you,” he said with patient humor in his tone. “But I know it’s the alcohol talking, Lia.”
“It’s not.” Impulsively, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I want you, Zeke. I have for a long time. I’ve just been afraid to say it.”
I felt his shoulders tense. We were suddenly face-to-face, so close that all I had to do was close the minimal distance between us and I’d finally have his mouth on mine.
Wanting Zeke had become a habit I couldn’t break, and a dream I couldn’t seem to stop coveting.
His blue eyes turned stormy and turbulent as he stared at me. “It’s not happening, Lia. I wanted to take you out to the bars so that I could watch out for you on your birthday. I don’t want this, and neither do you. Being drunk makes everything look different. You won’t feel the same way in the morning. Trust me. I’d rather have you angry right now than for you to hate me for the rest of your life because I took advantage of you when I knew you were hammered.”
I closed my eyes as he leaned forward and kissed my forehead in the same friendly way he always did.
Disappointment flooded my entire being. He was wrong. I wasn’t going to feel differently in the morning. I’d learn to hide my emotions again when it came to Zeke, but those feelings would always be there. I could only hope that when I was sober, I’d be capable of burying them so deeply that they never saw the light of day again.
He gently tugged my arms away from him and stood as he grumbled, “Your phone is on the bedside table. Call me if you need me.”
I already needed him, but he’d just firmly and soundly pushed me away. “Okay,” I mumbled, feeling totally dejected.
Leave it alone, Lia. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t feel the same way. If all he wants is friendship, just be his friend. It’s better than losing him completely.
Zeke didn’t say another word as he exited the bedroom. I heard the apartment door open and close a few moments later.
I had no doubt he’d locked up since he had a key, and Zeke was nothing if not thorough in his desire to make sure I was always safe.
I flopped back onto my pillow again, and instantly regretted the abrupt motion because it made me dizzier than hell.
My emotions were running rampant, and now that Zeke was gone, I didn’t even attempt to suppress any of them. Tears leaked from my eyes as I realized how much it hurt that I’d just been soundly rejected by the guy I wanted more than anyone else in the world.
He doesn’t want me back.
I let out a strangled sob, and then another, releasing all my pain and tormented grief before I literally cried myself to sleep.
*******************
The next morning, Zeke did come back with breakfast, just like he’d promised, and I was definitely hung over.
My feelings for Zeke hadn’t changed, but I was mortified that I’d confessed them all to him, and even more embarrassed because he’d very firmly let me know that he didn’t see me as anything other than a friend.
For God’s sake, I’d blatantly thrown myself at him, and forced the poor guy to back away in utter horror.
I knew Zeke thought I didn’t remember what had happened the night before, and because it eased my embarrassment, I wasn’t about to correct that false assumption.
Zeke and I were friends. Good friends. Best buddies. And the line I’d crossed the night before was horrifying to me the following morning, once the liquor wasn’t taking away all of my inhibitions anymore.
I stuffed the adolescent emotions I’d revealed the night before back inside me so forcefully that I knew I’d never bring up the subject again. Like it or not, I had to accept that Zeke and I weren’t meant to be anything other than best friends. Ever.
I had Zeke’s friendship, and because he wanted nothing to do with a more intimate relationship, our friendship was always going to have to be enough.
I couldn’t say that I didn’t feel a little awkward after my drunken confession, but a week later, Zeke’s college break was over, and he headed back to Harvard.
I threw myself into work, hyper focused on my own goals.
Luckily, the mistake I’d made on my twenty-first birthday was soon just a crappy memory that I didn’t allow myself to think about, and my friendship with Zeke remained solid.
Staying in the friendship zone was enough for many years. I managed to successfully convince myself that my carnal feelings for Zeke had just been the product of a very painful crush that went away as I got older and more mature.
I fooled myself with that perfectly rational explanation until a time, many years later, when I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore…
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
