Lost to You

Book 1: The Regret Series

by A.L. Jackson

Genres: Literary Fiction; Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

People come into our lives. Some stay, and many go. Some build us up, while most tear us down. They become our friends, our enemies, our lovers, our tormentors. Christian Davison came into mine, and I knew I’d never be the same.

To Elizabeth Ayers, New York City had always been a dream. She’s worked her entire young life to make it here.

Groomed to one day take over his father’s law firm, attending Columbia University was Christian Davison’s only option.

Neither wanted anything more until they sat across from each other at a café table after being paired as study partners. Christian wants her, but Elizabeth knows better than to give into their intense attraction. Yet there is little she can do to stay away.

Lost to You and Take This Regret can be read as Stand-Alone Novels. Recommended reading order: Lost to You, Take This Regret, If Forever Comes

Release date: June 2, 2014

Publisher: A.L. Jackson Books Inc

Print pages: 258

Sample

 

one

CHRISTIAN

 

She sat across from me, this beautiful girl who had to be both the cutest and sexiest thing I’d ever seen. A rich tenor rang in her words, this modest kind of confidence that sucked me in, while her cheeks seemed to continually light with a gentle flush when she said anything that embarrassed her in the slightest way.

A sublime contradiction, self-assured and shy.

How ironic it was her.

But really, I shouldn’t have been all that surprised. I always knew what I wanted the moment it saw it.

Shifting against the hard wood of the chair, I leaned forward and struggled to pay attention to the words she spoke as I stared, mesmerized by that perfect mouth.

One elbow was propped on the table, her head tilted to the side as she supported it with her fingertips. Sun-streaked waves of dark blonde hair fell down around one side of her heart-shaped face as she thumbed through the thick textbook resting on the table between us.

Concentration edged her brow, her pouty lips pulling into a thin line whenever she became engrossed in something she read.

“Do you think you’re up for this?” she asked, sounding overwhelmed.

“Definitely.”

No question.

I was up for all kinds of things.

Last night, I’d shared two short emails with her, and we’d arranged to meet at this little café during the time we both had a break in our classes.

Of course, at that time, I had no idea who my American Government study partner would turn out to be. The little description she had given, I’d scribbled on the note that was now crumpled in my front pocket.

Elizabeth Ayers, long, blonde hair.

At the bottom, I’d jotted down her cell phone number.

Yeah, I’d be holding on to that.

A groan of apparent dread slipped through her lips, and the sound almost caused me to release one of my own.

“Are you sure? Because have you looked through this syllabus?”

She glanced up, then back at the small stapled pack of papers laid out between us. “There’s going to be a ton of memorization. I’m pretty sure this is going to be a pretty difficult class,” she said seriously, completely focused on the information she was devouring as her eyes roved over the page.

“You have no idea how happy I was to find that sign-up sheet for a study partner. I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford to get a bad grade in this class.” She scribbled something in her notebook, licked her lips, rambled mostly to herself.

And I just stared.

Fifteen minutes ago, before I’d walked through the door of the café and seen her, I’d been all wrapped up in this grade, too. I’d been just as worried about who my partner would be. I’d figured it’d be my luck to get paired with some loser who would take advantage of my time and my hard work. I’d have dealt with it, too, sucked it up and worked my ass off because I had no other choice.

There was no way in hell I’d give my dad another reason to ride me because I had a grade slipping below his approval.

But no, I’d walked through the door and it was her.

Since then, I’d had a really hard time focusing on anything but the fluid lilt of her voice and the amber warmth of her soft brown eyes.

Shock had frozen me in the doorway when I walked through the door of the café and was met with the face of the same girl I hadn’t been able to shake from my mind since the first day of our American Government class last week.

When the class had been dismissed, I gathered my things and stood to leave. Looking up to make my way down the aisle of steps, I’d glimpsed just the side of her face when she’d cast a furtive glance behind her as she’d been heading out the door.

My breath had caught.

Since then that face had slipped in and out of my mind, creeping into my thoughts, making recurrent appearances in my dreams.

My reaction to her had been just as strong when I walked through the door today.

Girls didn’t do this me. And she’d managed it twice. Sitting across from her now, I knew I had to have her.

Even if it was only once.

Pausing, she looked up at me, her eyes narrowed in what appeared both humor and mild agitation. “Christian, did you hear anything I said?” she asked, her gaze wandering my face for an answer. “Please tell me you’re not going to make me do all this work myself.” 

I attempted to shake off the visceral reaction that had my body itching to take what I instinctively knew would be mine. “Of course, I heard you. Class is going to be a ton of work. I’m good with that.” I grinned at her. “And no, I’m not going to make you do all the work.”

I nudged her foot under the table with mine, flashing the same smile I’d learned years ago was the surest way to get what I wanted. And what I wanted right then was her. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. I could almost feel her warmth radiating across my face in confused waves, this sweet shyness that seemed to be lacking from every other girl I’d run across since I came to this city. Lacking in every girl I’d come into contact with in the last four years, really.

I could feel the attraction that mingled with it, though it was flanked by a strong current of self-preservation.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” she said as she straightened and pitched her head to the side. She slowly tapped the backside of her pen on her notepad, studying me for intent.

Her steady gaze locked on me, as if she contemplated who or what I was, while mine was unruly, my eyes wandering on their own accord.

They traveled the curved line of her jaw, down her neck, to the expanse of perfect skin exposed above the V of her T-shirt.

Could anyone blame me that I wanted to bury my face there?

I wondered how long it’d be before she let me.

When I brought my attention back up, her expression had shifted and she sat back, a knowing smirk settling on her face, though it seemed to be hiding something deeper in the warmth of her honey eyes.

It looked a whole lot like disappointment.

An unfamiliar feeling curled in my stomach.

Guilt.

I looked away, down at my hands clenched together on the table in front of me.

Everything about her swam with innocence, but her eyes were too sharp to speak of naivety. She knew exactly what I was thinking as my gaze caressed the soft slope of her neck. Most girls would be crawling all over me by now, but Elizabeth looked like maybe she’d just decided she didn’t want anything to do with me.

Swallowing, I tried to reel myself in.

I was fucking this all up, and I had no idea why I cared.

But I did.

I mean, I didn’t want a relationship or anything, but I wanted . . . something. The expression on Elizabeth’s face told me she’d already decided what that was.

Yeah. Definitely fucking this up.  . . .

She went back to flipping through the pages, meticulous as she mapped out our study plan for the semester. She asked me several questions about my strengths, my schedule, when and where I preferred to have our study sessions.

Even though she was so obviously worried about her grade, there was no doubt in my mind she was going to ace this class.

“Where are you from, Elizabeth?” The words were abrupt, and I shifted in my seat, leaning farther across the small table with my elbows digging into the wood, edging her direction.

Honey kissed every inch of her—her hair, her eyes, her skin—and I knew she couldn’t be from around here.

“Uh . . . San Diego,” she said almost absently, absorbed in the words she wrote, before she surprised me by stopping and looking up at me with a wistful smile. “I lived there my whole life. This is the first time I’ve been out of California. I still can’t believe I’m in New York City. It’s crazy.”

With a small, contented shake of her head, she bit at her lip and picked up where she’d left off, the fluid sweep of her hand across the paper as she planned.

“This is the first time you’ve been out of California?” Incredulity dropped from my mouth. How was that even possible?

I’d traveled the world with my parents, forced to go on trip after boring trip. When I was young, I would get excited as I sat in a first-class seat on the plane, antsy to get into the air, to see new things—for my father to be there.

But soon I realized it was always the same.

Me stuck alone in a huge hotel room, playing my old Nintendo Game Boy with a nanny I didn’t even know, while my parents went off to do whatever they did.

Vague memories of my mother’s promises lingered in my mind, but they were always an excuse, a lame apology that next time she would take me sightseeing or to a theme park or some other cool place I wanted to go.

By the time I was fifteen, whenever they went out of town, I refused to go with them.

“I guess that’s not normal for most people,” she said, “but my mom raised me and my sisters by herself, so there wasn’t a lot of money left for vacations.” She lifted her head and I could see her face. A gentle casualness framed her mouth, something that spoke of respect and grace.

My mother would have rather died than admit she lacked the money for something. But here was this girl who couldn’t be more than eighteen, laying it all out, setting her private world on display.

And without an agenda.

A tiny laugh slipped through Elizabeth’s lips. “But we always had our beach.”

For a second, sadness clouded her features, an almost indiscernible twitch of her muscles.

“You miss it,” I blurted through a whisper. It wasn’t a question. I felt it as it suddenly saturated the air around us.

Shrugging, she began to doodle on the margin of her notepad. “That obvious, huh?” She grimaced a smile. “It just kinda hit me a couple of days ago. I’ve never been away from home, and here I am, all the way across the country with no friends or family. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I worked my entire life to get here, and I’m beyond thankful for it.”

She wet her lips, swallowed, and averted her gaze as she hunched her shoulders. “I just really miss my mom.”

Something that resembled pain struck me deep in the chest. I was so far out of my element, a million miles from what I knew.

What I knew were girls who wanted the exact thing I wanted.

Ones who climbed in my bed without a second thought.

Our intentions were never dishonest, and that was where it always ended. I never pretended I would give them any more. And they never pretended they wanted anything more from me, either.

But right then, the only thing I knew was I really wanted to hug this girl.

I didn’t even know her, though it didn’t take a lot for me to realize I wanted to.

“Hey,” I said as I leaned in low to capture her gaze, sliding my palm across the table to rest next to her notebook. My fingers twitched, and I resisted the urge to take her hand that lay an inch away. “You’re not alone.”

I raised a brow, lightening my tone in hope of lightening her mood. “Just think of all the time you’re going to have to spend studying with me.”

Her head was still bowed when she laughed and looked up at me from under the hedge of hair that had fallen like a veil to the side of her face, though the sadness that had temporarily hazed her expression was gone.

She smiled, and it was as if I could see everything inside of her.

In that moment, I had this strange sense that I knew her better than I’d ever known anyone, even though I really didn’t know her at all.

Elizabeth was strong and driven, incredibly intelligent, but what was most apparent was she was genuinely kind.

She emitted a slight snort and raised her own brow. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, Christian.”

It was all tease and truth, playful words loaded with innuendo that confirmed she’d already made assumptions about me.

“How about you?” she asked. “You’re from here?”

“Nah, I’m from Virginia.”

“Virginia.” She seemed to ponder it as if it were some foreign, exotic place. “So what brought you to New York?”

I laughed low, but it lacked any humor. “I’ve known I would be going to Columbia since I was a little boy.”

There was never any choice. Anything less and all my father’s careful grooming, priming me for the future he’d picked out for me, would have all been in vain.

Frowning, she reached out to wrap her slender fingers around her coffee mug and sipped at it as she waited for me to continue.

I answered her as simply as I could. “My dad went here.”

“Ah.” She nodded as if she understood what I meant, as if she recognized she’d hit a nerve. She looked like she was tempted to ask me more.

I quickly changed the subject. My parents were the last thing I wanted to talk about. “So what about you? Why New York?”

She got that wistful smile again, her eyes soft and her words softer. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but have you ever had a place that just became a fairy tale to you?”

I blinked, not really understanding, but wishing I could. I offered a little shrug. “No. Not really.”

Definitely not.

She reddened again, dipping her chin in the way she did every time she seemed to get self-conscious. “New York has always been like that for me, from the time I was a little girl. I always thought it had to be the most amazing place in the world. Then when I decided I wanted to be an attorney, I knew it had to be Columbia.”

“Wait . . . what? You’re pre-law?”

She nodded.

Could she be any more perfect for me?

And where the hell did that thought come from?

“Me too,” I said.

She sat up, both of us more excited than we probably needed to be. “Really?”

“Yeah . . . you know, my dad’s headed a firm for years. Real estate. I’m going to take over for him when he retires.”

“Oh God . . . that’s amazing.” She was grinning, maybe happy for me. Maybe happy to find out we had more in common than we’d initially thought.

“What are you going into?” I asked.

She was still smiling, her body vibrating in her seat. “I’m not sure yet. Some sort of family law . . . I want to work for the state or a non-profit.” Passion poured from her mouth, her heavy exhale thick with emotion. She hugged herself, as if she were imagining herself there, what her future would be like. “Something where I can help kids.” Her face glowed. “An advocate of some kind. I don’t know.”

She shrugged, but clearly not because she didn’t care. It didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be right.

I was floored.

I’d never met anyone like her.

I knew what those jobs paid. Obviously, Elizabeth did too. She was after the worst position any attorney could ever have, what my father called scrounge work.

For years, he pounded it into my psyche that it would be required before I made it to the top. He wouldn’t even consider allowing me into his firm until I’d spent at least two years scrubbing. I expected it to be the two worst years of my life.

And it appeared to be Elizabeth’s ultimate goal.

For my dad, it wasn’t about giving back. It was about paying dues. He wanted to see me scrape the bottom of the barrel so I’d understand what he was giving me when he ultimately handed me a job on a silver platter.

“What?” she asked when she noticed my expression. Confusion dimmed the light that had glimmered from her face.

I stared at her for too long, my mouth dry and my palms wet. How badly I wanted to climb inside her, to really understand her, to know what it’d feel like not to be driven by money and greed.

But the last thing I wanted was her to see inside of me.

I shook my head. “Nothing. That’s just . . . really cool, Elizabeth.”

“Thanks, Christian.” A humble smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She flipped the textbook shut and shoved the syllabus into a folder. “I need to get going. Are we good to meet here on Monday, then? Same time?” she asked.

Monday was five days from now. Something inside me protested. I didn’t want to wait that long to see her again.

“What are you doing Friday night?”

“Me? Studying.” She emitted a low laugh and shook her head as if anticipating what I would say next.

“How about you go out to dinner with me instead?” I asked her anyway. I smiled that smile again.

“That’s not going to happen.” Red colored her cheeks, but she seemed to be fighting a smile. She gathered a few loose papers and tapped the bottom edge of the pile on the table to straighten them.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl you’re looking for.”

“And how do you know what kind of girl I’m looking for?”

She sat back in her chair, leveling her gaze on me.

I fidgeted under it.

All traces of that shyness were gone and set in its place was a steely determination as she lifted her chin high. “Okay then, Christian, answer me something.”

I tilted my head. I was so going to regret agreeing to this, but I couldn’t help but bite. “All right.”

A smile danced in her brown eyes. “How long have you been in New York?”

I let out the breath I was holding. Okay, that was easy. Relieved, I inched a little closer. “My parents had me moved up here at the beginning of the summer. They said they wanted me to have a chance to get used to my surroundings. I figure they just wanted me out of their hair.”

She nodded subtly, her brow cinched together as if she’d been struck with some unknown suspicion.

“Are you happy here?” whispered from her mouth as if she were asking me to reveal my darkest secret.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden intensity of her voice. “Anywhere is better than spending another minute in my parents’ house.”  I answered her honestly because I found I didn’t know how to lie to the girl sitting across from me.

For a second, her expression softened, and she just nodded as she held my gaze. I was pretty sure I’d never felt more exposed than I did in that single moment.

She cleared her throat and looked away, breaking the connection. When she looked back up, everything had shifted, the same challenge glinting in her eyes. “And how many girls have you slept with since you got here?”

Oh shit. Of course, she had to ask the one question I didn’t want to answer, voicing the judgment she’d already cast.

“Uh . . . um . . .” I stumbled, then bit down on my bottom lip, shaking my head as I released a self-conscious laugh.

She crossed her arms over her chest, the smile at the edge of her mouth lifting. “What? You can’t count that high, or you don’t want to tell me?”

Her tone was light, an easy mirth at my expense.

But I could see it, set there in the perfect lines of her face that I wanted nothing more than to trace with the tips of my fingers. She really cared about my answer. She’d baited me, strung me up, and left me with nowhere to hide.

Red-faced, I scratched the back of my neck, knowing no matter what answer I gave, it’d be the wrong one. If I lied, she’d know, and I knew there was no way she’d be okay with the truth.

“Come on, Elizabeth . . . I just asked if you wanted to go to dinner with me.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to sleep with me?”

Frustration tumbled from my mouth in a strained groan. Still, I couldn’t lie to her.

Like it wasn’t obvious how badly I wanted to take her back to my place and coax that blush from every inch of her body. “That’s not what I said.”

She leaned down to her backpack that was sitting on the floor and slid her things into it. Her face was lifted to look up at me as she did. “Well, then, Christian, I think it’s safe to say I’m not the kind of girl you’re looking for.”

The sharp peal of her zipper announced her departure.

I really couldn’t remember ever being turned down before. I’m sure I had, but it’d made little impact on me, something forgotten as I’d immediately moved on to the next and better thing.

This slammed me.

I could do nothing but stare at Elizabeth as she stood and slung her backpack over her shoulders. It wasn’t a sensation I was familiar with, the bite of rejection, but now it had me pinned to my chair.

Why the hell did this bother me so much?

She reached up and pulled out her hair trapped by her backpack, gripping the bulk of it in a fist that she ran down the length. It spread out in a soft wave over one shoulder as she released it.

I swallowed.

God, looking at this girl and not being able to touch her was complete torture.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, taking a step toward the door. She twisted to look at me, walking backward as she spoke. “If you don’t find anything better to do Friday, I’ll be studying. You have my number.”

She grinned, and all I could do was laugh. I was definitely not expecting that.

She spun back around, and for the first time, I was able to appreciate her perfect ass in those tight jeans.

No, I definitely didn’t have anything better to do on Friday night.

Shit.

I was in so much trouble.

“It’s a date,” I hurried to call after her.

She swung the door open, shaking her head with a small laugh. “No, Christian, it’s not.”

 

 

 

 

TWO

ELIZABETH

 

Oh, he was so off limits. So unbelievably off limits.

The door to the café shut behind me with an echo of his throaty laughter tickling my ears.

I hit the sidewalk, hurrying to put some space between us. I had five more minutes I could have stayed before I needed to leave for my next class, but I was getting out of there before he talked me into something I would definitely regret.

People swarmed around me as I cut a path against the flow of the approaching crowd. I muttered unheard apologies toward my feet, edging off to the right and blending in with the bodies heading back toward campus.

I hiked my backpack higher and tried to rid my mind of him.

There was no way I could allow myself to get lost in this guy, and by the thoughts that smile had left swirling through my head—that stomach-flipping, heart-lurching, earth-shattering smile—I knew just how easily I could.

Oh God.

Christian Davison had to be the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen.

The second I noticed him walking through the door, I’d been caught in the darkness concealing his face, the halo of light streaming in behind him partially casting his face in shadows.

It was as if my body knew what hid behind them was worth waiting to discover.

And damn, if it wasn’t right.

The door had slipped shut when he inched forward, swallowing the shadows and revealing an unruly shock of the blackest hair I’d ever seen. Pair that with those blue eyes, and I was lost.

They were so intense.

So unsettling.

His jaw was all sharp angles and hopelessly losing the battle with a coat of coarse stubble that was just as dark as the hair on his head.

But his mouth was flirty and soft—full—something to smooth out the severity of everything else.

It was the first time in my life I’d had the urge to reach out and touch a complete stranger, to run my fingertips over his jaw, maybe across his lips, wondering how his skin would feel under mine—wondering how I would feel doing it.

For a moment, he’d searched the room, before recognition had dawned on his face when his eyes landed on me, his stride purposed as he’d walked my direction.

Each step he’d taken had radiated confidence, those lips curving with an arrogance as he approached.

It only took a couple of seconds for me to understand why his presence had seemed to fill up the entire room. Why he’d seemed to stop time when he walked through the door.

The guy was completely full of himself.

It’s not like I was all that experienced, but I wasn’t stupid, either. I knew exactly what Christian wanted. It had gleamed in his eyes and rippled through his muscles. I wasn’t opposed to guys—to having a boyfriend or someone who cared about me.

What I was opposed to was giving myself to someone like him.

The man would own me with one passing touch, and I was certain that’s exactly what it would be.

Passing.

The last thing I needed my first year in college was to get my heart broken by a boy who was undoubtedly after one thing. I didn’t work this hard to get here to get my heart trampled.

After all the sacrifices I had made I wasn’t about to do something so foolish.

Giving up on most activities my friends had reveled in—the parties, the shopping, the fun—in favor of studying and striving to win every scholarship I could earn.

The extra hours my mother had worked to scrape together a few extra dollars, every grant I’d applied for, and every student loan I had to one day pay back.

I’d worked too hard to waste my time here.

A complication like Christian Davison was something I definitely didn’t need.

But man, was he pretty.

The really irresponsible side of me thought it’d be worth the risk.

Something reckless and completely unlike me to add to the list of cherished college memories.

A fling with a boy who would so obviously make me forget myself.

One glimpse of his sure hands and strong body left no question that he would make me experience things I’d never experienced before.

A shiver traveled down my spine and pooled somewhere in my stomach.

Shaking myself out of it, I forced that dangerous train of thought aside.

I knew myself better than that. It wouldn’t be a cherished memory, but something that would eat at me for years.

I didn’t do flings.

I fell in love, and falling in love with someone like Christian was a mistake I couldn’t afford.

But if I could somehow put the unknown longing he created in me aside, I realized I liked him. I liked the way he seemed to get lost in thought, disappearing somewhere deeper beneath the façade I doubted few people ever penetrated. I could almost feel it, an undercurrent of vulnerability there beneath his perfect exterior.

Maybe that’s what he needed, someone to look past that gorgeous face and his arrogant smile. Maybe he needed a friend in this city as much as I did.

We’d see.

 

~

 

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Every time I stepped out my apartment door, I still found myself in awe, amazed by this city. As much time as I’d spent hoping for it—working for it—there was a part of me that never believed I’d make it.

Even though living here was a lifelong dream, it had taken some getting used to. The mass of people at every turn. The buildings that towered on every side.

There were times when I felt closed in, like the sky could crash down on me and I’d have nowhere to run. But for the most part, I loved it and reveled in this city that I had only known in pictures and movies.

When my last class of the week let out on Friday, I wound my way through the crowds toward my apartment. I’m sure I appeared a tourist, my head raised as I soaked up the details of every building and landmark.

My building was a drab block of gray brick, glued between two taller buildings on each side. I jogged up the stairs to the second floor. Turning the key in the lock, the door opened to my small studio apartment.

Well, small didn’t really describe it.

A twin bed was pushed lengthwise up against the far wall to the right, and a miniature kitchen lined the opposite wall to my left. Straight back was the only separate room—a bathroom so small I could fit it in my back pocket.

But I loved it.

It was mine, my own space, a reward for what I’d worked so hard to achieve.

Crossing the five steps to the other end of the room, I sighed in satisfaction and dropped my backpack to the bed, shrugged out of my jeans, and pulled on some black yoga pants.

If I had to spend my Friday night studying, I wanted to be comfortable.

Flopping onto my unmade bed, I dug out the books I needed from my bag.

Afternoon light filtered in through the window, wrapping the room in a cozy glow. I snuggled up and hunkered down. In order to stay in New York, I had to keep all my scholarships, so I couldn’t risk letting any of my grades slip.

I dove into my first class, reading through the materials that were due the next class period.

Late afternoon bled into evening, time passing quickly. The room had begun to darken, and I reached over to twist the switch to the small lamp that rested on the floor next to the bed.

The light bulb flickered on.

A dim light seeped up the back wall and illuminated my book. I figured I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I changed to my most dreaded subject—math. If there was one subject that would ruin me, math was it. I flipped to the correct chapter.

My mouth moved slowly as I struggled to absorb the instructions and somehow make sense of the numbers.

I looked to the ceiling and groaned.

Completely hopeless.

My phone rang from the front pocket of my backpack. It was a welcomed distraction.

Mom called me almost every evening, and I was anxious to hear her voice, for her to tell me she missed me as much as I missed her.

Unzipping the pocket, I rummaged around to pull the phone free and glanced at the screen.

But no, it wasn’t her.

I frowned as I stared at the number lit up on the screen. It was a number I really hadn’t anticipated seeing tonight.

Actually, I was kind of shocked.

It didn’t mean his face hadn’t fluttered in and out of my consciousness over the past week or that I had forgotten that smile. It just meant when I made the offer, I never really believed he’d take me up on it.

 A flicker of excitement sparked in my stomach. I chalked it up to being lonely.

Accepting the call, I placed it against my ear.

“Hello?” I realized I was smiling. No doubt, he could blatantly hear it coloring my voice.

Ridiculous.

“Hey, Elizabeth, it’s Christian.” His voice was easy, filled with the same confidence he’d approached me with at the beginning of the week. This time it didn’t throw me. I expected it. Welcomed it, even.

“Hi, Christian. What are you up to?”

“I just got out of my last class for the day. Wanted to find out where you’re studying.”

“Um . . .” I glanced around my tiny apartment that I could only imagine was smaller than Christian’s closet.

I tried to picture him here.

Ridiculous.

“I’m actually studying at my place.” I bit at my lip, and I couldn’t help but tease, “What, no hot date for the evening?”

His voice dropped low, hinting at humor and something else I didn’t want to recognize. “What, you didn’t believe me when I said I was going to spend the evening studying with you? You’re going to learn to trust me, you know.”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so.” A current of suggestion slipped through his voice. This guy had to be the most dangerous predator walking the streets of New York City.

So why did I seem to like him so much?

I rattled off my address, then told him, “All right then. I’ll be waiting.”

Ending the call, I hopped off my small bed and ran around to pick up the dirty clothes I’d left in random piles around the room.

It wasn’t like the studio was dirty—it was just cluttered.

My arms were full of clothes when there was a tap at my door.

I tossed them into the hamper next to my bed before rushing over to unlatch it.

And just like he promised to be, Christian, in all his perfect glory, stood at my door.

Oh God.

Men should not be that pretty.

And of course, he had to unleash that smile on me. “Hey, Elizabeth.”

Again, with the stomach flip.

He shouldered his way into my apartment before I had time to step out of his way. He huffed out a weighted breath as he turned a slow circle to take in my apartment, a casual smile on his face when he turned back to me. “You don’t know how happy I am it’s Friday. How about you?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready for a little down time,” I admitted, closing the door behind us, stopping to admire him standing in the middle of my room.

He didn’t look so out of place, after all.

“I think I’m finally getting a handle on my schedule and routine.” I sidestepped around him and crossed the room, moved some papers around to make a place for him to sit down on my bed/couch. “I was pretty overwhelmed last week, but I’m getting used to it. Finding my way around the city isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

I grinned and gestured to the spot I’d cleared. “Make yourself at home. I don’t exactly have a lot of space.”

He looked around again. “Yeah . . . I kind of noticed that.”

Without any hesitation, Christian plopped down on my bed like he belonged there. Shrugging his backpack from his shoulders, he scooted back to rest against the wall, his long body sprawled across the width of the bed with his feet hanging over the edge.

Dull light glinted off the playful blue eyes looking back at me after they made a pass over my bed. “But I think we could make it work.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you wish.”

Christian just laughed.

“And don’t go knocking my apartment,” I said as I curled back onto my spot on the bed. I grabbed my textbook and pulled it onto my lap. “This place is perfect for me, don’t you think?”

He shook his head as if he didn’t understand me at all. A mild chuckle rumbled in his chest.

We both knew there was no denying my place was kind of a dump.

He sobered, his words not quite matching the confused expression on his face. “You really like it here?”

It wasn’t mocking, just an honest question as he searched my face for the truth.

“You don’t work so hard for something and not appreciate it, even if it isn’t the nicest place in the world.”

His smile was soft. “Well, I guess it’s perfect, then, Elizabeth.”

His expression shifted into something I couldn’t quite grasp, something that worked to unravel all the reservations I held twisted inside of me. The smile slipped from his mouth, his head angled as his gaze seemed to swallow me whole.

I could almost taste him, the heavy breaths he panted filling the air, diminishing the space between us.

He was a walking contradiction, flipping from this joking, easygoing guy who seemed to understand this was a study session, to this extreme intensity that threatened to set my skin on fire.

I wondered if anyone else noticed it. Wondered if they could see what simmered and churned in the blue of his eyes.

Something real and genuine and consuming. Something that left me more unnerved than I’d ever been in my life.

I struggled to curb my reaction to him, fought the part of me that liked it.

Craved it.

The part of me that wished he’d give in and succumb to what I saw so vividly playing out in his eyes.

But that would be a very bad idea.

No way could I allow him to set me off kilter in my own home. I couldn’t allow him to detract from the reason I was here or the decision I’d made on Monday.

If Christian wanted to hang out, if he wanted a friend, that was cool. I could handle that.

The truth was, I wanted him here.

But anything beyond a friendship wasn’t going to happen.

I just wasn’t really sure Christian understood the difference.

When I tore my eyes from his penetrating gaze, he dug into his backpack and pulled out its content. His casual indifference made a reappearance. “So what are we working on tonight?”

I held up my Calculus I book. “Well, I was working on my calculus assignment. Math isn’t exactly my strong point.”

This time when Christian laughed, it was all throaty and warm, comforting. “Well, you are in luck, Elizabeth, because it’s mine. Now if you can help me pass our American Government class, I think we’re going to be a pretty good team.”

His head tilted as he raised a brow at me. Those blue eyes were both earnest and playful as they traveled my face.

I fought back the blush that crept to my cheeks, the way those words sounded rolling off his tongue, the way he looked at me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

I was going to have to get used to it if I was going to be around him.

“I think I can handle that,” I said.

We settled into an easy rhythm, both of us absorbed in our work. Every once in a while, Christian would lift his head, smile in my direction, as if he needed that small connection.

I’d smile back, welcoming the calm that slipped over my skin.

It was a warmth I knew I could easily get used to.

Yeah, I really liked him here.

With that thought, I closed my calculus book with a loud smack. “Are you hungry? I don’t think my brain can process any more numbers tonight.”

I hopped off the bed and headed to the kitchen.

“Starving, actually. You ready to take me up on the offer for dinner I made Monday?”

Cocky Christian was back, his movements fluid as he slinked up behind me while I bent down to rummage through the small selection of food I had in the kitchen.

I could feel his presence behind me, larger than it should be, filling up the entire room.

“Um, no.” I glanced over my shoulder at him, unable to hold in the smile. This Christian was just so over the top, but I found he was a whole lot easier for me to handle when he acted this way.

Maybe because it wasn’t real. “I think I made that plenty clear then, didn’t I?”

“A guy can try, can’t he?” He was all tease, moving over to lean back against the one foot of counter space I had in my kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest.

“If he wants to hang out with me, then no, he can’t.” I nudged him aside.

He laughed, this melodic sound that bounced off my walls and rumbled against my chest.

I filled a saucepan with water and lit the old stovetop with a match. A ring of flames sprang to life. I set the pan over them, pulled out two packets of noodles, ripped them open, and dumped them in. The directions said to let the water boil first, but when it came to food, I was never that patient.

Christian looked horror stricken as he watched the lump of hard noodles soften and separate as the water began to boil. “What are you making?”

“It’s ramen. You know, what every poor college student in the country eats?”

Clueless, he shook his head.

Um . . . yeah . . . we were from two very different worlds.

“Are you serious? You’ve never had ramen before?” Disbelief colored my tone.

Shaking his head again, he grabbed a fork from the counter. He jabbed at the noodles that roiled in the boiling water as if they were alive, as if he were ready to protect himself if they lashed out to bite him.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Not disgusting. Delicious. Obviously, you have no idea what you’ve been missing. Just wait . . . you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His expression assured me I’d lost my mind. “Whatever you say.”

A couple minutes later, I ripped open the foil seasoning packets and mixed them in, and then poured the soup into two bowls.

Shuffling around in the drawer, I dug out two spoons and two forks and dropped them into the bowls.

I handed him one. “You’re going to love it.”

I turned around, stopping just short of the bed. I slid my back down the wall as I balanced the steaming bowl in my hands.

Settling onto the ground, I stretched my legs out in front of me.

There was no resisting the smile that broke out on my face when I looked up at Christian.

Clearly, standing there, he didn’t quite know what to do.

I liked that he could be kind of awkward. That overbearing confidence stripped away.

“Sit,” I said.

He finally gave and moved toward me, settling on the ground beside me and mimicking my position.

His eyes were intent as he watched me twirl some noodles onto my fork, as if he were eager to learn something new.

I tried not to pay attention to how close his face was to mine. How his body felt warn and safe where he sat so close to me.

I blew the lump of pasta before I brought it to my mouth.

From the side, he studied me as is chewed the noodles as if he were learning some secret meaning of life.

Warily, he copied me and tentatively brought a heaping bite to his mouth.

“Oh . . . God . . . that’s hot . . . and so good.” He went in for a second bite, making these little appreciative noises that expanded my chest.

“See.” This time I nudged his foot with mine. “You’re going to learn to trust me.”

Blue eyes gleamed back at me, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.” I couldn’t help but smirk.

We sat like that on the floor, backs against the wall, our feet stretched out in front of us, eating dinner together.

Comfortable.

Relaxed.

And it felt . . . good.

I realized how thankful I was that he was there. He’d turned what would have been another solitary night into something I was truly enjoying.

Christian released a contented groan and placed his empty bowl on the floor beside him. “Thank you for dinner, Liz.”

I rolled my head his direction and murmured, “I’m glad you liked it.”

He just nodded, turned back to face forward, and seemed to vanish somewhere inside his head.

Dense silence filled the room.

And I just waited.

Somehow, I knew he needed this. He needed someone who didn’t want anything from him. He needed someone who would just listen to him, talk to him, someone who didn’t mind sitting beside him without saying a word.

“What’s your family like?” Christian barely whispered, breaking through the silence that had taken hold.

His feet rocked back and forth in a slow sway as he tugged at the hem of his shirt.

I could feel the nerves ripple across his skin.

As if he were wondering if he could trust me with the question.

Or maybe he was questioning himself for asking it in the first place.

He tilted his head to look back at me. He was wearing the same expression that had rocked my foundation earlier.

Genuine and real and open.

It stole my breath.

I didn’t know if he’d used his question as a distraction from where ever he had been caught up in his mind or if he really wanted to know about them.

Looking at him now, my gut told me they might be related.

I swallowed, trying to prepare myself to stop into his hidden world, and found my voice. “They’re wonderful. It’s just me, my mom, and my two sisters. My mom . . . she’s strong. She taught us to be strong, to work hard for whatever we want in life.”

Christian had drifted closer, the side of his thigh pressed against mine. Tonight, his eyes didn’t stray from my face, but remained steady, locked on mine, searching.

I fought getting lost in the murky sea that was Christian Davison, in the places he didn’t allow people to invade, but seemed willing to show me now.

When he didn’t look away, I continued, “My dad left when we were young. It was rough on my mom, but she never let it ruin her. She worked so hard to take care of us. Even though she worked long hours, she always made the time to make each of us feel special. Of course, my sisters and I had to take care of the house and each other while she was at work, but it just made us all closer.”

I stuttered through a self-conscious laugh when I felt tears welling up. “We’re all really close, have always been.”

I quickly wiped the moisture away. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to get all emotional on you. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing any of them.”

I forced a smile, wondering how this moment had gone from light to heavy in ten seconds flat.

Christian seemed to have that way about him.

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to know,” he said with a gentle curve of his mouth, and I realized he’d inched away, an almost indiscernible separation, but one I knew had been purposed.

I shook myself off and turned back to look at him in the dimness of the room. “So what’s your family like?”

He lifted one shoulder, dropped it just as quick. “You know the story . . . workaholic dad, self-absorbed mom, not much to tell.”

“I’m sorry.” I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the pained lines creasing his forehead.

“Don’t be.” Christian sighed and ran his palms down the length of his thighs, breaking the tension in the air. “I should get going. This was really cool, Elizabeth. Thank you.”

I didn’t know if I should admit it, if he would take it wrong or if he would misunderstand, but I decided to tell him anyway. “I’m really glad you were here.”

Even if he did take it wrong, think I wanted something I couldn’t give him, I wanted him to know it was the truth.

“I love being in New York, but tonight was the first night since I got here that I didn’t feel so alone.” My smile was soft.

Christian had filled that place in me that needed someone.

A friend.

Someone to listen.