Page 39 of Until We're More
“Um, is everything okay with you guys?” Brooklyn asked me. As if I knew.
Actually, I knew I’d gotten irrationally angry that Liam hadn’t miraculously sensed how horny I’d been last night and done something about it. Not like I could admit that to his sister, either.
Those flowers should’ve made me happy, but all I could think was that they were from the wrong guy, and how the one I wanted would never express himself unless I pushed, and even then…
“Chelsea?”
“He’s…” I made a vague gesture with my hand. “You know how he gets.” I watched him and Finn bump the ball. It volleyed back and forth, and when it strayed off course and came our way, I was as surprised as anyone when I managed to catch it.
Liam leveled his eyes on me, extra intensity flaring through the blue. My chest tightened to the painful point, and I quickly threw him the ball. He caught it in the same detached manner he’d reverted to using since we’d exited his apartment, and then continued warming up with his brother.
“I do know how he gets,” Brooklyn said. “He’s usually a bit on the broody side, but this is a whole new level.”
Finn stripped off his shirt, and Liam followed suit, obliterating any chance of my pulse rate staying below normal. My attention snagged on the way the muscles in Liam’s arms and torso moved, all that lethal grace luring me in. How unfair was that? Shouldn’t our rocky morning and the resulting frustration coursing through me at least lessen my attraction a little?
I wished I could get my logical side to overrule my feelings, or for the ability to turn off the emotions tap the way Liam did—of course, he never had all that much flowing. It wasn’t the first time I’d wanted to drag some emotions from him or for him to have the ability to read mine better. Although that also scared the crap out of me.
But no, he alternated between stoic and broody—as his sister pointed out, so see, I wasn’t alone in noticing. “Yeah. If only he didn’t give such good brood.”
Brooklyn laughed. I’d be paranoid about accidentally admitting too much, but like at the gym, she saw right through me. Might as well be able to semi-talk to someone about it.
“I’m not asking for mushy chats where we gush nonstop about our feelings, but once in a while, I’d like to find a way inside his head without going the cracking-open method. Which sounds super gross, and please forget I said that last part.”
Brooklyn squeezed my hand. “I totally get what you’re saying. All I can do is assure you he cares. When you weren’t around, he was a hundred times broodier, to the point we could hardly stand him. And if Finn or I mentioned your name and pointed out how grouchy he was without you, he’d about bite our heads off. Finally, I took it upon myself to stage an intervention to get him to call you—I’m not even joking.”
A heaviness pressed against my chest, deflating my lungs. Was that enough? For his sister to repeatedly assure me he cared? It’d be nice to hear it from him, and to know how much and in what ways.
In order to have even a chance at that happening, I’d probably have to do some confessing of my own and I wasn’t sure my boldness lessons were quite—Wait. She had toconvincehim to call me?I’d been so hurt by our lack of communication during those few transition months, and now I wondered if he’d picked up the phone more to get his family off his back than because he missed my voice as much as I missed his.
“Are we gonna play or what?” Liam asked.
He wanted to play? Fine. We’d play stupid volleyball. Liam and Finn were the captains, their competitive nature never giving it a rest. When Liam called my name first, I was sure I must’ve hallucinated it. Which was why I remained planted in place.
“Unless you don’t want to be on my team,” Liam said, his eyebrows scrunching together as he scrutinized me, obviously still baffled about what my deal was.
“Yeah, you can be with me,” Finn said, and his brother glared at him. “Just kidding. I have no place for redheads on my team.”
That only increased the glaring, and a laugh spilled out before I could stop it. One of Liam’s eyebrows arched, and I trudged over to his side. I kept my voice low so I wouldn’t be overheard. “I don’t need a pity pick. I’m used to being chosen last.”
“Remember that thing I said about not doing things I don’t want to.”
Hope rose up, a fragile bubble.
“Besides, your assertive training isn’t over.”
Bubble effectively popped. “Right.”
Liam placed his hand on my hip. “More than that, I want you with me. I don’t wanna fight, Chels. I don’t even know why we’re fighting. Just tell me and I’ll fix it.”
Rejection stung—whether it was more perceived than not—and it didn’t help that no matter how hard I tried, my unrequited-love problem wouldn’t simply go away. This wasn’t something he could just fix, but he wouldn’t take that news lightly. And after experiencing a few hours of friction, I told myself it was a good thing he’d been thinking clearly last night. Or maybe he didn’t have to work at it. Either way, today seemed to be showing me how badly we could damage our friendship if we blurred the lines. How already being so involved would amp upeveryaspect of our relationship.
This wasn’t some guy I could go on a few dates with, see how it went, and shrug it off if it didn’t work out. Liam was the one person who’d always been there for me. He’d never called me “chatty” in that snide way others had, and although he didn’t divulge as much as I did, I always knew he was listening. That if I needed him, he’d show up.
I wasn’t being fair, and panic welled as I thought about what my life would be like if I didn’t have that with him anymore. My guaranteed time with him was too short—life was too short. “I’m PMS-ing,” I said, because, well, it was the first thing that popped into my head.
I expected him to recoil from the news and fall silent. My only serious boyfriend was a guy I’d dated most of my sophomore year at SDSU, and he’d blamed every mood or feeling I ever had on my period. Heaven forbid I mention it, though, and using it as an excuse probably just set feminism back a decade or so. But Liam leaned closer. “What do you need? Tampons? Chocolate? Pain pills?”
I blinked up at him. “You have access to those things on the beach?”
