Page 69 of Until We're More
“Shush and let them enjoy it,” Brooklyn said, and Liam lifted his hand behind me, I suspected to flip off his brother.
My phone dropped to my lap as I released my grip on it. Later I’d check to see how the photo turned out, but Liam didn’t kiss halfway, and the desire to fully participate won out over trying to take a perfect photo.
“Good night, you two,” Brooklyn said, and I vaguely noticed everyone filing out of the office.
Once they were gone, Liam pulled me onto his lap, and I happily went.
“That was nice how they gave us our space,” I said.
“No, they just managed to slip out before it was time to clean up the mess.”
I laughed, and then Liam renewed our make-out session. My breaths became his, I no longer knew where I stopped and he began, and somewhere in the middle of another perfect night with him and another perfect kiss, I wondered what would happen if we could go on like this for a few more months…
A year…
Longer.
Chapter Thirty
Chelsea
The last thing I wanted to do today was throw a stupid jewelry party. I’d tried to convince myself that with Liam so busy, it’d be nice to have something to occupy my Saturday, but the problem with telling yourself something you didn’t believe was that your brain acted like a lie detector, buzzing obnoxiously loud with each less-than-true fact.
Maybe it’ll end up being fun.
Buzz.
Maybe this will be the business idea that sticks.
Buzz.
Maybe my mom and I will finally have some type of bonding moment…
No buzz, but not a lot of faith that’d happen, either. I’d love if we could have one semi-good interaction, though, and if there was even a chance, I could suck it up and deal.
Just as I was about to leave the apartment, George heaved—right on the rug, missing the hardwood by a matter of inches. “Seriously, dude?”
I quickly cleaned it so Liam wouldn’t have to deal with it when he woke up, and my cell vibrated against my hip as I was washing my hands. I wiped my palms on the thighs of my jeans and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“You’re bringing food, right?” Mom said. “Apparently people expect finger foods at parties like this.”
“Which is why I texted you days ago to remind you to pick some up.”
“I didn’t get to the store this week. Can’t you grab food on your way?”
There went another fifty or so dollars. My mouth opened, and I thought maybe I’d had enough practice being assertive to tell her sure, but I’d need reimbursement, only all that came out was, “Sure.”
“Hurry. The place still needs straightening before people show up.”
Translation: The house was a mess and I’d end up cleaning.
“You’d better get started, because if I have to go to the grocery store, we’re going to run out of time.”
“It shouldn’t take that long to buy a few pre-prepared trays, Chelsea. This is the only thing I’ve asked you to do in the entire month you’ve been here.”
False, but who was counting.
Actually, I was. I had less than two weeks left, most of which Liam would spend doing intensive training, and I was wasting one of the precious Saturdays I had left throwing a party with merchandise I couldn’t care less about. Funding it, too.
