Page 3 of Why Not Me?

Crawling into bed, I curl up on my side facing away from him. The bed dips as he lays down, his body heat warming my back when he inches closer. Lips trail kisses over my bare shoulders and rather than the tingling of excitement, I resist the urge to pull away.

“Bren, I’m exhausted and I’m meeting Blake and Dawn at the market early tomorrow morning.” A resigned sigh brushes across my skin as he moves away, lying on his back.

Closing my eyes with a sad sigh, I reach over and grab his hand. Squeezing it gently in apology, I regulate my breathing until I finally start to doze off.

It should be Brendan’s face I see behind my eyelids, but it’s Landon’s piercing gaze that taunts me well into sleep.

“Allie, come and look at this! You should totally buy this for Monique.” Blake waves me over from the booth I’m browsing in. Several people around us look at her with amusement. She’s the more boisterous of my two best friends, comfortable being the center of attention. In fact, she revels at being in the spotlight. She should’ve been an actress.

Every week the convention center fills with booths. Various vendors renting the space to show their wares. Hundreds of tables with artwork, homemade soaps, fresh baked bread, cupcakes, and anything else you can imagine.

Crossing the aisle, I grin as I see the object in Blake’s hand. It’s a small wooden jewelry box with Celtic designs intricately carved over its surface. My sister is obsessed with everything Celtic. “This is a perfect Christmas gift. I was at a loss of what to get her this year.”

Taking the box, I carry it to the vendor and pay what seems like a small amount for something so beautiful. Slipping my hand through the handle of the paper bag that is handed to me, I loop it around my wrist securely as I follow Blake over to the next booth to join Dawn.

Dawn is bent over some homemade cupcakes, her eyes glazed over as she takes in the various flavors.

“What happened to cutting back on the baked goods?” My voice is teasing. We all know Dawn will never give up cupcakes, They’re her kryptonite.

Dawn and Blake are identical twins, but they couldn’t be more different. Blake is outgoing, a physical education teacher who also teaches drama. Dawn is more reserved. She’s quiet and enjoys listening more than talking, which is why it’s surprising that she’s one of the top real estate agents in the city. I think it’s because she has amazing intuition, she can read between the lines of what people say to her and get to the root of what they want or need in a home.

“Shut up. I need them if I’m going to survive our mother’s visit.” Laughing, I wander away when I see brightly colored scarves and beanies a few booths down.

Running my fingers over the soft wool of a seafoam green and purple scarf, I debate whether I need it. Screw it, taking it off the rack, I also grab the matching beanie and wait to pay for my purchase.

Adding the bag to my wrist, I turn to join my friends as we work our way through the aisles, weaving through the crowd of people making their way down the same path we are. By the time we leave, our arms are full and all my Christmas shopping is done. I also feel much better than I did yesterday. They gave me the distraction I needed from the turmoil I’ve been facing and as I listened to them gripe about numerous dating disasters, it helped me remember just how lucky I am to have someone as wonderful as Brendan.

Hugging my friends goodbye, I wrap my arms around myself, scowling at the snow as I hike to my car. The morning with them was perfect, relaxing, and filled with laughs. Yet the sight of the white blanket shimmering in the sun still manages to sour my good mood. The parking lot is treacherous, black ice covered in a layer of fluffy snow. It’s so deceptive in its appearance. I slide a few times before I finally make it safely to my car.

After it warms up for a few minutes, I ease my way out of the stall and through the parking lot. I’ve just turned onto the side street, my car slipping a little as it tries to find its grip when a blaring horn sounds behind me moments before my car is jolted forward. My head slams into my steering wheel, dazing me.

Frantic knocking breaks through my haze, muffled words through the glass as the handle to my door shakes.

“Hey! Are you okay?” More knocking, before I hear a low, “Shit.”

Leaning back in my seat, I groan as pain shoots through my temples and down my neck. Fumbling with the handle, I swing my legs out the door and breathe in the fresh air before I look up at the person before me.

My throat seizes as I meet familiar blue eyes staring down at me in concern, a wave of dizziness causes me sway on my feet. Dizziness I’m positive has nothing to do with hitting my head.

The expression of shock on his face is probably the same look I’m wearing as I lose the ability to speak. It feels like my lungs are collapsing, every breath a painful struggle. I haven’t seen this face in seven years. Okay, that’s a lie. It’s a face that haunts me, one that I have barely been able to push aside. And even when I successfully make it a day or two without thinking of him, my dreams fill in for my mind.

Every time I think I’ve finally started to forget, a song will come on the radio or a face with just enough similarities will jar my memory and send me spinning. Landon Taylor has haunted me and my pieced together heart for the better part of a decade.

My lungs burn as I gasp in the frigid air. The familiar burning behind my eyes that’s always present when I think or dream about him. The same burn that turns into tears on the very rare occasion I succumb to curiosity and look him up on social media.

“Allie . . .” That voice, its deep resonance sending shivers down my spine as my heart begins to race. Even though it’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice, my body reacts intensely to the way he says my name. The scent of his cologne, the same cologne from my memories, assaults me. A sweet, woody fragrance, with just a hint of citrus.

I say nothing, my body is numb except for the ache in my chest as I stare at him. He left a hole that’s never quite been filled, no matter how much time passes. His eyes search mine as I drown in the memories I’ve forced myself not to think about.

Lips press against mine feverishly as he lowers me to the ground, our bodies grinding together in desperation. Voices carry through the trees, reminding me that this is a stolen moment, a risk we’re both taking.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you.” His voice is thick with need.

The damp grass is cool against my back, but the rest of my body is flushed with heat. I don’t care that there are people who will notice he hasn’t come back to the bonfire with me, I only care to satisfy this need to be close to him.

Our tongues dance together, he tastes of rum and coke, and I’m addicted. My fingers grip the long strands of his hair, pulling him into me, desperate, needy.

His lips slow against mine before he regretfully pulls away as his friends start calling his name. “I love you, Allie.”

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