Big Box Of New Adult Romance Page 13

  “I’d love to,” I said honestly. My deepest fear was that I would end up spending every night alone in my dorm room, with no friends and nothing to do. A bar with a loud band wasn’t exactly my scene, but now that I was at school, I was determined to push out of my comfort zone.

  “Adam!” a girl’s voice called across the quad. A pretty girl with long dark hair and a smattering of freckles ran up to us.

  “Oh, hey, Michelle,” Adam said. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a look of annoyance play across his face.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just walking.” He didn’t make any effort to introduce me.

  “Hey,” Michelle said warmly. “I’m Michelle.”

  “Lindsay.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  The three of us stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, we were just going back to the dorms,” Adam said pointedly.

  “Oh, me too,” Michelle said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Lindsay!” someone called. I turned around.

  Justin.

  Only this time it really was him. He was loping across the grass, his shoulders back, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of crisp khaki pants and a navy blue button-up shirt. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He looked gorgeous and my heart sped up.

  “I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later?” I said to Adam.

  “Isn’t that the guy from the hospital?” Adam asked incredulously. “The one who was getting stitched up at the same time as me?”

  “Stitched up?” Michelle asked, sounding panicked. “Why were you getting stitched up?”

  “See you later,” I said, leaving them behind as I rushed over to Justin. For a moment, I was afraid Adam was going to try to follow me, but he didn’t.

  “Hey,” Justin said.

  “Hey.”

  “I came to make it up to you.” He held out a dandelion. I grinned and took it, inhaling its sweet scent. His hand brushed against mine, and I wondered what it would feel like to have his hands all over my body. The thought shocked and excited me.

  “You don’t have to make it up to me.” I said, still holding the dandelion.

  “Just let me take you to dinner.”

  “Right now?” I’d just eaten, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Just, um, let me go change real quick.” I hesitated. Obviously I couldn’t bring him back to my dorm. “You’ll wait here?”

  “Sure.”

  I ran back to my room, taking the long way around so that I wouldn’t run into Adam and Michelle. When I got to there, Rachel was nowhere to be found.

  What was I supposed to wear out to dinner with Justin? Where were we going? He was wearing khakis and a button-up, so I grabbed a light blue summer dress out of my closet and slipped it on.

  I added a pair of cream-colored wedges, a long gold necklace, then brushed my hair and added some lip-gloss. But then I hesitated. Should I really be doing this? A weird shiver of fear slid up my spine. I had no idea who this guy was, or what he was doing here.

  Last night he was acting like a complete thug, and tonight he was dressed like an investment banker. Every part of me was screaming that this guy was bad news.

  But I didn’t care. Something about him was captivating me, pushing me toward him and whatever that entailed, even if it turned out to be bad.

  I headed out the door, and as I walked back across campus, I had to resist the urge to run. Justin was unpredictable – what if I got back there, and he was gone?

  But he wasn’t gone. He was sitting on a bench.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready.”

  ***

  We took the T to a restaurant on Stuart Street called Ferguson’s.

  It was a steakhouse, the kind of place they didn’t have in Ohio, at least not where I was from. It was dark inside, with candles on the tables and crisp white tablecloths. The maitre’d pulled my chair out for me, and I was so surprised I almost fell over.

  They filled our goblets with sparkling water, and I opened the menu.

  “Have you been here before?’ I asked.

  “No. But I’ve heard it’s supposed to be good.”

  “It looks good.” It better be, for the prices, I thought. A steak cost fifty-eight dollars. That was ridiculous.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They…ummm…the reviews for this place are excellent.”

  There was a silence as we both looked at our menus. For some reason, I realized, things were becoming awkward between us. I shifted in my seat.

  “What are you going to get?” he asked, finally.

  “Um, maybe the grilled haddock. You?”

  “Steak, definitely.”

  “Cool.” I shut my menu and folded my hands in my lap. Around us, people were drinking wine and laughing and talking. I felt ridiculously out of place.

  We lapsed into silence again. This was getting more and more awkward. It was like we were both afraid of saying or doing something wrong. Which was ridiculous, since apparently Justin had broken into my dorm room last night. How could he be worried about doing something wrong after he’d already done something like that?

  The waiter came to our table.

  I ordered first, and then Justin ordered his steak.

  “How would you like that cooked?” the waiter asked. He was a short man with a white mustache, and he sounded bored.

  “Well done,” Justin said.

  The waiter frowned. “Are you sure? This is an excellent cut of meat, and overcooking it takes away the aged flavor.”

  “The aged flavor?” Justin asked, looking at him incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “Well done,” Justin said again. He closed his menu and handed it to the waiter, who was looking a little peeved.

  “Any sides?”

  “What does it come with?” Justin asked.

  “Nothing. You need to order your sides separate.”

  “Oh.” Justin took the menu back and looked at it. “Mashed potatoes. And corn.”

  He looked at me. “Sound okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  The waiter sighed, picked the menu back up, and left.

  “What a dick,” Justin muttered. “How was I supposed to know it didn’t come with anything?”

  “I didn’t know either.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Why should I know that their meals don’t come with any sides?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought you’d probably been to places like this all the time.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “In fact, places like this kind of make me uncomfortable.”

  He grinned. “Me too. But I wanted to take you someplace special.”

  “You don’t have to impress me,” I told him. “I’m pretty low maintenance, really.”

  Suddenly, he pushed his glass away. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “But we just ordered.”

  He shrugged. “So what? We didn’t eat. And besides, I think a place like this can take it.”

  He stood up, took my hand and led me out of the restaurant.

  Once we were out on the street, I was relieved. The air in the restaurant had been stuffy and warm, but outside the night was cool. It was still light out, and Justin kept holding my hand as we walked the streets of Boston.

  He took me to Quincy Market, where we ordered brownie sundaes for dinner, and ate them at a tiny wrought-iron table on the cobblestone street.

  When we were finished, we got coffee, and when I went to put sugar in mine, Justin stopped me.

  “Bubbles,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a superstition.” He pointed to the bubbles on the top of my coffee. “If you eat them, you’ll have good luck.”

  “You don’t rea
lly believe that, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Not really.” Even so, he reached over and picked up my spoon, then dipped it into my coffee, scooping up the bubbles. He held it out to me, and I drank them down obediently. “There,” he said. “Now you’ll have good luck.”

  “What about you?”

  He looked down at his cup. “No bubbles for me.” He looked up at me, his brown eyes sparking. “But that’s okay. I’m already lucky.”

  I blushed and quickly took a sip of my drink so he wouldn’t notice the effect he was having on me. It was weird. There was so much I didn’t know about him, so much I wanted to ask. But right now, in this moment, we were having fun, and I didn’t want to ruin it. Something told me that the more I found out about Justin’s life, the more I would question what I was doing with him and how he was making me feel. And I didn’t want to face that.

  We finished our coffee and walked around Boston, holding hands. We talked about the people going by, about celebrities, about die-hard Boston sports fans. We joked around.

  But we didn’t get into anything personal. I felt like maybe Justin sensed it too – that the more we talked about details, the more we’d risk finding out how different we were.

  After a couple of hours, we got ice cream cones and sat down on a stonewall that looked out onto Newbury Street.

  “I used to come here with my dad,” Justin said. It was the first time he’d mentioned anything about his family.

  I took a lick of my chocolate peanut butter cup. Something told me I needed to tread carefully. “Are you guys close?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, just stared down at the pavement. When he looked up, he grinned and wiped a drip of ice cream off my chin with his napkin.

  I blushed. “I’m a mess.”

  “No, you’re not.” He was looking at me with that intense stare, the one that made me want to look away. But this time I didn’t. This time I kept my eyes on his. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  He reached up and brushed my hair out of my face. Then he leaned down. He was so close I could see the tiny scar on the top of his lip, the little flecks of gold in his pupils, the broad curve of his shoulders.

  He leaned down, and I knew what was about to happen.

  My body flamed.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the kiss.

  And then I heard the shout from nearby. “JB!” the voice cried. “Yo, JB!”

  I opened my eyes, knowing the moment had already passed.

  JUSTIN

  Lindsay got up from the wall and backed away from me, startled by the shouting, and I turned to see three guys coming toward us. “Damn it,” I muttered. My chance to kiss Lindsay slipped away as they continued their approach, loudly whistling and making jokes.

  It was three guys from my gym. Uriah, Begsy, and Quinn. They looked like pure juicehead gorillas, with their tight tshirts and bulging muscles. The logos on their shirts said stuff like TapOut and Aggression. “Hey, look who cleaned himself up,” Uriah said, smiling broadly at my obvious discomfort.

  I glanced at Lindsay. She looked nervous and uncertain.

  “Can’t you see I’m on a date?” I said, as they drew closer.

  “Oh, I thought you were coming from a funeral,” Begsy replied. He was a short, stocky kid with a crazy red Mohawk and tattoos all the way up his neck. “Look at those duds,” he laughed, pointing at my shirt.

  “This can’t be,” Quinn said. “I’m not seeing this right now. Dude, my image of you is totally blown.”

  I felt my face getting red with embarrassment, even though I knew there was no reason to care what these clowns thought about my outfit. “Get the fuck out of here. We were at a nice restaurant. They don’t allow Mohawks and fucking TapOut gear.”

  “Oh, I see, old chap,” Uriah replied, in a fake British accent. “Dear JB was dining out at a very respected establishment. We should respect his privacy, don’t you think?”

  They were all laughing now. I shook my head. “Fuck you guys.”

  “Hey man, I don’t think they talk like that at nice restaurants. You should really be ashamed of yourself,” Quinn said.

  “These guys are from my gym,” I explained to Lindsay.

  “Yeah, we’re his friends he was trying to hide from you,” Begsy said.

  “First of all, none of these clowns are my friends,” I said.

  “She doesn’t believe you,” Quinn laughed. “She’s terrified right now.”

  “And secondly, we left that fucking restaurant ‘cuz it sucked ass,” I continued.

  “Oh, shit! The truth comes out!” Uriah screamed, and gave me a high five.

  Everyone was shouting and yelling and laughing. Including me.

  Well, everyone but Lindsay. She was just standing there, looking around uneasily.

  I felt bad, but the truth was, I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to ignore my teammates, pretend they weren’t my buddies? I couldn’t do that.

  “Hey, now that you’re done playing dress up,” Begsy said, “you guys should come with us. There’s a party at Big Timmy’s tonight. It’s going to be off the chain.”

  “You know he’s got the best weed in town. We’re going to get fucked up, yo,”

  Quinn said. “By the way,” he turned to Lindsay, “your boy loves to fucking get high. Did he tell you that?”

  I just laughed. “Shut the hell up, man.” The truth was, I hadn’t smoked weed in months. Not since the shit went down last year, when I almost blew my chance to fight professionally. But I didn’t advertise that fact. I was clean now, and aside from a few drinks, I was mostly sober too. But these knuckleheads didn’t have any respect unless you were fighting and partying 24/7.

  As the boys started walking again, I looked at Lindsay. “You want to go to the party?” I said, suddenly uneasy and awkward, as if we didn’t even know each other anymore.

  Lindsay shook her head. “I think I should get back to the dorms. I’ve got to be up super early tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take you back, then,” I said. I wanted to tell the boys to forget it, that I wasn’t going to the stupid party. I wanted to be with Lindsay and tell her about my life, about the possible deal with the UFF that would validate all the effort I’d been putting in these past few years.

  But Lindsay just sighed. “No, don’t be silly. Go with your friends.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Please, Justin—I’m fine. I’ll take a cab back. Okay?” She was already backing away from me.

  I looked at my friends, who were standing nearby, waiting for me.

  “Lindsay, seriously—”

  “Just go,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.” And then she turned around and left.

  END OF DANGEROUSLY DAMAGED (ADDICTED TO YOU, BOOK ONE)

  BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN

  (Addicted To You, Book Two)

  by Lucy Covington

  Copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

  JUSTIN

  I asked myself how I ended up at that party a dozen different times. I was on a date with Lindsay and everything was going perfectly, and then somehow…it just got messed up.

  But it really wasn’t much of a surprise that it got messed up, was it? I thought as I downed the last of another beer. There was nothing at the bottom of my red plastic cup but a little bit of foam.

  Begsy and Quinn came over, laughing, handed me another one. “Courtesy of Big Timmy,” Quinn said.

  “I think I’ve had enough already,” I told him.

  “Come on, you’ve got to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  Quinn and Begsy exchanged glances. “Everyone’s heard that you’re being offered a three-fight deal with the UFF,” Begsy told me.

  “I have to win my next fight,” I replied.

  “Who’s going to beat you? Uriah’s on our team, and he’s probably the only guy who—” Quinn stopped short, as if realizing for the first time what he was about to say.

  “Uriah’s the
only guy who what?” I asked, feeling the blood rush to my face.

  “Has a chance—even a shot—at…you know…”

  “No, I don’t know.” I downed about half of my new beer. I looked around the party and saw Uriah laughing with Big Timmy and some other people I didn’t recognize.

  He was smiling and cackling the way he always did at the gym. Just looking at Uriah made me kind of sick. He laughed again, so loudly that it cut through the music and everything. He was so smug. He always had to be the loudest guy, the one who got all of the attention. Maybe we were on the same team, but I wouldn’t have minded putting everyone’s questions to rest and fighting him right there and then.

  But that was probably just because I was in a bad mood. I should have been with Lindsay right now. I should have—

  “So what’s the deal with that girl you were with tonight?” Begsy asked, as if reading my mind.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “There’s no deal.” The acrid smell of weed reached my nostrils, as Timmy and his friends lit up a joint and began passing it around the room.

  I tried to picture Lindsay standing there with me, and couldn’t do it. She didn’t belong here, standing around with a bunch of townies, smoking weed and drinking cheap beer.

  “Pass me that joint,” I yelled out. The girl who had the joint took a long drag, staring at me as she did so. She was tall, almost as tall as me, with long blond hair and a tattoo on her shoulder that was visible beneath her tank top. She exhaled an enormous plume of smoke.

  “You want some?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” I held out my hand, but she didn’t pass it over.

  Instead, she walked towards me, taking another hit as she came my way. A second later, she was right in my face, her eyes locked on mine. Then she leaned in and kissed me, as everyone in the party shouted and hollered at us.

  I kissed her back, because—why not? She was cute, I was getting drunk, and in some way it was the final statement on where I belonged. I was supposed to be with this kind of girl, not Lindsay.

  As we kissed, the blond girl exhaled all of the pot smoke into my mouth and I inhaled it deeply. I hadn’t smoked weed in months. I’d sworn it off.