Maybe Someday (Maybe, #1)(48)

Me: Deal.

I close my laptop and begin to slide off the bed, but he grabs my wrist. I turn around, and he’s looking at me with a serious expression. He leans over and grabs a pen, then picks up my hand and writes: Thank you.

I press my lips together and nod. He releases my hand, and I walk back to my room, attempting to ignore the fact that all the repulsive details in the world couldn’t stop my heart from reacting to that simple gesture. I look down at my chest.

Hey, heart. Are you listening? You and I are officially at war.


Ridge

As soon as she’s out of my bedroom and the door shuts behind her, I close my eyes and exhale.

I’m thankful that she isn’t angry. I’m thankful that she isn’t vindictive. I’m thankful that she’s reasonable.

I’m also thankful that she appears to have more willpower than I do, because whenever I’m around her, I’ve never felt so weak.


13.


Sydney


Not much has changed in the way we practice together, other than the fact that we practice five feet apart from each other. We’ve completed a couple of songs since “the kiss,” and although the first night was a little awkward, we seem to have found our groove. We haven’t talked about the kiss, and we haven’t talked about Maggie, and we haven’t discussed why he plays on the floor and why I write alone on the bed. There’s no reason to discuss it, because we’re both very aware of all of it.

The fact that we’ve admitted our attraction to each other doesn’t seem to have eliminated it the way we’d hoped. For me, it’s like a huge elephant in the room. It feels as if it takes up so much space when I’m with him that it presses me against the wall, squeezing the last traces of breath out of me. I keep telling myself it’ll get better, but it’s been almost two weeks since the kiss, and it hasn’t gotten easier at all.

Luckily, I have two interviews next week, and if I get hired, at least it’ll get me out of the house more. Warren and Bridgette both work and go to school, so they’re not here a whole lot. Ridge works from home, so the fact that we’re both here alone the majority of the day is always at the front of my mind.

Out of all the hours in the day, though, the hour I hate the most is when Ridge is in the shower. Which means I really hate this hour, since that’s where he is right now. I hate where my thoughts go when I know he’s one wall away from me, completely unclothed.

Jesus, Sydney.

I hear the water turn off and the shower curtain slide open, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying once again not to picture him. This would probably be a good time of day to turn on some music to drown out my thoughts.

As soon as the door closes between the bathroom and his bedroom, there’s a knock at the front door. I gladly jump off the bed and head toward the living room to get my mind off the fact that I know Ridge is in his room getting dressed right now.

I don’t even bother looking through the peephole, which is a very bad oversight on my part. I swing open the door to find Hunter standing sheepishly at the top of the stairs. He eyes me, his expression apologetic and nervous. My heart drops to my stomach at the mere sight of him. It’s been weeks since I last laid eyes on him. I was beginning to forget what he looked like.

His dark hair is longer since I last saw him, and it reminds me that I’m always the one to schedule his hair appointments. The fact that he hasn’t even bothered to make his own appointment makes him that much more pathetic to me.

“Should I give Tori the number for your barber? Your hair looks awful.”

The mention of Tori’s name makes him grimace. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m not jumping back into his arms that’s causing that regretful expression on his face.

“You look good,” he says, capping his words off with a smile.

“I am good,” I say, not sure if I’m lying to him or not.

He runs a free hand over his jaw and turns away from me, appearing to regret the fact that he’s here.

How is he here? How does he even know where I live?

“How did you know where to find me?” I ask, tilting my head in curiosity.

I see the split-second shift of his eyes as they glance across the courtyard toward Tori’s apartment. It’s obvious he doesn’t want me to notice what’s going on in his mind, because it would only shed light on the fact that he’s still visiting Tori on a regular basis.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice void of the confidence I’ve always known him to have.

“If I let you in and convince you it’s over, will you promise to stop texting me?”

He barely nods his head, so I step aside, and he walks into the living room. I walk to the dining-room table and pull out a chair, making it obvious that he’s not making himself comfortable by sitting on the couch. He walks toward the table as his eyes work their way around the room, more than likely in search of information on who lives here with me.

He grips the back of the chair and pulls it out slowly while his eyes focus on a pair of Ridge’s shoes tucked beside the couch. I like that he noticed them.

“Are you living here now?” he asks, his voice tight and controlled.

“For now,” I say, my voice even more controlled. I’m proud of myself for keeping calm, because I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt to see him. I gave him two years of my life, and all the things I felt for him can’t just be cut off at once. Feelings take time to disappear, so they’re still here. They’re just mixed and swirled together with a hell of a lot of hatred now. It’s confusing to feel this way when I see him, because I never thought I could dislike the man in front of me. I never thought he would betray me the way he did.