Drive(82)

“Stop,” he snapped, shutting it behind him.

I whirled on him. “You don’t get to tell me to stop! You don’t get to tell me shit!”

My neighbors’ party was audible between our walls and a collective ring of laughter sounded through them. I was supposed to go to bed after I spoke to Nate. I had plans. Reid was screwing up my plans, and I was tempted to join my neighbors just to get away from him. He stared at me like he could see through my robe. In a defensive move, I slid my arms around my stomach and gripped my sides.

All I thought about was fleeing, even though it felt like I waited an eternity to see him again. I used to pray for the day he would show up to my door.

“Why are you alone?”

“I’m not alone,” I whispered. “I mean, he’s in Chicago.”

“Okay.” Reid’s jaw pulsed. “You’re with that guy?”

“Yes. Nate. We’re together. Now. I didn’t lie to you about that. I’m not like that.”

He slowly nodded. “I know.”

“But you can’t say the same, can you?” I wanted to pull my tongue out. I didn’t know why I was bringing up old hurts. It wasn’t going to fix anything. “Forget I asked,” I said before I brushed past him and damn near hit my knees. That scent of him brought it all back, the smiles he gave to only me, the taste of him, the warmth that only he could give. I was, freezing, aching, and dying for just one burn from his fingertips. I felt my sensibilities start to flee and was grappling for them. And then the panic set in.

“You should go,” I said as I snatched a glass from my cabinet and stuck it under my faucet, putting the counter between us. I was at a safe distance. He watched me as I took a long sip.

“Want some?”

“No thanks.”

“Something stronger, maybe, so, you know, you can call me after you leave here and tell me why you were on my porch in the first place.”

“Because you’re making it so easy to talk to you now?” Another smirk.

“Stop,” I said, my heart inching itself away, trying to make a leap around the corner.

“Stop smiling?”

“Yes. Vodka or whiskey?”

“Neither.”

“Egg-fucking-nog?” I asked, exasperated.

He full on laughed as I wilted inside.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, “so fucking much.” He rounded the counter, and I put my hand up.

“Well, awesome, send me a postcard from California.”

Another laugh only made me more furious. Fire burned around my throat and I started to itch. I unzipped my robe, trying to ward of the unbearable heat.

I downed another glass of water and felt the sweat gather on my forehead. Ripping at the robe, I pulled it up and over my head and threw it on the floor, leaving me in boy shorts and a tank top.

“You need to go.”

“Not before I say what I came to say,” he said as he cruised my body, pausing at all of his favorite stops.

“Okay then, we’re drinking.”

“Nothing for me,” he said sternly. I popped the top off the vodka in my freezer, and he batted it out of my hand. The bottle bounced into my sink.

“Don’t drink that,” he snapped.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

“Cutting down?”

“Yeah, I am, and you’re a lousy drunk,” he said as he closed the space between us. “I’ve been fucking up a lot, especially when it comes to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. And I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Never sober,” he said, drawing my chin from the floor with his fingertips, so we connected soul to soul. It was like a switch.

“Please don’t touch me,” I said with trembling lips.

He pulled his hand away. “And I’m still on my knees,” he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable.”

“Just say it, please, whatever you came to say and go.” My whole body was shaking and I was sure he could see it.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You did what you had to do,” I said, lowering my eyes.

“I was in rehab, Stella. From the minute I signed that contract until ten a.m. this morning.”

Of all the reasons I could think of, that was the last. “What?”

“Crazy, right? What musician goes to rehab before his career takes off?” He took a step back and slid the beanie off his silky dark locks, which scattered around his face. I drank him in, and for a brief second, we were back in his apartment, my heart on my sleeve, his eyes tearing into my soul.

“Why?”

“I needed to get my head straight. I was becoming like my parents. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be better.”

“You are better,” I said in a breathless whisper. “You’ve always been better.”

“Still my eternal cheerleader?” he asked with another smirk. He took a step forward and faltered when he saw I wasn’t receptive to any of it.

“You kept your promise, that’s all that matters,” I said truthfully. “And now, God. Sony, Reid.”