Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(74)

“Hey,” he said, a finger busy on the screen of his cell. Mine beeped again.

David: Wanted to say goodnight.

“Okay,” I said, looking up from the screen. “Come in.”

The side of his mouth lifted and he looked up at me. I met his gaze, refusing to feel self-conscious. He didn’t seem put off by my slacker bedtime style. If anything, his smile increased, his eyes warming. “You about to go to bed?”

“I was just reading. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Is your brother here?” He stood and followed me back up the stairs, his boots tapping loudly on the old wooden floors. I half expected Mrs Lucia from downstairs to come out and yell. It was a hobby of hers.

“No,” I said, closing the door behind us. “He and Lauren went out.”

He looked around the apartment with interest. As usual he took up all the space. I don’t know how he did that. It was like a magician’s trick. He was somehow so much bigger than he actually seemed. And the man didn’t seem small to begin with. In no rush at all, his gaze wandered around the room, taking in bright turquoise walls (Lauren’s doing) and the shelves of neatly stacked books (my doing).

“Is this yours?” he asked, poking his head into my bedroom.

“Ah, yes. It’s a bit of a mess right now, though.” I squeezed past him and started speed-cleaning, picking up the books and other assorted debris scattered across the floor. I should have asked him to give me five minutes before coming up. My mother would be horrified. Since returning from LA I’d let my world descend into chaos. It suited my frazzled state of mind. Didn’t mean David needed to see it. I needed to make a plan to clean up my act and actually stick to it this time.

“I used to be organized,” I said, flailing, my fallback position for everything lately.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“This won’t take a minute.”

“Ev,” he said, catching hold of my wrist in much the same manner that his gaze caught me. “I don’t care. I just need to talk to you.”

A sudden horrible thought entered my mind.

“Are you leaving?” I asked, today’s dirty work shirt clutched in my suddenly shaking hand.

His grip tightened around my wrist. “You want me to leave?”

“No. I mean, are you leaving Portland? Is that why you’re here, to say goodbye?”

“No.”

“Oh.” The pincer grip my ribs had gotten on my heart and lungs eased back a little. “Okay.”

“Where did that come from?” When I didn’t answer he tugged me gently toward him. “Hey.”

I took a reluctant step in his direction, dropping the dirty laundry. He pressed for more, sitting on my bed and pulling me down alongside him. I sort of stumbled my butt onto the double mattress as opposed to doing it with any grace. Story of my life. Object achieved, he gave up his grip on me. My hands clenched the edge of the bed.

“So, you got a weird look on your face and then you asked me if I was leaving,” he said, blue eyes concerned. “Care to explain?”

“You haven’t turned up at midnight before. I guess I wondered if there was more to it than just dropping by.”

“I drove by your apartment and I saw your light was on. Figured I’d send you a text, see what mood you were in after our talk today.” He rubbed at his bearded chin with the palm of his hand. “Plus, like I said, I keep thinking of stuff I need to tell you.”

“You drive by my apartment often?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Only a couple of times. It’s my way of saying goodnight to you.”

“How did you know which window was mine?”

“Ah, well, that time I talked to Lauren when I was first came to town? She had the light on in the other room. Figured this one must be yours.” He didn’t look at me, choosing instead to check out the photos of me and my friends on the walls. “You mad that I’ve been around?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I think I might be running out of mad.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

He let out a slow breath and stared back at me, saying nothing. Dark bruises lingered beneath his eyes, though his swollen nose had gone back to normal size.

“I really am sorry Nate hit you.”

“If I was your brother, I’d have done the exact same f*cking thing.” He braced his elbows on his knees, but kept his face turned toward me.

“Would you?”

“Without question.”

Males and their penchant for beating on things, it knew no end.

The silence dragged out. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly. At least we weren’t fighting or rehashing our break-up one more time. Being broken and angry got old.

“Can we just hang out?” I asked.

“Absolutely. Lemme see this.” He picked up my iPhone and started flicking through the music files. “Where are the ear buds?”

I hopped up and retrieved them from among the crap on my desk. David plugged them in then, handed me an ear bud. I sat at his side, curious what he’d choose out of my music. When the rocking, jumpy beat of ‘Jackson’ by Johnny Cash and June Carter started I looked at him in amusement. He smirked and mouthed the lyrics. We had indeed gotten married in a fever.