Happenstance: A Novella Series: Part Three Read online

  I peeled off my jacket, let my backpack slide off my shoulders onto the floor, and trudged over to my chair. Living alone in a suite that size made me feel like I was back at Gina’s even though this was much cleaner.

  When the homework was finished, I caught up on all my television shows and social networking with Sam and Julianne. Then, I scrubbed the clean counters until they were cleaner, and I mopped the pristine tiles until they were more pristine.

  I reached an all-time low when I wiped down the inside of the refrigerator only because it was losing the smell of the organic cleaner that reminded me of home.

  My cell phone chimed, and I tugged on it until it came out of my back pocket. Hailey from Music Appreciation was asking for notes and if I was going to the Animal House.

  I typed out a quick, No, set down my cell phone, and sighed when it chimed again. This time, it was a group message with Alex, Anna, and Renee from my Humanities class.

  Nope. Not going.

  I locked the screen and set the phone on the coffee table, sitting back. It was nice to have friends, but college made it too easy to make too many at a time. That was one more thing I hadn’t anticipated.

  My cell phone chimed again, and I groaned. The side button clicked when I slid it to silent mode. “No, I’m not going to the party, whoever you are,” I said aloud.

  I glared at my backpack, knowing my study guide was somewhere inside, and I would need to dig it out soon to study.

  Just when I stood up, a knock on the door startled me. Fed up, I stomped over, twisted the knob, and swung it open.

  “I’m not going to the par…”

  Weston Gates stood in my doorway with a hopeful grin on his face.

  “…TY,” I FINISHED.

  “What party?” he asked with a smile.

  I nearly recoiled and felt my brows pull in. “What are you doing here?”

  “I messaged you to let you know I was coming,” he said, deflated by my reaction.

  “When?” I asked, turning to look back at my cell phone still lying on the coffee table.

  “From the parking lot. So, about two minutes ago.” He waited for me to say something, and when I didn’t, he shrugged. “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have to study. I have a big test tomorrow before my Sam comes to take me home.”

  “Yeah. I told him I’d do it.”

  “What?”

  “Come get you. I’ve been home for a couple of days. I’ve been at your house the whole time…pretty much.”

  “Sam said you could pick me up?”

  “Yeah. Is that okay?” He paused. “You’re really not going to let me come in?”

  “You’re a day early.”

  He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I know. I’ll come back. I couldn’t wait even one more day to see you, Erin. I tried.”

  His eyes caught the glint off my necklace, and I tucked it beneath the collar of my shirt.

  He looked up at me from under his long lashes, a sweet half smile on his face.

  It became increasingly difficult to breathe. I’d tried so hard for over three months to forget about his eyes, the hair that had now grown into his eyes, and his soft bronze skin that was now more of an olive. He seemed a bit taller, a bit thicker, and maybe even a little older, more experienced. I wondered what kind of experiences he’d had.

  Hayden passed and paused, recognizing Weston.

  “Hey, man. You’re going here?” Hayden asked. He then drew his own conclusions. “Oh, Erin, when I said that, I didn’t know y’all were talking.”

  Weston’s eyes danced back and forth between Hayden and me before he furrowed his brow and took a step back.

  “No,” Hayden said, noticing Weston’s body language. “Something happened in the elevator earlier…”

  Weston backed up another step, trying hard not to lose his cool. He began to breathe through his nose, two deep lines forming between his brows. I could guess what he was thinking, but I didn’t correct him. When Weston had something in his head, it would be impossible to change his mind.

  Hayden held both of his hands up and then interlaced them on top of his shaggy blond hair. “Shit. That’s not what I meant. Nothing happened in the elevator.”

  Weston turned and began to walk away, but Hayden tried to stop him. Weston grabbed him by the collar of his coat and rammed him against the wall. Weston’s expression said everything without him even opening his mouth.

  Hayden held up his hands, blinking. “Just…listen. I thought she thought I had asked her to the party tonight. It was a big misunderstanding. We were both embarrassed. We got out of the elevator. It was super awkward. That’s the end of it, I swear.”

  Weston looked at me for confirmation.

  I nodded.

  Weston released his coat, and Hayden took several steps away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Weston. He looked to me. “Really, very sorry.”

  I shook my head to let Hayden know it was okay, but he barely took the time to notice before he was mashing the button for the elevator. The doors opened, and he poked repeatedly on the button for them to close.

  Weston was visibly working to calm down. “I’m sorry, Erin. That took me completely off guard. I knew it was possible that you could be seeing someone, but I didn’t expect that reaction. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

  “I’m not really that surprised,” I said.

  My words wounded him.

  “This is the last time I’m going to ask you, Erin, and then I’ll leave. Can I come in?”

  “No,” I said without hesitation.

  He breezed past me, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said, spinning around.

  Weston walked toward me, reached around me to shut the door, and then stepped back. “I changed my mind.”

  “Well, you can’t. I told you, I have to study.”

  “What?”

  “Music Appreciation.”

  “I appreciate music.”

  “No, Weston, it’s more difficult than it sounds. I’ve been struggling. I need to do well on this test, and it’s in the morning.”

  “I’ll help you,” he said, desperate.

  I narrowed my eyes, dubious.

  “I swear!” he said.

  “I could call Sam, you know. He would make you leave.”

  Weston walked over to the couch and crossed his arms. “Not without a fight.” He sat down.

  I sighed. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Then, let’s get started.” He pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times. “Pepperoni?” he asked.

  “You know I like pepperoni, but I don’t need your help.”

  “You don’t really want me to leave,” he said with such confidence that I wanted to throw something at him.

  Instead, I stared at him, unable to answer.

  He tapped his phone a few more times. “I’m ordering pizza. It’ll be here in forty minutes.”

  I lifted my bag and brought it over to the chair before setting it on the floor. The zipper made a high-pitched noise as I pulled on it, and then I fished around until I found my folder.

  “Your bag looks heavy. You carry that around everywhere?”

  I closed my eyes and huffed. “Why are you here, Weston?”

  He didn’t answer, so I peeked over at him.

  “You already know.”

  “Just tell me, so we can get this over with.” Saying that to him made my chest burn, and my legs felt shaky as an overwhelming nausea hit me like a tidal wave.

  Whatever I was feeling, Weston felt worse.

  “I deserved that,” he said, nodding. “Study first. Talk later. Or not. We don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.”

  I warily eyed him. “What is it that you want?”

  One side of his mouth pulled up. “You’re different.”

  “Good.”

  He laugh
ed once without humor. “I miss you, Erin. I thought I could get over you, but I can’t. What I did do was a lot of thinking, a lot of talking to other girls who weren’t and will never be you.”

  I winced. His admission stung.

  “Everyone kept telling me it was going to get better—my roommates, my instructors, my parents…your parents.”

  “You’ve been talking to my parents?”

  “It hasn’t. It will never get better. I used to wonder how long it was going to last. Now, I wonder how long I’m going to last.”

  “That’s not funny,” I said.

  “I mean, in Texas. I knew it was going to be hard to be there without you. Not having you at all is worse.”

  “That was your choice,” I said.

  “You’re right. Just like you said, I did this.”

  I fidgeted. That awful feeling that had swallowed me when he left was bubbling at my feet, threatening to crawl up my legs.

  “Do you hate me?” he asked.

  “I try to—every day.”

  He nodded. “I deserve that, too.”

  “Did you…” I began, hating myself already. “Have you…dated anyone in Texas?”

  “It depends. If it makes you jealous and you want me back, then yes. If it makes you jealous and makes you hate me even more, then no.”

  “Just tell me the truth.”

  His eyes fell to the floor and lost focus. “Couldn’t even bring myself to look at anyone else like that. It made me miss you even more, and I was already going through hell.”

  “Me, too.”

  “No one?” he asked, the tiniest bit of hope in his eyes.

  I slowly shook my head. I wasn’t even sure if it was noticeable.

  “Erin,” he said, thoughtful, careful, “what if I said I screwed up? What if I said I’m sorry?”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  He nodded, looking intently into my eyes. “What if I said I love you and that I don’t care how it happens—whether we’re friends, back together, or something in between—as long as I don’t have to miss you anymore?”

  “You’ll still miss me. We’re four hours away.”

  “I just drove that. It’s nothing, not when I’m on my way to see you. Erin”—he cautiously chose his words—“I’m still in love with you. I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried to hate you, forget you, forgive you—”

  “For what?” I snapped.

  His face fell. He looked broken. “For loving me in a way that I can’t get over. You are the best thing I’ve ever given up.”

  My expression crumbled, and I looked down, picking at my nails. “We can’t go back, Weston, and that is what I think about every day. That’s what I miss. I’m not even sure I know you.”

  “We’ve outgrown the way we felt,” he said with a confidence I’d never seen in him before. “I don’t love you like that anymore. That was selfish and impatient and not about you.” He lowered his chin. “What if I beg?” He moved forward, kneeling in front of me. He touched my face, using his thumb to brush away the tear falling down my cheek. “We were just falling in love then. I’m done falling, Erin. I love you—without expectations, without demands. Hell, just with the hope that you love me back.”

  I breathed out a laugh. “Sam said if you came back, you’d do it on your knees.”

  “I’ll lie on the floor if you want.”

  My lips formed a hard line as I tried to suppress a smile.

  “Please?” he said, desperation in his voice. His twin green pools scanned my face and then glossed over. “Erin?”

  He was so close. His fingers still felt soft on my skin. The old scars that had faded but not disappeared warned me that the person in front of me had caused me pain. The things he had made me feel were ugly, and I should make him leave and make him stay away from me.

  But those scars were only skin deep. Beneath them were my heart, the parts of me that bled, my soul, and the Erin who could forgive and smile regardless of the past hurt. The protected pieces had gone untouched by anyone but Weston.

  “I want you to stay,” I whispered.

  He exhaled, so surprised that he almost didn’t trust what he’d heard. “What?” His eyes met mine, and he leaned in, stopping just an inch from my lips.

  “You heard me,” I said quietly.

  “I promised your dad I wouldn’t. I got a hotel room.”

  I bit my bottom lip, staring at his. “Stay.”

  His eyebrows pulled in, conflict scrolling across his face. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

  I spread my legs wider, pulling him toward me, and I rested my hands on his shoulders. They were thicker than I remembered. I trailed down his arms until I reached his fingers that tenderly lingered against my jaw. I gripped them in my own and lowered them to my backside, never taking my eyes from his.

  His mouth hovered just out of reach, and I could taste each breath he panted in anticipation.

  His breath caught. “I just want to hear that you still love me. If want me, Erin…I’m all yours.”

  “I love you.” My voice was barely a whisper.

  His body stiffened before he lifted me in his arms, blindly carrying me into the bedroom. He lowered my body to the bed as if I were weightless. He stood before me and stripped off his shirt. When his toned chest and the ridges of his abdomen came into view, I knew that he had been using the gym to escape the misery he’d described.

  I tugged off my sweater as he slipped his boots from his feet and unbuttoned his jeans. His eyes locked on mine as he slid them down over his hips, revealing the staggering V-shaped muscles below.

  Weston gripped my heel in his hand as he unzipped my tall leather boot before sliding it off, and then he did the same to the other. The corners of his mouth turned up into a ghost of a smile as his fingers tugged at the hem of my black leggings, pulling them toward him, achingly slow.

  As he lowered his body against me, the searing heat of his skin scorched mine. A groan resonated from the back of his throat as his eyes closed, and his tongue slid over the seam of my lips. My mouth parted, allowing him to enter, and I silently begged him to make up for lost time.

  His fingers slid easily along my sensitive skin, finding their way under my tank top before gripping my back against the mattress. With one deft movement, he unsnapped my bra, peppering my skin with tiny kisses. By the time he relieved me of my shirt, bra, and then my panties, his boxer briefs were all that separated us, leaving little to the imagination.

  I relaxed my head back, letting my arms fall to the bed, as his mouth rediscovered every inch of me.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered against my delicate skin.

  I could feel every breath and every smile, and I could sense every decision he made to move lower. My fingers tangled in the sheets as I closed my eyes, begging him to take us further, and I sighed with relief when he did.

  I PUSHED OUT THE DOUBLE DOORS of the north building. I was tired and sore, and I wasn’t sure that my final grade would be an A, but I was confident that a percentage point or two was a good trade.

  The walk to Bennett Hall took too long, and it wasn’t because of the staggering wind chill. By the time I stepped off the elevator, I was scrambling to get through the door.

  Once I stepped through the threshold, I was in Weston’s arms, and his mouth was on mine. His backpack was zipped and sitting by the door, and he had my suitcase open and ready.

  “I still have clothes there. Julianne didn’t want me to have to cart things back and forth.”

  “Toothpaste?” Weston asked.

  “Yes,” I said after thinking for half a second.

  “Will you ride with me?”

  I smiled. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

  He leaned over and slid one arm through his pack. Then, he held his hand out to me. I swiped my wallet off the kitchen counter and glanced back at my apartment. Weston had cleaned while I was taking tests in my classes.

  As I locked my door, Weston
stood behind me, holding me while he nuzzled my neck. I giggled, and after I could finally concentrate enough to turn the bolt lock, we made our way downstairs to the parking lot.

  Shiny, beautiful, and bright red, the vehicle that held all my best memories waited for Weston and me to climb inside. Once I slid into the passenger seat, I was tugged a bit farther until I was sitting next to my boyfriend, my first love, and—if Weston was right when he was just a boy—the man I would marry one day.

  We spent the ride home chatting about the Art Institute of Dallas, Weston’s new apartment, his crazy roommates, and his favorite professors. The drive seemed to be too short when the Chevy parked next to the curb of my parents’ home.

  Sam and Julianne were outside—having made sure to get regular updates on our time of arrival—with their arms wide open. Julianne was squealing and clapping before nearly tackling me when we met in the middle of the lawn. Sam caught up, and as usual, he eclipsed our bodies with his in a warm bear hug.

  “Our girl is home! She’s home, Sam!” Julianne squealed.

  “Yes, she is!”

  When they released me, they expectantly watched Weston and me.

  In answer, Weston slid his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side, and I reached my arms around his middle, interlacing my fingers.

  Julianne clasped her hands together, more than just pleased. She pulled us both into a hug.

  “Well?” Sam said. “Come in, come in. Julianne’s baked a turkey so big that we can just warm up the leftovers next turkey day.”

  My parents led the way, hand in hand, but Weston tugged on my fingers, asking me to stay behind.

  He wrapped me in his arms to ward off the cold, his breath puffing out in white wisps. “I wouldn’t let myself hope that I’d be walking into your parents’ house with you in my arms.”

  Weston reached down, letting the small silver heart he’d had made for me months ago slide over his palm and fingers until it fell gently back into place.

  “I don’t know how we made it work,” he said. “It could have all been coincidence, or maybe it was meant to be, but I know I’m not taking any more chances.”