Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You #1)(18)
Author: A.L. Jackson

When Christopher’s door snapped closed, Aly lifted her head to look at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I lifted an eyebrow her direction. “Dude is kind of a slut, isn’t he?”

She quieted a dubious laugh. “Tell me about it. I had no idea I was going to have to deal with this every night when I first moved in here.”

I had the urge to ask her about it, to find out if she was worried and if Christopher was happy or what the f**k his problem was. Instead I kept my mouth shut, figured I was hardly in a position to judge Christopher’s behavior.

The movie played on, but it did nothing to drown out the giggles emanating from Christopher’s room. I turned up the volume, but still they were distinct, probably because as much as we didn’t want to, Aly and I couldn’t stop straining to listen.

Finally Aly blew a frustrated breath toward the ceiling. “Do you want to watch the rest of this in my room? It’s always quieter in there.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Aly clicked off the TV, hugged her pillow against her chest, and headed into her room. She left the door open behind her, a clear invitation.

I stepped inside. As curious as I’d been, I’d never been in here before. It was dark, though moonlight bled in from her opened blinds. A fairly large bed was pushed into the corner of one wall below the window, and directly across the room, a smaller TV sat on top of a horizontal six-drawer dresser. A large mirror and dressing table with a regular kitchen chair were set up to the right of it. Filling the space between her bed and closet was a tall bookcase. Spines and spines of books were lined up. A row of large, unmarked books filled up the bottom shelf, reminding me a lot of the journal I had tucked in my bag back out in the other room.

I resisted a smile. These had to be Aly’s sketch pads.

The bed was framed in mahogany wood, the base and carved headboard one large piece. It was unmade, the maroon comforter bunched and twisted with black sheets. Nothing really seemed to match all that well, but it all flowed, this eclectic feel of peacefulness coming over me the moment my feet sank into the soft cushion of her carpet.

Aly gestured toward her bed. “Feel free.”

I eyed it. I knew a trap when I saw one. Not one Aly had set, but one that my fingers would fall into. Lying next to her would be a very bad idea.

I dropped to the comfort of the carpeted floor. “I’m good on the floor. I need to stretch out a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

She hopped onto her bed and turned the movie back on, the flick popping back to life in the same place we’d abandoned it. Luckily the shit going down in the next room was completely drowned out, and it was just me and Aly and this dumb comedy that really had nothing to offer other than a distraction from the racing that normally happened in my mind.

That and the annoying chime that kept going off on Aly’s cell phone every ten seconds.

The screen would light up, she’d tap out a message, tuck it back at her side, and then the whole thing would repeat again.

“You know that’s really f**king annoying, right?”

She sat up on her elbow, looking down at me in confusion. “What?”

“You having a conversation with someone when you’re supposed to be watching a movie with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am watching a movie with you.” Her phone chimed again. Those green eyes widened, and she laughed.

“And who is so important that you’d rather be talking to them than giving your full attention to me?” I didn’t really understand why I was feeling petulant and moody and a little bit pissed off, but shit… she was the one who’d suggested we watch a movie, saying she just wanted to relax and unwind. She was supposed to be mine for the night.

“Giving you my full attention, huh? I thought we were watching a movie.”

I didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer my question. It was a guy. Motherfucker. I couldn’t tell if I was feeling protective or possessive, because I was seeing flashes of both the innocent little girl I’d always taken care of and a gorgeous one lying on her bed. And I had no f**king idea if the one on the bed was innocent or not.

God. I couldn’t even stomach the thought.

But shit, she was twenty years old, and I wasn’t delusional.

It chimed again, and before I realized what I was doing, I flipped over onto my hands and knees. Crawling the few feet across the floor to her bed, I climbed up onto it. I grabbed the stupid white thing she had buried in the covers. The red light flashed its annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” She was caught off guard and her voice was shocked and raspy. I’d somehow managed to end up caging her, my legs on both sides of hers, one hand planted on the bed above her shoulder and the other gripping her phone. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide with surprise. I was so close to her I could feel her heart pounding, the beat steady and hard. Something inside me screamed to back away because I knew without a doubt I shouldn’t be near her this way, that I shouldn’t allow my blood to burn, race, thrum as I listened to her heart rate escalate. I shouldn’t like her reaction to me.

But I did.

“Who is it?” I demanded.

“It’s just Gabe.”

“And who the f**k is Gabe?”

She seemed to shake herself out of whatever stupor she’d been in, and she emitted a disbelieving snort. “What are you, twelve, Jared? Come on. And who the f**k are you to ask?” she challenged as she plucked her phone from my hand.

I wanted to tell her to watch her mouth and kiss it all at the same time. “Your friend, remember? And friends don’t let friends text dickheads.” Or date them.

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

Her br**sts jostled as she laughed, and I was sure she meant the sweet little sound to be intimidating and defiant. She pushed up to sitting, squaring her shoulders.

God, I really did want to kiss her.

“And just what makes you think Gabe is a dick? You don’t know anything about him.”

I inclined my head toward the clock beside her bed that indicated the time was way past appropriate. “Then what does he want?”

“He asked me to come over and hang out with him.”

“At one in the morning? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What does Christopher think about this guy?”

“Oh, please. Christopher? Really? And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Yeah, I f**king noticed.