Into Your Arms by Chelsea M. Cameron
Here and now, the air is thick and everything is different.
Freya looks up at me and blinks once.
“I should go home.”
I nod.
“Uh-huh.”
She blinks again and it’s like she emerges from a spell (or a curse) and backs away from me and heads toward the door, keys jangling.
8
Freya
“So you ate macaroni and cheese with him?” Mia says, her eyebrows creasing with bewilderment.
“Um, yeah. I was really hungry!” That’s my only reasonable excuse for what happened. Rhett was totally normal (or as normal as he can possibly be) at practice on Monday, and he hasn’t said a word about when I came over. It’s like it never happened. He also hasn’t mentioned anything about being my friend, which is even more strange because he was so insistent about it last night.
“Was it good?” I nod. Jesus take the wheel, it was so good. I keep dreaming about it. I’ve also realized that I will definitely put up with Rhett if it means I get to eat that stuff again. I have no idea why it was so good, but damn. Best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. Selfish? Probably. But it also doesn’t hurt that he’s nice to look at and makes me laugh. I could find a worse person to be friends with.
“You look like you’re talking about sex right now, and it’s freaking me out,” Mia says, wrinkling her nose.
“Shut up, I am not talking about sex. Although, that mac and cheese was better than a lot of the sex I’ve had.” My history is . . . boring. I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing that stuck. No one that got me. May or may not have something to do with my trust issues.
Definitely may.
“Go out and get laid then. Or buy a vibrator.” I’ve already done the second and it’s working. Sort of. I just miss . . . I miss closeness. I miss breathing the same air as another person while lying in bed. I miss being able to turn to someone in the morning and share a smile. Not even the sex. That’s what I miss.
“Whatever. How are you doing in the relationship department?” She bites her bottom lip and blushes.
“Oh my God, did you meet someone?” I squeal. “Tell me everything!” After being coy for a few minutes, she finally caves and tells me that she met a guy. He lives in the same building, and they started chatting during a two a.m. fire drill. Hashtag romance.
“Ugh, I’m all fluttery and gross, and I can’t stand myself most of the time,” she says with a moan, and I just laugh. Having a crush is the worst. Not that I would know anything about that currently . . .
I make Mia give me all the details of her new guy, whose name is Antonio. She refuses to tell me his last name so I can’t stalk him on Facebook, but it’s easy to go to her page and find the guy named Antonio that she recently friended. Ha. Now for the stalking to make sure he’s not a terrible person. It’s only right as Mia’s best friend.
“But wait, what’s going on with you and this Rhett guy?” Mia says. Ugh, I thought we had moved on from that topic.
“Nothing. That’s what’s going on. He’s my stunt partner and we’ve eaten two meals together. That’s it.” And my loins burn for him. Just a little. Calm down, loins. Get your shit together.
“Uh-huh,” she says and neither of us believe me.
“Shut uuuuup,” I say, groaning and putting my face in my hands. “He’s hot as fuck and there’s nothing I can do about it. I thought that the longer I knew him, the less hot he’d get, but it’s like he just keeps getting more and more attractive. I literally stand there and try to find faults and just end up listing his good qualities. I’m a mess.” I groan and Mia cackles at my misfortune.
“So what’s stopping you from taking things to the next level with him? I mean, if you’re that attracted to him, don’t you think that means something?” I know she’s right, but I don’t want her to be right.
“It means that I make terrible decisions, that’s what it means.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Look, I gotta go, but don’t think that we’re done talking about this.” I get a glare and a finger pointed at me before she goes. Dammit, I miss her so much.
I shut my laptop and sigh. Mia has accepted my decision to move here, but she was so pissed at me at first. She gave me the silent treatment for two days, which she had never done before. It was a rough time, and I cried in the shower about it a lot, but she finally came around and supported me completely. She’s the best best friend I could ask for.
I chew on my lip. The other night with Rhett still has me puzzled. He was so . . . casual. And a little more reserved. Instead of acting like a guy who was giving a performance, he seemed more like a regular person. Or as regular as he could get. He’s still odd, but in an interesting way. I just don’t get him, and I think that’s part of his appeal. I keep telling myself that if I can figure out what’s going on behind the curtain, then the desire for him will go away.
Pretty sure wanting his hot bod isn’t going away anytime soon, but as long as I don’t fall for his mind, I’m good. I can handle it.
I totally can.
Grrrrr. I get up from my desk and go to the fridge, looking for something to eat to distract me. I grab some carrot sticks and start crunching them.
Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me right now. I toss them back in the fridge and reach into the back of the freezer for the ice cream. Perfect.
I wish I could stick my face in a bucket of ice cream. That might help. I go back to the couch and pick up the paperback I’ve been reading that I left on the coffee table.
Rhett had quite a few books in his apartment, and they all looked like they’d been read more than once. I nearly fell over when I not only found Austen on his shelves, but the Brontes and Mary Shelley. I just . . . I didn’t peg him for the kind of guy who would be willing to read a book written by a woman. Let alone several.
Maybe that was my own fault for assuming. Still. It surprised me. And then when he said he worked at the campus day care. That was even more surprising, and the mental picture of Rhett covered in a pile of children was almost comical. I bet he gives excellent piggyback rides to five children at once. His shoulders are wide enough.
Weird. So weird. I really need to stop thinking about him.
Yeah, good luck with that, Freya.
* * *
The rest of the week goes by without incident. We cheer our next game, and the routine goes much better. Next week is our first away game and I’m really looking forward to it. We’re only heading to New Hampshire, but still. It will be nice to get away from my seriously depressing apartment even for a night. I’m rooming with Tobi, Willow, and Carrie, and I’m hoping it will be like a silly sleepover. I haven’t had one of those in forever. I just wanna stay up and eat cookie dough and paint each other’s toenails and watch old movies. Even though I’m close with Tobi and the rest of the girls, I know I push them away. They invite me to things frequently, but I always make excuses. I don’t know why I do it.
I want friends. I want to be social. But I always feel like there’s something holding me back from it. I’m scared. I’m afraid that they’ll ask too many questions that I don’t have answers for. Even though none of them have done that. I need to stop assuming things about everyone, apparently.
Yeah, that’s something I’m going to have to work on.
* * *
Sunday I’m at the library again and I look up at one point and there he is. Rhett Miller. With a messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a grin on his bearded face. I pull my earbuds out and look up at him.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually. I’m making fettuccine Alfredo with chicken and I need another person to help me eat it.” I snort.
“That is one of the most pathetic lines I’ve ever heard. Congratulations.” I pretend to clap slowly.
“Thank you, thank you,” he says, pretending to be emotional and wiping away tears. I giggle a little and get glares from neighboring tables. Tobi still hasn’t lo
“You are ridiculous,” I say, but it comes out as a compliment. He winks and I bite back a smile.
“Thanks. So, what do you think? I can meet you here and drive or you can just show up. No pressure. So, maybe I’ll see you and maybe I won’t.” He pretends to tip a hat and then he’s off. I kick Tobi, and she gives me a death stare.
“The fuck?”
“Rhett was here,” I say after she takes her earplugs out.
“Oh, was he?” She’s totally oblivious.
“Yeah, and he asked me to come over to his place for dinner again.” Tobi wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. I wish she had a boyfriend to distract her from meddling in my love life. But she’s determined to get through her undergraduate degree with no romantic entanglements. She doesn’t have the spare time, anyway.
“You’ve got a date, girl.” She’s grinning like this is something to celebrate.
“It’s not a date,” I hiss at her and she laughs softly.
“Whatever you want to call it. But you like him and he likes you, and there are only so many ways that this can go. I’d make the most of it, because I bet he’s amazing in bed. I mean, just think about having him over you with those shoulders to hold onto? Fuck, I need to get laid.” She looks off into the distance, and I make a face.
I do not need to be thinking about Rhett on top of me. Or under me. Or in any other naked configuration with me.
Oh, shit. Now I’m picturing it, and it’s not going to get out of my head anytime soon. I can feel my cheeks getting red. One of the many downsides of having extremely pale skin is having EVERY emotion show. My veins show everywhere, which is another annoyance, but isn’t quite as bad as the blushing.
“Are you gonna go? You’d better go. Get it out of your system. Then you might not feel all gushy about him.” Ew. I don’t feel gushy about Rhett.
Yeah, right.
“I’m not going. I’m not. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.” The impression that I want to eat the Alfredo and then him.
“Babe, you’ve already done that. You really can’t do any more damage than you already have. So go. Eat food. Get laid. Or not. Enjoy yourself on behalf of those of us who can’t.” I have no idea what’s happening here. I know she wasn’t a huge fan of Rhett, but now she seems to have changed her tune. It’s confusing to say the least.
Or maybe I’m the one who’s confused. Because I am. So fucking confused.
* * *
I guess I’m also hungry because a few hours later I find myself sitting in my car and staring up at Rhett’s building.
“What am I doing?” I say to myself. Great. Now I’m so confused I’m talking to myself. I shake my head and get out of the car. He opens the door after three knocks with an expectant grin on his face.
“Somehow I had the feeling you were going to show up,” he says, standing aside so I can come in.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it. Smug isn’t a good look for you.” Such a lie. EVERY look is a good look for Rhett Miller. Curse him.
He just laughs and walks back toward the kitchen.
“So, I, ah, brought something,” I say, holding out the grocery bag I was hiding behind my back.
“You didn’t have to. I told you I had enough food for two people,” he says as I set the bag down on the kitchen counter.
“It’s just a little something for dessert.” Shit, I did not mean that to sound the way it came out. Sexy. Like I’m going to be the dessert. I inwardly cringe, and Rhett gives me a leer.
“Cupcakes. It’s cupcakes. Chocolate with peanut butter frosting.” That still sounds suggestive, and I want to bang my head on the counter.
“My favorite,” he says.
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really. They are.” There it is again. That flash of sincerity. I hate how much it’s getting to me.
I watch as Rhett stirs a pot of pasta, grills chicken, and makes the sauce all at the same time.
“Have you thought about being a chef?” I ask. He’d be good at it, if last week’s meal was any indication.
He shakes his head, not looking up from the steaming and boiling pots and pans.
“Not really. I always wanted to work with kids. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” Hm. There is definitely a story there from the way his back tensed up when he spoke.
“That’s really nice, Rhett.” I hate the shiver that quakes down my spine when I say his name. It shouldn’t be such a sexy name, but it is. It so is. I can’t help but think of Rhett Butler from Gone With the Wind. I hope this Rhett won’t completely ruin my life.
Rhett and I share small talk as he cooks, and this time he actually lets me assemble a salad. And I do mean assemble. Everything is pre-chopped, so all I have to do is dump it in a bowl, add dressing, and toss.
“I think I can handle that,” I say.
“You sure about that?” he says, but he’s joking. I shove him as I walk by, but he doesn’t budge. He’s just so . . . big. Rhett takes up a lot of space, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it’s intimidating, but right now it’s comfortable. Somehow I feel safe with Rhett, which might have something to do with the fact that he’s never dropped me. I’ve fallen, but it wasn’t due to his poor basing skills. He’s always caught me before I could hit the mat or get injured. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s trying to impress Coach, he’s really determined not to suck at cheer, or if it’s something else. Something else that scares me and thrills me at the same time.
I’m done with the salad long before Rhett finishes everything else, so I just kind of keep tossing it and watch him. He moves with the same fluidity that he does during cheer. For a big guy, he’s graceful, and he’s an excellent dancer. I hate how sexy it is.
Rhett starts whistling to himself. He does that a lot, and it’s not annoying, surprisingly. I keep trying to find flaws, but I can’t seem to. There must be something. I just have to work harder to find it.
That means that I’ll probably have to keep coming over here. Oh, well. At least the food is good?
* * *
Two hours later I’m on Rhett’s couch again, my hands on my stomach and regrets in my heart.
“I should have waited to have that cupcake, but it just looked so good,” I groan, resting my head back against the cushion. I kind of want to stretch out and take a nap.
“I’m glad you liked my food and I’m sorry you’re having regrets.” He tips his head to the side and gives me a tiny smile. It still does things to me. Everything he does affects me. I wish I could find a way to make it stop.
Rhett and I hold eye contact for just a little too long. I inhale slowly and the air in the room changes. Shifts to something else. And even though my stomach is sloshy and full, I can’t ignore the magnetic pull toward Rhett. My body leans toward his without even realizing.
Somehow, I’m able to slam on the brakes and pull back. I blink a few times and take another breath. Shit. That was close. Rhett clears his throat, and his face is just a little red under his beard.
He lets out a slow breath and chuckles under his breath.
“What?” I ask, afraid to know the answer.
“Nothing,” he says, his voice a little rough. He turns to look at me again, but I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t let that happen.
“I should probably get home,” I say, even though it’s only eight. I need to get out of Rhett’s apartment, which is filled with his things and his scent and him. It’s too much to handle right now. It’s scrambling my brain.
“Sure,” he says in a distant voice. He pushes himself off the couch and holds out his hands to help me up. If I wasn’t so full, I would ignore him, but I am, so I take his hands. They feel new and familiar all at once. His hands dwarf mine, but he holds me gently. He’s still holding my hands and he needs to stop holding my hands and I need to go home.
Right now.
<
I drop his hands as if they’re burning me and scoot around him, heading for the door.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow? Thanks for the food, I really have to go, bye,” I say in a rush and basically bolt. He calls after me, but I don’t listen.
I’m shaking when I get to my car and have to sit and breathe for a second before I can actually drive away. Part of me expects him to follow me after such a hasty exit, but he doesn’t.
So I take another shaky breath before I turn on my car and drive back to my lonely apartment.
Rhett
Well that was weird. She was holding my hands one minute, kissing me the next, and then out of here in another. Damn, she had amazing lips. She must be into me if she kissed me, right? Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my side. I close my eyes and groan. I’d gotten just a tiny taste of her and now all I wanted was more.
I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so much that it made me ache before. Never. It’s an overwhelming feeling and I’m not sure what to do with it. My body can’t seem to contain it all. I’m practically shaking.
I pace around my apartment, briefly considering going after her. I know where she lives, after all. But that would probably not go over well with Freya, so I just wear down the floorboards of my own place.
I could text her. I have her number in my phone for cheer-related reasons. Coach handed out a sheet with everyone’s contact information a while ago.
What the fuck do I do in this situation? I rip my hands through my hair and pull out a few strands, but barely notice.
Never, in my whole life, has anyone twisted and torn me up like this. I’m beginning to think that there is something seriously wrong with me, because I cannot get her out of my head and when I’m with her . . .