More to Us Page 19

  We're both left panting, our bodies soaked in sweat.

  I remain over her, catching my breath. "That was a good workout." I smile.

  She smiles back. "Yeah. I wonder how many calories we burned."

  "I don't know, but I didn't get to the gym today so I'm gonna have to do that a few more times."

  She laughs. "I already worked out so I'm done for today. You'll have to find someone else."

  I put my eyes on hers. "Don't even say that. I told you, I don't cheat."

  "I know. I was just joking around."

  "Well, don't joke about that. I know I have a lot of girls coming up to me but I'd never do anything with them. I need you to know that, okay?"

  "Yeah." Her hand is behind my neck, gently massaging it.

  I close my eyes. "God, that feels good."

  "As good as what we just did?"

  "Hell no." I smile. "Nothing compares to that."

  "It was good, wasn't it?"

  I open my eyes. "Just good? Shit. I thought it was freaking amazing, but if you didn't, then—"

  "No, that's not what I meant. It was more than good. It was..." She pauses. "Okay, this is kind of embarrassing but...that was the best sex I've ever had."

  Now I'm grinning like a fool, but I can't help it. What guy doesn't love hearing that? Especially from a girl you really like and have feelings for.

  "Why is that embarrassing?" I ask.

  "I don't know. Maybe because it implies I don't have much experience."

  "Or it implies I'm just really good at it." I smile.

  She rolls her eyes, smiling. "Yeah, I guess it does. Congratulations."

  "I'm kidding. I don't know if I'm good at it, but I try."

  "Trust me. You're good at it. Even if I had more experience, I'm sure that would've been the best sex I've ever had."

  I'm wondering exactly how much experience she's had. She said it wasn't much so does that mean she's only had sex a few times? Or with only one guy? I don't want to think about it. I don't want my mind even going there. I don't want to imagine her with anyone but me.

  A flash of lightning fills the room, followed by a boom of thunder. Kira grabs onto me.

  "You scared?" I ask.

  "No." She relaxes her grip on my shoulders. "That was just really loud."

  "I like thunderstorms. I like listening to the rain."

  "Me too."

  I kiss her. "I'll be right back." I leave her room and go across the hall to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When I get back, she's lying on her side, gazing out at the storm. I sneak in behind her, wrapping my arm around her.

  "I think the storm is passing," she says. "At least the lightning part. It's still raining."

  It's now a steady rain, pelting the windows.

  "I used to think rain was music," I tell her.

  "You did?" I hear the smile in her voice.

  "Yeah. Back when I was like three or four I used to get scared during bad storms so my mom made up this story. She said storms are God's band. That the rain is the keyboard and the thunder is the drums. She said that sometimes when God's bored, he puts on a concert for all of us, and sometimes he even adds a light show which is the lightning. After she told me that, I wasn't scared anymore. I actually believed her."

  I've never told anyone that story. It's too personal. A memory of my mom and me. Something only my family knows. And yet for some reason I told Kira.

  "Is that when you got interested in music?" she asks.

  "It was even before that. When I was like two, my mom took me to a music class for toddlers. She noticed I was always banging on stuff with spoons, which I'm sure a lot of toddlers do, but my mom thought I was trying to make music. So she took me to this music class and apparently I got really into it."

  "You did?" She laughs. "Like how?"

  "My mom said I'd run in the room as soon as I got there and start playing the instruments. And when the class was over, I didn't want to leave. So my parents bought me some kid instruments to play at home. That's when my music career started. Well, I guess it's not really my career but you know what I mean."

  "Why don't you make it your career?"

  "What? Music?"

  "Yeah. If it's what you love doing, then maybe you should be doing that instead of construction."

  "I've thought about it, but I don't know how I'd make a living. The band barely gets paid enough to cover our expenses."

  "Maybe if you talked to that guy in the music industry, he could help you out."

  "I'm not sure what he could do for me, but I guess I could give him a call. The thing is, I'm not really sure what I want to do. I know I should have it all figured out by now but I don't."

  "I'm the same way. I feel like there's all this pressure on me to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life, but I don't feel ready to decide. It's a big decision, you know?"

  "Yeah. Although I don't have to pick a major so it's easier for me. I never even considered going to college. It was always either construction or play music."

  "Do you like working construction?"

  "Yeah, I do. I like building things. And I like doing the renovation stuff, making something look new again. So if I had to do that for the rest of my life, I wouldn't mind. I just don't want to do the business side of it. My brothers are starting to do all that shit and now my dad wants me to, but I want to stay out of it. For me, the best part of my job is the creating and building part."

  "Do you ever get to actually create stuff? Like from your own ideas?"

  "Sometimes. I've created some tile designs for floors and backsplashes. And last year we had this lady who wanted some unique lightning for her kitchen but couldn't find anything so I made her some light fixtures out of these antique jars she had in her basement. Jake did the wiring. He's better with electrical stuff than me."

  "Did she like it? The light fixture?"

  "She liked it so much she gave me a gift card for the guitar store, even after she'd paid us for the job. She knew I was in a band. She still calls me sometimes just to say how much she loves that light fixture. The jars used to be her mom's so now she gets to see them every day."

  "You should do more of that stuff."

  "I will if I get the opportunity. That's the kind of thing I'd like to do more of. It's a lot more fun than hanging drywall."

  We're both still gazing out the window at the steady rain. She's curled up in front of me, my arm around her.

  I like this. Being with her like this. Talking to her. I've never once laid in bed and talked to a girl after sex. I either fall asleep or get up and leave. So this is new for me. I also never talk that much about myself. Not because I don't want to, but because girls usually aren't interested. They're dating me because I'm in a band, and a Wheeler, and they like how I look. They don't care about my job, or my past, or anything else personal.

  "So how about you?" I ask. "Any ideas for what you want to do?"

  "No." She laughs. "I have absolutely no idea. I thought I'd be doing—" She stops suddenly, then says, "I mean, I guess maybe something in sports or fitness. Those are the things that interest me the most. But really, I have no idea."

  "When do you have to pick a major?"

  "I'm not sure. I'd have to ask my advisor. For now, I'm just taking general classes." She takes a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about school. Talking about it stresses me out." She scoots back and presses into me. "I just want to lie here and watch the rain."

  The feel of her body pressed against mine has my dick ready to go again. It was already halfway there just lying next to her but now that it feels her ass rubbing against it, it's throbbing, wanting inside her again.

  "You up for a workout?" I ask, my hand sliding down between her legs.

  "I already worked out today." She grinds her ass into me and I see the side of her mouth turn up.

  "I haven't. And you doing what you're doing right now tells me you might be interested. If not, that's fine, but you can't keep your as
s there."

  She flips over and gets on top of me, straddling me, and showing off those full, beautiful breasts.

  "Is this better?" She smiles.

  I smile back. "Yeah. That'll work."

  She reaches over to her nightstand and gets a condom and puts it on me, her hand working me as she does. I grab her ass and position her and she sinks down on me. Shit, she feels good. And now I get to look at her, and touch her.

  She leans down and I kiss her, then say, "Just a reminder, I work out for at least an hour a day."

  She smiles, and I kiss her again and we resume our workout. Fuck the gym. This is way better.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kira

  Austin left an hour ago and I already miss him. He spent the night, but we didn't get much sleep. And not just because we were having sex. We spent a lot of time talking. He told me about his brothers and his dad and he talked about how hard it was for all of them when his mom died.

  I was surprised he told me all that, but I'm finding that Austin is really open about his past and who he is and how he feels. If I ask him something, he answers, honestly and completely. I'm not used to that. I'm used to guys not wanting to talk about anything personal. But I like that Austin is that way. It makes me feel closer to him.

  When it was my turn to talk, I told him more about my family and some of my friends I left back home. I didn't talk about gymnastics, even though I really wanted to. It's a huge part of my life and I want to tell him about it, but then I'd have to tell him what happened to my leg and I don't want to. I'm moving on from that and focusing on the future, still believing I'll have a chance to compete again.

  In between talking, we had sex. The kind of sex I thought only happened in movies. I'd always see those scenes with the girl gripping the sheets, moaning, yelling as the big moment hit, and I'd think that's crazy. That no one reacts that way. I certainly hadn't. Until last night. Austin took my body on a ride that had me responding in ways I never thought I could. Now I know the movies aren't lying. Sex that great really does exist, which is why we did it multiple times.

  My phone dings with a text from Austin. Be there at noon to pick you up.

  Great. See you then.

  I smile. Just getting a text from him makes me smile. Is it because of the sex? Having sex with a guy changes things, or at least it does for me. It makes me feel more attached to him. More emotionally committed. That's why I could never have a one-night stand. I'd be too much of a mess the next day. I'd want to see the guy again, and talk to him, which goes completely against the rules of a one-night stand. I don't know how Amber did it.

  Amber! I totally forgot to tell her about Dylan. There's an example of a one-night stand gone wrong. Instead of moving on from that night, the two of them are still obsessed with each other months later.

  I fling open my door and run across the hall to Amber's room. It's empty. She's still not home, and she wasn't home yesterday so I haven't had a chance to talk to her.

  I keep going back and forth about whether I should tell her or not. Part of me thinks I shouldn't, but I have to, right? She has to know Dylan wants her. I know she said she doesn't want to be with him, but if she knows how he feels, maybe she'll change her mind.

  As I'm going back to my room, I hear the front door open. I race to the living room and see her coming in, her hair messed up and her clothes wrinkled.

  "Hey." I walk up to her. "Rough night?"

  She laughs as she closes the door. "No. I just fell asleep in my clothes."

  "Were you with Matt?" I follow her to the kitchen.

  "Yeah." She opens the fridge. "Where else would I be?"

  "I don't know. I guess I'm wondering why you were sleeping in your clothes if you were with Matt. I thought you guys were um...past that point."

  "We are." She takes the orange juice from the fridge and pours herself a glass. "But he keeps the air conditioning turned up really high in his apartment so after we did it, I put my clothes back on to sleep in."

  She could've just told him to turn the air off. Or she could've snuggled up to him to keep warm. I was toasty warm snuggled up next to Austin last night without a stitch of clothing on.

  "So how are things going with you two?" I take a seat on the stool next to the breakfast bar.

  "Great," she says, then takes a sip of her juice. "He took me to a really nice restaurant last night, which was sweet because I know he's short on cash right now."

  "Why'd he take you there? Just because?"

  "He was really impressed that I went to all that work to make him dinner so he wanted to do something nice back." She gets out a bowl and a spoon. "But honestly, the dinner wasn't that hard."

  "You almost burnt our kitchen down," I remind her.

  She shrugs as she gets the milk from the fridge. "Only because I don't know how to use the stove. I'm not used to gas. I grew up with electric."

  "What else happened? You were with him for almost the entire weekend. What else did you do?"

  "Went to another movie, then hung out at his friend's place and had some drinks." She grabs a box of cereal from the cupboard and fills her bowl, then drowns it in milk. She uses way too much milk. I only use a little. Too much milk makes the cereal soggy. "His friend is a lawyer downtown. He has this really cool loft apartment. Matt didn't like it. He said it was too industrial. But I loved it. Someday I want to live in a place like that." She shoves a big spoonful of cereal in her mouth. "How about you and Austin? What'd you guys do?"

  "Had sex," I say casually, then I laugh because I know she's going to overreact.

  "What?" Her spoon drops in her bowl, splattering milk everywhere. She was standing across from me at the counter, but she races around it and comes up next to me. "You had sex with Austin?"

  "Yes," I say calmly.

  "And?" She shoves my shoulder. "Details, Kira! Details!"

  "It was the best sex I ever had." I'm still smiling, beaming, as I remember last night.

  She's staring at me, not speaking.

  "What?" I say. "What is it?"

  "You're not joking with me, are you? You really did it with him?"

  "Yes. Multiple times."

  Her eyes widen. "Like how many?"

  "I don't know. I lost track."

  Her eyes widen even more. "Kira! You just met him!"

  "I know."

  "You slut!" She laughs and slaps my arm.

  "Hey!" I say, also laughing. "Don't call me that."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just surprised because you're usually so..."

  "Cautious?"

  "Yeah. You usually wait months before doing it."

  "That's not true. I only waited three weeks with Dean."

  "And then he dumped you. Which is why you said you'd wait longer next time."

  "True, but I didn't want to wait with Austin. And it's not like we've only gone out on a few dates. We spent almost all of last week together. That's equivalent to at least ten dates, maybe more."

  "Even so, I'm still shocked." She goes back around the counter to her cereal. "You never move this fast. You must really like him."

  "I do. He's sweet and kind and considerate. Even with strangers. I didn't even tell you about the old man."

  "What old man?" she asks, munching on her cereal.

  "Austin saw this old man fall off a ladder and he pulled over and helped him. We ended up being there the whole afternoon. Austin cut tree branches and I hauled them to the street. Anyway, enough about me. Back to you and Matt. So...was it any better?"

  "The sex?" She gulps down some juice, then says, "Not really. But I've decided I'm not going to worry about it. There's more to a relationship than just sex." She looks down at her bowl, moving her cereal around with her spoon.

  "Amber, you can't honestly tell me this doesn't bother you."

  She sighs. "Yeah, it bothers me, but I only feel this way because I'm being stupid and comparing Matt to..." She sighs again. "Never mind."

  "Dylan," I say co
mpleting her thought. "You're comparing him to Dylan."

  "I didn't say that."

  "But it's what you meant."

  She takes her cereal bowl to the sink, her back to me.

  "He wrote a song about you," I say.

  There's a loud clatter as the bowl and spoon drop from her hand and hit the sink.

  Her back is still to me. "What did you say?"

  "I said he wrote a song about you. Dylan wrote a song about you."

  She whips around. "What are you talking about? Dylan did not write a song about me."

  "He did. And he performed it last night. It was only the second time he'd sang it. The first time was last Saturday after we left. If we'd stayed, you could've heard it."

  She's staring at me in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You have to be. Because there's no way Dylan would do that. He probably doesn't even remember me." She walks into the living room.

  I follow her. "Amber, I'm not kidding. Dylan really did write a song about you."

  She looks at me. "So it was ABOUT me, not FOR me."

  I stop to think of the difference, then say, "I think it was both. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this but Austin said Dylan wrote that song because he was hoping you'd hear it."

  "Why?" She sounds breathless, almost nervous. "What does he want?"

  "For you to come back. He wants you back."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because it's in the song. The lyrics said that you left and that he wants you back."

  Her jaw drops, then she slowly closes it and shakes her head. "No. You must've heard him wrong. Or maybe he was talking about someone else. I'm sure he's had a lot of one-night stands." She goes to the couch and sits down.

  "Amber it was you." I go and sit next to her. "It was just how you described that night. The song said he saw you across the room and that he just knew. He said words weren't needed. He said you spent a night together and when he woke up, you were gone. And he wants you back."

  She's staring straight ahead, chewing on her thumbnail.

  "Amber, are you okay?"