I'll Make You Mine Page 7

  “For what? I’m not going shopping again. And I don’t share a bed with Dylan.”

  With her hands resting on my shoulders, she says, “I admit I thought he was gay for about five minutes, but I was angry. I see the way he looks at you, Zoe. When you two get around to doing it, I want you prepared. Something tells me it’ll happen sooner rather than later. You and Dylan can only dance around your sexual tension for so long before someone caves.”

  She’d be drowning in satisfaction if she knew I have his clothes on underneath my long coat, and that my clothes are still at his house. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I’m honest. And since you’re so determined to skip the flings we discussed, and jump into the serious, I’m taking you someplace special tomorrow. I’d be a bad sister if I didn’t do this for you.”

  “I’m not going to the sex shop again. Once was more than enough. And not that I’ll need them, but I still have that box of condoms in my closet.”

  “We’ll save the sex shop for a rainy day,” she says with an obnoxious smirk.

  Before I can argue, she’s already with her new guy, rubbing all over him like he’s a scratch-and-sniff sticker.

  Keely’s so unpredictable, we could be doing just about anything tomorrow. That thought leaves me with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

  Maybe I’m the one who’s going to have her head in a trash can tonight.

  Dylan

  Zoe’s on the couch wrapped in the blanket I got her last Christmas. It was a gift, but she insisted on leaving it here because my place was where she did her best relaxing. The dorms are too loud and crazy, and her neighbors stress her out. As much as I wanted her to take the blanket with her, I wasn’t about to argue. Leaving it meant she planned on coming back—often.

  “This movie is a crock of shit, Dylan.” Zoe’s been a little off since she left the party, but I figure that has everything to do with the conversation I had with Keely. I don’t know how to bring it up, and she hasn’t tried.

  “I thought you loved this movie?”

  “Oh, I do. I’m just saying the guy is a damn fool. If he likes her that much, just tell her already. She’s not a mind reader.”

  I take a long swig of my beer, wishing she would realize what she just said and apply it to the two of us. “Maybe she should pay more attention.”

  “Women are smart, though. We have this little thing called intuition. If she isn’t feeling it, he must be doing something wrong.”

  Staring at the TV, I wonder what I’m doing wrong if it should be a no-brainer. “I think she senses how he feels, but doesn’t believe it. Or doesn’t think it’s possible for him to have those feelings for her.”

  “Why? They’re perfect for each other. There’s so much chemistry it’s borderline nauseating.”

  “They’ve never crossed that line before.” My knuckles brush against the back of her hand. Instead of holding it like I want to, I playfully knock her hand out of the way to grab another handful of popcorn.

  She waits until I’m finished before she takes her turn. And once she has a handful of her own, she throws it in my face. One kernel nails me between the eyes, and she crouches lower under her blanket, trying to hide her laughter.

  “You’ll be sorry for that,” I tell her with a smug grin on my face. I love when she’s playful. It’s nice to see her let go of some of the stress she carries around.

  “Your threats don’t scare me, Dylan. You’re a teddy bear, not a lion.”

  Before she realizes what’s coming, I move the popcorn out of the way and she’s flat on her back. I’m hovering over the top of her, staring into her shocked eyes. “How about now, Zo? Still think I’m a teddy bear?”

  With her palms pressed against my chest, her words contradict her expression when she says, “Y-yes.”

  This would be the perfect moment to touch my lips to hers. To slip my hand under the shirt she’s wearing, my shirt, and feel her smooth skin. But as bad as I want her, I sit down before I scare her away. “I’ll have to work on that.”

  She stares at the TV, her tongue darting out to wet her lips every couple of seconds. She’s thinking about kissing me and I didn’t do it. I should have kissed her.

  I’d worry I may never get another chance, but now that she’s agreed to move in with me, my options are limitless. If I have any say, she’ll be mine before New Year’s. When the ball drops in Times Square, she’ll be kissing my lips.

  “Living together will be like this, right?”

  “Like what, Zo?” I want her to say the words, but I can tell she’s struggling. “If you mean watching movies together, we’ll be doing a lot of that.”

  Her eyes stay glued to the screen when she starts one of her nervous rambles. “Okay, but what happens when there’s a girl here? Or friends? And will we buy groceries together and plan meals? Or will we wing it on our own?”

  She’s freaking out about how close we came to kissing. The slight tremble in her hand gives her away, and so does her breathing. “Zo, I won’t be dating anyone. And my friends are your friends. You already know most of them. As for food, I’ll do all the cleaning, if you cook for me. I’m so tired of canned soup and TV dinners. Don’t make me suffer.”

  She giggles and it takes the weight of the world off my shoulders. Maybe I didn’t screw things up.

  “I’ll cook for you,” she says. “We’ll make a meal list each week and then go shopping. Not that you need to shop with me. We’re not married or anything crazy like that.”

  I hate that she laughs at the two of us being more than friends. It’s all there. For years, the pieces have been falling into place.

  We’ve created the border; now we need to sort through the complicated pieces in the middle. Once we flip them in the right direction, it’ll all make sense. Then we can have the relationship we deserve.

  “I’ll go shopping with you. Whatever you need from me, Zo, you’ve got it.”

  My words must comfort her because she sits up and cuddles against my side. “You’re such a good guy, Dylan. Thank you for figuring out my housing problem. I’ll make it up to you someday. When I’m a rich doctor, I’ll buy you your own lobster tank or something.”

  “I knew you’d come around. Lobster isn’t so bad.”

  “No, it’s not,” she whispers. “Lobster’s nice.”

  I don’t think either of us are talking about lobster anymore, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happens in the rest of the movie.

  All I can focus on is the way Zoe feels pressed against me. The way her chest rises and falls and eventually our breathing syncs. How it’s so hard to keep my hands off of her that I’ve resorted to counting the dots on the popcorn ceiling—those little spitball looking things in no specific pattern.

  By the time the movie ends, she’s sound asleep, her hand still dangling inside the nearly empty popcorn bowl. I want nothing more than to scoop her up and lay her down next to me in bed. That’s what I do; only I don’t stay with her. When I sleep beside her for the first time, it’ll be because she wants me there—because she needs me there.

  After I pull her glasses off her face and set them on the nightstand, I leave my bedroom and take the couch. It’s still warm from her body, and her comforting vanilla scent still lingers on the cushions. She may not be sleeping in my arms, but she’s wrapped up in my clothes and surrounded by my things. For now, that’ll have to be enough.

  I close my eyes, picturing what it’d be like to tell her how I feel. I’ve gone over the speech a million times and a hundred different ways. Would I surprise her? Or would she be relieved and run into my arms the way she did when I showed her the new house?

  It’s the last thought I remember having before falling asleep.

  Sometime the next morning, I’m woken by the smell of eggs and bacon. My nose takes me to the kitchen, forgetting I’m dressed in nothing but boxer briefs.

  Zoe raises her head with a sweet smile. After one glimpse at my body, the sweetness turns in
to a lustful stare. The hand that was holding the spatula goes limp, and the spatula falls into the pan of sizzling bacon.

  “Shit,” she says as she fishes it out of the hot grease.

  “Did you burn yourself?”

  “I’m fine. Still tired I guess.”

  I reach farther into the fridge than necessary, hiding my smile as I grab the orange juice. “Did you sleep okay?”

  She huffs, blowing a piece of hair away from her face, and I feel it coming. “I would have been fine on the couch, you know.”

  “I’m sure you would have. It’s a nice couch.”

  “But somehow I ended up in your bed.”

  “You’re too good for the couch, Zo.”

  She’s drying off the spatula when my chest brushes against her back. I open the cabinet door, reaching for a glass all the way on the top shelf, just because it takes longer.

  Sucking in a ragged breath, she inches closer to the stove, trying to put space between us.

  I’m getting to her.

  Only when I’m far enough away does she relax and flip the bacon another time. “Like I was saying, the couch will kill your back. You’re a lot bigger than me, Dylan.”

  “I told you, I don’t mind. Now, pass me the bacon and stop arguing with me.”

  Shaking her head, she smiles, but pushes me out of the way with her ass, not letting me get any closer to the bacon. “You’re half naked. Get away from the stove before you get burned, too.”

  “That ass,” I mutter under my breath, not catching myself until it’s already slipped out. I try to cover it up with a cough, but I fail miserably, and take my usual seat at the table.

  Zoe takes a little longer than usual to pull each piece of bacon out of the pan and lays the slices on a paper towel to absorb the grease. She’s as meticulous with her cooking as she is with her schoolwork.

  “Any plans today?” she asks as she sets a plate full of bacon and eggs in front of me.

  “Thank you. This looks amazing. Just a meeting at the new place. You should come if you can.”

  She groans like it’s a terrible idea. “Keely told me she’s picking me up for some mystery trip this morning. I don’t want to go.”

  “You need to tell that girl no. Stand up to her, Zoe. Don’t let her walk all over you.”

  “She’s usually not this bad, but she’s been so persistent. Something’s going on with her that she isn’t telling me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe she’s trying to spend as much time with me as she can before school ends. Being separated will be a big adjustment.”

  “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “Just like I’m lucky to have you,” she says, surprising me.

  Zoe’s opinion is the only one that matters, and that has to count for something. “What time do you have to leave?”

  She checks her watch, sighing when she sets the pan in the sink. “She’ll be here any minute.”

  “Your sister’s coming here?”

  Chewing on her thumbnail, she sits down at the table. “I had to tell her I wouldn’t be at the dorm. One question led to another and before I knew it, she was telling me I fell asleep on your couch on purpose. Can you believe that?”

  I swallow a mouthful of eggs, curious what else Keely had to say. If I was a betting man, I’d have put money on my stupid fling with her ruining any chance I had with Zoe. But from the sounds of it, Keely’s actually on my side.

  “What did you tell your sister?”

  “The truth,” she says. “That we watched movies and I fell asleep.”

  I push my chair away from the table with my empty plate in hand. I can’t help but smile as I set it in the sink. “But you didn’t tell her you slept in my bed, did you?”

  “Dylan,” she says like she’s tired of having to defend herself. “That would have added fuel to her fire. It wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

  “It could have been like that,” I mutter under my breath, again. She’ll catch me one of these times. And maybe I want her to, because subtle hasn’t been working for me.

  When I turn back around, Zoe’s cheeks are an adorable shade of pink. She heard what I said.

  Keely honks her horn, making Zoe jump out of her skin. Like she can’t get out of here fast enough, she trips over nothing. “You okay, Zo?”

  Her hand’s on the doorknob with freedom only a second away, but she turns around, and she’s chewing on her lip. “I’m cool. Fine. Great. See you later, okay?”

  Laughing, I nod. “We need to talk about the house tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  She’s through the door, still dressed in my clothes, faster than I’ve ever seen her move. I love every second of her discomfort. Because if she didn’t care about me, it wouldn’t have bothered her at all.

  Zoe

  “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Keely asks as she watches me run out of Dylan’s house. “You flew out here like your ass was on fire. And what are you wearing?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I drank too much coffee. And I fell in the toilet.”

  Thankfully Keely was drinking like a lush and my coat covered enough that she didn’t notice this horrible outfit last night. Even though I don’t think it’s that horrible. It’s Dylan’s. But in the daylight, there’s no hiding the fact that I’m wearing men’s clothing.

  “Well, simmer down, love. I’ll need you to stay still for what I have planned,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  I’ve seen that look before and it ended with me crawling out of a gas station bathroom on my hands and knees—a filthy gas station. There’s not enough hand sanitizer in the world to recover from that.

  “Do I even want to know?” I ask her.

  “You’ll see. Just promise me you won’t run away screaming. This visit has a purpose.”

  My temples are already throbbing. Stress and Keely go together like rainbows and unicorns. You can’t have one without the other. The only reason I relax is because she pulls into the salon parking lot and I like getting my hair cut.

  “Who’s doing my hair?” I ask her as I slide out of the car.

  “Vanessa.”

  “But Vanessa doesn’t do hair. She’s in the spa.” We’ve been coming here since freshman year of college. I never go to Vanessa, and she knows that. Shelley is the only one who can manage my stubborn side bangs.

  Keely doesn’t speak until my butt is planted on the sofa in the reception area. “You’re right,” she tells me. “Vanessa doesn’t do that kind of hair, but she does hair.”

  “I’m not following, Keely. Why are we here?”

  Before she can answer, Vanessa’s standing in front of us with a smile on her face. “Are you ready for your waxing?”

  I reach for my brows, smoothing them down. “Waxing? I plucked them the other day. I don’t need them waxed.”

  Keely grabs my arm and pulls me down the hallway. “About that, Zo. We should talk it over with Vanessa.”

  “I haven’t been over-plucking,” I plead. “I follow the little template you made me.”

  “Your brows look nice, I’ve been meaning to tell you that. But this isn’t about eyebrows.”

  “It’s not?”

  Keely shoves me into Vanessa’s room and hands me the robe on the hook just inside the door. “What’s this for?”

  Still smiling in the most obnoxious way, Vanessa says, “I’ll need you to undress from the waist down. You can keep your bra and top on. If you’re wearing one—a bra that is.”

  I’m offended, but then I remember I’m dressed like a dude. I can see why a bra would be questionable, but that’s beside the point. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t the gynecologist.”

  “She’ll be ready for that waxing in a minute,” Keely assures Vanessa before ushering me into the corner of the room.

  I wait for Vanessa to leave before I throw the robe at Keely’s head. She yanks it off only to hand it right back. “Put it on and stop being difficult
. This is for your own good.”

  “My own good? I’m not getting my pubic hair ripped out of my vagina, Keely. It’s barbaric and unsanitary.”

  “Will you shave it?”

  “Maybe I already do.”

  A disapproving glare’s plastered on her face. “I know you’re lying. What do you have against waxing?”

  “We are not having this conversation,” I groan. “Keely, nothing’s going on down there. Who cares what it looks like?”

  “Nothing’s happened yet,” she corrects.

  “How could you know what’ll happen when I don’t have a clue? I’ve never had sex. It’s not breaking news.”

  “True, but you have an attractive roommate that wants to get into your pants. And when it happens, which it will, I want you prepared. He’ll appreciate the effort, trust me.”

  “Trust you? We’re standing in the middle of a torture chamber. I’ll trust you if you come to your senses and let me leave.”

  “Not happening, Zoe.”

  I point to her crotch like it’s a country on a map—it’d be Australia if we’re going down under. “What about you? If I have to do this, so do you.” I’m pulling out the twin card, but she doesn’t seem to care.

  “Take your clothes off and lie down. The sooner we mow the grass, the sooner you can get back to studying.”

  Still standing in the corner, staring at the table in front of me, I inspect the room for the first time. The wax is set up, the lights are dim, but the soothing music does nothing to calm my nerves. Vanessa in my nether region makes me want to run for cover.

  “Shit, I left my bag at Dylan’s.” I can’t run anywhere. Without my keys, I’m locked out of the dorm.

  “We’ll get your bag after we’re done here. Though, if you ask me, I’d assume you left it at Dylan’s, so you had a reason to go back.”

  “No, Keely. It’s not like that at all. Some people forget things. You wouldn’t understand what that’s like because you’re perfect.”

  I’m so tired of her bossing me around, I want to sit in the corner and cry like a child. Truth be told, I’m terrified of this place.