Crazy About Love: An All About Love Novel (13 page)

P
RESENT DAY

With all the nerves and excitement about the momentous gesture I’m making, I plumb forgot about all the
work
I have to do.

“Line up, damn it!” I yell at the bachelors, and
none of them listen
. I blow my already failed hairdo from my face and shove bachelor number two, who is too busy texting to notice me pushing. When I get through the very potent-smelling and oily crowd I start counting how many of the guys are back here.

I can’t even find bachelor number one, because not everyone has grabbed their number yet. And I don’t even
see
Alec. I was 10,000 percent sure he’d come tonight, yet I can feel the panic settling in my stomach that maybe he
didn’t
come.

“Fifteen minutes, guys!” I shout. “
Fifteen
minutes!
I need all the bachelors lined up here.” I thrust my arms out and gesture at the curtain. My ability to give a shit about professionalism went out the window an hour ago. “If you don’t have a number, come get it!”

Some asshole moos as I just grab random arms and tug them into what looks like a line. I’m sweaty and gross and this just won’t do for tonight. I make a mental note to clean up before the bidding starts.

I grab number thirteen’s shoulders and steer him into the line. He’s calling back at number seventeen like I’m not even here. The oil soaks through his shirt and onto my hands, and I stare at them, because what the heck am I supposed to wipe them off on?

Then suddenly I feel a rush of warmth flow through my stomach, through my chest, and up my neck, and I forget the stress and the smell and the need to wash my hands. A smile hits my lips, turning them up and up until they’ve reached the moon. Alec hasn’t even said anything, I don’t even
see
him, but I know he’s right behind me.

“You said something about a number?” His voice is in my ear, making all sense and control flutter away. I turn around, he grins, and I melt right into the floor. Funny how he’s given me that same smile for years, but only recently have I realized how much it means to me.

“You’re here.” Like duh, of course he’s here. But the panic about him possibly not showing up is now transforming into panic that he
did
show up and I’m minutes away from declaring myself.

I toss my arms around him to hide my face, but also because I haven’t hugged him since the night he left and I’ve missed it. He’s oily, but I don’t even care anymore. My heart is performing a drum solo against his chest, but he doesn’t let me hang on long enough for him to notice, or at least I don’t think so.

“You are saving my life right now,” I say, looking around the chaotic room.

He pulls out the note card we handed out to the bachelors so that they could write down all their talents and jobs and things like that. “I don’t know about that. What the hell am I supposed to write?”

He could write ten million things on that card, starting with how humble he is. “How great a catch you are.”

He laughs, then leans in close. His breath smells like Icebreakers. Those grape duo ones he keeps in his car. I’m usually the one who eats them all, but he’s had a Theresa-free three weeks.

“If it’s dead quiet during the bidding, start bribing some of the girls, ’kay?” His deep, playful eyes stay on mine. He really should get a ribbon in eye contact. “Preferably a blonde,” he continues, and his awesome eye contact falters a bit as he looks at my mess of a head. “Long hair.”

If I wasn’t already nervous enough, he has to go and say,
Hey, get a hot chick that has exactly
not
your hair style to bid on me.
I’m sure it’s a joke, but I don’t find it funny right now, and it’s my own damn fault for pushing him away for too long.

Instead of giving him an underhanded slight like I normally would have, I opt for taking the card from his hand instead.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“The bribing part?” he asks, and his eyebrow tilts up. I force back the
hell no
response I have. I count to five in my head before waving the card at him. I know that I could probably fill the entire thing up in about two seconds with just adjectives:
sexy, funny, happy, friendly, good in bed, tall, talented, protective, great in bed, loving, caring, sweet, fantastic in bed…

“Alec, I guarantee you’ll get at least one bid tonight.
At least.
”

He gives me a skeptical look, but he’ll be laughing in a few minutes. Because that winning bid will be mine.

3 YEARS, 1 MONTH AGO: 8:14
P.M.

Thank God I get along with Landon’s best friend, because Liz and Landon will not stop humping like bunnies. As soon as intermission hit, they were out of here. I’m not complaining either, since they were giggling and the room was not dark enough to hide their wandering hands.

“You think they made it home or did it on the train?” I ask Alec as the curtain rises. He humors me with a laugh, but then gets to his feet and shouts praises at the actors taking their curtain call. I join him, dropping my coat onto Liz’s empty seat. The curtain falls and the lights go up and everyone starts filing out, except him. He stays a bit to bask in the Broadway afterglow.

“Perfect.” He sighs, grinning like a kid in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. “She was perfect, right? Great projection, reactions were spot on—”

“And you could see her giant boobs from clear back here,” I add, swinging my arms out in front of my chest. Alec tilts his head at me.

“They’re
almost
as nice as yours.”

“Can’t beat the real ones.” I tap my
Playbill
on top of my breasts and watch him turn red and laugh before grabbing our coats and handing them over. “So…do we risk walking in on our best friends or do we go somewhere else?”

“It’s such a tough decision.”

“I’m sure the hourlong train ride home is more than enough time for them.”

“True. But as we learned from last time, there’s no guarantee that they’ll be clothed.”

I press my lips together and nod. I’ve seen far too much of Landon—and Liz, for that matter. Last time Alec and I walked in, they were playing crazy eights buck naked. Liz called it their afterplay. I call it the killer of boners.

We step out onto the gorgeous street in Times Square, Alec’s favorite place in the whole wide world. I don’t think I’ve seen him at this spot without a giant grin on his face. I really can’t blame him; I feel that way in a bubble bath.

My phone buzzes, and Alec eyes me as I look at it. Oh, right—I forgot he’s not a fan of people “in their phones” and not “in the moment.”

“Sorry…habit.” I go to push it back into my pocket.

“Nah, it’s all right.” He looks back at the billboards and lights. “I’m in the zone.”

A small giggle rolls through my stomach and I peek at the text.

Hey, gorgeous. I’m so lonely.

“Booty call?” Alec asks, happy smile turning into a teasing one. It presses in the dimple on his right cheek.

“Yep.” I shut off the screen, wishing I’d never looked at it in the first place. No booty tonight, especially with text guy. I made the mistake of taking the first offer presented to me at last week’s party, and in my phone he has now been given the nickname “22.” One 2 is for the length of time of the sex we had, and the other is for the length of his package. If I’m going to do this open-relationship thing with Eli, I better get the “fun” out of it that I was promised.

It’s been over a year, though. And I’m not sure if I’ve had any fun outside of the nonsexual fun I have with my friends.

Alec’s green eyes watch me put the phone away and I smile up at him.

“Me over random dude? I’m so flattered.”

“I’m just pressuring you into making this night more entertaining.”

“More entertaining?” He gasps as if I’ve said a dirty word in front of his great-grandmother. “
More entertaining?
Broadway and my mere presence are not enough?”

I slowly shake my head, pushing back the smile that wants to creep onto my lips. He matches my stare, looking adorable with his one dimple and blond hair and boyish good looks.

“To Central Park, then.”

“Oh, to see all the creepers?”

“To skate.”

My teasing smile drops. “Ice-skate?”

“What else?”

“Anything but that.”

He turns so he’s facing me as he walks backward. “Why not?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough as it is.”

“I’ve seen you walk in shoes with heels this thin.” He pinches his fingers together, and I reach out and move him away from a patch of ice he can’t see walking the way he is. “You can handle skates.”

“Not on ice.”

“Try it with me?” He juts out his lip, and I push his face away. He pulls that crap on me all the time.

“I’ll watch you,” I say.

“While you skate next to me.”

“While I sit on a bench.”

“After you’ve gone around at least twice.” He holds up two fingers.

“Once.”

“That’s the spirit,” he exclaims.

I groan, tossing my head back.

“Wait…gaah!” I don’t know how he does that, but he gets me every time. “Fine. One lap around, but you have to hold on to me.”

“Steady hands at your service.”

It’s fortunately not very crowded at the rink. Though too many people might be good, because then I’ll just fall into someone instead of flat on the ice. My heart starts to thump harder than I expected when Alec bends down in front of me and starts lacing up my rentals. I yank up the bottom of my jeans to my knees, grateful that at least the open relationship I have forces me to shave every day in case of unexpected encounters.

A feather-light touch to my ankle makes me jolt a bit, and I lean forward to see what Alec is doing.

“Here,” he says, handing me the anklet I had on. “Better put it in your pocket till we’re done.”

I stick my hand out, and when he plops the jewelry into my palm small jitters crawl up and down my arm. It’s so unexpected that I shiver hard, accidentally kicking his elbow.

“Whew, got the chills,” I say with a laugh. He reaches around his neck and pulls his red scarf free, then hands me that too. I take it even though I don’t need it. Smells like him, and I’ve always loved that smell—Icebreakers and sometimes cinnamon monkey bread. Oh, I could go for a piece of that right about now.

He pulls the laces tight and finishes tying them, then stands up like he’s totally used to walking around on razor-thin steel blades.

“Ready?” he asks, holding both hands out to me.

I reach out, but pull back quickly. “One time around,” I say with narrowed eyes. “That’s it.”

“That’s it.”

I study his face, making sure I’m not setting myself up for something. Once I’m satisfied with his sincerity I settle my hands in his and let him pull me up.

“These ankles were made for rolling,” I start singing as I wobble my way to the rink entrance. “And that’s just what they’ll do.”

“One of these days these ankles will just snap themselves in two,” he finishes in his Broadway-worthy voice.

I laugh, pausing at the entrance and staring at the cut-up ice. “Exactly, my friend. So please hold on to me.”

That dimple indents, and he snakes his arm around my waist and holds one of my hands in his while I take a death grip on the wrist he has by my hip. How is it possible that I feel more unstable now? And warm.
Really
warm. His dimple keeps distracting me.

“I got you whenever you’re ready to step out.”

I nod like I understand what he’s saying, but to be honest I have no clue what he just said. Like, I heard the words but I don’t know what they mean. So I just step forward without really thinking and my foot does what all feet do when they hit slick ice—it slips out from under me.

Alec said he was going to hold on, and he always keeps his promises. Only problem is that the momentum of my fall was too much for his reflexes, and instead of him keeping me up, I yank him down.

“Oh shitshitshitshit. Theresa, you okay?” he says from behind me. Or more accurately,
underneath
me, since my butt landed right on the cushion of his crotch, and even with the fall and the cold outside, I can tell he
definitely
wouldn’t get the nickname “22.” And because I’m a girl who’s got an ass cheek to his joystick, it starts growing against my butt.

Rumbles shake through my stomach, and the force is so strong that it locks up my throat; the only noise that slips out of my mouth is a tiny squeak. Alec’s body tightens—all of it this time, not just the happy guy downstairs—and he starts checking me.

“You hurt? Are you okay? Sorry, I didn’t expect you to—Are you
laughing
?”

I manage to look at him through my laugh-tears, nodding, unable to get up because my abs are getting a major workout. His panicked face relaxes, and he pushes me slightly.

“Damn it, don’t do that shit. Thought I hurt you.”

We get another few rounds of laughter in, followed by poor attempts to get up. I finally use the wall to pull myself up, then exert all my strength to get him standing as well—he’s still laughing too hard to get up by himself.

“If I make it one time around before this place closes, it’ll be a miracle.”

He straightens up. “If you make it one time around, I’ll let you keep that scarf.”

“For real?”

“Sure.”

I stick my hands out to him. “Okay, let’s go.”

Now he’s the one staring at my hands like they’re bombs about to go off. His hair is all disheveled and I feel like running my fingers through it to get all the bits of ice out, but I don’t trust myself to move without his help.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, unable to keep the smile off his face. He glides up in front of me and guides my hands up on his shoulders, latching my fingers behind his neck. Tingles travel up and down my coat-covered arms as he settles his hands on my hips as if we’re dancing. I can’t stop looking into his eyes. He can’t seem to stop looking into mine. There’s this crazy energy I haven’t felt in years—so many years that I start to question if I’ve ever felt it at all.

“Don’t move,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Relax and trust me, ’kay?”

“Trust you?” I tease.

“Work on the relaxing part, then.” His dimple creases in, and he bends a little at his waist and shoves off the ice.

My arms immediately lock around his neck. “Don’t take me backward!”

He laughs. On the turn,
he
turns us, and I scream, but it’s a happy scream. One that comes from deep inside my heart and makes me smile when it comes out. He’s now pulling me down the ice, not pushing me, and I swear my ankles are going to give way and we’ll be another pile of limbs on the rink, but I look at his steady feet and almost subconsciously my body relaxes into his.

It’s been too long since I’ve trusted a guy like this. Even though it’s just ice-skating, I feel like I’m trusting him with so much more. Trusting him not to judge me, trusting him to catch me, trusting him even after we fell. It’s all metaphorical
and
literal, and I can’t wrap my head around it just yet. All I know is that I’m genuinely happy in this moment.

“That’s twice, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

His hands feather up my sides to my elbows, and he gently coaxes me to loosen my grip. “We made it two times around.”

I glance around the huge rink, noticing the stiffness in my arms and legs for the first time. Alec’s eyes capture my attention again, and I slowly—very slowly—raise my arm into the air and give God a fist bump.

“I did it!”

“Think you can do it on your own?”

“Don’t you dare let me go.” I slam my hand back down on his shoulder and hold him tight. He grapples at my fingers, trying to pry them from his coat, but I’ve got a hell of a grip. So instead he tickles my sides.

“Don’t, Alec, don’t, don’t!” I squeal, refusing to recoil and lose my hold on him. But he laughs because he thinks this is hilarious, which it so isn’t, and the next thing I know his face goes from humorous to scared shitless as he loses his footing. He catches himself (using me!) and then lets out a sigh of relief.

But that relief only lasts half a second, because he’s destined to fall. And as he slips, I let go, determined not to go down with him.

He slams on the ice hard, and a couple of bozos say some stupid-ass remark not worth repeating. My arms are straight out to my sides like I’m about to take flight when really I’m just hoping for balance, which is twice as difficult since I’m laughing hard enough that my donkey snorts are coming out every other second.

“Are you okay?” I ask through my amusement. He looks up at me, nose wrinkled, and a low groan issues from his throat.

“I’m not going to feel too bad,” I tell him. “This was
your
genius ide-e-e-e-e-a—” As I say that last word, a passing skater knocks into my arm, making me wobble on my unsteady feet and windmill my arms in an effort to keep myself upright.

“Well, at least when
you
went down, I gave you a soft landing.” He smirks.

“Soft?” I pointedly look at his crotch. “That’s debatable.”

A burning red douses his ears and speckles his cheeks as he tries to laugh it off, and I feel all wobbly for an entirely different reason. He sticks his hands out to me so I can help him up, but I shake my head furiously at him.

“Use the wall, friend. I’m not moving a muscle.”

“You’re not going to help me up?” He drops his jaw in shock and indignation.

“You’d help me down before I got you a centimeter off the ground.”

“Dig in your brakes.”

“There are brakes on these things?”

He hits the toe of my skate. “Use the toe on one foot and those core muscles I know you’ve got somewhere.”

“I can do planks.”

“See? This’ll be easy.”

I narrow my eyes. “Use the wall.”

“Come on.” And there’s the dimpled green-eyed puppy face, damn him.

“Which foot do I brake?”

“Use the right.” He takes my hands as soon as I’ve got the guts to lower them. “Ready?”

“No.”

“One, two, three—”

And bye-bye balance.

After I hit Alec and somehow end up right on top of him, I let out a giant huff in his face.

“You owe me two scarves now.”

About an hour and many, many more falls later, we both walk our sore butts to the train station. I’m bundled up tight in my coat, but it’s still not enough. I’ve been whining at Alec to give me back the scarf that he totally swiped from me when we were returning our skates.

“I have a very delicate neck,” I tell him as we wait for the train. “It’s holding up such valuable stock.” I gesture animatedly at my brain.