Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel) (7 page)

“
Awesome,” Drake says,
racing to the box. “A homemade meal.” He juggles a pan in his hand.
“Whoa this stuff is still hot. Your mom really is the
shizit.”

I move toward the kitchen and pass my
dad who just stands there. “She’s got book club tonight
right?”

He nods.

My mom is the sh—best. But I can see
her set up from a mile away. Since I don’t want to disappoint her,
I give in to her manipulations. “Have you eaten yet?”

My dad shakes his head.

I reach in the cupboard. Luckily,
there are at least three clean dishes. “Then let me grab you a
plate too.”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t
decline.

Drake already has everything laid out
on the counter. Yeah, spaghetti, meatballs, salad, and garlic bread
beat more Taco Bell by miles. Drake plops down a two-liter and
three plastic cups before rubbing his hands together. We fill our
plates then sit on the couch. We haven’t got around to getting a
table. Drake keeps trying to talk me into a foosball table
instead.

I sit in the middle and even though
Drake turned on Sports Center on the flat screen, I feel the need
to fill the silence. “What’s with the Christmas hat?” I ask my
idiot roommate dressed in nothing but shorts and the red
hat.

He sucks in noodles. “Christmas in
July.”

“
It’s June.”

He shrugs. “Close enough.” He stuffs
in an entire meatball. “Man, your mom can cook.” The words come out
a garbled mess, but I’m used to deciphering him through a mouth
full of food.

I glance at my dad still in his tie
and dress shirt from work. “How’s the job going?”

“
Same as always but good.”
He cuts his noodles with his fork. “How’s
your
new job?”

Salad catches in my throat. My dad
hasn’t shown any interest in my life since I told him I wasn’t
taking a football scholarship. I wash the lettuce down with grape
pop. “I like it. Running people through a workout is easy. I just
have to be patient and chat with them a bit. I wouldn’t want to do
it forever.” I shrug. “But it pays the bills.”

My dad nods but his composed
expression doesn’t show his thoughts, which has me fearing he’s
thinking I could be conditioning for a new season of college
football. My dad has always dreamed of me going to college and then
pro. And I fear his dream will always be a wedge between
us.

“
Holy shit,” Drake says
past another mouthful of food. “You guys gotta watch the replay on
that basket. He was almost at the half court line.”

The three of us continuing
eating, watching
Sports
Center
, and talking sports until a knock
sounds on the door. Drake’s up in seconds. Two of his buddies come
in towing a case of beer.

My dad gives me a look.

I shrug. “He likes to
party.”

My dad gives me another
look.

“
Don’t tell me you didn’t
party in college.”

“
Well yeah, but I lived on
campus…”

My face flushes with anger at the idea
it would be okay to party if I lived on a college campus. Why does
everything always go back to the fact I didn’t want a football
scholarship with him? Never mind after the whole coma and head
injury thing no one would probably take me anyway. He just can’t
let it go.

He clears his throat. “What I mean is
it’s kind of expected there. I just don’t want you getting in
trouble. I don’t want your neighbors calling the cops or
something.”

My anger deflates a tad. “I usually
keep Drake from getting too wild.”

“
Yeah, you’re probably a
lot more mature than I was at eighteen.” He grins. “Unfortunately,
I was probably more like your roommate.”

Thinking of my dad like Drake, I grin
back. “Mom settle you down?”

He nods. “Eventually. Speaking of your
mother, she wants you to come over for dinner on
Sunday.”

“
I have to work at
three.”

He stands. “Then I’ll tell her
one?”

I stand and grab his empty plate.
“Sure.”

He glances at Drake and his friends,
swigging beer in the kitchen. “Looks like the festivities are under
way so I should get going.”

I smirk. “Sure you don’t want a
beer?”

“
Ah no. I have my own at
home.” He moves to the door. “See you Sunday,” he says before
stepping out.

I stare at the door. That was the most
comfortable my father and I have been in a long, long time. Before
my accident and coma we couldn’t stand to be around each other.
After he just looked relived and somewhat guilty. Today gives me
hope we can get back to a normal father and son existence. Even
though my dad’s visit puts me in a better mood, Paige’s email and
missed call still weigh heavily on my mind.

“
Bro, lighten up. Your
dad’s gone.” Drake tosses a beer at me as I walk into the kitchen.
I catch the can with one hand while holding the plates in the
other. He laughs. “No wonder you were a receiver. Great
hands.”

I go to the sink and rinse dishes. “No
wonder you stood on the sidelines. You were too busy worrying about
the stickers on your helmet.”

His friends’ laughter doesn’t faze
him. “That reminds me I need to hang the mistletoe.”

Ah, I knew there was a
reason behind the Santa hat. At least there
is
a motive behind his hat madness
for once. I open my beer and talk to Drake’s friends—I suppose
they’re mine too now—while he hangs the mistletoe. More people
arrive with beer and booze. Some people congregate in the kitchen.
Others play video games. I open another beer just as someone turns
up the music.

I’m having an okay time conversing and
watching Drake try to get a kiss from any female who walks in under
his hanging plastic plant—most give him a peck on the cheek then
skirt around his mostly naked form—until Amanda shows
up.

Shit. My beer can crunches in my hand.
How did I not see this coming? I should have known Drake would
invite her. Paige is really not going to like this. But I can’t
leave. I’m not driving after downing three beers in a little more
than an hour. I consider going for a long, long walk. A five to six
hour walk does not sound appealing. Out of the corner of my eye, I
watch her give Drake a peck on the cheek. Then her eyes scan the
room until she finds me. I take a sip of beer and nod to whatever
the guy on my left is saying. Could Paige have been right? When I
look up, Drake’s handing Amanda a beer. They lean against the couch
talking.

Probably not, Paige’s worries are just
making me paranoid.

I’m nursing my fourth and last beer—I
have school at seven in the morning—when Amanda saunters into the
kitchen. She smiles at me and says hi. Luckily, the interest the
other guys have in her scantily dressed form—her tight dress rides
high on her legs and low across her chest—have them introducing
themselves.

Continually running her hands through
her dark hair, she talks to them while her constant glances at me
make me nervous. There’s something there in her demeanor, perhaps
the slow, deliberate way she moves, that reminds me of a snake. I’m
going to have to ask permission from Paige and have a talk with
Drake. Just being in the same vicinity as Amanda has me feeling
guilty. So much so, I set my half-full beer down on the counter, go
turn down the music, and head to my room.

In my small sanctuary, I
turn on the fan in the corner to help cut the noise, grab
The
Great
Gatsby
, and fall onto my bed. After a few
pages, I’m reaching for my laptop. Paige hasn’t sent another
message. Great. I go back to her earlier message and get the
feeling again she purposely avoided me, which pisses me off. Maybe
more so after a few beers. My fingers type with irritation dripping
from their tips.

Paige,

If you’re pissed, fine.
Just be honest and tell me that’s your justification for not
calling. Tell me you need some time to cool off. Don’t play mind
games with me and leave me hanging. I know you asked me to be
patient with you, but I would never expect that kind of bullshit
from you.

Ever.

So tell me I’m wrong. Call
me a dick for even thinking that.

Now that I have that out
of my system…

I have some good news. I
think. My father came over tonight. My mother sent dinner with him.
Her way of forcing us together, which as you know usually doesn’t
work. Yet tonight we got along for the most part. It even felt like
he might be getting over the whole football thing. And maybe will
come to respect my decision one day.

Or maybe that’s just me
hoping.

Anyway, Drake had a party
tonight. Well, they’re still partying. I’m in my room. I didn’t
know until she walked through the door, but he invited Amanda.
Paige you have to let me explain at least a little about your past
so I can tell him not to invite her over anymore. She only said hi
to me, but damn I felt guilty being in the same room with her. So
yeah, please give me the go on sharing with Drake.

Suddenly my door opens. “Oh, here you
are.”

My eyeballs feel like they’re going to
pop out of my head. When the hell am I going to learn to lock the
door? “Ah, hey Amanda, sorry but I have homework to catch up on.” I
don’t want to get into it with this girl. Stirring up the past
wouldn’t be good for Paige. I gesture at the computer in my lap and
try to keep my voice level. “Big paper due tomorrow.”

Ignoring me, she stumbles into the
room then collapses on my bed. She’s inches from my tennis shoes. I
scoot up and away from her. She smiles at me. “I just wanted to
talk with you some more about you know…becoming a—a trainer. Yeah,
that’s it.” She turns and lays sideways across the end my bed.
“Can’t we talk for just a little bit?”

I shake my head and keep my expression
relaxed. “I need an A on this assignment.”

“
Hmm…I just wanted to tell
you what a great trainer you are.” She flips her hair back slowly
as her dark eyes watch me. “I can see why you’re always booked
solid.” She reaches out, slides her hand up my calf, and her tits
practically pop out her dress.

I jump off the bed and away from her
touch as horror erupts in me at the sight of her breasts on my
comforter. There is only one girl I want on my bed. I rarely bring
her in here because I’m afraid things will move too fast so alone.
With the vision of Amanda where someone else should be, staying
controlled is becoming challenging. “Sorry, I’m busy.”

Amanda rolls onto her stomach and
gazes at me. Her dark lashes flutter. “Or we don’t have to talk. I
know you liked touching me the other day. You can touch me again. I
liked it too.”

My fingers squeeze the computer. “Get
off my bed and get out of my room.” I set the laptop on the dresser
before my grip crushes it. I am such an idiot. Paige was right all
along.

Her long nails brush the tops of her
breasts. “We can have a little fun together. No one needs to
know.”

My head feels like it’s about to
explode. She’s going to tell everyone. Probably fucking post it on
Facebook she was in my room. With me alone. I march to the door.
“Get out,” I say from behind clenched teeth. Paige will believe
me—I have to believe that—but she shouldn’t have to deal with the
rumors this bitch is going to spread and relive her past because of
my stupidity.

She rolls over, leans back on her
elbows, and raises a leg provocatively. “Are you telling me
no?”

I want the sight of her on my bed
gone. Now. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

She snaps up and says, “Fine.” Then
proceeds to mess up her long hair into a nest then pinch the side
of her neck.

My eyebrows about reach my hairline.
This girl is not a bitch. She’s the spawn of Satan. The depths
she’ll go to get back at Paige are boundless.

She glances at the dresser covered
with pictures of Paige, sneers at me, and pinches the plump skin of
a tit above the low cut fabric.

At the sight of her making a fake
hickey, I lose it.

She wants a scene. I’ll make a scene.
My hand wraps around her upper arm. Ignoring her ow noises, I drag
her through the apartment, open the door, and toss her outside.
After snapping the lock, I turn around to a sea of faces staring at
me. All conversation has stopped. “If anyone lets that crazy,
desperate ass slut in this house, I will lose it way worse than
this.”

The spawn pounds on the door behind
me.

Drake closes his open mouth. “What’d
she do?”

I push away from the vibrating door.
“Came on to me.”

“
And that’s bad?” some guy
asks as I pass him.

“
Dude,” Drake says. “He’s
in love with Paige.”

“
Oh yeah, Paige is hot.
Those legs are smoking h—” I whip around. He swallows. “I mean
pretty. She’s a very pretty…”

Drake laughs. “Yeah Jimmy, shutting
your mouth might be a wise choice at the moment.”