Use Somebody (46 page)

“Are you trying to seduce me?” I joked. My voice was raspy thanks to all the lovely phlegm.

He chuckled. “Not tonight, Rosie. Tonight, we just relax.”

He set his papillion—er, papasan (so close that time)—right next to the fireplace and had me take a seat. I would never get over how comfortable his big round chair was. It was the second best seat in the whole world.

“I could have sworn that your fireplace used to be white tile,” I said, raising my palms to steal some heat.

“Ah, you noticed! Yeah, it was pretty tired looking. Glad I finished it in time for you to enjoy tonight.”

My eyes shot back to the distressed brick. “You did this? By yourself?”

“Maybe. What do you think?”

“Vance, it’s amazing!” I exclaimed. And it was. From the perfectly laid bricks, to the columns, to the crown molding mantle across the top. The dark colors were masculine yet elegant. It looked like it had been done by a professional. “I love it. You’re very handy.”

He cracked an adorably shy smile. “Just a little side project.”

He disappeared into the kitchen while I settled in and came back a few minutes later carrying a bowl on a tray. When he placed it in my lap, I felt my face compress with emotion. Even congested, I could almost taste it… spices and warmth, just like him.

“You made me chicken soup?”

He didn’t respond at first, just took extra care to straighten my blankets and tuck me in until I was perfectly comfortable. The gesture touched something deep down in my bones. I had never, ever been looked after like this.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he said quietly, looking into my eyes. “You know that, right?”

And then we just gazed at each other without saying anything at all. Something in his eyes resonated with me. The longer I met his stare, the more I allowed it to take hold.

What was it that I felt inside me? Was there even a word for it? The sweetest ache, longing, and warmth all at once. A magnetic pull between his body and mine. A slow burn brewing in the cold chambers where a healthy heart once resided. Water levels rising, flooding, overtaking my proverbial walls…

Sweet symphony, those eyes…

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Slow and sweet. My eyes fell shut as a burst of tranquility expanded within me and goosebumps raced up my arms. All I wanted was for him to stay by my side. Despite the fog of my sickness, I felt the feverish stirrings of adoration for my best friend. He truly had a heart of gold.

* * *

A few days later, when I was feeling better, I could not get enough of him.

“Rosie,” he breathed between one kiss and another. “We need to stop.”

Too much talking, not enough kissing.

“I don’t want to stop,” I smiled against his mouth. Parched, I attached myself to his perfect lips again.

We were on his couch, and I straddled his lap, with my fingers creeping under his shirt. The more I drank of his lips, the more insatiable my thirst. Every minty taste of his tongue had me reaching for more. Curbing my curiosity was a lost cause at this point. We were like a snowball rolling downhill, gaining speed, size and power with every rotation.

No, scratch that. That couldn’t be right. Maybe a snowball built of burning heat and molten desire. Better.

Due to my cold, there had been too many days without his kisses and I was ready to make up for lost time. I just wanted to be wholly wrapped up in him. Swept away in the heart-hammering desire that only Vance could evoke in me. In other words, the exact opposite of stopping.

He chuckled low in his throat, enjoying my fervor, but I could tell he was starting to rein in our kissing. Moving us from heated passion to slow and sweet. His warm hands stopped roaming my body and rested innocently at my waist to still my movements. Grudgingly I let him finish our session with three small kisses.

I felt a pinch of hurt in his rejection. But if I had been the one to pull the brakes, I would have hoped he’d respect it, too.

Forehead to forehead, we panted. It took a few minutes to calm down and catch our breath. Even like this, I felt close to him. Breathing the same air. Clinging to each other for support. Knowing I hadn’t been the only one caught up in the moment, and that we were working together—as a team—to maintain our physical boundaries. I never realized how easy it was to get carried away and let things go too far, so ultimately I was grateful that Vance had somehow been thinking clearly.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“What?” I said, huffing and puffing quite unattractively. Not at my conversational best.

“How have you… abstained?”

His question caught me off guard. So many times, people had asked me
why
I’d abstained from sex. Never
how
.

The simple answer was that I hadn’t been ready yet. Casual sex had never been an option for me; I’d always wanted to wait for love. As a late bloomer, I’d never really been interested in having a boyfriend until sixteen. I’d loved three times since then. The pressure and temptation increased a little more with each one. Nevertheless, whether it was apprehension, reservations or timing, I’d never been ready for that final step.

It was the easy answer. And it was true.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment, but I wanted to give him more.

“My parents married because they got pregnant with James.”

His eyes flew open, my answer taking him by surprise. Not many people would suspect this based on the way my parents carried themselves. Conservative. High values. Never visibly affectionate.

Not that Vance had ever met my parents, but I was, after all, a byproduct of their upbringing.

“They’ve never actually talked about it, but when they celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary, and it was six months before James turned fifteen, I figured it out. They had a shotgun wedding, I think. They only have one wedding photo and you can kinda tell.” I paused. “I always wondered if it weren’t for James, if they would have ended up together at all.”

He shook his head. “You can’t think like that. They did the right thing in getting married. And your parents are still together.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I’m glad they decided to stay together for the baby and tough it out all these years. Plus if they hadn’t gotten married, I wouldn’t be here. But… are they happy?” I lifted my eyes to his, firm. “I never want to have to make that choice. If I ever get married, I want to know it’s because he loves me, not because he feels trapped. If I ever have children, I want them to know they weren’t a mistake… that I wanted them, planned for them, and I don’t resent them for being born. I don’t want to feel pressured into my first time, like Gwen. And I don’t want it to become meaningless, like Lexi. I’ve been in love, or felt it in the moment. But what if I had given it up back then, to Nathan? Or to Miles?” I cringed at the thought. “I don’t want to do it just because that’s supposedly what I’m expected to do, then regret it after.”

I blushed as I continued. “I understand it now… desire. My body craves that kind of closeness, but I’m scared of what I’ll turn into once I get a taste. I don’t want to be addicted to one more thing… I promised myself when I was young that I would wait. I wanted to be in love. And not just temporary love; I wanted to be certain, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that there is only one man in the world that will ever make love to me… I wanted to be married.”

His stare cut right through me, an intense, undecipherable expression. I wasn’t ashamed of what I believed, but I was anxious as to what was going on in his head right now.

I respected Vance’s opinion and didn’t think he would judge me harshly. But I already knew he disagreed. He’d had sex in his first relationship, and I didn’t want to offend him by insinuating it was a mistake. That was his life, and this was just my own opinion—what felt right for me.

Taking me by surprise, when he finally spoke, his voice was deep with desire. “Do you have any idea… how hot that is?”

Then he laughed at my horrified expression. When I realized he was joking, I shoved his shoulder for mocking me.
Ugh!
He was always trying to get me to open up and communicate, then when I finally do, he teases me about it.
What the hell?

“You are so frustrating!” I said, shoving him again for good measure.

“Sorry,” he laughed at my attacks. “I really wasn’t expecting you to give me an answer like that.”

“Well, I did. So go on. Laugh. Call me a prude. Frigid. Nun. I’ve heard it all before.” It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of my voice. The old wound had flared right up.

“No, seriously,” he said, playfulness gone, “It takes some major self control to wait. I think that shows a lot of strength.”

“You don’t have to patronize me, Vance. People have made fun of me all my life.”

“Hey, look at me. I’m sorry, okay?” He took hold of both my hands. “You’re not any of those things. That’s why I had to ask… I don’t get how someone so passionate and sexy has been able to wait.”

I looked away, unwilling to admit that it hadn’t been all that difficult. Abstaining was fairly simple for a shy prude, even one in a relationship. The truth remained—I had never been ready.

But I viewed love differently now. Negating butterflies and love-at-first-sight connection, I had never been this comfortable with anyone, or wanted anyone enough to truly tempt me… until him.

“But… can I ask you another question?”

After a few seconds I nodded.

“What if… what if the person you end up with didn’t wait?”

I sighed, dropping my chin. It was easier to speak when I wasn’t looking right at him. “I’m realistic. I always kind of expected that would be the case. And it’s okay, you know? I used to think it would bother me. That their experience would intimidate me. And the thought of being compared would make me feel insecure. I thought it would hurt, knowing that piece of him belonged to someone else first.” I shrugged. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

He studied me. “What changed your mind?”

You,
I thought.
You and your ability to make me feel beautiful, desired, respected and confident all at the same time.
Even in our secret, unconventional, limited relationship, never once had I felt like anything less than his entire world.

But that’s not what I told him.

“Well, if he marries me… if he buys the car without taking the test drive… he’d really have to love me a lot, and be totally committed to me more than just physically, you know?”

I was speaking hypothetically at this point. It was the kind of love I’d always hoped existed. Now I doubted it would be in my future.

Vance nodded.

“So, even if he didn’t wait his whole life… I wouldn’t hold that against him. Because he still waited for
me
. He’d still love
me
. And the past won’t matter. That person, whoever he is, he’d be worth waiting for.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and repeated. I so rarely saw Vance speechless, it would’ve been amusing, if not for the heaviness of our conversation.

All joking aside, I just spilled my guts on my very archaic and unpopular opinion in regards to abstinence. Obviously sex was an important issue where relationships were concerned. And I had no idea what he was thinking.

As cliché as it sounded, Vance was different from other guys. I knew he wasn’t pursuing me just to get in my pants. Sex was off the table in our current physical arrangement, for now. That didn’t mean he was thinking long-term when he made that rule. He was still a guy. And as I had learned, guys had needs.

“Disappointed?” I asked, quiet as a mouse.

He looked up at me with confusion marring his features, until understanding dawned.

“What? No!” He grabbed my cheeks and forced me to meet his determined eyes.
“No.”

I nodded. I believed him. And yet, there was still so much depth behind his eyes that I couldn’t fully interpret. He had known I was a virgin. But he might not have known how determined I was to stay that way. No matter how much time passed, it was a line we could never cross. Surely that changed things for him. It had to.

“Say something,” I whispered.

He was speechless for a long time. Definitely not an everyday occurrence.

“I can’t,” he finally said. “I’ll just mess this up again.”

The Elliott’s had an annual tradition—the week prior to the Thanksgiving holiday, Cole and Summer hosted their own elaborate dinner party with friends as a prelude to the actual event.

Dinner was potluck style. Cole and Summer cooked the turkey while everybody else brought a side dish and dessert. Kiki and Vance had been attending this annual feast for years. And this year I was invited to join.

I felt like a major fifth wheel intruding on their tradition. The foursome had an easy flow. As for me—talk about taciturn—it was getting harder and harder to act natural around everyone without the fear of putting my foot in my mouth. It was apparent from the group interactions how much they all cared about each other. Vance’s friends would want the very best for him, and guilt crept in because I knew that wasn’t me.

In an effort to be a gracious guest, I wore a gray cotton dress over black leggings, and brought mashed potatoes made from scratch along with a batch of mint chocolate chip cookies.

“Sweet!” Vance said and snuck a cookie before dinner. He winked secretly and whispered, “Have I ever told you that you’re a cookie goddess?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re a cookie monster?” I shot back.

His smile was wide and luminescent. He proceeded to grab a second cookie and stuff both in his face while growling, “nom nom nom nom!”

I giggled but cut it short when Cole came in.

“Hey you two,” he grinned, clapping Vance on the back. “Scar, have you tried Vance’s famous turkey stuffing?”

I smiled cordially. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”

Summer really outdid herself in decorating. The dining room was elegantly adorned in seasonal colors of browns, burgundies and oranges. Small pumpkins and silk maple leaves served as the centerpiece, and each place setting was color coordinated with the proper setup of plates and silverware. It was strange to see a familiar group of kids in such a formal setting.

Everybody bowed their heads as Vance blessed the meal. It was beautiful to hear his gratitude expressed in prayer. Almost poetic. I snuck a peak as his eyes were closed and just watched him, hypnotized, until everybody said “amen.”

“Did you make a second batch of stuffing?” Kiki asked with big, sparkling eyes and her palms pressed together.

“Of course,” said Vance, passing her a smaller bowl.

“You are
amazeballs!”
she cheered and piled a healthy serving on her plate.

Vance smiled when he saw my confusion. “Kiki’s a vegetarian,” he explained, “I always make a little without adding the turkey.”

I smiled at his never-ending sweetness.

“You’re so thoughtful like that,” Summer praised, swirling her glass of cider.

“Don’t know how you do it,” Cole shook his head in fun and helped himself to the turkey stuffing. “I couldn’t live a week without bacon. Or beef jerky.”

“You got the jerky part right,” was Kiki’s rather cutting reply.

I looked to Vance again, but he just lifted a shoulder.

The stuffing was delicious, as was all the other food.

They played the typical Thanksgiving game where everyone comes up with something that they’re thankful for. This part of the holiday was normally excruciating with my family, but the longtime friends made it fun. Their game had a twist—you had to write your answer on a little piece of paper, which Kiki slipped into homemade fortune cookies. Then everybody switched them up and you had to guess whose was whose.

After dinner, Vance broke open the first cookie and pulled out the fortune. His smile turned to a frown as he read,
“‘I’m thankful… that Evelyn is not joining us this year.’
Hilarious, Summer.”

She pursed her lips and fingered her pearl necklace unapologetically. “What? Anybody could have written that.” Her lying skills were on par with mine.

“I’ll bet all the cookies on my plate this one was yours.”

She narrowed her eyes but he did not back down. Their silent standoff lasted for several seconds before she giggled in concession. “Fine. It was mine. My turn.”

Everybody laughed (except for Vance) as she broke open her cookie. Her fortune read something about being thankful for rainbows and ponies or some such nonsense. She correctly guessed Kiki, then Kiki went next.

“‘I’m thankful for Fig Newtons.’”
She gasped and looked up to Cole with wide eyes. “You are?”

He nodded, never breaking his gaze from her.

I didn’t know what the deal was with Fig Newtons, and Vance looked just as bewildered as me. But something seemed to be happening between the sandy-haired boy and the girl with sparkling eyes and freckles. And it felt like a long time coming.

Looking between them, we all watched the sparks begin to fly with just a look, like we were all witnessing something monumental. Gwen had said these two longtime friends had a history. To be honest, based on the only interactions I’d seen between them, I always thought they were kind of bicker-y. But now that I knew what to look for, I saw it. I felt it. The undertones between them right now spoke of more than just friendship.

Obviously I wasn’t the kind of girl to get caught up in this stuff anymore, but even I couldn’t help but grin when I saw the goofy way he looked at her.

“Dude,” said Vance to Cole, leaning in his direction. “Fig Newtons?”

Then he jumped like someone had kicked him under the table. “Why you gotta be such a punkbutt?” said Kiki.

“A punkbutt?” he laughed. “That’s a steep downgrade from amazeballs.”

“Oh suck a fart, Vance,” Kiki sassed, and folded up the slip of paper with a wink. “Your turn, Cole.”

Cole broke his cookie open with gusto, but the smile evaporated from his face when he read the little paper.
“‘Obscurity’?”
Then he looked directly at me. “What kind of a fortune is that?”

My jaw set. I guessed it was kinda obvious that one was mine. “Someone failed to mention I had to justify my answer.”

“Oh come on. Out of everything, that’s what you’re most thankful for?”

I rubbed my lips together and blinked, unsure of what he was expecting from me. Especially compared to what his sister wrote.

These people had no idea what kind of year I’d had. It was full of injustice and grief and suffering and I barely knew who the hell I was anymore. My family was constantly fighting, home no longer felt like home, my real friends were scarce, I dropped out of college and had no bright plans for the future. Everything I worked for, lost. What was I most thankful for? Not a whole lot.

“Music,” Vance said next to me. I turned to look at him. He nodded encouragingly.

Kiki smiled and caught on. “Those salon-quality curls.”

“Books,” added Summer, “since you’re into that sorta thing.”

“This cookie recipe,” Cole chimed in, helping himself. “Dy-no-mite!”

“Pancakes,” Vance said.

“Killer curves!” shouted Kiki.

“Free ice cream,” Summer giggled.

“In-N-Out,” supplied Cole.

“Oh yes,” I huffed a dry laugh. “These are so much deeper than what I wrote.”

“Roses,” said Vance, then they went around again.

“Perfect ivory skin!”

“Crazy customers!”

“Warehouse Pizza!”

“Swings.”

“You’re not going to stop until I contribute, are you?”

Round and round they went, naming one thing after another. Some ridiculous, some sweet, each one that came from Vance was personal and meaningful.

I swallowed. Overwhelmed by their outpouring of amity, a little bit of the darkness dissipated. These last few weeks I’d caught little glimpses of happiness in moments with Vance, but overall, when I considered my life this year, I was still wholly focused on the negative. Too close to the tree to see the forest, or so they say.

The problem? I never stopped to count my blessings.

“If you must know…” Caught up in the cheesiness of it all, I looked at every face around the table, pausing slightly longer at Vance. “What I’m most thankful for this year… are the people in this room.”

A chorus of “hear-hear” sounded as everyone lifted their glass to drink to that. Under the table someone’s shoe tapped mine. The owner wasn’t a mystery, nor the intent. I blushed without even looking up.

Stomachs overfilled, cups overflowed, and conversation and laughter continued through dessert. In the joy of it all, nobody noticed that I did not read my fortune aloud. I knew I had gotten Vance’s cookie, so I opened it discreetly in my lap. Warmth engulfed me as I read his words privately.

What was Vance most thankful for this year?

‘Orion’s Belt.’

* * *

“Are you a boob man, or an ass man?”

Vance shot me an incredulous look, but my face remained serious. Sometimes I went for shock value with random, obnoxious questions, just to garner a reaction. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, I knew he secretly got a kick out of it. 

“I’m not either.”

Liar.

“Oh… you swing a different way?” I teased.

Before I could blink, he had me on my back, pressing me into the couch. The breath rushed out of my lungs in surprise.

“I will prove to you right here, right now, exactly which way I swing.”

His smile was so playful, I started to laugh, barely trying to struggle out of his hold. “Oh! So you’re an armpit kinda guy?” I shouted between laughs, “No, no, you have an ankle fetish! I knew it!”

Vance just shook his head at my ridiculous taunting and proceeded to tickle me crazy! I was lost in a fit of giggles, completely secure lying beneath him. He was looking down on me with a smile aglow with infectious joy and the warmth of sunshine. It felt so nice to let go and laugh with someone in these increasingly common, lighthearted moments.

“I… was just… curious!”

“Oh yeah? Well I was just curious what would happen when I tickled you. So far the results have been very conclusive.”

“Don’t!” I laughed. “Stop!”

“Don’t stop?”

“I… can’t… breathe!”

“Eh, breathing’s overrated.”

He eased up on the tickling, but didn’t release his hold. Once our laughter died down, he looked directly into my eyes and told me sincerely, “My type is you.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to lighten the mood from his suddenly intimate confession. “I’m not trying to trap you, goober. You can answer honestly.” I sounded indifferent, because frankly I was. It was an valid question—albeit a silly one—but I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments. I was secure enough with my own body no matter what his answer or anyone else’s was.

“Honestly?” he rubbed the back of his neck, putting some thought behind his words. “It’s more about the whole package… proportions. Who wants huge boobs all up in your face when she looks like she’s about to topple over?”

“Um,” I deadpanned, “Every man in the world.”

“Don’t be fooled by the handful of tools you’ve known. Most guys don’t really want that and will lose interest quickly. What men really want is a little mystery, a bit of spice and a lot of class. A present only they get to unwrap. Slowly.”

“And a tiny waist.”

He shook his head and smiled patiently. “What fun is it to cuddle a stick? I like curves, but classy… natural.”

I considered his answer, and decided I was impressed. Leave it to Vance to find a respectful way to objectify women. Proportions and class, huh? Were mine a good size for my frame? My eyes dropped to my chest before I realized Vance was still watching me. His eyes followed mine, flickering down before meeting mine and darkening, and I knew I needed to lighten things again.

“Too bad… mine are fake.” I lilted.

Probably not the best idea to keep the focus on the twins
, I thought too late.

The corners of his mouth tilted up, and his eyes sparked with mischief. “Oh really?” he probed. I could only nod beneath him, pressing my lips together to unsuccessfully hide my lying smile. He bent down until his face was only inches from mine, and just when I thought he was going to kiss me, he turned and breathed into my ear, “We’ll have to see about that.”

He grinned again and his hands became too playful to be intimate. His fingers snuck under the hem of my shirt, pinching the flesh of my belly and hips. I had all the grace of a bull, thrashing and laughing as he tickled me without ceasing.

“I’m going to have to inspect these to verify the validity of your statement,” he said with all seriousness, but his silly grin gave him away. And his hands weren’t in any hurry to travel north.

He wasn’t holding me down, and I could have stopped him at any point, but instead I arched my back so he could lift my shirt higher. It seemed to surprise him that I wasn’t stopping this. To be honest, it surprised me, too.

He paused, my shirt stopped right at my rib cage, still covering the essentials. My breathing continued to grow increasingly irregular, but neither of us were laughing anymore. He swallowed, confidence slipping, and slowly looked up to my face.