It's Complicated, page 14
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m starving.”
Jace raises an eyebrow questioningly.
“I got derailed packing against the cats.” I wave the affirmation off to say it’s not important and relieve Jace of the pizza boxes. I drop them onto a pile of books and pull my boyfriend into the house and in for a long kiss.
“Were you starving for food or for me?” Jace asks when I finally let him go.
“Both, Mr. I Couldn’t Spend One Night Away From My Girlfriend.”
Jace shrugs, cocky. “It’s not you, I only came for your Netflix.”
I smile, not even sure he’s kidding. In the past week, I got him addicted to the fake-dating trope. We watched The Wedding Date, The Proposal, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Pretty Woman.
Shaking my head, I recoup the pizza boxes from the book tower and move into the kitchen.
“Are you all packed?” I ask as I take out paper napkins and two glasses from the cabinets.
“Yep, got my case stashed in my trunk.”
I drop the glasses on the table and grab two sodas from the fridge. “Uh-uh, expecting to be invited to stay overnight.” I sit opposite Jace. “Cocky.”
“Again, not you. Now that I’ve experienced the joy of falling asleep with multiple cats on my legs, cutting the circulation to my lower limbs, I can’t go back to the discomfort of sleeping star-fished on my California King. It’s just impossible.”
“I bet it is.” I take a slice of pizza. “Mmm, this is delicious. Where’d you get it?”
“Pizzeria Uno.”
“It’s a good way to say goodbye to Chicago before I have to dodge eating alligator meat.”
“We’re not going to the jungle. I’m sure New Orleans will have plenty of vegetarian options.”
“Ready for all the debauchery?” I ask Jace.
Jace smirks in a way that punches me straight in the guts. “I thought we had rules, Lola.”
I swallow, thinking of the two nights ahead of us. When we booked our trip, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to share a room with Jace. We’d done it plenty of times in the past. And no matter that we’ve basically slept together every night for the past week, sharing a hotel bed after we will have been out drinking and dancing all night is going to make it a thousand times harder not to break the rules.
26
JACE
We land at New Orleans Airport late on Friday night. As the arrivals doors swish open on the outdoors, we’re buffeted by a gust of lukewarm, humid air, a stark contrast to the cold, clear, dry winds of Chicago. We load our suitcases into two separate cabs—we’re six in total, five dudes plus Lori—and give the drivers the address of our hotel in the center of the French Quarter.
After the check-in, the guys want to head straight out to get the party started. So Lori and I barely have time to drop our bags in the room and get changed before we have to be downstairs again. And it’s a good thing I don’t have to dwell on the fact that Lori and I are sharing a hotel room. I’ve gotten pretty used to her sleeping in my bed, but a hotel setting feels different, plus, we’re going to be drinking tonight—and co-sleeping, well, it’ll be just torture.
Dude, you’re the one who set the rules.
Right, because if I gave in and had sex with Lori, and then it didn’t work out between us, I wouldn’t be able to come back from that. Already I’m in too deep. It was one thing to want Lori and not have her. But to have her and then lose her, I wouldn’t survive that. I’m afraid that, already, if something goes wrong between us I’ll drown.
But, gosh, the way she bites her lower lip as she stares at the giant California King bed in the middle of the room is killing me softly all the same.
“Looks cozy,” she says, sounding way too casual.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell her, even though I know it’s a lie.
Lori shrugs and goes to drop her suitcase on the bed.
“I need to get changed before we head out,” she says, picking a slippery thingy out of the suitcase that looks like it’ll be the end of me. Dress in hand, she scurries to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I drop my bag on the small couch in the corner and get changed, too.
I pull on a clean T-shirt and jeans and wait for Lori seated on the bed. I don’t have to wait long—she flings the bathroom door open, and I stifle a groan as she rounds the bed to stand in front of me. Her hair is swept up in a high ponytail and her eyes are outlined in smoky eyeshadow. And the dress she’s wearing hugs every single one of her gorgeous curves, and it’s shorter than what I’m used to seeing on her. Pure temptation.
I drag my gaze away from her legs, up her body, and meet her eyes.
Lori bites her lip and looks at me with those serious eyes. “I’m ready,” she breathes.
“Yeah, I can see. You look gorgeous.”
I don’t move, I can’t. I’m afraid that if I get up from this bed now, I’ll pull her down and spend the next two days shut in this room seeing to her.
Lori shifts on her feet at the intensity of my stare on her and awkwardly points at the door with her thumbs. “Should we join the others?”
“Don’t tell me you’re looking forward to all the partying.”
Lori laughs. “I’m looking forward to one thing and one thing only.”
“And what’s that?”
“Dancing.”
“I’m not going to stop you.”
She lifts my hand and twirls underneath my stretched arm. “No, you’re going to dance with me.”
“I doubt it.”
“Wanna bet?” Lori lets go of my hand and bounces on her flat heels.
I watch her for a few moments, and then I study our room. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me if I win?”
“What would you want?”
I stand up and stalk toward her. Lori backs away until her shoulders are pressed against the wall. I crowd her space. Lori licks her lips, and I lean in to kiss her. It’s electric.
I run my hands up the small of her back and move my lips closer to her ear. “Dibs on the shower for a month.”
Since we started dating for real, I spend most nights at her place and she always gets in the shower first in the morning. Aaaand she takes forever in there.
Lori pushes me back and looks up at me. “Dibs on the shower? Is that really your only heart’s desire?”
I shrug. “I don’t particularly enjoy taking lukewarm showers.”
Her mouth gapes open in outrage. “Are you accusing me of stealing all the hot water?”
“I’m just stating a fact. I’ve never seen anyone take such long showers.”
“Sorry.” Lori bites her lip again. “I thought your super fancy apartment got an infinite supply of warm water or something. It never seems to run out.”
I want to point out that it’s not just at my house where we barely ever go as per her demanding pets. But she already looks distraught, so instead I tease her some more. “At least I have your celestial singing to console me.”
Lori pushes me away for good now. “That, I’m not sorry for. If you don’t appreciate Taylor Swift, then we can’t ever be together.”
I laugh. “What do you want if you win?”
I see a light flicker in her eyes.
“Nu-uh, Archibald, that’s against the rules.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she protests.
“You didn’t have to.”
Lori comes closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist. “I was about to propose that if I win, we shower together, so we won’t have to fight about the hot water.”
I take a step back after having a vivid vision of what seeing Lori naked under the shower would do to me. “Yep, totally against the rules. Think of something else, Lola.”
She pouts. “You’re such a party pooper.”
I smile and grab her hand. “Let’s go before the others begin to wonder where we’ve disappeared to.”
The French Quarter is busy on a Friday night. It’s not Mardi Gras yet, but the streets are already buzzing with all sorts of people. A man is singing to the crowd on a balcony. Below him, a river of street performers and revelers flows around us.
We follow a zigzagging path down the narrow alleys filled with tourists and shop stalls, making a beeline for Bourbon Street. Live music pours out of every bar and restaurant we pass, the fast rhythm already pounding in my chest. The guys soon tire of wandering around aimlessly and walk into a random bar. Inside, it’s dark, it’s crowded, the music is blaring, people are dancing, and glasses keep clinking. We’re lucky to find a free table by the window, and the guys go straight to the bar where they order the first round of drinks. Soon followed by another.
Lori gulps down her second mojito and then drops her empty glass on the table and places her hands on my shoulders, steering me toward the dancefloor, where it’s even darker and sweatier and louder. Lori slinks her body against mine, her head on my shoulder. It doesn’t take long before I get distracted as we sway in time with the music. She smells of perfume and shampoo—I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Lori turns, her fingers tugging at my T-shirt. She pulls my face down to hers, and we’re kissing and dancing at the same time.
When we break the kiss, we keep dancing, locking eyes. It’s too loud to talk, but we don’t need words to communicate, we know each other so well.
She gives me a smug smirk, meaning I lost the bet.
I raise an eyebrow, signaling I still don’t know what her prize will be.
Lori shrugs, telling me she will come up with something.
The beat of the music changes and a young, good-looking woman sidles up to me grinding on my side, making moves as if to push me away from Lori. But my Lola is not having it, she pulls me away and switches places with me, inserting herself between me and the woman, just like she did at the wedding party meet and greet with Kirsten’s sister. My would-be suitor goes in search of a different prey.
I spin Lori round and pull her against me, back to front, whisper-yelling in her ear, “I like it when you go all possessive, Archibald.”
Lori struggles to get free and faces me again. “What can I say?” she shouts back. “I don’t like to share.”
I can’t help but grin at her fiery expression.
I’m about to pull her to me again when Aiden’s brother appears next to us. “Come on, guys, we’re switching bars.”
We squeeze our way between the crowd and out of the bar, back onto the crowded street. We follow the others holding hands, high on the drinks, the dancing, and the kissing.
Aiden’s brother leads us to a place that is more a club than a bar. Soon, we’re inside, sinking into wide, comfy couches around a table, surrounded by twinkling lights, a low hum of music, and a sea of people.
We order drinks at the bar on the other side of the room. I stay next to Lori, our legs touching. I have to lean in to talk to her over the music and then, suddenly, I become hyperaware of her presence again. Her smell, her smile, that secret twinkle in her eyes. I’m drunk—not on alcohol, but on her. I’m 100 per cent gone—intoxicated.
I reach for her hand. Lori’s fingers are cold despite the heat of the room. I rub small circles on her palm. Her touch is the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. I look up at her, she’s looking at me, her eyes are soft and she’s biting her lip in her signature nervous gesture.
“You look kind of scary intense right now,” she says.
How can she always read my mind?
I move my hand from her palm to her wrist, pulling her closer to me. “How can you tell?”
Lori shrugs. “The look in your eyes.”
I’ve never been one for PDAs, but the way she understands me makes me want to pin her against the wall and kiss her for the entire world to see.
Everyone else is already on the dancefloor, singing along to some song, and I tug Lori’s hand to get her to stand up. She’s still watching me with that wicked gleam in her eyes.
I lean in to kiss her. I try to make it soft, sensual, but then I get carried away and we’re swirling, twisting, and twirling to the beat of the music, a dance we’ve perfected together, coming up for air only to kiss again. Our bodies are pressed at every angle, but it’s not enough. I want more. I want it all.
But I can’t have it. Not yet. Not until she’s sure it’s me she wants.
I have to give her time, wait, and be patient. But right now, I can’t think straight. Not with her hand on the back of my neck and her lips touching my jaw and then, even more dangerously, my earlobe.
Lori smirks and whispers in my ear, “Now you look naughty intense.”
I can’t take it. I want her so much it’s killing me.
I take a step back and basically run out of the club.
Lori follows me outside and is by my side in an instant.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Sorry.” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s just that…” I cup her face. “I love you. I love you so much.”
27
LORI
I want to say it back, I really do. But for some reason, the words seem to get stuck in my throat. I’ve never been scared of my feelings—no matter how unwanted or unrequited they’ve been in the past. But with Jace, everything is so different. I have no idea what to do with my heart. I want to give it all to him, but I’m scared that I won’t be able to pick up the pieces if something goes wrong between us. It’s as if I’m falling so hard and I can’t do a thing to stop it.
I’m petrified. For me, for him. I just don’t know if it’s fear of hurting him or of hurting myself. I know I can trust him, but I still don’t know if I can trust myself—not after all the years I’ve spent wanting Aiden. Can I be really over him? Just like that? It feels that way. But what if I end up hurting Jace?
Or maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes that’s keeping me frozen in place. The desperate way he’s staring at me. The way his gaze makes me feel like I’m all he needs. Or how bad I want to believe he’s all I need.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
I bring my hands to his face and gently turn it toward me. Jace looks so tired of waiting.
“I still need time,” I whisper.
I’m not sure why I’m saying this because I want to be with him, so badly. But I owe it to the both of us to be prudent, to take it slow.
Jace pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on top of my head. “Take all the time you need, Lola. I’m not going anywhere.”
Well, Jace is making it really easy to believe I am out of love with Aiden and very much in love with him.
The next morning, I wake up alone in our bed.
I run my hand over the sheets, feeling the soft fabric slip between my fingers. I roll onto Jace’s side of the bed, burying my face in his pillow. The scent of his soap and shampoo still lingers on the fabric. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, imagining he’s still lying next to me, his arms around me.
I roll back to my side, letting out an exasperated growl. If all we did last night was sleep in each other’s arms, I’m to blame. But this thing between us is too precious. I don’t want to ruin it by being in a hurry. I want to savor every moment I am with Jace, every brush of skin, every kiss.
I sit up on the bed, unable to suppress a smile at the stack of neatly folded clothes piled on a chair. Even my dress, which I discarded on the floor last night eager to get under the covers after a night of partying, is now strung on a hanger, dangling outside the wardrobe.
The little neat freak probably couldn’t help himself. Is it weird that I suddenly find his obsessive need for order adorable?
The question has barely popped into my head when the room door opens and Jace walks in, looking impossibly handsome in gym shorts and a sleeveless hoodie.
He’s holding a coffee tray and a paper bag in his hands and comes toward the bed, dropping both on the mattress.
“Breakfast in bed, uh, Barlow? We’re not pulling any punches, I see.”
“Shut up and eat before the croissants go cold.”
I squeal like an over-excited child and grab the bag. The freshly baked fragrance that wafts up as I open it is heavenly, as is the first bite of pastry.
“I’ve never tasted anything so good,” I say with my mouth still half full.
Jace smiles but looks kind of nervous. I hope he isn’t still upset about last night.
“Is it all for me?” I ask, dangling the bag. “Or you want in on the breakfast action?”
Jace’s eyes darken for a second before he snatches the bag from me and gives his croissant a ridiculously large bite.
I can’t help but giggle and relax a bit. He’s okay. We’re okay.
I stretch out on the bed, savoring my croissant and sipping coffee.
The bedroom is silent except for the sound of our chewing and the rumbling of our stomachs. Jace’s got the biggest grin on his face, watching me eat.
“What?” I ask, after swallowing.
“You’re cute when you’re scarfing down food like you haven’t eaten in a week.”
I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. I’m really not—I want to see that grin on his face every day of my life.
I give him another playful scowl. “What time did you get up, you annoying morning person?”
“It’s almost noon, Lola.”
“What?” I stare out the window. The sun is shining, the sky is clear, and the birds are chirping happily from the trees. It really looks like full-blown daylight. “I haven’t slept in so late since forever.”
Jace raises a cocky eyebrow. “Well, when was the last time you stayed out dancing all night?”
“Good point. You think Aiden is still wasted? They kept making him drink last night.”
“Yep, Dr. Collymore is sporting a pretty terrible hangover. But don’t worry, I stopped at the pharmacy and dropped a recovery pack in his room.”
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