A Modern Love Story (10 page)

“How did I get here?” She winced at the sound of her own voice.

“I carried you.” He set a glass of water on the bedside table, a loud, sharp sound that threatened to burst her eardrums. “Of course, that was
after
you drank nearly an entire bottle of bubbly.”

“The champagne,” she groaned. It was all coming back to her now. The nerves, the celebrating…the kiss, his hands, wanting to devour him. She groaned again as she closed her eyes and slid a pillow over her head.

She felt Luc lift up the corner. “I see it’s all coming back to you now, Squirt.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll put some Advil on the table for you. Drink all the water, if you can. You have to get rehydrated.”

He started to lower the pillow again, but stopped when she spoke. “Luc?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about last night.” She braved opening her eyes, looking at his expression. It was completely closed off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He let the pillow go and she listened as he walked away.

“Kill me now,” she mumbled.

*****

The rest of the weekend wasn’t as awkward as Robbie thought it would be. She apologized again—more to get him talking about it than anything else. But he blew it off. She could tell he sincerely believed she had only come onto him because she was drunk. How was it that the guy could normally be so perceptive, but
this
he couldn’t see? However, since it was an easy out for her, she took it…for now. Or, at least, until she could figure out another way to circle back around. She still wanted him. Still loved him.

There had to be a way.

On Monday, Robbie was so distracted by her thoughts at school, she finally gave up and signed herself out as sick. Luc was at work all day, so she’d have the apartment to herself to sit,
veg
, and think about things.

The door was unlocked and popped open when she reached it. She hesitated just outside the door. Had she remembered to lock it when she left? Thinking back, she decided she had. Had someone broken in? She backed up a step when she heard a female laugh. Curiosity got the better of her as she slowly pushed the door open with one finger to step inside. What she saw froze her in place.

From her vantage point she could see into the bedroom. She could see some blonde whipping her top off while she straddled Luc. She could see his hands on her, all over her, as she unbuttoned his pants. Sounds of pleasure and urgency flooded Robbie’s head to blend with the images she knew she would never shake. Tears stung her eyes as rejection speared through her. He’d rather have some bimbo than her. Rather touch someone, anyone else, than even consider…

She bit back an angry sob, slipped back out the door, and began easing it shut behind her. And then, at the last minute, fury rang true as she yanked the door closed with everything she had, slamming it so hard it shook the frame.

Even as she flew down the stairs, she heard the scrambling from above. And as she ran through the parking lot and around the neighboring building, she heard Luc yelling her name.

*****

 
“Serves me right,” Robbie mumbled, taking the offered can of Diet Pepsi from Lizbeth.

“How do you figure?”

“I knew he didn’t feel that way for me, but I pushed anyway.”

“You said he kissed you back.”

“He did.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “Oh, God. He certainly did.”

“But you figure that since he’s a guy…”

Robbie shrugged, agreeably. “Yeah. What guy wouldn’t respond to a drunk girl throwing herself at him?”

“Ha! Apparently, when it came down to it, this one.” Lizbeth set her own soda aside and flipped over on her stomach, crossing her legs behind her.

“He thinks of me as his sister.” Robbie groaned, lying on her back to stare at the ceiling. “Jesus. I didn’t even realize that until now.”

“He’s an idiot,” Lizbeth decided. “From what you’ve told me, you two have had nothing that even came close to a brother-sister relationship.”

“I don’t know. What I
do
know is that he thinks it’s his job to take care of me.”

“Oh.” Lizbeth smirked as Robbie glanced over. “So he thinks of you as a daughter too. Kinky.”

Robbie grabbed the nearest pillow and swung it over Lizbeth’s head as they both burst into laughter.

“Shut up, Lizbeth. You’re not helping.”

“I got you laughing.
That’s
helping.”

Robbie rolled and looked at the clock. Eleven.

“You heading home?” Lizbeth asked, pushing up to her knees. “Ya know, my parents wouldn’t mind if you just crashed here tonight, even if it is a school night.”

“Tempting. Very tempting. But I better go home.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lizbeth hopped off the bed, and grabbed her keys off the dresser. “I’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to walking across town in the middle of the night. And I sure as hell don’t want to call Luc for a ride.”

They made good time since there was hardly any traffic, and they joked easily about college and what they imagined dorm life was going to be like. When they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building, Robbie glanced up to see all the lights on in her apartment.

“Well…dammit.”

Lizbeth craned her neck to get a good look herself. “He’s waiting up for you, isn’t he?”

“Looks like.”

“Do you think he’s pissed or worried?”

“Probably a little of both.”

Lizbeth patted her on the shoulder as she straightened. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Robbie took her time walking across the parking lot, not all together eager to face the wrath of Luc. But by the time she made it to the door, all cowardice had shifted to annoyance. After all, she had done nothing wrong. She was eighteen and could live her own damn life however she chose. He could do whatever—and
whoever
—he wanted, and so could she!

The door swung open before she even touched the knob. “Where the hell have you been?! Do you know how fucking worried I was?!”

Robbie stared him down, temper now licking at the edges of her annoyance. For one brief moment, seeing Luc as pissed as he was, she swore she could almost see smoke coming out of his ears. The idea had her smirking as she shoved past him.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Rob! I’ve got shit to say to you!” He grabbed her arm, spun her around.

The anger ignited and flared, turning her tone flat and calm. “Don’t touch me.”

Luc immediately let go and she stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She could hear the string of profanities streaming from the living room as she got ready for bed. She was still shaking with anger by the time she was done, and opened the door to find Luc leaning against the wall right beside it.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, pushing off to follow her into the living room.

“Well, I
don’t
want to talk to you.” She pulled the blankets off the back of the couch and started to arrange them across the cushions.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making my bed.” She felt a small measure of satisfaction at his exasperated sigh.

“We talked about this before. You take the bedroom, and I’ll sleep out here.”

“Forget it.” She fought to keep her tone level, simply because she knew it would tick him off more than if she’d shout and scream.

“Robbie. I’m not gonna fucking have you sleeping on the couch. Now get your ass in there.”

She dropped the blanket and turned, slowly and purposefully. “Fuck you.”

It had the effect she was looking for.
Exactly
what was she was looking for. Just that one four-letter word had Luc’s mouth dropping open, rendered him speechless, and had the anger sparking in his dark eyes altering into something closer to fear.

“Fuck you, Luc.” She stepped closer, jabbed a finger at his chest, and watched as he actually backed up. “Do you think for one second that I want to crawl into the same bed I saw you and that
skank
making out in? Do you think for one second that I could curl up there, drift off, and
not
think about what I saw? Knowing I was laying on the same bed? The same sheets?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here.”

She stopped her advance and fisted her hands on her hips. “Well, no fucking shit, Luc. But I was. And you were. And
she
was.” She shook her head. “You don’t even get it, do you? Do you know how that made me feel? To know you pushed me away and pulled
that
into your bed instead?”

“You were drunk. I couldn’t even think of—”

She held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I know, okay. I know what you think about me, how you feel about me. I get it. I came onto you, drunk, and you weren’t having it. Fine. But even you, as heartless as you can be, have to be able to see how what you did, what
I saw
, hurt me. No matter the circumstance, Luc, you pushed me off—literally—and flaunted another girl in my face.”

He just stood there, looking down at her, arms limp at his side and sadness filling those deep, dark eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know me, Robbie. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“Maybe not on purpose, but you did.” She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. This had to be done. She had to get over it, and start getting over
him
. “I’m going to bed. Just…” She dropped her arms, turned away. “Just leave me alone.”

*****

Luc laid in his bed, but didn’t sleep. He
couldn’t
fucking sleep. How the hell could he? She was right, absolutely right, to blast him like she did. He had done exactly what she accused him of. How could he argue with that?

He shifted to get up, to go to her, but made himself ease back and settle—the same as he had the other fifteen times he had wanted to go out there. She had told him to leave her alone. If she meant anything to him, anything at all, he had to respect her wishes.

This fucking sucked.

He didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to handle it all. She said she knew how he felt about her, what he thought about her. Did she? Could she even know when he wasn’t sure what he thought, what he felt, himself?

Did he find her attractive? Hell, yeah he did…like no other. Would he have loved to get his hands on a body like that? Fuck, yeah! He was human, wasn’t he? Shit, he had wanted her naked and under him since she flashed him in the shower two fucking years ago. The image of her was
still
seared into his brain; her body, bold and beautiful, and wet. Even now, he had to work to shake the memory clear. But it was Robbie. His Robbie.

After the night she kissed him, ground her hips against his, he could think of nothing else except finding a way to seduce her, to have her. To get her to want him, to be with him, when she was sober and lucid. But he couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t manipulate her in that way. Other girls—fine, no problem. Not Robbie though. She deserved better. She deserved more. He couldn’t take care of her, watch out for her, if he was looking at her in
that
way. In
that
light. He cared about her—hell, he loved her—too much for her to mean so little to him. He couldn’t be careless with her.