Aussie: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance (4 page)

It had only been three weeks since I’d last seen him. Somehow, it felt almost as long as the seven years that he was gone. All those years… I didn’t know where he was or if he was even alive.

It was a quick, friendly hug. I missed him so much, but I didn’t want to smother the guy and chase him away. I was grateful that he hugged me back. He gave me a squeeze, letting me know he was glad to see me.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”

He forced a smile, almost like he was worried. “Yeah, I should probably go.”

“Seriously?” I shook my head. I knew he was joking. I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him through the door.

“Don’t want the neighbors to see me, huh?” he said.

How I missed that accent. He’d moved from Australia when he was younger, but still had a tinge of the dialect he brought with him.

He stood before me, looking as good as when I’d seen him the other day. He wore a lightweight dark jacket over a black t-shirt that hugged his chest. The dark jeans he had on fit him perfectly. They were far from what he used to wear back when he lived here. Back then, it was all about frayed and faded jeans, a grungy beach-bum look.

I used to love walking by his bathroom after he’d showered and I could smell his cologne and masculine soaps. As we hugged, the same smell assaulted my senses. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed his scent when he’d moved out. “Hungry?” I asked.

“Starving.”

We moved to the kitchen. I’d been nervous all day, but now that he was actually here, the nervous energy faded away.

Just like my mother had done all those years, I laid out the pizza toppings in separate bowls on the counter. As we built our pizzas, I asked him about his phone number. “Why the change?”

Luke sighed. “Honestly? A girl.”

“Right, of course.” My stomach flipped. A girl! I hated to admit I was, maybe, what…jealous? “That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

“Trust me, you don’t want the details. It’s messed up,” he answered.

“You always did that.”

“Did what?” He stopped and looked at me. His hand hovered with a spoon full of black olives, midway to his pizza.

“Every time you had a good story, you’d start, then say ‘I didn’t want to hear the details’ and you’d stop talking. The thing is, I always wanted to hear the rest of it.”

Luke laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just fucked up is all. This chick, Megan, was a stripper, and she got into some bad stuff. We’d been hanging out time to time…anyway, she was never very good at taking a hint that I wasn’t interested and had moved on. Not much more to it than that, but the girl kept calling and texting me non-stop.”

I watched him talk. His lips, his eyes, I could watch him all day. It was so good to have him back in my life. I almost couldn’t believe he was here, right in front of me. All those years he’d been gone, and here he was. “So basically you have a stalker?”

“Something like that.”

One we’d finished making our pizzas, we slid them into the oven. We sat and talked, having a couple of beers. While eating, he shared a little about his time in drug rehab. Suddenly, I was self-conscious for offering him beer. He told me he could handle it, that liquor wasn’t a trigger for him. I hoped he was right.

We shared old stories and drank some more. I had a nice buzz, but neither of us was drunk. Either way, the alcohol did its job, relaxing us and pushing away the awkwardness that was there earlier.

“Are you dating anyone?”

I froze up.

“That look says it all,” he said.

“What look?”

“Your lips tightened, and you looked away from me. I know you, remember?” he answered.

I took a deep breath, then balled up the napkin that was on my lap. “Do you remember Scott?”

“Yeah, Scott Waldron?”

“I see him time to time. I don’t know if you’d call him my boyfriend, but we date. I mean, we’re sort of together, but I don’t know…”

Luke took a sip of his beer and leaned forward. “If I tried to guess who you were dating; I wouldn’t have thought it was him. It wouldn’t have dawned on me.”

I tilted my head and rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”

“Hey, I had to get at least one in there for old time’s sake.”

We were referring to him using the word “dawn.” When we were teenagers—fourteen, maybe—he would always try to work my name into a sentence. “Dawned on me.” “Darkest before the dawn.” Once, at the pool, he even had the perfect opportunity to use the phrase “crack of dawn” when I got out of the pool too quickly. The back of my bikini bottom slipped down too far.

His favorite was “dusk ‘til dawn” but only when we were alone. He’d tease me about having a darker side to my personality. It was more a poke at my good-girl character. I mean, so I rarely got into trouble. Big deal. It annoyed me when I was younger, but then eventually grew on me. Truth is, after a while, I kind of ended up liking it.

Anyway, we spoke about Scott and how the pattern never seemed to change. My parents liked him, and he was a nice guy, but I really didn’t feel passionate about him. There was no chemistry. It’s not that I was unhappy, I was just…fine. I mean, coming out and saying I was bored with Scott seemed somehow wrong. Maybe it was obvious, I don’t know.

“Why are you with him then?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I guess it’s almost expected of me. Sometimes, I just feel obligated. My folks…well, anyway, it doesn’t matter.” I looked into his eyes and saw sympathy. It was actually nice to talk to somebody about it truthfully.

“What are you going to do?”

I laughed quietly. That was the big question, and I had no answer for it beyond a shrug.

“You should stop seeing him,” Luke said, as if it were that easy.

I’d been looking down at my plate and all the crumbs on it, working up a self-pitying analogy of how my life was just like that plate—just a few crumbs lying around. When he came out and just said I should stop seeing Scott, my gaze shot up to meet his. He’d caught me off guard. I stumbled. “I know but—”

“If you’re not happy, why keep doing it?”

Suddenly, I felt defensive. “I didn’t say I was unhappy.”

He took a few seconds before speaking. “Unhappy and not happy are two different things. What you are is not happy.”

I laughed. “I think you’re drunk-talking now.”

“I’m not.” He smiled, but he still looked like he was serious. “If you’re not happy, then you’re wasting time. This isn’t a dress rehearsal.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, it’s one of those mantras I repeat to myself, too. Live in the moment, you know? You only get one life, so what are you going to do with it?”

And then he said it.

“What have you got to lose?”

It was then that I realized he still lived by that, but it was different than when he was a teenager. It was a mature version. Luke wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d grown, up, was a man, and had taken control of his life back.

The moment struck me. I’d still seen him as his younger self. I looked at him and cocked my head, realizing the difference. Those words took me back. I wondered if he was still seeing the teenage version of me? The young Dawn that he remembered. Or was he finally realizing I was no longer a teenager, the way I’d just done?

I sat up straighter and answered him. “So, maybe I’ll break up with him.”

“Or maybe you won’t.” He stood and walked toward the living room.

Wait a minute? What was that supposed to mean? A rush of anger pulsed through me. I got up and followed him. He was looking at pictures on the wall and then on the mantle. He traced his finger along the edge of it.

“What was that supposed to mean?” I said aloud.

Without turning, he said, “What?”

“You know what. You said maybe I won’t break up with him.”

He pulled a book off the shelf and leafed through it. “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.”

I was miffed. Didn’t he think I could follow through? “Are you doubting me?”

He was lost in thought with a wistful look on his face. I think the memories of being here, seeing everything again was having a profound effect on him. He put the book back on the shelf and turned toward me as he leaned against the wall. “Not much has changed here.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, defensively. His comment about not much having changed made me wonder if he was referring only to the house, or if he was talking about me.

“Mind if I see my old room?” he asked.

“Only if you answer my question. Are you doubting me?” I stood fast, waiting.

“No. Why do you ask?” He brushing past me, left the room, and headed up the stairs.

I chased after him. “That’s not really an answer.”

“Sure it was. You asked a yes or no question and I answered it.”

My chest tightened. Was my frustration aimed at him, or was it my own self-doubt? “Why did you say
maybe I won’t
break up with him?”

We were standing in the hall. Close. Too close. I let my eyes drift from his chest to his neck to his face, finally seeing those silvery-blue eyes looking down at me. “Because you’re cautious, always too cautious about everything. You always were, and probably always will be.”

“Really? This, coming from the guy who wasn’t careful about anything. Look what happened there,” I snapped.

He shook his head at my dramatics. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, that’s what I’m talking about.”

He turned and started down the hall toward his old bedroom. “Then you’re talking about the wrong thing. I don’t mean you should be doing anything stupid or that can get you in trouble and fuck up your life. I mean you should figure out what makes you happy and go for it.”

I knew he was right, but he was saying it without really knowing all I had been through—how I had tried to get my adult life going, how I had tried to make myself happy because I had figured out what I wanted.

I wanted independence from my parents. I wanted my career to start. I wanted to finally be free in the world with only myself to take care of me, only myself to get credit for the good things happening to me.

I walked toward his room and stood in the doorway. He looked around the room, but didn’t touch anything. The room housed the same furniture, but held no personality – almost as if he’d never been there.

I didn’t say anything. It must have been weird standing in his old room, and I wanted to give him a chance to process it. But not too long. I wasn’t ready to let his comments about me go without challenging him.

I felt nothing while standing in my old bedroom. No shame, no guilt, no remorse, no longing for the past to do over. I hadn’t known what to expect when I stepped foot in there, but if I had to guess, I wouldn’t have banked on the idea that I would feel nothing.

Part of the reason was that it really wasn’t my room anymore. Not with all of my things gone. The other part was that all of my focus was on Dawn. How could she not see her own denial? She wasn’t happy in her current relationship, yet defended her reasons for still being involved with Scott.

For fuck’s sake, I could hardly believe it when she told me they were together. It made no sense. Hell, he was a nice enough guy, a push-over really. But Dawn? He was nice to her in the past. Was that a reason to cling to something that’s not working? With so much time passing, she was more mature, and as hot as she was back then, she was even better looking today. Even back then, she liked him, but didn’t feel much for him otherwise. And still, she stayed in those circumstances. Why didn’t she break free and reach for something better? Something that made her happy? Would she always rely on safe choices, even if it meant denying her happiness?

I’d seen enough of my old room. I turned and walked past Dawn. My arm brushed against her as I moved to the hallway.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

I looked over my shoulder. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugged and looked away.

I was about ten feet in front of her. She’d crossed her arms over her chest. An old habit she had when she’d get defensive. “Are you okay?”

She glanced at the floor, then back at me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because,” I said, taking a step toward her, “you seem upset that I don’t believe you’ll break up with him.” I kept walking. She remained silent. I stood in front of her, barely two feet separating us.

“So, you don’t believe it? This ‘maybe you will, maybe you won’t’ thing was bullshit. I never gave you a reason to not trust me,” she said.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“You really don’t see? You leave, never get in touch, and yet, you don’t trust me?” She shook her head. “Isn’t that a little twisted?”

I didn’t mean to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I grinned at her.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with a pout. She dropped her arms to her side

Nothing was funny, but I had to play this off. She’d now changed the subject from Scott and her unhappiness to me leaving and abandoning her. I didn’t say anything. I wanted to see what she would say next.

“Why do you have so little faith in me?” Dawn’s face softened. Her frustration slid into sadness.

I closed the distance between us, placing my hand on the wall just above her shoulder. She lurched backward, until her shoulders touched the wall.

I leaned in close, my face inches away and answered. “Because you’ve never been the type to take chances. You’re careful. You’re safe. You don’t put yourself out there on the line to get what you want. You’re afraid of failing, so it’s easier to never try something—”

In the blink of an eye, I’d stopped talking. She’d raised to her tiptoes and kissed me. The last thing I expected was for her to plant her lips on mine. Hell, I’d been confronting her about being safe, never taking chances, and now this. To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

She pulled back almost in a delayed panic. I think she was almost as shocked as I was. She quickly slapped her hand over her mouth.  “Oh my God.” She laughed nervously, but it subsided quickly. She lowered her hand from her mouth. “I shouldn’t—”

“Yeah, you should have, Dusk.” I looked at her eyes, growing wider as I used the old nickname I’d given her.

Neither of us said a word. I almost said something else, then decided not to. My mind was wrapped around what had happened. I’d longed to feel her lips…to kiss her, and to my surprise she kissed me. Had I pushed her into it? I needed more.

I kissed her. Harder than she’d kissed me. I parted her lips with the tip of my tongue, and let it graze her teeth. The kiss was slow and delicious.

She inhaled quickly. Was she surprised? Were we in some back-and-forth competition now to see who would take this further? If so, she’d chosen the wrong opponent.

I slid my hand around her waist, pulling her body against mine. Those tits. Fuck. I felt them press against my chest and hated the fact that I wasn’t feeling them against my bare skin.

She was an eager kisser—lips open wide, her tongue furiously exploring my mouth. The little noises she made begged me to continue.

When I looked back at all the opportunities I’d had to kiss her before, like when she’d come into my room to watch a movie, I’d always stopped myself. Back then, living in the same home as Dawn, I resisted because I had to. But now? Forget it. There was no stopping once we’d gotten started. There was a connection between us that was so strong, I couldn’t let go. Wouldn’t let go.

Dawn pulled me closer to her, then wrapped one of her legs around the back of my thigh. I’d been with horny girls before, but this was something else. This was pent-up frustration, anger, something…

Lost in the moment, my conscious thoughts shut down. My heart beat faster, and my cock grew harder. All I cared about was what my hands and mouth felt.

I stroked her cheek, ran my hands through her hair, and then slid my thumb over her bottom lip, before pressing my tongue back into her mouth.

Fuck. I hadn’t had sex in four months. I came to see Dawn with no plans, expecting only tension and awkwardness, but nothing like this. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to think.

Dawn’s hands roamed around my belt, then underneath my shirt. Her hands slid from my stomach up to my chest.

“Dawn,” I said, our mouths still feverishly going at each other’s. I lifted my hand, trying to stop her. “Wait.”

But before I could get her to stop—Jesus, she was on fire with lust—she had lifted the front of my shirt up, exposing my chest, and I saw the confusion wash over her reddened face turn to disbelief.