Let Me In

LET ME IN

BY

MICHELLE LYNN

Copyright ©2013 by Michelle Lynn

All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in whole or in part by any means.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Editors:
             

Liz Aguilar,
Book Peddler’s Editing

S.G. Thomas

Cover photo: Shutterstock

Cover Design: Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creative

DEDICATION

My husband

A little of you is in every male character I write because you show me your love in the smallest ways every day. But out of them all so far, you are my Grant. You’ve trusted me and our children with your unconditional love, and we are forever grateful and honored to protect your heart, like you always do ours.

Grant

Her knee brushes against mine and a tingling sensation runs rapidly to my stomach. She’s so close to me, I can smell the light scent of coconut and vanilla. The enthusiasm she displays during this impromptu game of Pictionary that Sadie’s grandma, Ida, suggested makes her that much more appealing to me.

“It’s your turn,” she whispers in my ear, pulling me away from my daydream. I hope she didn’t notice me staring at her neck like a vulture ready to devour its prey.

“Oh, okay,” I respond quickly, standing up to grab a small piece of paper. After reading the movie title, I know automatically that either Brady or Sadie wrote this one down. With their shared eighties addiction, they must have thrown it in the bowl. I grab the marker and kneel down at the table. My team consists of Jessa, her sister Samantha, and her parents. A wave of nausea hits me when I see them all hovered over the table, waiting for Brady to turn the timer over.

Brady yells ‘go’ and I feverishly try to draw a jet fighter and dog tags, but my jet resembles more of a commercial airplane and Samantha keeps shouting the movie “Airplane” over and over. Jessa’s mom thinks the dog tags are a necklace, so she keeps saying “Pretty Woman”. How she came up with that I have no idea. Jessa remains quiet, waiting for me to finish, but then she laughs the most adorable giggle and throws her hands up in the air, letting me know she has no idea. Finally, as Ida starts saying the countdown aloud from ten, Jessa’s dad guesses correctly, shouting “Top Gun”. I point to him to signal he said the answer, and he gives me a high five. This feeling of togetherness overwhelms me, but I’m enjoying it.

“You should have drawn a volleyball game with four hot guys playing,” Jessa says, after I take my seat next to her.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, turning my body directly toward her.

“He’s a guy, Jess, he probably never gave it two thoughts,” Sadie explains from her position on the opposite couch, where she’s wrapped in Brady’s arms.

“What?” I ask again, amusingly confused.

“The hottest scene in the whole movie. When the four guys are playing volleyball with their shirts off…all tanned and shiny from sweat,” Jessa finally reveals. The swoony look on her face brings a rush of jealousy over me.

“I guess I missed the importance of that scene,” I joke.

“I always liked the scene where he has sex with that female instructor,” Brady chuckles and everyone joins in.

Once the game ends, I politely stand up to say my goodbyes. After hugging all the women and shaking all the men’s hands, Jessa says she’ll walk me out.

“What are you doing for the rest of break?” she asks as we continue to take steps to the front door. I can’t help but feel that my time here has gone by too fast tonight.

“I have to work but other than that, not much of anything,” I answer.

“Well, call or text me and we can get together,” she says casually when we reach the door.

I grab my jacket and turn back toward her. “You do the same, I’ll be around,” I inform her.

“What are you doing for New Year’s?” The hesitation in her voice makes me hopeful.

“I usually meet one of my buddies in their hometown, but this year I don’t have any plans,” I embarrassingly admit.

“Well, you do now. I have a friend who’s throwing a party. Why don’t you come? Brady and Sadie will be there too,” she says. The way her fingers fiddle with her multiple ear piercings is adorable.
I wonder if it’s a nervous habit. The thought that she’s uneasy asking me, makes my lips turn up widely in response.

“Alright, do you want me to pick you up?” I pray the desperation in my voice goes unnoticed.

“No, that’s okay. Rob will be home, so you can meet us there. I’ll text you the address.” Just like that, the excitement of a date with Jessa vanishes.

“Sounds good.” I open the door, displaying what I imagine is my fakest smile. “See you, Jessa,” I say, waving my hand.

“Hold up, Grant,” she calls out. When I turn around, she wraps her arms around my neck and pushes herself against me.

I quickly back away, after the briefest and most awkward hug ever. Regret consumes me automatically when I see her questioning face, but the last thing I need is her feeling how excited she can make me just from a simple hug.

“Merry Christmas, Grant,” she softly says, nervously biting her lip. This girl has so many different personalities I’m beginning to wonder who the real Jessa Harrison is.

“Merry Christmas, Jessa.” I turn around, walking down the steps. I desperately want to turn around to see if she’s watching me go, but I can’t bear the thought that she isn’t. The chance that she might have shut the door right away kills me. Turning the corner after walking through the small wrought-iron fence, my willpower weakens and I glance up to the door. To my surprise, she’s still standing there. I give her a quick wave, and she smiles at me before waving back. When I turn around, I can’t stop the huge grin that absorbs my face. Yeah, I’m not the only one feeling something here.

I haven’t felt this alone in years. The windows of my three-story frat house are filled with darkness as I trudge up the icy cement stairs. All my ‘brothers’ have gone home to their families. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have a family. Between my mom dying when I was fourteen and my dad leaving me two years later with someone else’s wife, I have no one. To say my dad screwed up my life is an understatement. He left a wake of trauma behind him when he decided that love was enough for him.

It took six years for Brady and me to mend our relationship, and because of that, it’s only been a few short weeks that we’ve been on talking terms. Lucky for me, he met his dream girl, Sadie. Without her, I doubt I would’ve celebrated Christmas at his house tonight, and I seriously doubt I ever would have met her roommate, Jessa. I’d have loved to stay longer tonight, if only to get a few more minutes with that spunky blonde. Ever since that party here a few weeks ago when Sadie introduced us, she won’t get out of my head. When I shook that delicate hand, with a grip stronger than most guys I know, all I wanted to do was pull her toward me, swing her over my shoulder, and stomp up to my bedroom while begging
her
to fuck me. But she’s not mine; she belongs to someone else. As much as I want her, I made a promise to myself long ago that I would never take another guy’s girl, no matter how much of a douche he is.

And Jessa’s boyfriend, Rob, is exactly that: a class A douchebag. I’ve never met someone so arrogant in all my life, and that is saying a lot, considering the people I hang out with. The way he treats her is what drives me insane. She deserves a lot better. But as much as I wish she was with me, I’ve got my own issues and that’s the last thing she needs in her life.

I unlock the front door and walk down the dark hallway. There’s no reason to turn on any lights, since it’ll probably be like this through the New Year. A few housemates might come back early, but usually it’s just me for the duration of the two weeks. The quiet house is a nice change from the usual chaotic bustle of guys watching sports, playing video games, non-stop partying, and a hell of a lot of shouting back and forth. However, the solitude brings back the feelings of loneliness once again, and I can’t help but be reminded that I have no family. No one to share holidays with or laugh and talk to. My life is absent of any aunts, uncles, or grandparents, who would share funny stories of me as a child.

When these thoughts hit me, I turn toward the only things that usually make me feel better. Pulling out the shoe box that sits in the bottom drawer of my dresser, I slowly open the lid, letting the smell of her perfume hit me first. I welcome the comforting feeling as it wraps around me like a safe cocoon, changing my mood immediately. It took me a couple of years after she died to read these, and there are still some that I haven’t read yet. She clearly took her time in labeling each letter and I wouldn’t dream of reading ahead. Her neat cursive handwriting reads ‘Christmas Senior Year’ across the discolored envelope. After eight years, the once crisp white woven envelopes have become tarnished from age.

I carefully open the flap, trying not to tear it. Knowing it was her way of communicating with me long after she left and thinking about the emotions she must’ve felt at those moments is overwhelming. A slow tear falls down my cheek when I picture her frail body in that hospital bed downstairs in our living room, carefully planning out each letter in chronological order.

Grant,

Merry Christmas
, sweetheart! I hope you and your dad had a great holiday with maybe the Carsens or the Billings. I imagine you’re getting ready to graduate soon. My hope is that you found that certain someone during your college years and are madly in love. If not, don’t stop looking, she’s out there somewhere. The fine young man that I know you have become is deserving of someone that will love everything about you, faults and all. Not that I think you have any ;). If you have her, hold on tight, honey, and never let her go. (For more advice on relationships, read my letter labeled LOVE).

Always remember I love you!
I never knew a love could fill my heart this much, until the day you were born. Have a Merry Christmas and an even happier New Year. You’ll soon become a graduate with a college degree in what you have a passion for. If I know your father, he made sure of it.

Talk to you again when you graduate
, dear. Unless, of course, you still have some letters you haven’t had a reason to read yet!!

Love,

Mom

XOXO

I re-fold the letter and carefully put it back in the envelope before gently placing it back in the shoebox. A pain reaches my heart when I realize I only have five letters left, one of which might never get opened. I quickly put the box back in the dresser drawer, trying to push them from my mind. Every letter makes it harder not to rip them all open. When I opened that first letter eight years ago, anger raged through my veins from her leaving me. But over time, I came to appreciate them. Reading the words of encouragement and advice from my mom now puts a smile on my face as I hear her voice in my head, speaking them directly to me.

I strip my clothes off, tossing them in my hamper, and then hop into the shower. After the cascade of hot water travels down my body, I put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and crawl under my sheets. As my eyelids begin to close, the only thought that crosses my mind is how I wish Jessa was lying right next to me.

Jessa

I shut the door after waving goodbye to Grant and a rush of unexpected sadness smacks me. Ever since Sadie persuaded me to move out of the dorms and into Brady’s house with them, I’ve seen Grant every day. Although his jeans and university sweatshirt apparel isn’t normally my preference anymore, I can’t help but notice the way his shirt usually tightens around his biceps. And I really couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt would rise up when he was painting, exposing a six pack that I assume he works for on a daily basis. I also haven’t missed the way his honey-colored hair sticks up in different directions every time he runs his fingers through it when he seems tired or annoyed. It’s only been two short weeks since I first met Grant, but I’m not blind to our connection with each other. I keep reminding myself though that guys like him don’t go for girls like me. Not to mention, I have Rob.

Rob treats me well, better than anyone else ever has. I might not like the way he checks out other girls when they walk by, or the way he usually walks through doors in front of me, but he’s nicer than Jason and we are definitely attracted to one another.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks. Now here’s the girl for Grant. My sister’s long chestnut hair is curled in little corkscrews with a few strands pinned back, while the rest flows down her back. The skirt she’s wearing, which looks like she ironed it this morning, is paired with a cute matching sweater. She and Grant would make the most adorable little preppy babies together.

“Nothing…why?” I ask her.

“You’ve been leaning against that front door for the past five minutes,” she laughs, and I quickly remove my hand that still rests on the doorknob.

“Just thinking,” I answer, starting to walk back into the room.

“Not about Rob,” she states and raises her eyebrows in question.

Although she’s mostly correct, I decide to take the defensive, “Shut the fuck up, Sam.” I walk into the family room, ignoring her.

“It’s okay, Jessa. I know you like him,” she calls out to me, but I continue my way through the family room and into the kitchen. I grab a beer out of the fridge and chug half of it before sitting down at the table. I know I shouldn’t be so mean to Sam; she’s my sister and knows me better than anyone. Not to mention, she stood by my side during that horrible time. She’s knows the depression and the hurt I suffered after that asshole destroyed my life. I’ll never forget the night she was my guardian angel. Without her…who knows where I’d be. A hospital, a prison, or not on this earth at all.

Most of all, I know she’s right. I do like Grant, but to what degree, I have no idea. I’m not about to blow what I have with Rob, only to find out that Grant has no interest. I chuckle to myself, thinking about him bringing me to one of those Greek formals.