My Kinda Song Page 21

  But those thoughts don’t scare me. No, it’s the ones where I try to picture my life without her. Those are the images that scare the ever-loving shit out of me. Because in just a short amount of time, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with my best friend.

  Fine, I’m a little late to the party.

  You’re right.

  I’ve been in love with her before I realized it. Everyone else could see it, but not me. And maybe not her either. That’s why I’ve got to convince her to forgive me for my little FUBAR and ride off into the fucking sunset with me.

  Easy peasy.

  Well, after I convince her to forgive me for deceiving and lying to her.

  Shit.

  When we reach her door, words are ready to fly from my mouth like some Indy Car tearing out of pit road, but she stops. She’s heartbreakingly beautiful as she gazes up at me with so much trust and love in her eyes. I see it. Love. And I pray she sees the same thing reflecting in my own.

  “Listen, I have some things to say to you,” I tell her. Abby’s face falls in that holy shit, you’re going to break up with me way. I’m not too familiar with it since I’m not a big dater, but I’ve seen that look before.

  Taking her hands in mine, I bring them up to my lips and place sweet, tender kisses to each of her ten knuckles. “It’s not bad,” I tell her reflectively, earning a smile in return.

  Well, it’s not all bad, I think to myself.

  “Actually, I have something to tell you that I hope might make you happy.”

  I love you, I love you, I love you.

  I fucked up. Please forgive me.

  Just as I open my mouth, my fire pager goes off. The noise echoes in the empty hall, loud and piercing. “Shit,” I mumble as I pull the clip from my belt.

  “Attention Jupiter Bay Fire. All available units respond to a single level residential structure fire at 1221 Coastal Way Jupiter Bay.”

  “I have to go, angel. I’m sorry,” I tell her, grabbing the sides of her face and kissing her soft lips as if my life depended on it. “Can I come over when I get home?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, her lips already swollen from my kisses.

  “It might be kinda late.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Placing a shorter, chaste kiss on her lips, I tell her, “I’ll shower first and come over. Crawling into bed with you will give me something to hurry home to.”

  God, I’m such a sappy loser.

  Don’t care.

  “Be safe,” she says before kissing me one last time.

  I’m moving through the hallway, shooting down the stairs before I even have a chance to look back and see her face one last time. Something pulls at my heart, telling me not to go. To go back and hold her in my arms one more time.

  But I can’t.

  Lives could depend on my response right now, so as much as it pains me, I push thoughts of Abby and the confessions I was about to make out of my mind. I prepare myself to do my job, ready and willing.

  Tonight, when I’m through, she’ll be waiting. I’ll climb into her bed and tell her exactly how I feel. I’ll confess the love I’ve felt for her for what feels like a lifetime, and hopefully, God willing, she’ll return the sentiment, and we’ll start a new life together. One where I get to tell her every day that I love her, and show her even more. One with her in my arms where she belongs.

  Anything else is unthinkable.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Abby

  The apartment is so quiet.

  Nothing has held my attention since arriving home from dinner with Levi. I turned the television off an hour ago, unable to get into the high-drama reality shows they’re airing this evening. I sat down to work, but my mind just wasn’t in it. I read the same sentence three times, and when I realized I still missed the misspelling of the word cable, I shut down the program and stared at the blank screen.

  The dating app taunts me, so without giving it any further thought, I click on the icon. Instead of skipping over the usual requests I get to introduce myself to others on the site, I click on a few of the faces. Three new guys have liked me, giving me the perfect chance to connect. But I’m not interested.

  If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t really interested when I started this whole hoopla. My heart and my head have always led me towards one man; one that I thought was unobtainable until recently. Levi seems determined to prove to me, and maybe himself too, that he’s capable of sustaining a real relationship.

  And he wants that with me.

  I find myself back at my previous conversation with SimpleMan. He mentioned wanting Chinese food and Levi took me to Chinese food. That was just one of the few similarities I’ve discovered in the last week or so, but when I asked Levi about it outright–and during a confession time, no less–he denied knowing anything about it.

  My gut still tells me something isn’t right.

  Another thirty minutes later and I’ve tossed and turned in bed, unable to get comfortable. The clock reads nearly ten, and I’m still wound tight. Finally, I jump up and head for the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I glance through the peephole like a crazy ex-girlfriend and wonder if he’s back yet.

  Of course he’s not back yet. He said he’d come over.

  Unable to stop myself, I grab the spare key to Levi’s apartment that he keeps here for the same reason he has one of mine. Maybe I’ll just head over and wait for him to get home. I know he said he’d come to me after a shower, but wouldn’t it be a nice surprise if he found me already in his bed, waiting? That sounds way better than sneaking over and sniffing his pillow, huh?

  A wide smile crests my face as I slip across the hall and enter his place. There’s a light on above the sink, but I still manage to smack my knee into his coffee table. It must be moved out further from the couch. Rubbing the tender flesh on my leg, I plop down on the couch, worried that I’ll have to limp my way into his bedroom.

  Levi’s laptop is sitting on the table and the jarring of the table must have woken it up. It’s bright in contrast to the darkened room, and after a few moments, my eyes adjust enough to focus on the screen. And not just any screen.

  PerfectDate.com.

  I’d know it anywhere, even if I didn’t see my own profile name at the top of the message screen.

  AngelEyes: What’s for dinner tonight?

  SimpleMan: Chinese. I’m starving, angel.

  AngelEyes: Busy day at work?

  SimpleMan: The busiest. I’m exhausted.

  AngelEyes: Maybe you should order in and crash early tonight?

  SimpleMan: I would but I’m taking my girl to dinner. She’s the best part of my day.

  AngelEyes: *winky* Good for you, Simple. I’m off to get ready for dinner.

  SimpleMan: Bye, Angel. Have fun.

  AngelEyes: Bye.

  I cry out, my hand covering my mouth as I read the screen a second, then a third time.

  All this time.

  Since the very beginning.

  Levi is SimpleMan.

  SimpleMan is Levi.

  He lied to me.

  The tears are falling before I can stop them. I feel them hit my hands as they hold the laptop, the wetness doing nothing to mask the numbness taking over my body.

  I scroll up, gazing through tear-filled eyes at every conversation I’ve had with SimpleMan over the last month. When I reach the beginning, I click on his profile, bringing up the photo of the guitar. Now that I get a good look at it, I can tell it’s his Gibson. His favorite.

  Oh, Levi. What have you done?

  Unable to control myself, I search his profile for any signs of his online activity. I’m shockingly surprised to not find anything else. No messages, no other connections, no meetings set. Just AngelEyes.

  What does this mean?

  Standing up, I set his computer back down on the coffee table. I may not know why he’s done this, but I do know one thing as plain as the nose on my face: he lied to me. I sp
ecifically asked him this evening, after I noticed the similarities, if he was on this site. He said no. He said he wasn’t, and I believed him.

  I. Believed. Him.

  Anger races recklessly through my entire body. Pacing back and forth, I contemplate my next move. I want to play him at his own game, just the way he played me. He toyed with me, making me believe there was something more between us. But there wasn’t. There were games and lies and heartbreak.

  My heart aches at the thought of losing him, but how can I remain friends with someone who would so easily toy with my emotions? I can’t, that’s for sure. Levi’s not the person I thought he was, not by a long shot.

  Grabbing my phone, I snap a picture of his laptop, our last conversation clearly visible in the photo. My heart hammers and my mind swirls as I glance down at the key still in my hand. With shaking hands, I set the key on the table, right next to the laptop. Then, I grab my phone and head towards the door.

  Slowly, I gaze around the apartment I’ve spent almost as much time in as my own. The laughs, smiles, meals, and yes, arguments we shared as friends. Gone. They evaporate like puddles in July. Here one minute, gone the next.

  Making sure the door is locked behind me, I give it a pull and close myself off from Levi for good. God, my heart hurts so bad. Wiping more tears from my face, I let myself into my own place and walk numbly into the living room. I don’t allow myself to wallow in my misery just yet. No, when I fall apart, it isn’t going to be here.

  With quick resolve, I make my way to my room and pack a bag. I have no clue what I even throw in the old, worn suitcase, but I fill it with some of my belongings and head across the hall to my bathroom. I grab my toothbrush and hairbrush, choosing to leave my makeup behind. It’s not like I’m going to feel like getting all dolled-up anytime soon anyway.

  Before I head out, I make my way to my office. I send a quick message to my boss, taking tomorrow off as a personal day. Without checking the rest of the emails, I sign off and bring up the dating app. Grabbing my phone, I upload the photo of Levi’s laptop and attach it to a new message. My words are short and sweet, and hopefully to the point.

  Then, to make sure this mess never happens again, I deactivate my profile page and sign off for good. Swiping at more tears, I close down my entire computer and head towards the door. Without so much as a glance back, I’m out of my apartment and heading down the hall. As a sign of defiance, I press the call button for the elevator, and am pleasantly surprised it arrives just a few moments later. Like a man walking the plank, I step into the car and head down to the lobby.

  With my bag tucked securely in my trunk, I slide inside the car that I used to love so much. Hell, so much used to give me joy, but now everything seems tainted. Everywhere I look, I see signs of Levi, and then I think of his deception. Now I’m probably going to have to sell my car, leave my apartment, and move to Guam just so I can get a little peace. Because if I know anything about my best friend, it’s that he’ll never give me a moment’s amity–even subconsciously.

  I pull my car from my parking spot and head towards the only place I can picture showing up so late at night. No, that’s not true. Any one of my sisters would welcome me with open arms, even in the middle of the night.

  More tears threaten to fall as I drive through the mostly deserted streets of Jupiter Bay, heading towards my childhood home. As I pull into the drive, the front porch light turns on even before I’m out of the car. When I reach my trunk, a warm hand wraps around my shoulder before reaching down to grab my luggage.

  My dad wraps his big, strong arm around my shoulder and escorts me into the home where I grew up. The familiar scents, photos, and furniture are too much for me, and as soon as the door is closed, I burst into tears. He never says a word, just holds me tight while I cry.

  I’m home.

  I’m surrounded by the only man I can trust not to hurt me. I thought there was another one I could trust just as much, but he proved me wrong. Thinking of Levi causes a physical pain in my chest, like someone is cutting me wide open with a butter knife.

  “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning,” Dad whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead.

  He leads me up the stairs and into the small room I shared with my twin sister growing up. My head hits my pillow moments later, but sleep evades me. My mind whirls with memories of my time with Levi; everything from casual dinners, to cooking lessons, to making love.

  There’s no way I’ll get any sleep tonight.

  And why would I want to, when every time I close my eyes, I see his hazel eyes and his killer smile.

  Welcome to Hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Levi

  It’s late.

  Or early, depending on how you look at the clock.

  It’s just after one in the morning, and I’m dog-tired. I’m suddenly extremely grateful for the mini nap I took this afternoon when I had the chance. Otherwise, I would have started to struggle when we hit the third hour of battling that blaze. The older home went up quickly, and when we arrived, threatening to take the houses on both sides. We were able to keep it from spreading completely, but it was damn close there for a while.

  Now, all I can think about is scrubbing this nasty burnt smell off of my body and crawling into bed with Abby. I’m sure she’s sound asleep by this point, but that doesn’t matter. I crave just the touch of her skin against my own and to hold her in my arms.

  With renewed spring in my step, I let myself into my apartment, throwing my bag over to the side to take care of later. Taking a few steps into my place, I’m surprised when I slam my upper shin into my coffee table. “Son of a…” I holler. “What the hell?”

  Limping slightly, I make my way to the end table and flip on the lamp. Soft light bathes my living room, and I’m finally able to take in the room. I recall moving the table a bit when I propped my legs up to take my nap. My computer is open, and the movement of hitting the table must have woken it. Hell, I didn’t even log out of that dating site before I snoozed.

  Grabbing the computer, preparing to power it down, a photo catches my attention. Upon further inspection, the photo is of my own computer sitting on my coffee table. This exact screen.

  Mother of fucking hell, what is this?

  The picture was sent at 10:10pm from AngelEyes. From Abby.

  “No, no, no, no!” I exclaim, roughly setting my computer back down on the table and not caring. That’s when I see something shiny sitting beside my discarded laptop. Picking it up, my gut tightens painfully, my throat closes shut.

  A key.

  My key.

  To this apartment.

  She left it behind after she discovered I’m SimpleMan. She asked me outright if I was on that fucking site, and I denied it. I deceived her. She gave me the perfect opportunity to come clean, not only today, but a few weeks ago, and I didn’t take it.

  Fuck.

  It doesn’t matter that I was gonna tell her tonight, not to her. And not to me either, because I’ve done the one thing I swore I’d never in a billion years do: broke her trust.

  And probably her heart.

  Because a friend doesn’t lie. Even when your ass looks huge in the dress or you have globs of mascara in your lashes, a friend is supposed to tell you the honest to God truth, and I didn’t do that.

  Needing to make this right–and quickly–I race across the hall. I don’t even knock, it’s well after one in the morning, and as frantic as I am to get to my girl, I’m not about to wake the neighbor. He’s a guy about my age, but still not cool. Using my key, I let myself into her place.

  Instantly I feel it.

  It feels as empty as my heart right now.

  I can tell before I even make my way into her bedroom that she’s not here. Desolation surrounds me, pulling me under with its strong current. Her bed isn’t made, which tells me she was here at some point. Probably before she came over and found the live bomb with her name, wrapped in a pretty b
ow sitting on my coffee table.

  Her drawers are askew slightly, and I’m just desperate enough to check them. They’ve been rifled through, and if it weren’t for the current situation I left us in, I’d be concerned that something was up. But I know what’s up. She’s left, and she left in a big hurry.

  Her makeup bag is still sitting on her bathroom sink, but her toothbrush is gone. Just like a piece of my soul. It’s crazy how empty I feel right now, not knowing where she is or if she’s okay. Hell, I don’t even know if we’ll ever be us again.

  For good measure, I go ahead and check the rest of her place. You know, just in case she fell in the office or passed out on the living room floor. But she’s not here. I pick up my phone and immediately dial her number. Unfortunately, it goes to voicemail right away. After listening to her chipper greeting, the beep tells me it’s my turn to speak.

  But the words don’t come.

  So, I hang up and call again. Her voicemail picks up immediately again, but this time, I’m a bit more prepared.

  “Abs, I know this looks bad. Call me. Please. Let me explain.” I take a deep breath, even though the air seems to suffocate me. “Please, Abs. I need to talk to you. I…I need you. I…” And I almost say it. I almost tell her exactly how I feel about her, but I stop myself. She doesn’t need to hear that I love her on a message. “Please.”

  Hanging up feels like the equivalent to cutting off my own arm because I’m, once again, cut off from the one woman who makes me whole.

  Instead of going to my own place, like I should, I make sure her door is locked, kick off my shoes, and crawl into her bed. Her covers are bunched up at my feet, but I make no move to grab them. I’m a smelly mess anyway. But I need to smell her, be close to where she sleeps, where her beautiful brown hair was splayed out, smelling like vanilla, just a short time ago.

  Back when things were fine.

  Now, they’re anything but.

  Holding my phone, I send off a text message, then another, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop.