Lia
Seven Years Ago…
“I love you.”
The words had just…fallen out of my mouth. I hadn’t stopped to think about them, nor was I worried about how my best friend, Zeke Conner, would interpret the statement.
In my more-than-slightly-inebriated state, I just didn’t care about what might happen tomorrow. Or the next day. I was in some kind of lovely live-in-the-moment reality, and the only thing that seemed to matter was finally letting Zeke Conner know exactly how I felt.
I had no idea why it was suddenly of the utmost importance that Zeke be informed that he was not only my best friend, but the subject of every single erotic fantasy and wet dream I’d ever experienced over the last several years.
I’d done a very good job at keeping those carnal secrets to myself before I’d gone barhopping with Zeke tonight, and sampled what seemed like every single cocktail in a bartender’s handbook.
Was it so important because I would have never said those words had I not been three sheets to the wind, and I wanted to get them out before I was sober again?
Yeah, most likely.
Sober, I was almost certain that my fear of losing Zeke as a friend would keep me silent. I’d just keep pretending like I didn’t want to get down and dirty with the guy who had been my best friend and confidant since I was barely fourteen years old.
But I’m not that adoring kid anymore, that girl who had initially looked up to Zeke like he’s some kind of protective big brother.
It was my twenty-first birthday, dammit. Even though Zeke would probably always be my hero, it had become absolutely impossible not to see him as the hottest guy on the planet, too.
“I love you, too, my adorable, drunken little friend,” Zeke answered indulgently as he hoisted me onto my bed.
I watched as he patiently removed the stupid high-heeled shoes that had hindered my ability to walk on my own in the first place.
Maybe wearing those fuck-me shoes had been a big mistake. I was more of a comfortable sneakers kind of female, so my practice at prancing around in a pair of high stilettos was somewhat limited. I think I’d done okay at the beginning of the evening, but somewhere around my third drink…or was it my fourth?...I’d started to get a little wobbly.
“Better?” Zeke asked as the second shoe hit the floor, and he started rubbing the arches of both of my feet.
A tiny whimper of pleasure escaped from my lips as his strong fingers dug into those aching muscles for several minutes before he finally tucked my body between the covers, and pulled the sheet and comforter over me.
“Zeke? Did you hear me say that I love you?”
“Yep,” he acknowledged as he sat down on the bed. “I told you that I loved you, too, Jellybean. Did you miss that?”
I grimaced as he grinned down at me, making it perfectly obvious that he was just humoring me.
Okay, maybe I needed to try again, so he’d really understand what I meant. “I want to have sex with you,” I confessed, my words sounding a little slurred, but he ought to get what I meant this time, right? How much blunter could I possibly get?
His grin grew ever broader. “Everybody wants to have sex when they’re drunk, Lia, and honestly, sometimes we’re not all that picky about how or who that happens with when we’re shitfaced.”
I frowned at him. Here I was, spilling my guts to him, and he wasn’t taking me seriously. At all. Judging by the teasing smile on his face, he wasn’t buying a word I said.
I sighed, and shot him a displeased glare.
Okay, so maybe he had good reason for doubting the words of a drunk woman.
I folded my arms across my chest, meeting Zeke’s sexy blue-eyed gaze with my own stubborn stare of determination. “I don’t want to have sex with you just because I’m drunk,” I informed him. “You might be my best friend, but I’d have to be blind not to notice how ridiculously gorgeous you are, too. I don’t want to just have sex with anybody because I’m plastered. I only want to have sex with you.”
A small smile still lingered on those sexy lips of his as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’m damn glad it’s me who’s with you right now, Jellybean,” he mumbled against my skin. “Any other guy would have you naked and on your back right now.”
I grasped the front of his button-down shirt with one hand before he could move away, and used the other to poke an exasperated index finger into his chest. “Will you please stop calling me that ridiculous nickname, and stop treating me like a child who has no idea what I want,” I huffed indignantly.
Zeke had been calling me Jellybean since I was fourteen, and he’d discovered my love of almost every flavor of Jelly Bellies. Okay, so maybe I still had a thing for those stupid gourmet jelly beans, and a flavor I associated with almost every emotion or occasion, but I was over that silly nickname.
I watched as his expression changed, his face so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath as he let out a masculine sigh. “I never realized the nickname hurt you, Lia,” he said huskily. “It was never meant as anything more than a term of endearment.”
My heart somersaulted inside my chest as his tender, contemplative gaze swept over me. I had a love/hate relationship with that look.
I loved the fact that Zeke always cared enough to try to read my emotions.
And…I hated it because I’d never seen anything except concerned friendship in that assessing glance.
Exasperated, and remorseful that I’d snapped at him, I released his shirt and let him move away. “You never hurt me, Zeke, and sometimes I like it when you call me Jellybean because I know it’s meant to be…affectionate,” I confessed. “I guess I’m just being pissy because I’m trying to tell you something from my heart, and you’re treating me like I have no idea what I’m talking about.”
I shivered as he reached out and pushed a wayward lock of blonde hair from my eyes, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he performed the loving gesture. “You’re out of your head, Lia. You know I have complete respect for anything you have to say, but I was also the guy who watched you put away nearly as many drinks as a college frat boy could handle tonight. So yeah, maybe I’m not taking you seriously at the moment because I’ve been just as shitfaced as you are right now, and when I was, nothing I said really made sense. I’ll be surprised if you even remember any of this tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes like a sulky adolescent, and flopped back onto my pillow. I shot Zeke a look that probably would have killed him if the daggers coming from my eyes were actually real weapons.
Unfortunately, Zeke didn’t even flinch at my furious stare. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are when you’re drunk angry?” he asked, his deep baritone so cajoling that I knew he was trying to tease me out of being pissed off.