The Friend Zone
Page 78
“I asked Fi to help me out before she left.” Ivy’s voice is subdued. I expected anger, or at least an accusation. But she simply turns and pulls my sweaty shirt over my head.
I stand there, letting her undress me, watching her. She so fucking beautiful. I know every line and curve of her face better than my own, and yet each time I look at her, it’s like she’s brand new.
“Get in,” she says, not looking at me but at the tub.
And because I’ll do anything for her, I obey. The water is hot, soothing. I don’t want to be soothed; her kindness is killing me. I lean forward and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
She steps in behind me, and my eyes snap open. I hadn’t even noticed her undressing, but now her silky legs slide along mine, wrapping me up in her embrace. Water sluices over my back as she begins to wash me.
Such a simple thing, but strangely effective. With each stroke of her hand, a bit more of the ugly, clenching, sick feeling leaves me, and I’m so grateful for her that my vision blurs.
“Say something,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
“Something,” she repeats, equally quiet. Her strong fingers massage my scalp, and a heated prickle forms behind my eyes.
I blink rapidly, willing myself to calm down. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”
Her movements still, and she rests her forearms against my back. “That would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? If I yelled and relieved your conscience.”
I wince, because she’s right.
Ivy sighs and starts washing me again, more brisk now, picking up a bar of soap and scrubbing beneath my arms. “I wanted to scream my throat raw at you. When I couldn’t find you, I wanted that.” She slows, and I’m half distracted by her fingers running over my nipple and her lips just brushing between my shoulder blades as she takes a deep breath. “But you looked… You’re in pain, Gray. And it hurts me when you hurt. So, no, I’m not going to scream at you now. I never want to be the one to kick you when you’re down.”
This girl. A shuddering breath tears out of me, and I capture her slim hand, bring it to my mouth to hold it there. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. So fucking sorry that I ran out on you.” Because she’s right—it hurts worse knowing that I’m the cause of her pain.
Ivy doesn’t say anything, but pulls her hand from mine, and turns on the shower attachment. That efficient manner returns as she rinses me clean. A flick of her wrist and the water is off again. Before I can say another word, she launches from the tub, all long limbs and slick skin.
“Ivy—”
“I’m pissed.” She grabs a robe and wrenches it on before facing me. “Okay? I don’t want to yell but…” Her eyes go glassy and she makes a face of disgust. “You hurt me, Gray.”
God, the disappointment in her voice, it rips through my chest. Water sloshes over the edges of the tub as I rise. “I know, honey, and I’m—”
But she’s walking out of the room. I hop out of the bath, pulling a towel around me as I go. “Ivy.”
She faces me in the bedroom, her eyes flashing. “I get why you freaked. Breast cancer, your mom. I understand, Gray. I do. But you just ran out on me like I had the plague. I needed you…” She takes a shaky breath. “More than you know. I needed you to talk to me. You promised—”
Two steps and she’s in my arms. Without pause, I pick her up and carry her out of Fi’s room and into hers, stopping only when we reach the bed. She’s stiff as I sit with her in my lap. But it doesn’t stop me from kissing her lips, her check, any spot I can get. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I panicked, and if I could go back and change that, I would.”
She’s shaking, her body against mine, leaning a little but not yielding. “You ran away from me.”
My fingers thread into her hair, and I hold her steady as I meet her eyes. “I ran away from myself. Shit. Ivy, you’re right. I freaked out. Since my mom…I haven’t wanted to care about anything. Live day-to-day, enjoy the moment, nothing deep. The funny thing is, Ivy, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. The best time of my life.”
“Then why—”
“It’s easy to love you, but it scares the shit out of me.” Our foreheads touch, and I close my eyes. “I felt that lump, and it was my mom dying all over again. It hit me. I can’t lose you. Not you. So, yeah, I panicked. Because I… If you…”
Terror tries to rush over me again. I don’t know what to do with it. Nothing scares me on the field. Not a three-hundred-pound lineman, not the possibility of getting hit so hard that my neck might break. But this? I struggle to breathe.
Until she touches my cheek. Her dark eyes meet mine, and all I can think is home.
“Hey,” she says softly. “I can see you’re freaking out again, but it’s okay.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I hurt you.”
And then she smiles. Nothing in the world affects me like her smile. I can only stare, my heart pounding, my breathing still off.
“I’m not hurting anymore, Cupcake.”
I kiss her. Soft. Reverent. She’s everything. My world. My happiness. My hand slides beneath her gaping robe to cup her warm breast. The tips of my fingers glide over her skin, careful not to hurt her. “And you’re…?” I can’t finish.
Ivy cups my hand, pressing it to her flesh. “It’s fine. Not cancer, I swear.” But her expression suddenly fills with fear, and she moves off me. With agitated breaths, she paces in front of the bed, her hands shaking.
I stand there, letting her undress me, watching her. She so fucking beautiful. I know every line and curve of her face better than my own, and yet each time I look at her, it’s like she’s brand new.
“Get in,” she says, not looking at me but at the tub.
And because I’ll do anything for her, I obey. The water is hot, soothing. I don’t want to be soothed; her kindness is killing me. I lean forward and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
She steps in behind me, and my eyes snap open. I hadn’t even noticed her undressing, but now her silky legs slide along mine, wrapping me up in her embrace. Water sluices over my back as she begins to wash me.
Such a simple thing, but strangely effective. With each stroke of her hand, a bit more of the ugly, clenching, sick feeling leaves me, and I’m so grateful for her that my vision blurs.
“Say something,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
“Something,” she repeats, equally quiet. Her strong fingers massage my scalp, and a heated prickle forms behind my eyes.
I blink rapidly, willing myself to calm down. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”
Her movements still, and she rests her forearms against my back. “That would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? If I yelled and relieved your conscience.”
I wince, because she’s right.
Ivy sighs and starts washing me again, more brisk now, picking up a bar of soap and scrubbing beneath my arms. “I wanted to scream my throat raw at you. When I couldn’t find you, I wanted that.” She slows, and I’m half distracted by her fingers running over my nipple and her lips just brushing between my shoulder blades as she takes a deep breath. “But you looked… You’re in pain, Gray. And it hurts me when you hurt. So, no, I’m not going to scream at you now. I never want to be the one to kick you when you’re down.”
This girl. A shuddering breath tears out of me, and I capture her slim hand, bring it to my mouth to hold it there. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. So fucking sorry that I ran out on you.” Because she’s right—it hurts worse knowing that I’m the cause of her pain.
Ivy doesn’t say anything, but pulls her hand from mine, and turns on the shower attachment. That efficient manner returns as she rinses me clean. A flick of her wrist and the water is off again. Before I can say another word, she launches from the tub, all long limbs and slick skin.
“Ivy—”
“I’m pissed.” She grabs a robe and wrenches it on before facing me. “Okay? I don’t want to yell but…” Her eyes go glassy and she makes a face of disgust. “You hurt me, Gray.”
God, the disappointment in her voice, it rips through my chest. Water sloshes over the edges of the tub as I rise. “I know, honey, and I’m—”
But she’s walking out of the room. I hop out of the bath, pulling a towel around me as I go. “Ivy.”
She faces me in the bedroom, her eyes flashing. “I get why you freaked. Breast cancer, your mom. I understand, Gray. I do. But you just ran out on me like I had the plague. I needed you…” She takes a shaky breath. “More than you know. I needed you to talk to me. You promised—”
Two steps and she’s in my arms. Without pause, I pick her up and carry her out of Fi’s room and into hers, stopping only when we reach the bed. She’s stiff as I sit with her in my lap. But it doesn’t stop me from kissing her lips, her check, any spot I can get. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I panicked, and if I could go back and change that, I would.”
She’s shaking, her body against mine, leaning a little but not yielding. “You ran away from me.”
My fingers thread into her hair, and I hold her steady as I meet her eyes. “I ran away from myself. Shit. Ivy, you’re right. I freaked out. Since my mom…I haven’t wanted to care about anything. Live day-to-day, enjoy the moment, nothing deep. The funny thing is, Ivy, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. The best time of my life.”
“Then why—”
“It’s easy to love you, but it scares the shit out of me.” Our foreheads touch, and I close my eyes. “I felt that lump, and it was my mom dying all over again. It hit me. I can’t lose you. Not you. So, yeah, I panicked. Because I… If you…”
Terror tries to rush over me again. I don’t know what to do with it. Nothing scares me on the field. Not a three-hundred-pound lineman, not the possibility of getting hit so hard that my neck might break. But this? I struggle to breathe.
Until she touches my cheek. Her dark eyes meet mine, and all I can think is home.
“Hey,” she says softly. “I can see you’re freaking out again, but it’s okay.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I hurt you.”
And then she smiles. Nothing in the world affects me like her smile. I can only stare, my heart pounding, my breathing still off.
“I’m not hurting anymore, Cupcake.”
I kiss her. Soft. Reverent. She’s everything. My world. My happiness. My hand slides beneath her gaping robe to cup her warm breast. The tips of my fingers glide over her skin, careful not to hurt her. “And you’re…?” I can’t finish.
Ivy cups my hand, pressing it to her flesh. “It’s fine. Not cancer, I swear.” But her expression suddenly fills with fear, and she moves off me. With agitated breaths, she paces in front of the bed, her hands shaking.
