Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (2 page)

Without really thinking it through, I wind up back at my apartment.
Our
apartment. It’s ours now; mine, Nate’s and Natalie’s; one big, not-so-happy family.

When Nate called me from Florida last week to tell me their family home was being auctioned off, and that Natalie would be moving in, my heart bled for them. Their parents’ life insurance policy wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage after Mr. Connor used the equity to reinvest in his company.

Nate asked me to get his office changed into a bedroom for Natalie. “Make her feel...at home,” he’d said, pleadingly. So I postponed the work I had and set about clearing the modern office furniture out, giving the room a fresh coat of paint, and moving some girly bedroom shit in.

Lilac
. That’s her favorite color. I knew this from when we were kids, because I paid attention to everything she did and said, but if I hadn’t, I would have learned it from our online conversations. So, I went down to the local home wares store, bought some feminine bedroom furniture, with the help of an over-attentive sales assistant - who clearly wanted me to ask for her number (I didn’t) - and picked out some lilac patterned curtains and bed sheets to make her feel welcome.

I hope she likes it.

When I step through the front door, the scent of jasmine lingers in the air. It’s oddly...provocative.

The scent is accompanied by the sound of the shower coming from down the hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom are situated, and the thought that Natalie might be naked and wet stirs my body back to life.

Damn.

I know I shouldn’t, but before I can consider my actions, my feet are moving in the direction of the splashing water. The sound of the shower spray is too prominent for the door to be closed.

Just one, really quick peek.

Just one.

Just half a one.

No matter how wrong I know it is, my legs won’t stop moving. She thinks she’s alone in here. Nate had a job I know he needed to get to right away, and I left only half an hour ago.

You’re an invasive asshole.

When I reach the half-open door, I can hear her body interrupting the flow of water, so I know she’s still in there. Turned to the back wall, I hope, or else this could get real awkward, real fast.

I nudge the door open a little farther and can barely see her through the fogged-up glass. She must have been in there a while, just relaxing under the stream. What I
can
see sends a shockwave straight to my dick.

It’s no more than a silhouette of her naked form. If that’s what a silhouette does to me then...
yeah
. I hope she uses up all the hot water, because I don’t think I’ll be needing anything but cold showers for the foreseeable future.

Unable to look at her any longer without asking if I can join in, I head to my bedroom across the hall, opposite her room, and shut the door softly, so as not to alert her of my presence. I don’t want her thinking I saw her naked and feeling awkward.

More awkward than she already feels, anyway.

I put on some Kings of Leon on my computer to try and distract my wayward thoughts.

It doesn’t work. That’s probably because they’re singing about sex.

Refusing to jerk-off to thoughts of my best friend’s little sister, I open up the chat room and log in, hoping Natalie has the same thoughts when she’s done showering.

A nice, friendly talk with my
friend
who doesn’t know I’m me.

Yeah,
that’s
what I need.

* * *

BabyDove94 is online.

When I talk to her, I say things I shouldn’t say. Give her hope where there is none. She lets slip that she thinks I’m not nice. Not me -
Land
, but me -
Ryan
. That both makes me laugh and puts a pit in my stomach at the same time.

When she describes herself for me, thinking I don’t know what she looks like already, things take an unexpected turn and I can’t help myself. When she says the word ‘ass’, my blood rushes southward again.

Dammit.

I tell her what I’m imagining (mostly on-top-of-the-clothes stuff) and I can almost see her blush through the computer screen. It’s so fucking cute and I have no explanation for what happens next.

It’s like an out-of-body experience. I ask her to promise herself to me, because she just told me she’s never been with another guy. All these years I’ve been jealous of guys I made up in my own head - assuming she was keeping her dating life from me - while there were none, at all.

I’m a selfish bastard.

I’m so turned on now, that there’s no option but to take care of this
issue
to thoughts of her.

I tell her there’s something I really need to take care of and I ask her to dream of me tonight.

Yeah, seriously.

* * *

Fuck!

I’ve got something I really need to take care of, all right. The mess I just made all over my hand.

Natalie fucking Connor. I don’t know how I lost control so quickly, that never happens to me. Ever. But the thought of her grinding her hips on top of me, and her confession that she’s never been with another guy; that got to me.

That perfect ass. It didn’t help that I’d been rock hard since I caught a glimpse of her rinsing her curvy body in the shower this afternoon. I swear, just the scent of her body wash as I walked through the front door made my dick twitch.

I had to look. I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to. It was like something else took over. I needed to see her. I wanted to touch her so badly in that moment. I wanted to strip off my clothes and climb in the hot, steamy shower with her. I wanted to push her up against the tile and worship her body from head to toe.

God, I bet she tastes so fucking sweet; like strawberries. I love strawberries. I’m beginning to think I might love more than just strawberries, too.

We’ve been getting closer during our conversations online, and the last one took us to a whole new level. She promised herself to me…or to Land, who she doesn’t know is me.

Fuck!

How did I let things get so messed up and confused? Why did I ask her to promise herself to my online persona when I have her right here in my apartment?

Because you’re an idiot.

I’ve never lied to her, unless you count lying by omission (technicalities), but I have a feeling I might have to start outright deceiving her if I’m going to stand any chance of saving her from the truth.

The truth is that she just moved in with the guy she’s been building a friendship with online for the past five years; he’s her brother’s best friend and a guy she hates, and she doesn’t even know it. Plus, she just promised her virginity to him.

This is so messed up.

When I get into the bathroom and lock the door, I make quick work of cleaning up. I grip the edge of the countertop and stare at my reflection in the mirror. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” I utter quietly to myself so no one else will hear.

So she won’t hear through the thin wall separating us.

I can still smell Natalie’s body wash; it clings to everything and I inhale deeply, letting it permeate every part of me. It has a calming effect. It’s a floral scent, but not overpowering or sickly; it’s like a meadow. It brings thoughts of her to my mind, and suddenly I’m envisioning her on the bathroom counter in front of me, legs spread to fit me between them.

Shit.

I need to stop letting my mind wander. I need a clear head if I’m going to sort through this mess I’ve got us in and avoid hurting her. I never, ever want to hurt her, but I fear that’s exactly what I’m going to end up doing.

She’ll freak out if she finds out I’m Land, and it will break her heart if Land abandons her. She’s been through enough already.

I’ve put her through enough already.

Fuck my life.

“Food’s here!” I hear Nate yell from the living area.

Then I hear Natalie’s door click shut. If she’d come out a few minutes earlier, she might have bumped into me in the hallway, half-naked from the cold shower I took. That might have been...interesting. I’d like to see her reaction to that.

Stop it.

My stomach growls in anticipation of food. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’ve been...distracted. I’ll give them a few minutes alone before I head out there, though.

When I do finally walk out to the kitchen, in nothing but my jeans (don’t judge, I just want to see what it does to her), Natalie is at the breakfast bar, serving up the Chinese food.

Her eyes meet mine, then they wander - to my lips, down my bare torso, then back up to my eyes.

Splat.

She drops a whole tub of noodles on the floor, and I feel kind of bad for distracting her.
Kind of
. The other part of me wants to laugh at her clumsiness.

“Shit!” she sighs in defeat.

Nate rushes over to help clean up, telling her not to worry about it, while I move to the front of the counter, right across from Natalie.

She looks to me then, and the look in her eyes tells me she appreciates what she’s looking at. They move over my body once more, lingering on my tattoos and pierced nipple, before moving back up to my pierced lip. She looks a little stunned. Like she’s seeing a bare chest for the first time. It’s kind of adorable.

Why do you have to be so adorable, Natalie Connor?

She shakes her head minutely and attempts to speak, “Um…ar-are you eating w-with us, Ryan?”

Too fucking cute.

“If you’re planning on feeding me the floor noodles, then I’ll pass. Thanks,” I say with amusement in my tone, so she knows I’m not serious.

“Do you have to walk around half naked, dude? My sister’s living here now, remember? We talked about this,” Nate says, whilst still cleaning up the mess on the floor.

We talked about making Natalie feel welcome and at home. I don’t remember anything in there about acceptable levels of clothing.

“Oh, I remember, and I don’t hear her complaining. Are you, Natty?” I just can’t help myself.

“Uh…I…w-whatever. Why would I care what you wear?”

I can tell from her awkward demeanor now, and the way she took in the sight of me earlier, she cares quite a lot.

“See, bro, sis doesn’t give a shit. Now, please tell me you got my General Tso’s chicken?” I say as I round the breakfast bar to stand behind Natty. “Like what you see darlin’?” I whisper in her ear so only she can hear the question.

Grabbing the food I want and a plastic fork from the takeout bag, I head back in the direction of my room before this situation gets any more out of hand.

“N-no noodles?” Natalie calls to me as I leave the living area.

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks, though, Natty,” I reply over my shoulder with a wink that I know drives the girls a little crazy. Most of them anyway. I can’t help but hope it works on her, too.

* * *

Once I finish eating, I have to force myself not to log back on to the chat room and continue where we left off. I get the feeling Natty will be logging back in tonight, despite the fact that I told her I wouldn’t be back online again until tomorrow. Nothing good can come from chatting with her again today.

I decide to focus on a personal project I’ve been working on. A website for a new indie author. She just doesn’t know she’s an indie author yet, but she will.

* * *

After a few hours of work, feeling frustrated with the web design project - not knowing how to make it what it needs to be - I shut down the computer and run my hands through my hair. My eyes are sore from staring at the screen for so long.

Heading out to use the bathroom before bed, I come to a halt in the hallway.

Is that...crying?

It is. It’s 2:00am and Natalie is crying herself to sleep.

Of course she is, after everything she’s been through.

The sound causes a pain to form in my chest. I want to comfort her, but what would I say? I want to just hold her until she feels better and falls asleep in my arms. Would I even help? I’d probably just make her feel uncomfortable, as usual.

I can’t help her.

I just stand, uselessly, leaning against her doorframe for an unknown amount of time, until I don’t hear the horrible sound of her pain-filled tears any longer.

When I haven’t heard a stirring from her room for a few minutes, I head quietly to the bathroom, confident that she’s asleep now and won’t hear me. Still, I don’t want to wake her, so I make it quick and head silently back to my bedroom.

Lying in bed, I stare at my ceiling for a long time, wondering how I can get closer to her. Close enough to be able to comfort her when she needs it. Like tonight.

You could have been there.

The thought hits me like a freight train. If I’d been honest about who I was from the beginning - five years ago - I could have gone to her tonight. I might have even been able to prevent the tears from coming at all.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll start the course of making things right.