The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (99 page)

“
Well, I already warned you that I
’
m not that great of a singer.
”

“
I won
’
t judge,
”
I assure him, lifting my hands to signal I will hold nothing against him.

“
Okay.
”
He takes a deep breath and then begins to play. As his fingers move effortlessly across the strings of his instrument, I
’
m instantly lost in his melody. I want to find a word to describe the tone that he
’
s conveying, but I
’
m at a loss. It
’
s melancholy, but it
’
s also hopeful. It
’
s gloomy, but also refreshing.
Whatever it is, I love it
.

And then he starts singing.

My breath catches in my throat. He
’
s better than he proclaims to be, which doesn
’
t surprise me, but it
’
s not the sound of his voice that leaves me stunned. It
’
s the way being with him in this moment makes my heart race. I know that he
’
s sharing something with me, something that
’
s close to his heart, something he
’
s passionate about. The words he sings are just as beautiful as the music he
’
s created and as I listen, I
’
m
moved
. It
’
s as if something inside of me is being shifted. He doesn
’
t look at me as he plays; instead, he watches his own fingers and then he closes his eyes. When he
’
s finished, his gaze finds mine, and I swear his brown irises have never looked warmer or more inviting or honest.

Oh no
.

“
Was it that bad?
”
he asks with a smirk. I
’
m not sure what has prompted him to ask that question, but I can
’
t speak. I can hardly
breathe
. When he reaches over and brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek, I realize that I
’
m crying
—
I
’
m crying, and his touch is so gentle, and I know I should move away from him but
I can
’
t move!

Oh no
.

“
Addie?
”
he chuckles.
“
Please, say something.
”

“
That was
—
that was
—
great,
”
I barely manage. My brain is moving a million miles per hour. I wish I could offer him more, I wish I could tell him
why
it was so great, but I can
’
t! I
’
m far too distracted. My head is full of the most unexpected, scary, and potentially earth shattering thought.

I think I
’
m falling for him.

Holy. Crap.

I think I like him!

His hand falls away from my cheek and by the look on his face I know
—
I
know
I just said that out loud. Now, all the words in my head are gone except for one.

Shit
.

“
Do you hear it?
”
The sound of his velvety voice distracts me only for a second.

Maybe he didn
’
t hear me?
I search his face, desperate to figure out what he
’
s thinking, and I pray that he didn
’
t hear me
—
that my thoughts were
mine
and mine alone. Only I can
’
t decipher the expression on his face. Suddenly, I want to be anywhere but here! I don
’
t know what
’
s wrong with me, but I feel like I might be going insane.

“
Do you hear it?
”
he repeats.

“
Hear what?
”
I ask, shaking my head at him.

“
My heart.
”
He coughs out a laugh, but I can tell he
’
s not amused.
“
I think it might just beat right out of my chest.
”

He heard me
.
I know that for sure, now. Even worse
—
I know now that Claire and Sarah were right. He likes me, too.

I feel like I might faint.

He doesn
’
t even have to say the words. I just
know
and it
’
s like a shock to the system. Admitting that I reciprocate his feelings is my confirmation that I
’
m going crazy
—
I must be, because I feel like my heart has just betrayed me. Knowing that I still love Beckham, and yet I
’
m here in this moment with Roman
—

“
I need some air.
”
I have no trouble moving
now
as I feel like I might throw up
and then
faint. I
’
m out of his room and headed for the front door in an instant. The second I
’
m outside, I plop down onto the cement step and drop my head between my knees. When I feel Roman sit down beside me, my stomach tingles and my heart breaks at the same time. When he rests his hand on my back, the tears come.

I cry harder
—
not simply because it
’
s happening, and not even because it
’
s happening while in the presence of Roman
—
but because it
’
s happening in the presence of
only
Roman.
I
’
m having a private meltdown with Roman.

I
’
m so confused. Everything feels so jumbled. Since I can
’
t make heads or tails of what it is that is going on, I just keep crying. At this point, it seems like my best option.

When did this happen?

How did this happen?

Why did this happen?

What does this mean?

“
Hey, Addie, it
’
s okay.
”

“
No,
”
I mutter.
“
I don
’
t know that it is.
”

“
Look at me.
”
I shake my head, but then he moves and kneels down in front of me. The sight of his bare feet takes me back to the first time we met. He
’
s always been so wonderful with me and my tears have never scared him away. When he reaches between my legs and finds the tip of my chin, he then guides my face up so that I
’
m looking at him. He
’
s handsome. I won
’
t deny that. I never have before and I won
’
t now
—
but I wish that the sight of him didn
’
t send me into a tailspin. I wish I could take it back
—
my feelings. But even if I took the words back
—
and, let
’
s face it, by the way I
’
m acting, he wouldn
’
t believe me if I did
—
the retraction wouldn
’
t change my heart.

My heart
—
the two-timing slut.

“
We
’
re
friends
,
”
Roman says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“
That doesn
’
t have to change.
”
His words calm me down, but only enough to stop my tears. I
’
m still freaking out on the inside and I think he knows it.
“
Listen, it only has to get complicated if we make it complicated. You mean a lot to me and I don
’
t want to lose you.
”

“
I don
’
t want to lose you, either,
”
I whisper. It
’
s true. I really
don
’
t
want to lose him because, like he said, we
’
re friends. He means a lot to me, too.

“
Okay, then. That
’
s all that matters right now.
”

I sigh, reaching up to dry my cheeks.
I want to believe that
’
s true, but something tells me it
’
s not.
“
Maybe I should go,
”
I murmur reluctantly.

“
Or
—
you could stay. I could teach you one of my songs.
”

Just looking at him, I know that I should go
—
not because I want to run away from my desire to curl up into his arms and find comfort there, but because I want to do the exact opposite. My head is a mess and I need to sort through what
’
s going on up there. At the same time, I
’
m not sure if I have the power to conjure the will to leave. I came to hear him play and that
’
s what I want to do. So, I decide to shove all my feelings into an imaginary closet in my head and lock the door. I
’
ll deal with them later.

This semester is turning out to be a lot harder than I was anticipating. Sometimes I wonder why I was looking forward to it. The only answer I can come up with is that I didn
’
t know how hard it would be to balance school work and practice time and a grad school applications
and
a boyfriend
—
who has to juggle school work and grad school applications and football.