Unexpected (24 page)

Lilly Avalon is the author of the RESIST
series as well as other romances. She's somewhere in the midst of
her twenties and lives mostly in the stories in her head. When
she's not enveloped in the worlds she creates, she's out in the
real world making stories happen. That or reading other romances.
It's a toss-up.

Excerpt from Here All Along

Chapter One

“
I need a drink.
Now.”

After
tossing—fine,
throwing
—my purse and keys on the couch, I march straight
into the kitchen. No more delays; it's time to forget tonight. It’s
been yet another night like all the other first dates that never
meet a second one. When you begin to lose count, that's when it's
really
time for a drink.

Adrian stands there,
leaning against the counter in an unbuttoned dress shirt and dark
wash jeans. He glances at me as I walk in. “How was your date?” he
asks, taking a swig of his scotch.

I brush past him on my
mission, opening the cupboard and moving a couple bottles around. I
reiterate, “I need alcohol.”

Out of the corner of my
eye, I catch him hiding a smile before he says, “That bad?”

My face twitches as I
ignore his line of questioning. It is more like a statement he
wants me to clarify, even though he already knows the answer.
Instead, I ask, “I have vodka left, don't I?” I stand on my tiptoes
in hopes of spotting something in the very back. Nothing.

He waltzes over and looks
with me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. “I think you
polished that one off after last week's date.” His voice is low
right next to my ear, very nearly causing a shiver.

I let out a groan of
exasperation as I recall that last drop of vodka. “Damn it!” It was
the flavored kind, too. Adrian remembers everything. If he
remembers the vodka, he probably remembers when I finished off the
Kahlua the week before. It's becoming a trend—a very bad one.

Shutting the
cupboard door, I spin around to face him, giving him a once-over
for the first time since I got home. The fact that his five o'clock
shadow beginning to show up more or less
demonstrates
his effort today. Tilting my head to the
side, I ask, “What's up with this?” as I touch his jaw line with my
index finger. “And this?” I pinch the collar on his shirt.
“Actually, I'm more surprised you still have your clothes
on.”

“
It's not like I
walk around naked all the time.”

“
Almost
naked.”

“
Hey,” he says,
pointing at me sternly. “It was just that one time.”

I bite my lip
recalling that day I caught him walking down the hallway in just
his boxers.
I’
d freaked out
at first
, but it was a nice sight now
that I think about it. Very nice. “Maybe it was.”

“
I'm your roommate,
not your boyfriend.” He touches a finger to my chin. “I make sure
I'm decent in front of you until you say otherwise.” His smile
morphs into a smirk.

I smack his finger
away, but smile back. “Knock it off, Adrian, or I may kick you
out.” I wouldn't do that, of course. He may be trouble at times,
but we've been friends for many years. When each of us had our
roommates up and leave us, it practically became necessary to move
in together to save money. There were other options,
sure,
but I liked this one best. My friends
thought it would be a bad idea to become roommates with Adrian
since they consider him a player and worry that being in close
quarters will just make me another one of his conquests.

The reality shows
how little they know because despite their concerns, he has been
quite the gentleman since the move. A gentleman with a few
flirtatious words and the occasional double entendre. Not that it's
ever bothered me—I've always liked being able to have that one guy
friend I can joke around with like that. It keeps things
interesting in more of an amusing way rather than
a dramatic
one
.

Adrian continues to smirk
at my empty threat. “What would you do without me?”

“
Live in peace and
not run out of alcohol,” I mutter,
taking
my brown hair out of the ponytail it is in.

“
I'm not the reason
you drink.” He gives me an exasperated look. “Somebody's got their
panties in a bunch, and not at the end of someone's
bed.”

It's impossible to argue
there, not that I'd ever own up to that fact. This whole night has
me frustrated, which is clearly evident. “I just...I just need a
drink,” I say with a sigh. “I almost want to ask you to take me to
the bar for drinks, but I don't feel like going anywhere now that
I'm home.”

“
Here,” he says,
setting down his drink. “Let me mix something up for you.” He
places his hands on my shoulders and moves me over enough to get
into the cupboard.

His gentle touch puts me
at ease. I glance up, giving him a tiny smile. “Thanks.” While he
pulls out a couple bottles and another glass, I begin my own line
of questioning. “Why are you home so early anyway?” I'm not the
only one who had a date tonight, and apparently not the only one
who didn't have a good time. It has to be a first for him to be
home before me. “What was wrong with this one?”

“
She was
clingy.”

“
So was the last
girl.”

He shrugs. “It
happens.”

“
It's been
happening a lot.” Ever since we moved in together last month, his
dates haven't lasted longer than dinner and drinks. Maybe it's just
because of the transition, but a month should be long enough to get
back into a regular routine.

As if I'm one to
talk.

He hands me the
finished drink. “Do you want to talk about why
you're
home so early?” he asks.

I shrug while
rolling my eyes. “He got too... handsy.” I shudder, reluctantly
recall
ing
Louis from earlier
tonight.

Adrian freezes. “How
so?”

While his concern isn't
out of the ordinary, his reaction seems out of character. He's
heard all my bad date stories before and this doesn't even break
the top ten. I assure him by saying, “Nothing bad, just putting his
hand on my leg and arm.” I swirl the drink and finally take a sip.
“Oh my god. This is so good.” It's heavenly and sinful at the same
time.

“
You like it?” He
straightens and his chest puffs out a little bit.

I take another long
sip before answering. “You went with the spiced rum this time.” It
may not be vodka
I’
ve
got
a taste for, but it still hits the spot.
Setting the glass down, I hop up on the counter and pick up the
drink again. “He was pretty much a repeat of last week.” And the
week before, and the week before that...

“
Didn't pay
attention to a single word you said, only kept repeating how
beautiful you are, and then he shoved his tongue down your
throat?”

Cringing at the last
part, I reply, “All of the above minus the tongue.”

He gapes at me. “He
didn't try to kiss you?”

“
He tried, I turned
away.”

“
Good for you. I
don't like hearing about guys attempting to take advantage of you.”
He reaches out,
stroking
my arm
with his fingertips.

A light flutter
runs through me at the simple kindness of his words and his touch.
This is a new feeling. Adrian and I are just friends. Aren't we? It
must be the alcohol going to my head already. More likely it has to
do with the loneliness I've been feeling. Each of the men I've gone
out with this month ha
s
n't been
the greatest and it's making me want to give up on my quest for
love. First there was Malcolm, the sports fanatic who only talked
about his favorite teams and spent half the time checking the
scores. Then there was Angelo, the pumped-up athlete who spends
most of his waking hours at the gym to the point where
everybody
there
knows him. Tonight
there was Louis, the self-absorbed hunk—and I use the term
loosely—who spoke more about himself than I'm sure even his mother
does. This isn't me stereotyping either; this is exactly how they
were.

“
Believe it or
not,” I say, “he invited me to spend the night. I may have
considered it if he had been more interested in my personality than
my looks. Or to put it plainly, my boobs.” I gesture to them
dramatically. When I got dressed I put on a fairly low-cut top, so
they have been on display all night.

Laughing, he says, “Well,
they do look nice.”

Hearing him say
this doesn't bother me. Just like it doesn't bother me when I catch
him looking at them. He doesn't leer like every other guy; it's
almost
as if
he's admiring them.
That's pretty sweet of him now that I think about it. “Thanks,” I
tell him.

“
I don't know how
you keep getting these guys.”

“
It's mostly
Jocelyn's fault.” Malcolm and Angelo were Jocelyn's fault. “Tonight
was Anna's though.”

“
I thought Anna had
more scruples than that.”

I smirk. “She
introduced
us
,” I say, gesturing between
us.

He hits a hand to his
head. “Yeah, I guess I can't fault her for one mistake when she put
together this team.” He holds out a fist and I bump it with
mine.

I finish my drink,
setting it on the counter. Leaning my head back against the
cupboard, I say, “We're in our early twenties and home before ten
on a Saturday night. We're quite the pair, aren't we?”

He smiles sweetly. “That
we are, Hazel. That we are.” He tilts his head, deep in thought.
“How about this.” He sets down his empty glass and takes both my
hands in his. “Let's watch a movie, get drunk, and forget all about
tonight and bad dates. What do you say?”

The light flutter
returns with him holding my hands. His smoldering gaze would cause
my knees to buckle beneath me had I been standing. I swallow. What
is happening to my resolve? Sexual attraction has never been a
factor for us, even though it
’s been
hidden beneath the surface. Something
I’ve
purposely keep hidden because he's one of my best
friends. Shrugging off the nagging thoughts, I say, “Why not?” as I
jump down, still holding his hands. It
has
been
awhile since I've done anything fun like this. My recent dates
started out with the promise of fun, but never ended up as a
remotely good time.

Letting go of my
hands, he grabs the bottle of rum and his glass. “Al
l
right, let's do this,” he says hurrying
to the living room.

“
Somebody's
enthusiastic.” I pick up my own glass and follow him. I come to a
stop on my way and ask, “Are we going to turn this into a drinking
game?”

He glances back at me,
grinning. “We could make it into one if you'd like.”

I shake my head. “No,
let's just drink.”

“
Works for me.” He
sits on our leather couch, patting the spot next to him with a
wink.

As I sink back into
the cushions, a calm comes over me. I almost smile but then it hits
me: it's being near Adrian that has created this calm. But is it
just gratefulness for our friendship or the way his touch is making
me feel tonight? It didn't feel that way before, that...
fluttering
. Like nervous butterflies parading around where my
organs should be. Maybe tonight I can find out what this is.
Between work and nights out with friends and dates, we haven't been
alone for longer than half an hour since moving day. Well, aside
from sleeping in our beds at night. Separately.
Unfortunately.

Where did
that
come from?

“
Did you want to
change into something more comfortable?” Adrian asks with a raise
in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not
away from naughty thoughts.

I smack his knee. “I'm
comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up,
but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed
tees and hoodies.

“
You're right,” he
says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the
hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way.
I
can't look away from the sight, even if
it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I
gone mad?

Before I can tear
my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his
eyes, I've been caught. I have
so
been caught. Damn
again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too
late for that now.

He smirks. “You know, I
could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand
to the hard muscles of his chest.

I clear my throat, trying
really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If
I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.”

“
So if I'm not
wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and
fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you
have to do is say otherwise.”

I put a hand on my hip.
“Well, I haven't said otherwise yet.” The last word slips out
before I can stop it. It would be great if I could understand what
is happening to the spot in my brain that filters my thoughts,
words, and actions properly.