Unwrapped (24 page)

“I love you, Jillian,” she said in a soft voice, tearing herself away and excusing herself once more to the kitchen.

She was never good at public—or for that matter, private—displays of affection.

My Dad accepted my hug with more spirit, which brought tears to my eyes. My family wasn’t perfect, but who’s was? We stepped away from each other and the awkwardness I was more accustomed to set in.

“Fire’s dying,” Dad said suddenly. “I’ll go get more logs.”

The fire was still roaring with life, and I knew my dad well enough to spot an excuse. It wasn’t until after he left that it hit me that he was giving Liam and I a moment alone. Liam hadn’t said anything since my parents gave me the envelope, and now a slightly smug grin rested on his face.

“You knew!” I wagged a finger at him.

“Your dad told me,” he admitted, crossing the room to take me in his arms. “It was why I didn’t go ballistic on your mum this week.”

“I can’t believe you kept it a secret.” Despite being mildly annoyed with him, I buried my face in his chest, longing for the feeling of normalcy I experienced when I heard his heart beat.

“I’m good at secrets,” he said. “I even have one of my own.”

I pulled away and stared at him. “A secret?”

He nodded, his grin bursting into a full smile. Reaching over to the tree, he plucked a tiny silver box from its branches.

“That’s why you were downstairs last night.”

“I wanted to hide it until I could get you alone.” He offered the box to me and I took it with shaky hands. Holding it now, I realized about what size it was.

“Liam—“

“Shush, chicken. It’s not that,” he said.

The relief I felt mingled with something that felt a little like disappointment, but I smiled up at him, hoping he didn’t see my momentary confusion.

“Open it,” he said softly.

I did as he asked and discovered a beautiful pearl nestled in a delicate gold ring. It wasn’t an engagement ring but it was the most beautiful gift I’d ever received.

“Pearls come from rough beginnings,” Liam said, “but they are beautiful for the suffering.”

I swallowed against the ache in my throat, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to keep me from crying, but I still couldn’t speak.

“I’ve always loved them,” Liam continued, his eyes shining. “Probably because they come from the ocean. But they remind me of you. Beautiful and layered. They glow in the right light. There are a lot of myths about them.”

“What myths?” I asked as the first tear tickled down my cheek.

“That they are born of tears. You’re supposed to give them to a bride to ward off weeping in her marriage.”

“And yet I’m crying,” I pointed out.

“I think they ward off sad tears, chicken.” His fingers brushed away the moisture on my cheeks. “It’s a promise. That no matter what you are beautiful. You are valuable. Remember that when you wear it.”

Liam slipped the ring out of the box and onto my right hand. “Don’t want to give your parents the wrong idea.”

He held my outstretched hand, and we admired the ring for a moment before he knit his fingers through mine.

“I like the way that looks there,” he said. “I could get used to seeing my ring on your finger.”

His words sent a thrill racing through me. It settled in my chest and set my heart to pounding. “I could, too.”

Liam’s eyes lit up and he tilted my chin up with his free hand, bringing his lips to meet mine. The kiss was soft and deep, full of unspoken promises and hopes, sweet and sensual as honey. When we finally broke the embrace we stood before the tree, letting the magic of the moment soak into us. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. We were connected by love and promises and hope. My Christmas miracle had come early this year, and he was here to stay.

Bonus Content:

The Boy Next Door

Co-written by

Gennifer Albin, Melanie Harlow

Tamara Mataya, Kayti McGee

Laurelin Paige, and Sierra Simone

A note from the authors:

This short story was co-written by all six NAturals authors, and first appeared in six different installments on our blog.

When your Friday afternoon plans involve being crammed in a half-squat between hanging shirts and pants while stark-freaking-naked, it’s time to reevaluate your life. And I was going to do just that as soon as Derek rescued me from the closet. It had occurred to me before that dating a guy who still lived at home was going to be a problem, but it was hard to be choosy when nearly every guy my age had already taken off to college. I was on the delayed-start plan myself, trying to save up enough money by working temporary and part-time jobs to go away next year. That’s how I’d met Derek and wound up naked in his closet. I had a knack for situations like this.

“Make sure you water the rhododendrons every afternoon or they’ll die, and do it today, please.” His mother had been listing all the chores she needed done when she left on her Alaskan cruise in the morning. So far she’d been here for what felt to be an hour. I didn’t actually have a watch. Hello, naked. But I had a cramp in my thigh that was getting worse by the minute, and it felt like I’d achieved a level sixty in discomfort.

“And no overnight visitors,” she finished.

“Of course, Mom,” Derek said.

“Especially not that Natalie girl. I don’t think she’s a good influence.”

The joke was on her, except it sorta felt like it was on me now. I’d lowered my own standards by dating Derek and now I was listening to his mom bad-mouth me in the same room.

I could barely make anything out between the door slats, but I could imagine the condescending look on her face. She’d worn the same look each of the two times I’d met her in person.

An ex-boyfriend told me once that I looked like sex on a stick, which at the moment curried favor right into my pants, but on closer reflection, having plump Angelina Jolie lips and bedroom eyes wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It got me into more trouble than it ever helped me, except for the time it got me out of speeding ticket. And it was definitely the reason I was hiding right now. Derek had realized pretty fast how his mom felt about me and our recent dates had felt more like illicit trysts. Him begging me to hide in his closet? That was the final nail in this relationship’s coffin.

When the closet door finally opened an eternity later, I fell onto the floor, blinking against the light.

“Not cool.”

“You know my mom’s rules, I—”

“Yeah, I know.” I sat up and grabbed for my jeans. I had to do this now. There was no point in dragging things out any longer. Derek had made it clear that he wasn’t taking me home to meet Mom anymore, and no matter what I looked like on the outside, I expected a helluva lot more on the inside than being treated like that.

“Look, I have an early thing tomorrow. Maybe...”

His passive-aggressiveness distracted me from the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech that was scheduled to begin as soon as I was dressed. “On a Saturday?”

He shifted his feet, his eyes refusing to look away from the wall. “I don’t think this is working out. You’re nice, but—”

“Wait!” I stopped him. “You’re breaking up with me while I’m still topless in your room?”

“Natalie, I really like you, but I’m going to be a junior manager soon.”

“For a video rental store,” I reminded him. I had a better shot at being employed as a temp than he had at a long-term career at a video store.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he said, throwing me my shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been in your closet for half an hour listening to your mommy assign your chores list and now you’re telling me I’m not good enough for you? Let me save you the trouble, Derek. It’s not me, it’s you.” I’d managed to snap the back of my bra during my rant and, before he could say anything else, I marched--shirt and sandals in hand--out of his room, down the stairs, and right past the living room where his mother stared at me in horror.

“Don’t worry. Derek won’t be having me over this weekend,” I told her. “But you should make him wash his sheets so he can get all the sin off of them.”

I slammed the front door behind me for emphasis and quickly pulled on my shirt before any of the neighbors happened to see me. I actually hadn’t had sex with Derek. Ever. We’d come close a couple of times, but something always stopped us. I should probably go back in his house and thank his mom for her cockblock tonight. If I’d actually gotten as far as screwing him, I would have been more pissed off than I was right now.

As it was, I was pissed enough to be shaking, and the trembling in my fingers hadn’t abated by the time I’d reached my car parked at the end of the street in front of someone else’s house. It was so bad that I dropped my keys twice trying to unlock my pre-modern car with its manual everything.

“You okay?”

I spun around to spot a guy on the porch, watching me.

“Fine. I’m just going home.” The truth and the lie mixed into a nasty cocktail in my mouth. I was going home, but I wasn’t fine. I was bored and angry and tired of being stuck in this town.

But it was too late, he was already striding toward me like some knight in shining armor. Except he wouldn’t be a knight in shining armor. I’d learned that was a childhood fantasy sold to me by princess movies. When he finally reached me, I’d managed to stick my key into the lock, but when I turned around to tell him his chivalry was unnecessary, I realized I knew him. It was Ben Simons.

It would be bad form to call Ben Simons the one who got away, because he was two years older and he’d spent his whole life swimming in an entirely different pond than me.

Captain of the school’s swim team, he’d never had to chase anyone for dates. One look at him in his speedo and every girl’s panties had pretty much torn themselves off. Including a couple of the younger members of the faculty, if the rumors were true.

He still had the body, displayed by the fact that he hadn’t found a shirt to put on with the jeans he wore. “I’ve got it, thanks.” I roughly unlocked the door to prove my point, which he ignored as he leaned against it, blocking my exit.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

I wanted to lick from there to there in the ridges between his abs, but I kept the ogling to my peripherals. Former crush or not, his blatant eye-fucking was a tad presumptuous. Still, I arched my back. “Thanks for the offer, but you’re sort of impeding my dramatic exit. So. If you wouldn’t mind?” I made a shooing motion at his hip.

He stared harder at my face. “How do I know you?”

How to answer this gem? Coolly, flirtily, aloofly? Truthfully? The bare appraisal as he looked me up and down decided it. I mirrored his casual posture and licked my lips. “What makes you think you know me?”

He leaned closer. “Hard to forget a mouth like that.”

Maybe the day wasn’t a total loss after all.

His eyes lit up and he straightened. “Natalie Baker! Right?”

Surprise that he knew my name flashed through me, but I covered it with a slow smile. “That’s right.” Should I admit that I knew him too?

He lightly slapped the hood. “You kneed Coach Jensen in the balls and told him and the rest of the supervision staff to go fuck themselves!”

Ah. Fuck. When Ben said he remembered my mouth, he meant the string of profanities I’d been littering the street with on the way to my car. Not my luscious lips. Sophomore year, the coach had seen me sneaking a puff from my senior friend’s cigarette at break. I would have meekly gone with him to the principal’s office if he hadn’t gotten handsy with my arm. Things degenerated from there. Ultimately, the coach had gone on leave for about a month.

Buzz had been garnered, but I hadn’t known it had reached Ben’s link in the social food chain. Feeling less sexy, I straightened and tried not to blush. “That was years ago. I’m surprised you remember.”

“He was puking on the sidewalk while you were getting dragged to the office. I’ve never heard anyone swear that creatively—before or since. It was epic. Guy was a total creeper and a nightmare in training, completely brutal to us. He’d overwork us before meets, blew out a couple guys’ legs, ruined their chances at being seen by scouts. The whole swim team got a bit of a break because of you. Your knee was celebrated. I’m Ben by the way. Ben Simons.” He offered his hand. I took it. He didn’t let go. And I’m back in the game! “What brings you to my neighborhood?”

I bit back a smile. “My car.” Derek who? “I didn’t know you lived here, Ben.”

He grinned and released my hand. “I’m back from school, visiting the parents.”

“Ah. You and the abs, hanging on the porch?”

“You and the knee out for a stroll, taking out creepers?”

“The knee’s retired.” Was he this laid-back and easy to talk to all along? I never dared to approach him in school. Maybe he was.

“Are you going to school anywhere?”

My most hated question, because I feel like a loser for not getting the grades to get a scholarship and not having the means to do it on my own. Or the interest, but no one wants to hear that. “Nope. Working here and there.”

“Nice. So you still live in town then?”

“Unfortunately.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty cool place.”

I’ll file that under the ‘agree to disagree’ column. “Sure. If you’re really into decoupage and alcoholism.”

He laughed. “Speaking of the latter, what are your plans for tonight?”

“Not sure yet.” I tossed my hair, hoping I looked more vampy than spastic. “Why?”

“I’m having a little party. Nothing major, but it could pick up if you’re there.” His voice dropped as he stepped back on the sidewalk, no longer blocking my door. “You should come.” Mmm. If you keep talking to me with that tone, I just might.

Time to play it cool. “Oh, I don’t know. How low key are we talking? I might have to give it a pass if it’s just four of your friends and you playing RockBand all night.”

“No RockBand.”

“Or Xbox?”

He stepped toward me. “No gaming systems at all. Cross my heart.” He drew a cross on his chest, and I had trouble tearing my eyes away. Do want.

I feigned suspicion. “Not even any LARPing?”

“I hate games.”

“Me too.” I dropped my gaze to his feet and let it crawl up his body. By the time I reached his eyes, a smile had formed on my face. I reached into my purse and handed him my phone. “Give me your number.” He punched it in and handed it back. “Should I bring anything?”

He winked. “Ten o’clock. Bring that knee of yours. Some guys from the swim team will be there and would love to meet the girl attached to it.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ve got a keg coming, and there will be plenty of liquor and snacks.”

“I’d hate to show up empty handed.” The better to grab you with. I pulled the key from the door and got in my car.

As my car roared to life on the first try for once, he knocked on the window. I rolled it down.

“There’s an amazing pool. Bring a bathing suit. It might get wet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ben. It would have to be a pretty exciting party for that.”

Smiling at his laughter, I pulled away from the curb.

A few hours later I was parked down the street from Ben’s house, debating the wisdom of going in by myself. Through the open passenger window, which no longer rolled up all the way, I could hear music coming from his yard. Normally I wasn’t shy about going anywhere solo, but I couldn’t decide if showing up alone at Ben’s party would make me look like a losery loner whose smarter friends had all gone away to college, or if it might lend me a cool sort of independent hipster vibe.

A hipster who’d run out for a Brazilian bikini wax right after his invitation.

I had to empty my bank account to pay for it, and I tipped the girl with change scrounged from the bottom of my car, but it was a necessity. With a razor I could have gotten myself bathing-suit-ready, but I wanted to be Ben-Simons-might-put-his-lips-there-tonight-ready. Just the thought of it made my core muscles clench, and for a moment I let myself imagine his dark head between my thighs, his tongue performing that butterfly stroke he was so famous for in high school. Then he’d pick his head up, his perfect mouth wet and shiny, and he’d lick his lips as he dragged that toned swimmer’s body up mine until I felt his hard—

Okay, I needed to stop.

My bikini bottoms were wet and I hadn’t even gotten in the pool yet.

I got out of my car, scooping up my purse and phone, and locked it up. The music, some kind of thump-and-grind R & B, got louder as I approached Ben’s house. Well, we didn’t have the same taste in music, that was for sure, but I was willing to overlook a few faults in Ben Simons—the more I thought about him, the more I hoped I hadn’t been mistaken about his invitation. If I walked in and he was on the couch making out with some college chick with a perfect blowout and a push-up bra, I was gonna be seriously disappointed.

As I passed Derek’s house, I heard the unmistakable high-pitched moaning noises he makes when he’s sexually excited. Even though we hadn’t gone all the way, he’d gotten off several times—too quickly, I might add—just by making out with me topless. I shuddered to think about his mother having to do his laundry, but I bet he’d just tossed those boxers and jeans into his hamper with everything else.

The lights were off, but he’d left his bedroom window open, and I rolled my eyes at the sound. His ridiculously loud whimpering had been annoying and unsexy even when I’d been the one underneath him, but hearing him out on the sidewalk was downright cringe-worthy. Ugh, how could I have even considered having sex with him? I don’t care how closely someone resembles Zac Efron, that kind of noise during sex is not acceptable. He sounded like a cat in heat.

I was just stepping onto Ben’s front porch when I heard Derek yell out.

“Oh, God, Marni...Yes!”

My jaw hit the cement. Marni? He’s dry-humping Marni, our manager at the video store? Or maybe he was really screwing her, I had no idea. But Marni was at least forty, with a smoker’s voice and complexion, and one lazy eye. Had he really gone from me to goddamn Marni?