Molly McAdams - Needing Her

“Whoa, what? Maci . . . worth it? What are you talking about? My sister was here with my nephew this morning when I got your text. She’d been here for a ­couple hours.”

She stopped stroking one of the pillows, reminding me that she was still completely trashed, and turned back to me. “Amy was here? It wasn’t just some girl . . . ?”

“No,” I drew out the word. “Why?”

“I—­I thought that . . . that maybe after what you did last night that you had . . . that there was . . .”

I draped my arm over her, caging her to the bed, and leaned closer. “After what I did last night? Maci, what are you talking about?”

“You . . . you stood up for me. You cared about me,” she whispered and turned her head to the side to look away from me. “For once.”

Using my fingers to turn her face back to mine, I shook my head slowly and tried to find the words for a few moments before finally whispering, “What do you mean for once?” My breathing deepened as I waited for her to respond, but her eyes just bounced back and forth between mine. “Maci, what do you mean for—­”

She sat up and crushed her mouth to mine, and for the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t push her right back down onto the bed. The fingers that had been pressed to her cheek slid through her wet hair, holding her face to mine as I deepened the kiss, eliciting a moan from her that shot straight through my body. Her hands slid down my bare chest, to my stomach, causing the muscles to contract; and, Jesus Christ, I wanted her to continue. But the second she whispered my name, and the alcohol barely masked by the Gatorade registered in my mind, I remembered why she was even here in the first place, and what I was doing.

I grabbed at her hands and pinned them to the bed as I sat up. “No, Maci. Shit . . . no, this can’t happen. Not like this, not when you’re drunk.” Not at all . . . her brothers would kill me.

“I’m not dru—­”

“Yes, you are. Maci, you’re trashed; you were falling in love with my pillows not even half an hour ago. This can’t happen . . .” Leave it at that. Leave it at that. “. . . like this. Let’s talk in the morning, okay?”

She looked hurt, but I didn’t even know if she’d remember this in the morning, or if she’d hate herself for doing it.

“Just go to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow, I swear. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

It took everything in me to force myself away from that girl, but I stood and walked to the door, turning just in time to see her start stroking the pillows again. Yeah, she isn’t going to remember any of this. “Good night, Maci Price,” I whispered as I shut the door.

I walked around my apartment shutting off lights, bringing my gun to the end table, picking up her purse and the lamp—­that, thank God, hadn’t broken—­and locking the door before settling on the couch and shutting my eyes. But sleep didn’t come easy after that. All I could see was the way she looked as she’d come out of the bathroom, and in my bed, and my body was still very vividly remembering every second of that kiss.

It was going to be a long night.

Maci

MY EYES OPENED slowly, and I looked around confused at the strange room that still somehow reminded me of my own. I let go of the pillow I was holding to my body, sat up, and grabbed at my head when I felt like I was going to fall back over; but after a few seconds, the feeling passed. It was then I noticed the clothes I was wearing that definitely weren’t mine, and smelled . . . oh, holy mother of God . . . smelled just like Connor fucking Green. I looked wildly around the room for any sign of him, and stood up, only to sit back down on the bed when I felt like I was going to faint.

Shit, how much had I had to drink last night? And what on earth did I do to end up in Connor’s clothes and bed?

I stood, slower this time, and cracked open the door to tiptoe down the hall. I almost thanked God out loud when I found Connor passed out on the couch. Going quickly back to the hallway, I paused outside his bathroom and looked in at the pile of my clothes on the floor. Oh, God, they smell like alcohol and smoke. No wonder I was wearing his clothes.

Trying to remain quiet, I went back around his apartment until I found my purse near the couch, and stuffed all my clothes in there before looking for paper, a pen, and tape. Once my note was attached to his door, I slipped out of his apartment and quickly made my way over to my own.

After searching for my phone, I pulled up Amber’s name and shot off a text before changing into some of my own clothes and pulling up my messy hair. It was obvious I’d taken a shower and slept on wet hair, I just hoped like hell he hadn’t had to help me, or that I’d thrown up in his apartment. My phone dinged and I picked it back up.

Amber: Dude. So. Hung-­over.

I’m not as bad as I should be, but I still need a greasy breakfast. I don’t know how I got back last night, when I checked out the window, my car wasn’t in the lot.

Amber: I’ll come get you. Greasy breakfast so needed. Then we’ll go look for your car. Give me . . . like . . . a million hours to come get you

I woke up in Connor’s apartment. In his bed. In his clothes.

Amber: SUPER HOT NEIGHBOR?! Holy shit I’ll be there in ten!

I smiled to myself. I knew that would hurry her up. Too bad the only thing I had to tell her was that I’d dreamed I kissed him and woken up snuggling a pillow. Definitely not the most exciting experience of my life, and when it came to Connor Green, my dreams usually left me more satisfied than I felt right now.

Right now I was just confused and praying that I hadn’t made an ass out of myself last night.

Connor

I GRUNTED AS I sat up on the couch, and ran my hands through my hair before standing up. Trying to stay quiet, I walked back to my bedroom and cocked my head to the side when I noticed the door was open. I stepped in and walked quickly back out. The bed was empty. Looking in the bathroom, I cursed when I saw her clothes were gone, and jogged over to the couch to look for her purse. But on my way there, I saw something attached to my door, and knew that I wouldn’t find her purse where I had left it last night. Stepping up to the note hanging there, I clenched my fists as I read her words.

Hey . . . so I don’t know how I ended up in your apartment last night, but I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t make an ass out of myself, and if I puked anywhere, uh . . . can we just pretend like that didn’t happen?

Regardless if I did or didn’t throw up anywhere, thanks for taking care of me. I know you didn’t have to do that.

See you around.

Maci

She didn’t remember a goddamn thing from last night, including the kiss. I’d known she wouldn’t, but that bothered me more than I’d thought it would. From the words on her note, the cryptic words she’d said to me in my bed last night were something she hadn’t meant for me to ever hear.

But it was too late. I’d heard them. She’d kissed me. I’d had the smallest taste of what having Maci would be like.

Grabbing my keys, I walked over to her door, and unlocked it when it didn’t automatically open.

“Maci?” I called as I walked around her empty place. “Fuck!”

I locked up and ran back to my place to grab my phone.

When are you coming home? We need to talk.

I sat there staring at the screen, waiting for her response.

Maci Price: Like I said, I’m really sorry if I threw up or did something stupid.

It’s not about that. When are you coming home?

Maci Price: I don’t know . . . later? I’m having a late breakfast with Amber right now, and then I’m supposed to go meet up with Bryce.

That fucker from the other night? She was still seeing him? God, I’d never even found out what had happened with his fucked-­up proposal. Not bothering to respond, I let my phone fall to the couch and fought the urge to punch something as I went to take a shower.

Last night, I’d stayed up for hours, finally deciding that when Maci woke up this morning, she and I were going to talk, and I was going to find out what was happening between us. But if she thought so little of herself that she would stay with that asshole, then what was the point? I’d tried to get her away from him without being as bad as her brothers, and a little over a day later, she was going back to him.

Fuck it. This was a good thing, wasn’t it? I needed to stay away from her. So if her staying with Bryce was what kept me from her . . . then I needed to stay out of it and be happy she was making this easier on me.

Who was I kidding? I’d just realized that I wanted the girl next door more than I’d wanted anything since Cassidy; nothing was about to make this easier.

Maci

I’D SUCCESSFULLY AVOIDED actually speaking to Connor for two days. Two days that felt like years. Okay, successfully avoiding might not be the right words to use here. He wasn’t exactly talking to me, and I couldn’t figure out what to say whenever I saw him. When I’d gotten home from having breakfast with Amber the other morning, and then going to see my mom for a few hours—­since I’d told Connor I was hanging out with Bryce—­he was locking up his apartment and turning to leave just as I reached my door.

He stopped abruptly and just stared at me, his intensity filling the space between us. With two large steps, he closed the distance between us and looked down at me. Those bright blue eyes held mine, the question in them one I still didn’t know. Just as I’d opened my mouth to apologize again for whatever I might have done the night before, he grabbed my left hand, looked at it, and then dropped it before walking past me as he shook his head.

I’d all but fallen against my door and blown out a large breath I’d been holding when he walked out of sight, and had to sit there trying to catch my breath from one of the more intense interactions I’d ever had with him. And there hadn’t even been any words.

Since then, we’d crossed paths a few more times as we came and left the apartments; each time the looks got longer, and the air got thicker. But I was still being a pussy. I was afraid of what I’d done while I was drunk that he’d want to talk to me about. At least yesterday I’d gone back to work, so I was able to have a legitimate excuse for not being able to talk to him.

My alarm went off again, and I groaned as I tapped the screen on my phone to shut it off. I’d already snoozed it twice to try to stay in the dream I’d been having of the intense blue-­eyed man next door . . . but I needed to get to work before my brothers came busting down my door looking for my “boyfriend.”

With a heavy exhale, I practically fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. I wanted to go back to sleep so I could be in a place where I could stare at those blue eyes whenever I wanted. Where I could imagine the way his lips would feel against my neck as he pressed me against a wall. I wonder if I can get away with saying I have cramps today so I don’t have to go to—­oh wait, shit, I did that last—­

“Oh my God! Holy shit, what the fuck?” I screamed and jumped back off my toilet when it popped like gunfire underneath me. Thank God I hadn’t started peeing yet. But, seriously, what . . . the hell . . . had just happened?

My hand cautiously reached for the toilet seat, like the inanimate object might jump out and bite me. And with a determined huff, I grabbed it and threw it up.

“Connor!” I screeched and ripped the bubble wrap off the toilet bowl. “You son of a bitch, I know you can hear me!”

Pulling up my underwear and sweats, I stormed through my apartment, unlocked my door, and flung it open. A scream tore through my chest, and I jumped away as a trash can filled with water fell into my apartment as my door swung open. Mouth and eyes wide open, I just stared at the water-­covered entrance and living room for long seconds before my mind started working, and I took off running for my bathroom again. Almost going into the splits on the way there from running on the wet hardwood.

“I will kill you for this! You flooded my apartment!” I yelled, knowing full well he could hear me.

Grabbing all the towels in the bathroom and linen closet, I ran back to my living room and started throwing towels everywhere as I continued to scream and curse Connor Green. Not five minutes into trying to dry everything so there wouldn’t be permanent damage, two different neighbors stopped by because of my screaming, and graciously lent me piles of their towels too.