Tell Me Not to Go Read online

  “Hey,” I say with a wide smile.

  He scans me up and down, his eyes softening. “Hi. Can I come in?”

  I nod, and he walks past me into the living room. When he sees Marcus, who has his feet propped up on my coffee table, he freezes.

  “Hey, man.” Marcus nods half-heartedly, his flip flop bouncing up and down as he jiggles his foot.

  Jeff tracks the movement with his eyes and then scans Marcus—his slouchy hoodie, his bead bracelets, his pierced brow.

  “Hi.” Jeff doesn’t smile. He glances over at me instead. “Looks like I interrupted. I can call later.”

  “Nah, I was about to leave.” Marcus is a good wingman. He shoves all his stuff in his bag and takes off—a piece of pizza hanging from one hand. “See you Monday,” he says to me on his way out the door. “Nice meeting you, Jeff.”

  Jeff doesn’t say it back.

  “Who was that?” Jeff asks the second Marcus exits.

  “My lab partner.”

  “Ok. You guys study here a lot?”

  I don’t like Jeff’s tone—all parental and tight-assed.

  “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Just asking.” He sets the bottle of pomegranate cider down on the coffee table but remains standing.

  “You can sit down if you want.” My tone is edging into aggravated territory, but he ignores me.

  “Why does that guy wear his hair in a bun?”

  “It’s a thing. All the kids are doin’ it.” Oh, now I’ve headed straight for mocking. But honestly, I have barely heard from Jeff, and suddenly he’s acting like a dog pissing on a fire hydrant.

  “Real cute.”

  “Is there a reason you came over? Or would you rather keep implying I’m fucking Marcus?”

  “Your language is terrible.” Jeff crosses his arms over his chest, so that he resembles a pissed off gorilla. “And are you?”

  “I don’t need a lecture about my manners. And that’s none of your business.”

  “Seriously? We said we weren’t going to sleep around.”

  “You know what? Screw you and your accusations, Jeff. I haven’t seen you. I’ve gotten a few lame texts. Maybe we ought to call it a day.” I hate that my voice is trembling, but I despise Jeff’s judgment and indifference even more.

  He puts his hands on his hips. “Why do you care? I thought that’s how you wanted it. No strings, remember? You’re obviously keeping yourself busy with bun guy.”

  “Studying! And I’m not going to beg you to come over.”

  “Beg?” Jeff’s voice is at a yell, something I’ve never heard before. “You barely responded to my texts. And you’re the one who told me not to get attached. But I’m not like you.”

  “Meaning what? I’m an emotionless bitch?”

  “I never said that. Now you’re being overdramatic.”

  “Says the robot.” I know I’m hitting below the belt before the words are even out of my big mouth.

  Jeff finally snaps. “I’m the fucking robot?” He steps forward and takes me by the shoulders. “Then how come I’m the only one worried about being too into you? How come I’m the one who thinks about you all the damn time?”

  I stare at him. He stares at me. Neither of us wants to move or breathe or say anything, like we’re standing on a high wire. So I kiss him, yes I do. Because what choice do I have when he’s standing this close? He’s the magnet, I’m the iron.

  The kiss turns ragged in a hurry, and he’s pulling on my hair like he’s got something to prove. Maybe he does. He yanks my shirt up and over my head, my yoga pants go south. I hit the back of the couch, pants still around my ankles, and down, down we go. He’s still angry-kissing me, and it’s hot as hell, so I rip that beautiful shirt he’s wearing straight down the middle. Buttons fly everywhere, and he does that thing guys do where they shrug each shoulder and then tug at their shirt cuffs. I pull off everything else he’s wearing.

  Sweet merciful Moses, I love his body. I let him know with my eyes and my hands, and finally, he smiles at me—a happy, mischievous smile that makes me feel anchored and safe in a really scary way. It rips the truth out of me, like an eyebrow wax that makes your eyes water.

  “I missed you,” I say, relishing the feel of his body against mine.

  He’s panting, short of breath from our fight or from our kissing. Either way, it’s a win. “I missed you, too. I was trying to play it cool.”

  “We just got started. Why would you do that?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “So don’t.”

  “Okay,” he says. And then he thrusts inside me.

  “Oh,” I moan, throwing my head back.

  “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want foreplay. I want you,” he says.

  “Yes.” That’s the only word I can manage, so I wrap my legs around him.

  His thrusts are urgent, but his mouth, his hands are gentle. The contrast makes me crazy, until he gets what he wanted all along and I beg.

  The good news is, he’s reduced to pleading as well. “You feel so good” and “more” become our entire vocabulary. The way he reaches for me tells me he’s missed my body; I’ve missed his, too. How can that be after such a short time? I don’t question it, just quench my thirst with his taste, his smell.

  I can’t hold out long, and soon I’m biting his shoulder as the world dissolves into lightning. His shout echoes through the room and his pleasure lasts a long, long time. Witnessing it gives me an aftershock of bliss.

  He puts his full weight on me, and even though it pushes me down into the cushions, I love it. I stroke the ridges and plains on his back as he tries to return to himself. The struggle is a little more difficult this time, and that makes me ridiculously happy.

  Finally, he shifts to my side, pulling one of my legs over him so we fit on the couch. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah,” I say, kissing his neck and giving him the shivers.

  “Was I too rough?”

  “No. Pretty sure I wrecked your shirt, though.”

  “Don’t care,” he says, cupping my neck. “You felt incredible.”

  I’m too busy kissing his shoulder and skimming one hand over his chest to reply.

  His body goes still and he stops my hand with his. “I didn’t use a condom.”

  “That’s okay.”

  But his silence tells me it’s not okay.

  I lean up on my elbow. “I’m on birth control. You know that.”

  “Still.”

  Everything inside me drops—heart, stomach, spirit. He doesn’t trust me. Why should he, really? We barely know each other.

  Jeff’s staring at me, so I try to put my game face on to get this over with. But I have no game face.

  He tilts my chin up with his finger. “It’s not you,” he says. “I know it’s safe and that you’re using protection. But I like to be really careful.”

  “Okay.” That is the least convincing “okay” to ever be spoken, and the tension is thick between us.

  He coils a strand of my hair around his finger. “Four years ago, I got my girlfriend pregnant.”

  That is so unexpected I don’t know what to say, which means I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You have a kid?”

  “No,” he says, and that’s one hell of a complicated word—filled with sadness, regret, and so much more. “She lost the baby halfway through the pregnancy. Twenty-one weeks.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was, too. I really was.” He says this like he’s determined for me to believe it. “But I was also relieved.” He’s studying me to check my reaction.

  “You weren’t ready.”

  “No. And I didn’t want to marry Lacey. Which I would have; not that our parents would have given us any choice.”

  “People don’t automatically get married because of a baby anymore.”

  His jaw tightens. “I would have.”

  Of course. That’s the world Jeff comes from and the kind of guy he is.

  “S
ee? I’m not the Boy Scout you thought I was. I can be a bastard like everyone else.”

  I smooth the wrinkle between his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  Jeff looks away from me. “What kind of monster is relieved by the death of their own child?”

  Jeff’s body is so rigid, I can’t help but stroke his shoulder, to try to give him some comfort. This is clearly one of those wounds that has penetrated deep and creeps around in his subconscious.

  “That’s too harsh. You weren’t happy the baby died. You were relieved not to have your future forced on you. That’s understandable.”

  “Who cares what I wanted for my future?” he says. “That’s not more important than a baby.”

  “A potential baby.”

  He shakes his head. “It didn’t feel that way. He was a boy. I would have had a son.”

  It becomes difficult to swallow. I picture a tiny Jeff, head full of blond hair with mischievous brown eyes. His child never made it that far though, because at twenty-one weeks, a baby can’t survive on its own. It may have a heart and lungs and a brain, but it is not viable. But I guess that biological truth doesn’t mean shit when you created that heart, those lungs, and that brain.

  “If he had been born, you would have put him first. You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  Jeff’s hand rubs at his face, like he’s trying to scrub away the memory. “I was always so careful. But I got sloppy with the condom once, so that was on me.”

  “Blaming yourself isn’t going to change what happened.”

  “I know that.” He pulls me closer. “Thing is, once I got used to the idea, I started preparing for a different future. Christmases and birthday parties and Little League games. I’d pass by the baby aisle at a store and stare at those tiny diapers, wondering if my hands would be too big to change him. Even though it didn’t happen, I wasn’t the same after. I never felt like a kid again.”

  “Makes sense. You’d already jumped into being an adult.” I nuzzle his cheek with mine.

  “I’m sorry I panicked. And for being an ass to Diego that day you helped me move in. He just hit a little too close to home.” He grabs a strand of my hair and starts to worry it with his fingers. “When I apologized to Eva for that, she said that grief works in strange ways. The weird thing is, I spent so much time feeling guilty back then, I’m not sure I let myself get to the grieving part.”

  “Sometimes the further away you get from something, the clearer it becomes.”

  He frames my face with his hands and looks into my eyes, both of us seeing straight down into the core of each other. I pull away first.

  Jeff’s so easygoing that I didn’t understand how deeply he takes things to heart. How much he cares. And I shouldn’t have assumed he’d lost interest just because he wasn’t around much this past week.

  “You really don’t need to worry about today.” I show him the spot on my arm where I get my birth control shots.

  He kisses me again, but I start to worry about someone walking in on us, so we get our clothes on.

  I circle the living room trying to collect buttons. “I’ll take your shirt somewhere to get these sewn on.”

  His eyes follow me as I go. “It’s worth it to get to watch you bend over every five seconds.”

  “I should charge you.”

  “Careful. I have a cupholder full of quarters in my car.”

  His naughty smile is my favorite.

  Jeff rummages around in the kitchen and comes back with two bowls of cereal.

  “I’m sorry tonight got so crazy,” I say.

  “I’m not.” He looks at me over his spoon, his tussled blond hair lying over his eyes, and I almost knock the bowl out of his hand so I can jump him.

  “I really am working a lot,” he says. “But I want to see more of you.”

  “Me too.” I feel shy and awkward, which doesn’t sit well on me.

  We sit and eat our cereal in silence. He keeps looking over at me, like he wants to say something.

  Finally, he sets his bowl down. “Some people from my work are going to Tahoe soon. I think right around your spring break. Want to come with me?”

  Man, he knows how to go from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. My parents always expected me to roll with anything and everything. I got a little stubborn about establishing my boundaries as a result. Jeff puts his toes right over those lines I’ve drawn around myself. Scary how much I want him to.

  “For the weekend?”

  “Yep. Can you get time off from the hospital?”

  “My rotation with Dr. Lee is almost over, and I don’t think I’m going to work at the hospital after that. It will give me more time to finish stuff up.”

  “And to do more with me.”

  I pucker my lips like I’m thinking. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, my ass.”

  He kisses me to underscore the point. As the kiss turns hotter, I silence the internal clock ticking down the days of our ninety-day deal.

  Would it really hurt to keep seeing him over the summer until I moved? Yes, because I sure as hell don’t think I can drive away with him standing there watching me. There was a reason I told Jeff no extensions, and I’m not second-guessing myself now.

  But tonight, he’s here with me. “Wanna stay over? Lizzie’s at Jude’s place.”

  “I work in the morning.”

  I curl my mouth into a suggestive smile, and then run my hand up his thigh—nice and slow.

  “Well, if you put it like that,” he says, his voice deeper.

  I spend the rest of the night in his arms.

  Chapter 16: Jeff

  64 Days Left

  I head out early to pick up Sam for our weekend away. I’ve gassed up the car, made sure the oil is topped up, and mapped out directions to Keller’s Tahoe cabin. Well, his parents’ cabin.

  My coworkers and their significant others are already headed there. I still don’t know if Keller is bringing Andrea, but I hope not for her sake. He’s not the type to stay committed to anyone. But then again, maybe I’m wrong and Andrea’s not looking for that, either.

  As if I have any right to an opinion when my situation with Sam is just as murky.

  It’s been a good couple of weeks, though. The fight Sam and I had at her place cleared the air, and we’ve been spending a lot of time together. She’s been taking me around the Bay Area to see some of the places I’ve heard about. Last weekend, I booked a hotel room in San Francisco; Sam played tour guide during the day, but at night we never left our room.

  There is laughter and teasing and fun with Sam. And heat. But we also argue a fair amount. Guess that’s to be expected given how different our backgrounds are—how different we are. Have to say, though, I’m confused about our relationship. This isn’t a casual hookup for either of us, but it’s not a commitment either. So what are we to each other? It’s all new territory for me.

  Lizzie opens the door, looking sleepy. Sam is behind her, rushing back and forth.

  “She’s almost ready. Fair warning; she really hates being up this early.”

  “I never have any problem getting her active in the morning,” I say with a smile.

  “Gross. It’s too early to listen to you.” Lizzie starts to head back to her room.

  “Wait.” I laugh. “You still taking Jude home this week?”

  Lizzie runs her hands through her hair, rubbing at her scalp. “Yes. And I had a nightmare about it last night.”

  “Well, good luck. Don’t let them give you any crap. And say ‘hi’ for me.”

  She sticks out her tongue at me. “Have a good time, drive safe, text when you get there.” She disappears into her room and shuts the door.

  Sam runs up to me and kisses me on the cheek. “Okay, I think I’ve got everything.”

  She only has one bag, which sort of surprises me. My last two girlfriends never traveled light.

  “I’m impressed,” I say, pointing to her luggage.

  “We used to camp a lot, so I kno
w how to pack. Plus, I plan to wear as little as possible at night.” She shoots me a saucy smile and closes the door behind us.

  It’s still early enough that the sky is tinged pink. Once we’re on the road, I select a playlist.

  “Here’s a crucial compatibility test: What music do you want to listen to on the drive up?”

  “I like that you asked,” she says, giving me one of her genuine smiles. When we stop at a red light, I look her over. She is happy and relaxed, no makeup on her face, hair in a ponytail. She’s always beautiful, but right now she looks pretty. Soft. I lean over and kiss her because I can’t help myself.

  I tug on her ponytail. “I’m going to come clean right now and admit I like country music.”

  “Uh-uh. I get too much of that already from your sister. How about I drag you into the modern era and play some hip hop?”

  She leans over and changes the music.

  “You’re kind of a brat, you know that?”

  “Only child,” she says with a lopsided grin.

  I guess it doesn’t matter; it’s purely a backdrop for our conversation.

  When I try to explain what I actually do for a living, though, I get a blank stare in return.

  “Did I lose you?”

  “No. I get it. You’re looking for companies that are worth investing in,” she says. “I have no idea why that interests you, but it’s exciting when you describe it. You’re passionate about it, which is cool. How did you even get into finance?”

  “I know it’s weird, because my family is blue collar through and through. High school was the first time I saw wealth. Guess I wanted to understand why some people had so much while some had so little. I got really interested in economics, business, all that stuff. Now I get to see how ideas become reality, create jobs, change cultures.”

  “Not always in positive ways,” she says.

  “No. But nothing is all positive or all negative, and you can only do business better if you understand how it works and change it. Sort of like why you chose medicine.”

  That makes her smile.

  “How have you lived in Silicon Valley your whole life and never learned anything about this?”