Breathless (Less Is More Book 1) Read online

  He looks from me to over my shoulder down the road.

  “Do you want to get a bite at the diner down the road?” he asks me. “I’m starving.” The thought of eating more food makes me want to puke after I practically swallowed everything at the pub.

  “Sure,” I say. The thought of spending more time with Will is nice, though, and he hasn’t murdered me yet, so I might as well talk with at least one guy who may interest me tonight.

  ***

  “Wait,” Will says with a mouth full of fries, “are you seriously telling me the guy didn’t talk once while you were at dinner?”

  “Not once,” I say. “He just smiled a lot and then almost passed out when I asked him a question.”

  “Jesus, man,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He makes a pouty face and takes a bite of his burger. “And your guy wasn’t any good either?”

  “Not my type, no.”

  “And what is your type?” He rests his chin on his hand and his smile widens.

  “Random strangers I meet on benches at late hours of the night,” I say. “Good looking ones who share my interest in murder jokes.”

  “I have to say,” he says, “I never in a million years thought I would meet someone on a bench and be sitting with them at the diner down the street. Nothing like a love story that doesn’t start on a hookup app.”

  “Love story, huh?” I ask, circling my finger around the rim of my glass. His face reddens and I instantly smile when his eyes shy away from mine. “Love stories have a hard time of finishing with a happy ending in my relationship history.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right character to have a happy ending with,” he says. “I understand, though. It’s easy to fall in love, but it’s hard as hell to accept falling out of it.”

  “I bet you really know how to unintentionally make the students swoon over you when you teach them. You have a way with words, William.”

  “Bleck,” he says, craning his head back. “The only person that calls me ‘William’ is my mother and it turns into William Henry Everett because it’s only when she is mad at me. That and my sister does the same thing sometimes.”

  “That’s cute,” I say. “It’s better than Elliot Edison Edwards.”

  “Oh my god,” he says, laughing. “I’m sorry, but that is just mean. It’s nice, though. Can I refer to you as ‘Triple E’ at parties and such?”

  “Ew,” I say, putting my hands in front of my face, “no. I had a boyfriend in high school who called me ‘Triple E with the long, thick D’ and, needless to say, it didn’t work out.”

  “That’s creative,” he says. “Also interesting, depending on how much fact goes with the name.” My insides chill and I feel my dick move just a tad, as he looks at me with his dimpled smile.

  “Well,” I say, “maybe after a few more diner dates I’ll satisfy your curiosity.”

  He looks at me with his head titled, biting on his lower lip.

  “Good,” he says. “I respect a man that doesn’t put out on the first date.”

  You don’t even know how bad I want to.

  Will looks down at his watch and says, “I hate to do this, but I have to get back home. I have grades to put in before three am and it’s almost one. Are you going past Walker and fifty? I live around there.”

  “Yeah, I live on forth, actually. I’ll walk you. Well, you can walk me I guess.”

  We get up and as I go to open the diner door to leave, Will opens the door before me and his hand grazes my back. My body tightens and I feel a chill go through me. When his hand leaves, I instantly want it back.

  “So, this is weird,” he says, as we make it a block down from the diner.

  “What is?” I ask.

  “Tonight,” he says. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed it. Honestly, I’m really glad I met you, but it’s just the oddest thing, isn’t it?”

  “No,” I shrug. “ I do this all the time. Meet hot strangers on the park bench by my favorite view of the city, eat with them at the diner and then have them walk me home. Literally, every night.”

  “Shut up,” he says, shoving my shoulder, and I feel the chill again. Every time he touches me, it feels good I’m learning.

  “I mean, yeah,” I say, scratching the back of my head, “it’s random, but the best things in life happen when you least expect it, right?”

  “Let’s hope so,” he says.

  Three blocks later and we are outside my apartment building. The lights off in Sam’s room, so I’m guessing he is asleep. I really didn’t want Hadley to be the first one to hear about how the rest of my night went because I could already sense the overenthusiastic reaction I would be greeted with in the morning.

  “You’re good to go the rest of the way?” I ask.

  “I’m a big boy, Elliot,” he mocks. “So…”

  “Am I going to see you again?”

  “In my dreams tonight,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “I’ll call you and we will set something up? Maybe something a little fancier than a diner this time and a softer place to sit and talk besides a bench.”

  “That bench will forever be our spot though, ya know?”

  “I can’t wait to tell our kids the story.”

  He embraces me for a hug and a chill instantly runs through my body. I wrap my hands around his back and feel the outline of his muscles as he breathes in and out. His scent is delicious and I basically inhale his shoulder, as I rest my head on it briefly. I find comfort in his arms and I don’t want him to let go.

  “Ok,” he says, letting go and making my insides ache a little. “I’m going to go home and think of ways to better sweep you off your feet while I devour my work stuff, so be prepared to be wowed next time we talk. Which will be sooner rather than later. Because I like you.”

  “You’re alright, too, I guess.” I smile at him and, turning on his heel, he smiles back.

  I get into the apartment and Sam is asleep. He has his drawings laid out over the kitchen table and I have to stop and marvel over them. I met Sam through work because he often does work with our authors for their book covers. He does amazing work, but wants to branch off into more things entertainment-wise. The drawings on the table are from his partnership with a new TV show pilot that, if successful, could launch his career exponentially.

  Whether it works out or not, Sam’s talent doesn’t go unnoticed and he will always have the publishing house if he needs it because they love him there.

  I turn off all the lights and make my way to the bathroom. I pop my toothbrush in my mouth and the only thing on my mind is Will. I’ve talked to guys before and hit it off quick - it’s easy if they can carry a conversation. Will is different, though. Even when he randomly showed up while I was sitting by the water, it wasn’t weird. It felt welcoming and comfortable; that is weird. It takes me weeks to feel remotely comfortable with any guy. So why was Will so different?

  You’re overthinking it.

  Just as I go to spit my rinse out, it hits me. He said he would call me, but we didn’t exchange numbers.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Two

  Will

  “W HAT DO YOU MEAN you didn’t get his number?” Lydia pauses with her fork in the air and slings a piece of pancake to the floor. Since birth, Lydia has had a flair for the dramatic. When I was born, my mother said that Lydia stood with her arms crossed, one foot tapping, and said, “That’s what everybody has been so excited about all these months?” and stormed out of the hospital room.

  Gotta love them sibling bonding moments.

  “I thought we did, honestly,” I say, shrugging. “I mean, I even told him at the end of the night that I would call him and everything. Then I get home and right after I’m done brushing my teeth, it hits me.”

  “You know where he lives, though, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, “but I don’t know which apartment is his.”

  “Then sit outside on the stoop like some psycho until he either comes home or comes downstairs.” />
  If it was any casual encounter then I wouldn’t care, but Elliot was interesting. I wasn’t even looking to talk to someone that night, but he was there and it was easy. And he was ridiculously attractive: his black hair was thick and shiny. All I could imagine was tugging on it while we went at it. His eyes were a glossy emerald color and his teeth glistened against the city lights.

  “Seriously, Will, you need to see this guy again. I haven’t seen you light up like this in awhile. Damn it, Abbey.” Lydia’s two-year-old daughter Abbey is every uncle’s dream. She is adorable when she is with me and a hellion when she’s with her mom. I love it.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I say. “I’ll sit on his stoop if all else fails. I mean I got his last name and everything.”

  Lydia cleans the seat where Abbey dropped her scrambled eggs and looks up at me and says, “Then Facebook him, what are you waiting for?”

  “Shouldn’t I give it a day or two?” I say. “I don’t want to seem overly eager and scare him away.”

  “What if you wait and he finds a new guy on a new bench and goes to a new diner in a new city?” I roll my eyes at her and she smirks. “Look, all I’m saying is you make him seem like someone worth being eager for. Give it the weekend if you want. Go to your show tonight and then tomorrow, find his ass.”

  “My show,” I mock, rubbing my palms into my eyes. “I didn’t even think about that. I hate getting all suit-and-tied up for this stuff. I always feel funny.”

  “You always look damn good and you know it,” she says. “You feel uncomfortable because you aren’t comfortable with how good looking you are and it is annoying. Why do you think they have you stand up there and give all the big speeches?”

  “Because I’m the head of the arts and science division on campus?”

  “No,” she says, “because you are nice to look at and people love throwing their money at pretty people. Probably because of your work stuff, too, but just saying. What’s this event about anyway?”

  “Young readers overseas,” I say. “All the money collected is going towards shipping more books overseas. A lot of publishing houses around the city are donating some of their stuff to give them an idea of what is getting sent over. The same thing I do every year.”

  “Exciting stuff, bro,” she says cleaning Abbey’s face with her napkin. “Isn’t it Abbey? Isn’t Uncle Will just the coolest person ever?” Abbey looks up at me and her smile instantly sends a rush of love through me. The thought of having my own child is nonexistent at this point because of work, but being the uncle of all uncles is just as worth it.

  “Are you guys doing anything exciting tonight?” I ask, finishing off the last of my waffle.

  “Watching NickJr and going to bed at eight,” she says. “Switch ya?”

  “I’d love to hang out with Abbey. I don’t know why you’re hatin’.”

  “Try pushing her out of your vagina and shitting all over the table and having her cry every time she doesn’t get her way at the store so she screams and it looks like I torture her. Then tell me how much you adore her.”

  “You win.” I scrunch my face at Abbey and she heaves with laughter.

  ***

  I go the grocery store after I leave Lydia and Abbey. I’ve fallen into the same routine this past year and each day it gets exceedingly more boring and pathetic.

  Every Sunday I have breakfast with Lydia and Abbey, which I love doing, and then I go to the grocery store, which I despise doing. Then home to do whatever schoolwork needs done before Monday and then, with whatever time I have left, I plan out lessons way ahead of time or read myself to sleep.

  Basically, Sundays suck in the Everett household; except today. The event later and the thought of seeing Elliot again are a welcome change. Assuming I see him again.

  “Will?” I hear behind me, as I reach in the cooler to get a gallon of milk. My stomach instantly goes sour and drops to depths I’m not sure I knew existed. I turn around and standing in front of me is Miley: Evan’s younger sister.

  “Miley,” I say, as she gives me a hug, trying not to let my un-comfortableness show. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing good,” she says. “Really good. I’ve tried to get ahold of you a lot since last year.”

  “I know,” I say, looking down at the floor. “I just haven’t been able to move past it. Seeing you guys just makes it resurface in ways I can’t explain and it’s not something I think I’m ready to fully handle.”

  “I get it,” she says, smiling, “really. I still think about him everyday. It gets easier. You knew him in ways we didn’t, though, so when you’re ready, just know we are all here for you. We miss you.” She waves and makes her way down the isle. My legs feel like they are going to buckle and I lean against the cooler door for balance.

  Why today? Out of nowhere.

  It all comes flashing back to me; each vision worse than the one before. I was doing better and thought I might finally have been moving past it.

  “Are you ok, man?” I hear the man beside me ask, bringing me out of my haze. “Wait here and I’ll go get some—“

  “No,” I say. “I’m fine. I just got dizzy for a second. Nothing is wrong, but thank you.” I turn the shopping cart and make a path towards the exit. I speed up the closer I get until finally, I abandon the cart completely and shove it to the side by the registers. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I storm out of the store, but it doesn’t faze me even a little.

  I make it to my car and fumble with the keys. I drop them and, as I go to reach for them, I slam my head into the side of the car. I don’t feel it as it hits, but I frantically grab the keys and unlock the door.

  I slam the door as I sit down and plant my hands on the steering wheel, squeezing tighter than my blood circulation can allow. My breathing slows and I slouch back into the seat - sweating and exhausted.

  I debate whether or not to go back into the store and get what I needed in the first place.

  I’ll probably need to switch grocery stores now.

  I wasn’t expecting, of all things, to see Miley. I have made it a priority to stay away from his family because they didn’t see what I did, besides his mom, and they weren’t there in time to say goodbye. I don’t know whether it’s for me or for them at this point that I’ve forced myself out of their lives.

  I start up the car and drive to the store in the opposite direction of home.

  ***

  I take a detour home and drive by Elliot’s place. I don’t know why, but the thought of him calms me and brings me back down to where I need to be. I’ve never met a guy and after only one night been infatuated with the idea of having him in my life. I can’t tell if he is home or not because I have no clue which apartment is his, but I can’t help and wonder if he is in there thinking about the lack of a phone number he has, too.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be getting into something serious so soon, though.

  Or maybe that is exactly what I need already.

  ***

  I drop my keys on the counter by the door and immediately fall into the couch once I reach the living room. I have to speak at the benefit around nine which leaves me three hours to either nap and half-ass it, or make myself the perfect gentlemen.

  I choose a mixture of both and lazily get up and make my way to my bedroom. I open the sliding closet door and roll my eyes once they make contact with the suit I wear to every special occasion that I rarely want to attend.

  This benefit is for an amazing cause, but getting all dressed up and fake-like makes it seem like more of a show then anything. A “Does the wallet match the label?” kind of night where I have to shake hands and kiss ass just so they’ll feel entitled enough to donate their money for causes they probably care nothing about. Or maybe I’m just being a pessimist.

  My mind wanders back to Elliot as I lay out my suit on the bed. Over the course of the year, I’ve talked to other guys, but I would never get close to any of them. I always felt guilty, like I was cheating on E
van, which I know isn’t realistic, and that they would sense that it was going nowhere and lose interest.

  I never let it get to me because I was OK with being alone. After the one-year anniversary, though, I realized something had to change. Maybe Elliot could be that change for me, even if we just became friends at least. Or maybe I’m overthinking it again.

  Black tie or pink? Maybe bowtie would go better with the suit. I’ll figure it out once I get the damn thing on.

  I go in the bathroom and wash my face. I’ve always had decently healthy skin and the aging process hasn’t hit me to hard, but I still like to take precautions to keep myself presentable.

  My hair is greasy and disgusting from all the sweat produced during my meltdown earlier, so I put my head in the tub and lather it up; letting the follicles soak for a few minutes before I rinse. I usually part it to the side, but tonight, I slick it back and mat it down with some gel.

  I put my contacts in and refill the solution casing. They hurt at first because I haven’t worn them in a while and the adjustment is straining. I wear glasses because it makes me feel less noticed and more sophisticated.

  Once I get everything but my jacket on, I sit on the bed and wonder what to wear with it. Everyone will be wearing black and white, so the more reason to wear pink. Tie or bowtie is the question. Tie is more professional, but bowtie would make me seem more carefree which may be more attractive to some people. It could also do the opposite and make me not look professional.

  Bowtie it is.

  I put my jacket on and look one last time in the mirror.

  It will have to do.

  Driving to campus, I go by Elliot’s again. No lights are on in any of the apartment windows and I don’t know what car he drives to see if he is home. I will have to creep on his doorstep tomorrow after classes, that’s all there is to it. Unless I just go to where he works. He did tell me he works at that publishing house.

  A shred of relief goes through me and I instantly feel stupid. I’m thinking about this guy like a high school kid in love for the first time and I’m overthinking things. Sometime this week, I will just go and show up at his work, because I’m crazy, and he will either be pleased to see me or have me escorted out.