What I Need
Page 93“Yes. That. What were you going to say?”
“You’re not ready for that,” he states.
My head tilts. “Um, sorry? What do you mean?”
I’m not ready?
“Just what I said. You’re not ready.”
I glare at CJ as he pulls on a pair of running shorts. What the . . .”You were going to tell me the other day,” I remind him.
“I know I was.”
“Well . . . how come you won't tell me now?”
“`Cause you’re not ready now.”
“But I was ready before . . .”
CJ shrugs. He swipes his shirt off the bed and smiles at me as he pushes his arms through the sleeves. He smiles bigger when my eyes narrow.
“Stop smiling,” I snap, hands flying to my hips and holding there.
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can. You just . . . force your mouth not to do that.”
A laugh catches in my throat as CJ holds out his hand for me to high five.
God, I love him.
“You’re so weird,” I murmur, reaching across the bed.
He slaps my hand and winks.
My cell phone rings from the dresser. I’m still giggling when I turn around to grab it. My parents’ house number flashes on the screen.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, knowing it has to be her. My dad still works during the day at Tennyson Construction.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Fineeow!” I spring up onto my toes as a sharp pain lashes across my bottom.
“Are you all right?” my mother asks with worry in her voice.
I whip my head around and watch CJ twirl up the towel I had my hair wrapped in. I suck in a breath. “You did not just do that,” I scold.
“You liked it.” He lifts his brow. “Turn around.”
My eyes go wide and my cheeks burn hot. Both sets.
I did not like it.
“Riley?”
“Sorry, Mom.” I flip CJ off and he chuckles, tossing the towel and having a seat on the edge of the bed to put on his boot. “That was CJ. He's just super excited about us having our first fight.”
“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “This is the boy you’re living with?”
My parents know I'm not still living at Richard's, which was what I had them assuming since I didn't say different. Once Reed found out about my new living arrangement, I didn't feel there was a point in keeping it from anyone.
“Yes. That's him.” I dig my toes into the side of CJ’s thigh.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Is there something going on with you two? Are you dating?”
“Uh.” I drop my foot to the carpet and turn my head. Crap. Why does she have to ask me this? I can't say yes. My mom will totally mention it to Reed. She knows they know each other. “We're just friends, Mom,” I tell her, wincing. “I'm helping him get better. Remember, I told you about his leg?” Before my mother has a chance to answer, I gaze back at CJ.
He's hunched over still, but he isn't working at strapping on his boot anymore. His head is turned. He's looking directly at me.
No smile. Not even the hint of one. CJ looks . . . pissed. Disappointed or both.
Shit.
My stomach tightens. Mom says something in my ear but I don't pay attention.
I watch CJ subtly shake his head before looking away, like a person would do when they're almost in disbelief of something they’ve seen or heard. Then he fastens the last remaining strap on his boot, stands from the bed and stalks toward the door.
“This is why you’re not ready,” he says in a low, rough voice, turning back to look at me. His eyes are hard.
I blink and pull in a breath through my nose. My mouth opens, but he’s out the door and down the hallway before I can utter a reply.
“Shit,” I whisper, eyes pinching shut.
“Riley?” My mom’s voice is quiet, but I still hear her.
“Mom, I can’t talk right now,” I fume. I snatch my shorts off the bed and pinch the phone between my shoulder and ear. “I have class. I need to finish getting ready.”
And I need to go apologize for that.
“Okay, sweetheart. Give me a ring later.”
I say goodbye and disconnect the call. After pulling on my shorts and stepping into my Chucks, I head down the hallway, not even bothering to dry my hair or do anything with it. Finger combed waves soak the back of my shirt.
I stop just inside the living room. “Hey,” I murmur to the back of CJ’s head. He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward. I see the flash of his cell. “Um, look, I just worried she would say something to Reed, that’s all. You know I don’t think of you as a friend.”
He has to know that.
CJ makes a noise deep in his throat, like a grunt, letting me know he hears me. He stands from the couch.
“I’m meeting up with Ben and Luke at McGill’s,” he shares, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his shorts and turning sideways to look over at me. “I’m heading over there now.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">