Lost to You, - [romantic novels in english TXT] 📗
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She looked up as the redness from her face slowly seeped away. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
We turned and headed in the direction of her apartment.
She glanced at me, smiling. “So, are you walking me home?”
“It’s on my way.”
She laughed because we both knew it really wasn’t, though it wasn’t completely out of the way, either. Just in the wrong direction by two short blocks.
No big deal.
We wandered casually through the evening crowd, neither of us in a hurry, just satisfied to be in the other’s company. I liked that it could be so easy with her.
Elizabeth continued to talk as we approached her building, while my attention darted to the guy leaning against her wall as we passed.
Elizabeth didn’t seem to even notice him, her consideration fully on me as she ambled toward her door. But there was just something that didn’t sit right.
He tilted his chin up, enough for his eyes to take her in.
This instinctual protectiveness rose up from somewhere inside me, an urge to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my side.
Of course, Elizabeth had to live in the shittiest building she possibly could, and on top of it, lived by herself.
I hated it.
She paused at her door, rocked back on her heels, and hooked her thumbs in her backpack straps. “So maybe I’ll see you around this weekend?”
My eyes went back to the guy against the wall. There were plenty of freaks in New York City. Most seemed harmless and didn’t garner a second thought.
Not this guy.
There was just something about him that nagged at my consciousness.
I looked back at Elizabeth. Not a chance in hell would I leave her here by herself.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t have any plans tonight. Why don’t we order in and watch a movie, or something?”
Her eyes narrowed in speculation, as if she was thrown off by my sudden suggestion.
I looked back at the guy who was obviously watching us. I guessed I was thrown, too.
“Two Fridays in a row?” She peeked back at me with her brow raised high, then pulled the door opened and held it wide for me as she passed, already expecting me to follow. “Are you sure you’re not trying to get into my panties?”
I choked out a laugh as I followed her in.
Did she have any idea how that sounded coming from her mouth? I shook my head and jogged up the stairs behind her.
Apparently, Elizabeth was missing a really important distinction. I wasn’t trying to get into her panties. I was trying desperately not to.
She let us into her apartment. It was messier than last week, a week’s worth of clothes strewn around on the floor.
“Sorry. Let me pick up really quick. I wasn’t expecting company.”
She dashed around the small room, plucking up shirts and underwear and random mismatched socks. She balled them up in a pile her arms before she heaved out a satisfied breath as she tossed them into the hamper against the wall. “All done.”
God. Did she really have to be so fucking adorable?
“So”—she swung her hands out to clap them in front of her—“are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
She brushed past me as she wandered into the kitchen area. She opened a drawer where she’d stuffed a bunch of menus. “What are you in the mood for?”
I wandered over and sat on the edge of her bed. “Chinese?”
“Sounds good to me,” she agreed. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she read over a menu as she walked across the room, then dropped down beside me without thought. “I think this is the best place.”
I gestured with my chin toward the menu. “Whatever works for me.”
Her face was all knit up in concentration as she studied, mumbled, “So what do you like?”
“Anything beef.”
She laughed and drew out a quiet, “Okay.”
We settled on Mongolian beef, sesame chicken, and eggrolls. We chatted until the door rang, and I jumped up to pay.
She tried to stop me, but I insisted. “Am I not allowed to buy dinner for my friend?”
Finally, she conceded and grabbed a couple plates from the kitchen. We kicked off our shoes and sat cross-legged on her bed, using the middle as a table. We opened the containers and filled them as we talked.
Again, we hit this rhythm. A tempo I’d never found with anyone else. One where I didn’t have to pretend I was someone I didn’t want to be. One where she wasn’t shy, and her genuine smile lit up the shadowy room.
Elizabeth gave me all the little details of the city she’d grown up in, her favorite places, and the many ways it was different from here. I could feel her love for San Diego in the pitch of her voice. More obvious was her love for the people there.
“Yeah, the water’s always a little cold, but you get used to it,” she said as she took another bite.
I inclined my head so I could study her, watch her face as it lifted and fell, twisted in animation as she spoke.
“I can’t believe in all the places you’ve traveled, you’ve never been to San Diego,” she said.
“I’ve been to L.A. a bunch of times, but for some reason, San Diego was never on the agenda.” I shrugged and dipped an eggroll into sweet and sour sauce.
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “You should go sometime. I think you’d like it there.”
“Yeah . . . I think I’d like that.”
She smiled.
So beautiful. I was still trying to adjust to the decision I’d made, this commitment to our friendship and swearing off girls at the same time. I knew they didn’t quite match, and if I tried to explain it to someone, they would think I was completely insane.
But somewhere deep inside of me, it made sense. I figured that was the only thing that mattered.
“Do you think you’re going to move back there once you finish school? Is that where you want to practice?” I asked.
Elizabeth kind of frowned, as if the suggestion of not returning was completely absurd.
“Definitely.” She took a bite of chicken before she continued, “I mean, you know I love it here, and getting to move to New York has been the best experience of my life, but I can’t imagine not going back home. My family is too important to me.”
“What happens if some guy comes along and sweeps you off your feet, and for some reason, he can’t move to San Diego?”
So maybe I wanted to play Devil’s advocate.
Her lips pressed together, and a narrow line dented between her brows. She paused like she were truly contemplating my question. “Then I guess somehow that guy would have to become just as important to me as my family. Maybe more important. I guess that’s what marriage is all about . . . sacrifice . . . giving up what you want for the other person.”
Her eyes were sincere as she looked across at me.
I was stunned. “You’d really give up what you wanted for some guy?”
This time, she didn’t have to contemplate. Instead, her frown deepened, and she turned the question on me. “Wouldn’t you? If you really loved someone?”
“I think marriage is more about compromise. Meeting in the middle. Being compatible.”
She scoffed a little, kind of shook her head as she soaked up the last of her sweet and sour sauce with her eggroll. “I guess you could look at it that way.”
I laughed. “Look at us, playing philosophers. I don’t think anyone has it figured out.”
Her face softened. “Yeah, I think you’re probably right.”
Elizabeth tossed her napkin to her plate. “That was really good. Are you finished?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” then mumbled, “Thanks,” when she grabbed my plate.
“Thank you for dinner,” she countered with a grin as she got to her feet.
While Elizabeth rinsed our plates in the sink, I stuffed the empty containers and garbage in the plastic bag left discarded on the floor and tied the handles in a knot so it wouldn’t spill.
Stuffed, I lay back with my feet flat on Elizabeth’s floor. A minute later, Elizabeth crawled to her bed, her sweet face passing above mine as she climbed up to lean against the wall. She drew her knees up to her chest.
Releasing my satisfaction in a sigh, I patted my stomach, feeling relaxed after the long week of classes and studying.
It was cool it was this way between us, without expectations, just quiet and ease.
I glanced up to the left and caught Elizabeth staring down at me. Red flooded her cheeks, and she dropped her chin.
Or maybe there were all kinds of expectations and Elizabeth was just fighting them, too.
I turned away because I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable with me there. “What do you think of New York now that you’ve been here for a while? Living up to all those childhood fantasies?” I asked
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