The Girl Next Door
The Boy Next Door Chapter 42

about

it."

My tongue darts out to moisten dry lips as I search my mind for something to say. Something that will get us back on even terrain. The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. "At dinner, when Jenna mentioned attending your game, you didn't seem happy The energy that had been intensifying between us dissipates and for that I'm grateful.

His muscles stiffen. Even though he glances away, his fingers stay connected to my shoulder. I can't deny that part of me is thankful for killing the mood. I'm not ready for this to progress into something more.

For a long moment, I wonder if he'll bother with a response. Maybe it's better that way. If Colton can't open up and give me a glimpse into what's going on in his head, then what's the point?

I never set this up to be a test but that's what it's turned out to be.

Just as I'm about to suggest that we head back downstairs, he drags his other hand through his blond hair as his gaze returns to mine. "Coach benched me."

No matter what I thought he might say, that wasn't it. Not by a long shot. I've watched Colton play football all through high school and then the first two years of college. He's an amazing player. Solid. He could play in the NFL if he wanted. But that's not the direction he wants to take.

All of the emotion that had been swirling through me dissolves as I turn toward him. My hand settles on his muscular thigh. "What's going on? Did you get injured?"

It's obvious from the uncomfortable expression that settles on his face that he doesn't really want to discuss the situation.

"I don't know what's going on," he mutters. "I can't seem to pull it together. And I really don't want Jenna and my dad to make the trip when I probably won't see the field. They'll ask questions. And at the moment, I don't have any answers."

Sympathy floods through me as I squeeze his thigh. "I'm sorry." Even though football and dance are nothing alike, I know what it feels like to be off. To know that you can do better but aren't able to pull it out for whatever reason. It's frustrating because you don't know if it's simply a phase or if you've lost your edge. Is there anything worse than that? It's a mindfuck and once you start to go down that road of self-doubt, it can be tough to mentally get straight again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." He shakes his head. "It's something I need to figure out for myself."

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"I appreciate that more than you realize." He pauses before blowing out a breath, "I keep telling myself that it's a slump and it'll pass but so far, that hasn't turned out to be the case."

As I rub his thigh, his gaze drops to my hand. We both still before I hesitantly remove it and clear my throat, shifting away from him and fiddling with the hem of my shorts. My gaze bounces around the room. I notice photos of Jenna and Warren. Even one with Beck. They're wearing their high school football uniforms with their arms thrown around each other's shoulders. both are beaming at the camera.

What I don't notice are any of his mother. I remember hearing stories, but I have no idea where the truth lies. When we were together, I was too afraid to ask about her.

The question sits perched on my tongue but I'm unable to release it into the atmosphere.

"What are you thinking?"

My teeth sink into my lower lip as I shrug. The words are so close to bursting free, but I'm afraid to push for more information. I'm afraid he'll shut down and this little bit of intimacy we're sharing will vanish.

With a slight tilt to his head, he narrows his eyes. "Come on, I can tell there's something on your mind. Out with it already."

Air escapes from my lungs in a rush. Even though we're not together and haven't been for some time, Colton can still read me. It's both disconcerting and comforting at the same time.

"There are pictures of Jenna and Warren, but none of your mother." Hastily, I add, "You never talk about her."

Silence descends. It becomes so heavy that it feels stifling. Almost as if I can't breathe.

"No," he mutters, "I don't." His lips curve into a frown as his forehead creases.

The moment stretches uncomfortably between us until it feels as if it could snap.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Colton drags a hand over his face. "Don't be."

In one swift movement, he reaches over and plucks me off the couch before settling me on his lap so that I'm able to sit astride his lap. My knees get buried in the cushions as he holds me firmly in place. The pain that reverberates in his eyes has my heart jackhammering a painful staccato.

"Forget I asked. We can talk about something else." His fingers are wrapped around my waist, holding me in place. The heat of them burns the flesh beneath. It's like a tattoo that will always be there, branding me as his.

"Alyssa, it's all right. You can ask me questions." There's a pause. "I want to open up." He shrugs. "Just be patient with me. I'm not used to talking about her. It's difficult."

That's all it takes to have my heart shattering into a million broken pieces as one hand drifts to his shadowed cheek. Even though I'm sitting on his lap, I need this connection to him.

"My parents met when they were young. My dad was attending college and Candance-that's my mother's name-was in art school. The way dad tells it, they met at a party, fell instantly in love, and decided to elope. They got married in Vegas." Wow. That's actually kind of a romantic story.

Before I can ask any questions, he continues with a shrug. "Two years later, I was born. Unfortunately, Candance was more interested in her art than me. So my dad hired a nanny to take care of me during the day so she could work at her studio. Instead of coming home at the end of the day, she started staying later and later, sometimes spending the night. She would get lost in her work and would lose track of time. I remember being at her studio and watching her work. It was like she wasn't aware of the world around her." His voice trails off as his eyes take on a faraway quality.

I don't realize how tense my muscles have become until I ask, "What happened then?"

He blinks back to present, and the haze disappears. "When I was four, she decided that she could be a mother and an artist."

My heart clenches.

His voice turns devoid of emotion even though I see hints of it in his eyes. "She packed her bags and left."

"I'm so sorry." My other hand rises so that I am holding both cheeks in the palm of my hands. "Do you see her? Talk to her?"

He glances away and mutters, "In the beginning, she would send a few cards a year, but then it tapered off." His brow furrows. "Honestly, I can't remember the last time I heard from her. More than a decade, for sure."

My heart squeezes until it becomes difficult to breathe. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a parent walk away. To pick something or someone else over their own flesh and blood. I feel like crap for poking my nose where it didn't belong. Colton's hand rises from my waist, the thumb softly feathering under my eye. Only when it comes away with wetness do I realize that tears have gathered in my eyes.

"Don't cry."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. For his mother walking away but also for dredging it up.

"Don't be. You can't miss what you never knew."

He swipes at my other eye before locking his hands around the sides of my head and pulling me close until our foreheads touch. Our gazes stay locked as the connection grows between us.

"I'm glad you came home with me and got a chance to meet the people who matter most in my life."

"Me, too." It's meant more than he can possibly know. More than I'm afraid to acknowledge, even to myself. "Thanks for inviting me."

"I'm going to kiss you, Lys."

"Okay."

As soon as the word is released into the atmosphere, he tilts his head until his lips can slant across mine. Unlike the kiss in Bang Bang's parking lot, this one unfolds slowly as if we have all the time int he world to explore one another. When his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, I open, allowing him entrance. They tangle as the slide of velvety softness takes me to the bottom of the ocean.

Uncovering this side of him, the one that is able to rip down the walls I've erected to keep him at bay one brick at a time, is exactly what I was afraid of. That knowledge isn't enough to stop me from falling even more in love with him.