Gwen
It’s been about a week of Liam and I tiptoeing around each other. If working together was awkward, living together was worse. It seemed that every time we got comfortable with each other, something would happen—a brush of the hand or a look and it would totally derail us again.
We did our best to avoid each other. Taking different shifts or making sure when one of us was home, the other would be conveniently out for the day. On the rare occasion we were both home we would sit in an awkward silence on the couch with Cat asleep between us acting as a fluffy orange barrier. Even he got tired of the tension and would get up the second we both sat down, glaring at us as if to say, “Get over it and fuck already.”
I knew it would be a horrible idea for something to happen between us, but this push and pull thing was just as bad if not worse.
I finished my shift and headed upstairs. I could hear the music pumping through the door as I climbed the stairs. I pushed open the door, the sound of grunting coupled with the slam of his fist on the heavy bag.
I was starving, but eating required a trip to the kitchen which would bring me right past a very hot, very sweaty, very shirtless Liam. I was beginning to wonder if it was possible to die from sexual tension. If so, Liam and I would be dead by the end of the week.
I made my way toward the kitchen, my eyes focused on the sink, trying my best to ignore the deliciousness that was Liam while he worked out.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I still refused to look at him. Instead I headed to the fridge and pulled it open, hiding my face in the coolness, hoping it might help to cool down my hormones.
I frowned at the bare shelves. I’d been so preoccupied with avoiding Liam that I forgot it was my turn to go to the store. I would just have to take care of that tomorrow. It was getting late and I was dead on my feet as it was.
“Hungry?” I turned toward Liam without thinking.
He shrugged. “I could eat,” he said, his breathing shallow from his work out.
I followed a drip of sweat that rolled down his chiseled chest and ran along the lines of his stomach, then disappeared into the waistband of his shorts.
I swallowed thickly and shook off the dirty thoughts that ran through my head. “Chinese?” I managed to choke out.
“Uh,” he said, his breathing still heavy. “Yeah, sounds good.”
“Good, I’ll be back.” I grabbed my keys.
“I’ll be here.” He took another swing at the bag. His fist made contact with a loud thwack.
I headed down the stairs, straight through the bar and into my car. Once I closed the door I let out a cry of frustration and slammed my hands on the steering wheel. This was completely insane and way out of character for me. I was acting like a preteen with a crush. Every interaction I had with him was nothing but awkward nods and stuttered words. It was completely ridiculous and it had to stop.
***
I over did it on the food. Ordering when you’re hungry and emotional can lead to some very bad decisions.
I made my way to the kitchen, set the bags down on the counter, and unpacked the containers as I went. Liam was done with his workout. I heard the shower running as I came in.
I got a couple plates out of the cabinet and pulled some forks out of the drawer. Cat jumped up on the counter, sniffing at the containers, and looked up at me with a meow.
“There’s nothing in there for you,” I said, laughing as he snorted his disapproval.
“Smells good.” Liam’s voice came out of nowhere and I jumped, slamming the drawer and my finger with it. I yelped in pain and Cat quickly jumped from the counter, clearly annoyed at me for spooking him.
“Son of a bitch,” I said, holding my throbbing finger and hissing through the pain.
“Shit,” Liam said. “You okay?”
“I slammed my finger in the drawer.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Here,” he said, stepping toward me. “Let me see.”
I surrendered my injured hand to him. The second he touched me, the pain faded away and all I could feel was the brush of his skin against mine.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. He was close and warm and smelled amazing. His hair was wet and falling into his eyes as he examined my finger. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep myself from reaching up and brushing that hair from his beautiful eyes.
“Looks okay,” he said. “It’s not broken, just a little bruised.”
I blinked and swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding a little horse.
Liam gave me a small smile. His gaze dipped to my lips for just a second before he turned to the food.
“You get dumplings?”
“Uh, yeah. Fried and steamed.”
He raised an eyebrow. A shy smile spread across my lips. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so…”
Liam’s smile widened. He opened the containers and started making his plate. I took a deep breath and pushed off the counter to join him, my stomach rumbling its thanks as I piled my plate with noodles and sesame chicken.
Liam pulled open the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers. “Beer?” He offered me a long-necked bottle.
I took the drink from his hand, staring down at the label. “I’ve never had one.”
His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “I’ve always been more of a cocktail kind of girl.”
Liam laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re slumming it now, Princess. Drink up.”
I took a swig, the bitter taste hit my tongue, and I cringed. “That’s awful,” I said, looking down at the bottle.
“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled.
I took another sip, but my taste buds were just not feeling it.
“You up for a movie?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I set the beer down on the counter, where it would stay.
We took our plates into the living room and settled on the couch. Liam reached for the remote, pulling up Netflix and flicking through the options, which seemed to consist mostly of action movies.
“What do you feel like?”
I was acutely aware of how close we were on the couch. He shifted his weight and his thigh brushed against my knee, sending shockwaves throughout my body as I sat cross-legged beside him.
“I’m not picky.”
Liam raised that eyebrow again.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He settled on some action flick with exploding robots or something. I wasn’t really paying much attention.
“No,” I said. “What did you mean?”
Liam shrugged. “Nothing. You just don’t strike me as a ‘go with the flow’ kind of girl.”
I frowned. “Really? What kind of girl am I, then?”
Liam paused the movie and looked over at me. I raised my eyebrows, using his own move against him.
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Okay, Princess,” he said. “You’re the kind of girl who always gets her way. Your entire life, all you’ve had to do is bat your pretty little eyes and snap your fingers and the world bows at your feet.”
“Typical,” I muttered.
“Maybe, but true. Daddy spoiled you, gave you everything you wanted, probably out of guilt for not being around much, more interested in work than his family.”
I swallowed and looked down into my plate. I didn’t want him to see the shame.
“Am I close?” he asked.
“It wasn’t work that kept him away,” I whispered. Liam was quiet. I could feel his eyes on me, and raised my head to look at him. “Well, it wasn’t only work. Sometimes I think it was just hard for him to look at me.”
Liam frowned. “What?”
“My mom left when I was a baby. My grandmother said it was post-partum, but the truth is that she didn’t want to be a mother. She was young, and married my dad for his money. She didn’t want to be saddled with a kid. So she left.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It destroyed my dad. He loved her more than anything. Gran says I look just like her. I think sometimes it was just too painful for him.”
Liam took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m an asshole.”
I shrugged. “You’re not wrong. He did spoil me out of guilt. He felt guilty that she left, that he blames me for her leaving.”
“I don’t think he blames you.”
“He does,” I said as tears welled in my eyes. “Well, he did.” Liam frowned. I took a deep breath and set my plate down on the coffee table.
“A couple of years ago, he met Allison. She’s a family counselor or something like that. She’s his second chance at the happy family he always wanted.”
I tore my gaze from his and wiped a tear from my eye. “Allison tries to play the accepting stepmother role, but I know she’s just trying to make herself look like the hero. She’s the sweet loving mother type and I’m just the jealous step-kid.”
Liam cleared his throat. “At the risk of pissing you off,” he said, “could it be possible that she actually wants to be a part of your life?”
I glared at him. “Are you serious? She’s got it all. The money, the big house, all my father’s attention. It’s the perfect little life. She could care less about me.”
“Maybe, but you want to know what I think?”
“Not really. But you’re gonna tell me anyway.”
Liam tilted his head and gave me a smirk. “I think you’re scared.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you’re afraid that if she does want to you to be a part of the family, then you won’t be able to play the victim anymore.”
“I’m not playing anything. Look at me, Liam. I’m a cocktail waitress crashing on her boss’s couch after getting evicted. He cut me off. He left me without a penny to my name. I know this is her. She wants me gone so she is the only family he has left.”
Liam shook his head. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be pretty clueless.”
I leaned back brimming with rage and shock.
“He did you a favor, Gwen,” he said. “He gave you the push you needed to finally become an adult.”
“I am an adult.”
“Bullshit! You drive a car Daddy bought you, lived in an apartment Daddy paid for. Hell, you have a storage locker full of crap that all came from him. You act like being a waitress is so beneath you, but the truth is that it’s the first honest work you’ve ever done. You have this chip on your shoulder and it’s bullshit, Gwen.”
I sank into the couch feeling like a scolded child.
“You want to be a part of your father’s life? You want his respect? Then prove to him that you deserve it.”
“Fine,” I said, my tone clipped and hard. I needed this conversation to be over.
“Fine,” he snapped.
We sat in silence, both a little irritated and neither of us wanting to be the first to break it. “It’s not his respect I want, anyway,” I mumbled.
“What?” he asked.
I sighed. “I said it’s not his respect I want.”
“Then who?”
I looked up at him, our eyes locked. “Yours.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just held my gaze.
After what felt like hours, he said. “You do have my respect.”
“Good.” I blinked and turned back toward the TV.
“Good,” he repeated and pressed play on the remote.
A smile stretched wide across my face. I tried to rein it in so he couldn’t see just how much his acceptance affected me, but for the first time in a long time I felt good about myself.