Drew
“GOD, I WISH this hell was over.”
Brian, our other roommate, groaned before he slapped his laptop shut. “Of course, this project has to be two fucking semesters long.”
“It’s grad school, dude. It’s supposed to be a bitch. And we got an A on part one. Stop looking. Relax and have some eggnog or some shit when you get home.” I slapped him on the back, hoping it would stop the whining. Brian was a good friend and smart as hell, but it was hard to dig him out of the complaining vortex he sometimes fell into.
“Yeah, maybe when we have our own company and women are falling at our feet, I’ll remember these past long nights with some sort of fondness,” he mused before shoving his computer in his travel bag.
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Let’s get the company first. We can worry about perks later.”
“Drew doesn’t need the women.” Carlos smirked at me as he strolled in the door. “He’s got a hot older woman already, isn’t that right?” He came over and nudged my arm. “So, more for us, Brian.”
My eyes rolled, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t even believe me when I insisted we were just friends anymore. I let people assume we were together, so any guys would back off if they had any ideas. Even Chase apologized to me when I ran into him for “almost hitting on my girl.” I never corrected him and kept walking.
“Good.” Brian nodded at me with his chin. “Last thing we need is John Stamos, Jr. over there cutting in on our action anyway.”
My brows pulled together as I crossed my arms. “John Stamos, Jr.?”
He shrugged. “My sister watches Full House reruns. Only difference is Uncle Jesse had a guitar and you have a laptop.” He snickered as he slipped his arms into his jacket.
“Why, because he’s the only other Greek you know of?” Carlos cracked up, reaching into our fridge for a beer. “That’s not stereotyping at all.”
“You can’t see the resemblance? The hair, the skin—you never got the ‘oh, you’re Drew’s roommate?!’” Brian clutched his chest and shook his head.
My head fell back as I barked out a laugh. “I didn’t know you had such a crush on me. You should thank me for being such a great wingman. I didn’t even have to be there, and I was able to get girls to speak to you.”
“Whatever, man. I have a train to catch. Happy Holidays, gentlemen. Eat, drink, and don’t think of this fucking project until January. I know those are my plans.”
Carlos plopped next to me on the couch and took a long pull of his beer.
“Want to go to Night Owls tonight? A couple of the guys said they were heading there later.”
“Nah, I have dinner with Sara tonight. I’m headed out in a few minutes.”
“Holy shit, dinner? A date?” His jaw dropped as a shrill whistling sound escaped the side of his mouth.
“It’s not a date. It’s a dinner. She heads down to Middle Village in the morning and I’m headed to Astoria early.”
A smirk tickled the side of his mouth. “Sara also being in Queens for the holidays had nothing to do with agreeing to see the father you can’t stand?”
“No,” I spat out. “Coincidence, that’s all.” And that was true. Sort of. I probably would have agreed to go anyway but having Sara close lessoned my usual hesitation when it came to my father. I rose from the couch and grabbed my jacket.
“Hey, Drew. Word of advice,” Carlos called out. I stilled before I turned around.
“There’s biding your time, and there’s wasting your time. I hope you can tell the difference.”
A sad laugh rumbled in my chest. “I can tell the difference. Just not sure I can help it.”
“This place is pretty nice.” Sara’s eyes searched the room as we sat down, a lot more relaxed than I’d expected to see her tonight. It was hard to pick a restaurant. I wanted to take her somewhere nice, but too nice would scream “date” and make her panic. Smith’s was an upscale bar and grill fifteen minutes from school and seemed casual enough. When we sat down at a table, she was fine—I was the one struggling. Why did she have to be so damn sexy? Sara wore skinny jeans topped off with a chunky sweater that fell off one sexy shoulder. I couldn’t remember when the sight of a woman’s collarbone caused a tent to rise in my pants. I wanted to run my lips over it to see if the creamy skin was as silky as it looked. Every day, I wanted her more, and every day I had to hold myself back. I thought I’d gotten used to it, but there was something about her tonight. Maybe it was the ease in her smile or the way her eyes held mine when she spoke. She was comfortable with me, and I was falling hard for her. The word “doomed” echoed through my frazzled brain as I forced my eyes to stay level with hers.
“I wouldn’t mind owning a place like this.” She took another wistful glance around the room.
“You’d want to own a restaurant?”
She laughed with a shrug. “Maybe. Someday. I got a call back for a restaurant this afternoon and I guess it’s making me ambitious. You’re right, aim for chef first.”
“What do you like about this place that would make you want to own it?”
She folded her arms on the table, making her sweater droop even more on one side. I pretended to adjust my napkin and not my cock.
“I always liked tweaking regular recipes. My daughter used to love to be my guinea pig. Granted, most of the time it was a product of me stretching out the food I had until I could afford to go shopping again, but changing or adding just one thing,” she whispered as she held up her index finger, “could change everything. Burgers, mac and cheese, I had my own spin on it all. My restaurant would be traditional but just different enough. And I love these wood walls and floors.” She clicked her tongue before lifting her head. “What about you? What do you dream about?”
You. Out of that sweater and on my lap.
“I don’t have a definite plan yet. The guys and I may shop the app we’re developing around after graduation. I know there are millions out there, but you never know what will catch on.”
Sara strummed her fingers on the table after the waiter took our order.
“Merry Christmas.” She placed the gift bag she tried to hide since I picked her up on the table.
“For me? Caldwell, I’m touched.” I sifted through the white tissue paper and found a laptop bag. The one I used for school had seen better days and I needed a new one to look presentable on an interview. My fingers drifted over an embossed AK. She must’ve ordered this weeks ago and knowing how she scrimped and saved every penny she made for after graduation, the gesture made my chest pinch.
“Sara, this is great. You didn’t have to go through . . .”
“Look inside,” she whispered with a shy smile.
I obliged and found vintage Batman comics printed on the inside fabric. My mouth fell open at the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given me.
“Just because you have to look professional doesn’t mean you have to be boring.” She offered an unusual nervous laugh. “The size is supposed to fit a Mac, but in case it doesn’t—”
“Sara, this is perfect.” I picked up her hand and kissed the back of her wrist, my lips lingering for a moment longer than they should’ve. “The best gift I’ve ever gotten.” My gaze stumbled to hers, overcome with gratitude for two gifts this Christmas, but only one I could actually call mine.
“You,” her voice cracked before she bit her bottom lip. “You are the best friend I’ve had in, maybe ever. I still don’t know why you waste your time,” she choked out a laugh. “But I’m so thankful you do.”
“I’m not wasting my time. It’s not a waste if I don’t want to be anywhere else.” I reached into my jacket pocket for the two envelopes I’d brought. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
A wide grin spread across her cheeks before ripping them open. Her hand draped over her mouth as she shook her head in almost disbelief.
“A gift certificate to Serendipity and Collective Comics,” she whispered as she studied the slips in her hand.
“You said you never got to have fun with Victoria. Now you can. When you’re in the city this Christmas you both can have all the frozen hot chocolate you want. And Victoria can have all the Wonder Woman comics she wants. Win-win.” I winked, hoping I’d get a smile but she threw the certificates on the table.
Sara’s head fell into her hands as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Why are you so fucking wonderful?” She wailed as her head shook. “How am I supposed to not—”
“To not, what?” I pressed, peeling her hands away from her face.
“To not fall in love with you?” Her words punched me in the stomach. I asked myself that question about her at least once a day. It’s what I’d wanted to hear, but the pain in her eyes made it hurt.
“I imagine it’s tough.” A giggle bubbled out through her tears.
Sara rose from her seat and bolted to my side of the table, flinging her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. “Thank you.”
I had no clue how not to fall in love with her, either.
I stood and pulled her close, smiling at her gasp when I tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. My eyes held hers as we stood in the middle of the restaurant, neither of us wanting to break contact.
“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice still scratchy and small.
“We eat, we stay friends, and we wait until you’re ready for anything else.” I swiped at her tears with my thumbs. “And I’ll be right here.” My lips found her forehead. “Not wasting my time.”