As Long As You Love Me. Ann AguirreЧитать онлайн книгу.
her back.”
Hey. This is not a skanky outfit. At most, these sweats are hoochie. They didn’t even claim that my ass was “Juicy.”
Sadly, there was nobody to appreciate the genius of my silent retort. Besides, Rob had more class than to cruise the Walmart parking lot with his side piece, but this girl didn’t know him at all. If she did, she wouldn’t be spitting accusations like that. I half wanted to get out of the car and pull her hair, then shout at her that he’d never cheat on Avery, especially with me, but that would likely make things worse and escalate the situation to reality TV levels of awful.
Shock must’ve paralyzed him for a few seconds. Then he said, “Lauren is my sister’s best friend. And I’m giving her driving lessons.”
“Let me guess,” the girl purred. “You’re teaching her all about how to handle stick?”
Rob’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. She screeched off, nearly running over his feet in the process. He was pale when he came up to the window, anger written all over his face. No good deed goes unpunished. When Avery found out he was loaning me Tessa Green-tea, her head would explode. She couldn’t understand what kind of guy Rob was, or that he was thoughtful without expecting sex in return. Or maybe I was just being judgmental; for the sake of his relationship, I should probably hope I was wrong.
“Sorry,” he said, “for getting you involved in that. It never occurred to me that anyone would take this the wrong way.”
I found it pretty surprising, too. Avery’s friend had leaped to that conclusion so fast, I had to wonder what kinds of reports she had been getting. Were there problems I didn’t know about? Rob didn’t talk that much about his girlfriend with me...not that I wanted him to. It was painful hearing about her and then imagining them together.
“Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “Looks like we’re cutting this short today. I have to call Avery before Jillian does.”
I understood why he wouldn’t want to with me sitting here, listening in. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for messing things up for you.”
“You didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it.”
A tiny, horrible part of me hoped that he couldn’t.
The next morning, Rob delivered my bed. I was expecting him to pick me up to work on his house, not for my furniture to arrive, but I stepped back so he could bring the pieces inside. He was quiet as he disassembled my old bed frame, then he asked, “Where do you want it?”
I could tell he was upset, but if he wanted to talk, he’d invite me into his business. So I answered, “Let’s store it in the attic for now.”
We had one of those doors that pulled down from the ceiling. With easy physical prowess, he stowed the components and then put the new bed together. Like Rob’s, it was made of salvaged wood, platform base attached to railroad ties and a slatted headboard that gave it an intricately woven aspect. The red chestnut stain was beautiful, too. My mom was still working on the red plaid cover and curtains, so my lavender stuff looked even girlier against the rugged wood, but the bed gave the room some much-needed character. Once we repainted, it would look like a different space altogether.
“This looks fantastic.” Inwardly I was giddy as a schoolgirl over having a bed that matched Rob’s. There was no way I wouldn’t fantasize about that.
As he finished up, he said without looking at me, “I broke up with Avery.”
My immediate reaction was, Yes! But I knew better than to say it out loud.
“What happened?” I had some idea, but it would do him good to get it out. And selfishly, I wanted to hear it.
“She said some unforgivable things.” He set the mattress in place, and with his help, I made up the bed.
Then I sat down on it, inviting a longer conversation. It was a little weird to have Rob in my room, given how many of my fantasies he’d starred in over the years, but right now, he needed a friend. “Like what?”
With a faint sigh, he plonked onto the foot. “She didn’t believe me when I explained that you’re helping me with the house. Or why you needed driving lessons.”
“Didn’t she know about the house already?” The lessons had been an unexpected development, and it would be weird to call your girlfriend at work for permission.
Rob blinked at me. “It didn’t seem like a big deal. I’ve known you forever.”
Mentally I sighed. While he might see me as a sexless foster sister, Avery probably didn’t view our hanging out in the same light. I hated empathizing with her. Again. But this didn’t seem like the time to tell Rob he’d screwed up. Clearly he already felt bad enough.
He continued, “It sucks that she thought I’d cheat, but—”
“With me of all people?” His incredulity stung, reinforcing how he absolutely did not see me as a woman. “Yeah, right.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You’d never hook up with someone else’s boyfriend. And it pisses me off that she said you did. Especially when I’m him.”
“Wait...so you broke up because of what she said about me?”
His mouth tightened. “She crossed the line. I can fix a lot of things, but I can’t change a person with that kind of mind. And if she doesn’t trust me now, it’s unlikely to get better.”
Since I didn’t want him dating Avery in the first place, I could hardly argue, but it seemed odd that he was more bothered by what she said about me than by her condemnation of his own behavior. “You’re mad about what she said about you, too, right?”
Rob shrugged. “I’ve heard it before.”
“What?”
“That I’m too dumb to notice when somebody’s hitting on me. Mind you, I don’t enjoy being accused of shit I didn’t do.” But he seemed more resigned than angry; his outrage was reserved for me, apparently.
“And wouldn’t. You’re positive I’d never go after a guy who’s taken, but I know you, Rob. You’d never cheat on your girlfriend, either.” I paused, wondering if it was too soon to ask. But what the hell. If they got back together, at least I’d know the answer. “What did you like most about her?” It couldn’t be as simple as her looks.
He sighed softly. “She said I had potential.”
“Excuse me?”
“Avery was always saying I could make something of myself if I tried. Nobody else ever thought that, not even when I was a kid. My parents talked about Nadia going to college from the time she was eight years old, but with me, it was always, ‘Rob’s got a good heart. Rob gets along so well with people.’ My aunt’s always mumbling, ‘At least he’s handsome,’ like I don’t know what that means.”
Wow. I normally liked Rob and Nadia’s family, but right then I wanted to punch them.
He went on, “There was a state school that offered me an athletic scholarship. Football. But my dad goes, ‘Some people are meant to work with their hands, and there’s no shame in it. I got you through high school but I can’t carry you to a four-year degree. So unless you can make it on your own, I think you have to pass.’”
“Why didn’t you try?”
“Because he was right,” he said quietly. “I’d have needed tutors to get through pretty much every class and I’m not so great at football that the university would’ve paid for that, definitely not good enough to go pro. Even if I did squeak out a degree, I can’t think of any job that would suit me better than what I’m doing. So what would’ve been