Unexpected (Sun Valley #1)

by E.J. Blaise

And in the middle of my chaos, there was you.

I’m still—completely objectively and not at all lustfully—marveling at the stranger’s hotness when he plants his elbows on the table. Dark, curly hair falling over his forehead as he leans towards me, eyes the color of honey scanning me slowly, the smirking tilt to full lips screaming trouble. When he speaks in a low, raspy voice, his words are slightly slurred, a tell-tale sign he’s been here way longer than I have. “Are you even old enough to be here?”

I wonder if she’d look that proud if she knew how much I love a challenge.

Luna makes a humming noise as she stretches out beside me, still grinning. “He’s a total player, you know.” I didn’t know that. I suspected it, definitely; the guy looks like heartbreak wrapped up in a perfectly sculpted package. He looks like the kind of guy to ruin a girl’s life, honestly, with one wink of those pretty golden eyes.

There’s something about him. A quality I can’t quite put my finger on. He’s hard to look away from but beyond being ridiculously handsome. Yeah, it’s the strong jaw, the distinct cheekbones, the panty-dropping smile, and, fuck me, eyes the exact shade of burnt honey that grab your attention but something else keeps it. Something… magnetic. Addictive. I’ve experienced it more than once. Hell, I’m experiencing it right now.

She’s…. light. She’s literal sunshine. And it makes a burst of anger shoot through me because I know that for so long, she was with someone who did nothing but dim her.

Amelia laughs again and I contemplate asking her, begging her, to please, please stop before I lose my fucking mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight, why I’m particularly affected by her tonight. She always has some kind of a hold on me but tonight, it’s like I have no control over myself. It’s like I’ve willingly handed it over to her and that’s not normal for me. It’s not what I’m used to and I’m not sure I like it.

“Can I just…” Nick starts and doesn’t finish. His hands flex and clench repeatedly where they rest on his thighs as he momentarily grapples for words. Sighing, he peers up at me so softly, so gently, it makes me want to cry all over again. “C’mere for a second.” I’m not sure I have a choice but I’m also not sure I’d object. Not when strong hands wrap pull me between his thighs again. I’m silent and pliant as he guides me to sit sideways on one of his broad thighs. One hand glides to rest on the small of my back while the other coasts upwards. His palms glides over my neck, his thumb tracing my jawbone, and he holds me like that. He stares at me, something undecipherable flooding his golden irises as they inspect me carefully. “What’re you doing?” I ask in a whisper, for some reason. Probably because it feels like we’re doing something… not wrong, exactly. Illicit isn’t the right word either. Dangerous, maybe. Dangerous because when he cups the back of my head, coaxes it to rest in the crook where his neck meets his shoulder, and nestles his face in my hair, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. And when he murmurs, “I just gotta hold you for a sec,” in a quiet, calm, honest voice, that feels pretty freaking perilous too.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ma warns, smacking away his attempts at a hug. “I know you had something to do with this.” “Me?” Cass mocks indignation, expression the picture of scandalized. “I am innocent. I know nothing. Your son is a menace to society all on his own.” “You are a dipshit.”

Calloused fingers gently brush the back of my hand. “Nervous?” “Is it that obvious?” “If it makes you feel any better, my mom likes you.” Weirdly, it does. “Sorry.” I sigh, knuckling my eyes until the stinging behind them recedes. “I know I’m being silly.” A soft huff is Nick’s only reply. “What?” “I’m just wondering how many times a day you apologize for shit that isn’t your fault.” All the blood rushes to my cheeks until I swear I’m radiating heat. I mumble some non-descript answer that does nothing to ward off Nick. His pinky brushes mine a second before he hooks the digits together, tugging until I deign to look at him. He’s silent as he lets his gaze flit over my face intently, making me more and more flustered by the second, before he says with so much sincerity and softness, it buckles my knees a little, “You’re allowed to feel whatever you wanna feel, querida. If you wanna stay out here a little longer, that’s fine. If you wanna go in and rip the bandaid off, that’s fine too. If you wanna blow off some steam, there’s a punching bag in my shed. And if it’s all too much and you wanna leave, take my keys.” Stop being so nice to me, I command silently. Stop it before I freaking fall in love with you.

Nick doesn’t move. Well, he does—in the wrong direction. He enters my room, bringing with him the thick tension that seems to permanently exist between us, always out to make my heart thump a beat faster, my stomach tight, my hands clammy. I can’t put a name to it, or at least not one I want to admit it. It’s just there. Always. Alive and pulsating.

And that’s all I have to say. The only reason I need to give for him to drop it, to avert his gaze and move on. That’s one of the things I like most about Nick, I think; when it matters most, he doesn’t push.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Looming over me, Nick is the picture of intimidation yet I don’t shrink. I don’t feel scared. His blatant frustration only fuels mine, and I steel myself under his heady, intense glare, and glare right back. “Get what?” “I’m not sweet, Amelia.” he spits. “I don’t turn up at girls’ houses to watch movies. I don’t buy them lunch or bring them coffee. I don’t let them sleep in my bed or steal my clothes. I don’t get jealous when a guy so much as looks at them. I don’t get in fights with their ex-boyfriends. I sure as fuck don’t introduce them to my mother. I’m not that guy.” I swallow hard over a suddenly incredibly dry throat. “I don’t understand.” “Join the fucking club.” His dry chuckle coaxes out goosebumps up and down my arms, amplified when one of those treacherous hands drifts, tracing a buzzing path up my waist, skimming my collarbone, and settling on my neck. Thick fingers curl around the curve while a calloused thumb traces my jawbone, eyes following the movement. “Sometimes, I find it hard to look at you,” he murmurs, “because you’re so fucking beautiful I can’t think.”

I’m not above begging and I’m not far from it, ready to do whatever it takes before I lose my damn mind.

“No one else,” he murmurs, the scissoring of his fingers inside of me almost frantic. “Just me and you, querida.”

“He’s hard not to like.” “Say that again in the morning when I’m sober enough to remember

“Gosto mais de você do que desejo.” “I don’t know what that means.” Nick laughs. “Me neither.”

I take a step toward her. She takes a real fucking loud step back. Eyes wide, she casts a pointed glance toward our audience, and I hate it so much it makes me sick. I hate the secrets, I hate her ex-boyfriend, and for one long, angry second, I hate how much of me I’ve let her have when she doesn’t even want it, not really, not enough.

“You know she’s giving you everything she can.” I do know, and I feel like a dick for wanting more anyway. “Give her time, okay? She’ll get there. Don’t mess it up before she does.” All I can do is nod because I can’t find the words to tell her that I’m actively doing everything in my power not to fuck this up, yet I’m failing anyway.

Gray sweats, curls damp like he’s fresh from the shower, and he’s cooking? Not freaking fair. Beside me, Kate sighs. “He’s full of surprises, hm?” I hum a strained noise. Understatement of the century. “Not very friends-with-benefits behavior.” I keep my mouth shut, scared of what might come out. “Never thought I’d say this but he’d make a great-” “Don’t,” I plead. Don’t verbalize the first thought that springs to mind any time he does something nice because it’s making what’s supposed to be fun and easy so much more complicated.

I will go with thee and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side.

ignored him, and the only explanation is that I was scared. I am scared. Because if I let him in and he bails, it will fucking ruin me. I know it will. And I’m not sure a Nicolas Silva heartbreak is something I can recover from.

“I need to leave because you are everywhere, all the time, and I can’t fucking think straight. I can’t fucking breathe, Amelia. I can’t stop wanting you and I hate it because you don’t want me.”

Home, I realize. That’s what kissing Nick feels like. Safety and peace and home.

Our conversation seemingly forgotten—for now, at least—Cass follows them out, offering Kate a weak smile as she slips quietly into the room, a stark contrast to Luna. Where Luna is a ball of fiery rage, Kate is a sea of barely contained calmness, the only clues to her distress being the heavy, tired look in her dark eyes and the deep furrow of her brow. “Is she okay?” she asks the question of the day, a question that has no simple answer. When I shrug, she takes a step closer, hands twisted together in a nervous knot. “Are you okay?” Finally. Something I can answer. “No.” One word is all it takes for her to close the distance between us and pull me into a cautious hug. It's a little awkward for a moment, both our hands hovering without touching each other, until Kate sniffles quietly and I crush her to my chest. The two of us stand there for a long moment, ignoring the whisper-yelled promises of murder coming from the living room, shedding silent tears for our girl sleeping above us.

“Here’s Plan B.” Before explaining further, Nick hops out of the truck and darts around to wrench my door open, unbuckling my seatbelt and lifting me out. Fingers nervously fidgeting with the ends of my hair, he blurts out in a single rushed breath, “You’re not fine, Amelia. You’re hurt but I think you’re too scared to be or you don’t want people to see you like that so I booked a room here for a few days. No one knows you’re here, I told them you went to your dad’s place, so no one’s gonna bother you. If you want, I’ll stay but if you wanna be alone, that’s okay too. I’ll go home and collect you at the end of the week. It’s completely up to you but I think you need to stay and just hurt for a little.”

He doesn't hesitate. “You really love her.” I don’t bother denying it. “I do.” “You tell her?” “Not yet.” “What're you waiting for?” If I felt like being honest, I would tell him it’s because I’m scared shitless. Scared because I’ve never said it to someone before, not like this. Scared because I’ve never felt it before, not like this. Scared because I’m almost completely positive that the moment I let those three words fly, she’s going to run.

“Menace to society,” I repeat thoughtfully, chewing on my lip. “I want that written on my gravestone.”

It hits me that even beyond that, imagining her in my life is effortless. Imagining her not is impossible. I can’t, no matter how hard I try, conjure up a future without her in it. “Amelia?” “Hm?” She continues gazing at the sky, absentmindedly stroking my thigh. “I love you.”

Oh, I like nervous Nick. I like nervous Nick a lot. He’s freaking adorable, flushed and scratching the back of his head as he nods timidly.

You didn't do anything wrong, kiddo. You just fell in love.”

“I’m so glad you find this funny.” “I do.” He stoops, murmuring for my ears only, “You think they’d be so prudish about kissing if they knew what we did on that counter?”

I experienced a loss so great, it drowned out the fear, and that the guilt caused by that loss drowned out any concern for my own life. Why would I fear driving if I didn't fear getting hurt?

I gaze up at James, studying his sincere, protective expression. It's always been Cass and me with the unbreakable sibling bond. My relationship with James was always a lot more playful, a lot more casual, not as close-knit but he was my brother all the same. The one who settled countless silly quarrels between Cass and me, the one who protected me when Cass wasn't there, the one who comforted both of us when we were lost in grief. I seldom think about what it was like for him to watch his two younger siblings completely disintegrate into shells of themselves, yet be unable to do so himself. He knew and liked Sam too but he always put us first.

“I wish you were so I could thank you. For loving me. I'm sorry I was so mad at you for leaving me. I hope, wherever you are, you know how much I loved you. I'll probably always love you. You were everything to me, and I'm so grateful to have been loved by you, even if it wasn't forever.”

“I hope you're proud of me, Sam. I'm kind of proud of me, to be honest.” Sucking in a shuddering breath, I rise slowly on shaky legs, brushing blades of grass from my dress. Once again, I kiss my fingers before touching the cold stone, gripping it tightly. “Thank you for saving my life,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I was so careless with it for a while.”

wish you could've experienced love like this because I don't think that's what we had. I don't think I was it for you.