Free Just You by Rebecca Phillips Page A

the entire car, and mulled over his
question. What happened? The answer was simple: I got scared. I
liked him, the mere idea of liking someone scared me, and so I
retreated. Simple as that.
    “A few weeks ago I found out that my
ex-boyfriend—who I’d been friends with since we were five—was
cheating on me,” I said bluntly. “I guess I’m not ready to start
dating again.”
    He nodded, but didn’t seem any more
enlightened. “Robin mentioned something about that, but she said
you were over it.”
    “Robin likes to assume things.”
    “So you’re not over it?”
    “I’m over him .” I knew now was not
the time to go into my assorted issues with boys and trust and
expectations. “It’s not so easy to get past the betrayal part.”
    “So you think all guys are like your ex,
right?” he said. He was pretty perceptive. Or more likely, Robin
had mentioned that too. She’d probably told him all about me,
listing my imperfections in order from least to most intolerable.
When I didn’t contradict his words, a look of understanding dawned
on his face and I knew he was probably imagining what a
relationship with me would be like—maddening, exhausting, and so
not worth the trouble.
    “Robin told me you just got out of a bad
relationship too,” I said, trying to even the playing field.
“Aren’t you worried the next one might turn out the same?”
    He traced the steering wheel with his
fingers as he contemplated this. “Not really. Every relationship is
different. And after my experience with her, I’m different.”
    “How so?”
    A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Let’s just
say I have a better idea of what I want and what I don’t want.”
    I gave a short laugh. “My ex would probably
say the same thing, after his experience with me. He made it pretty
clear that I’m not what he wants.”
    “I’m sorry,” Michael said softly.
    “Don’t be. It was for the best. He’s happy
now. But it does suck that we’re not friends anymore.”
    He reclined in the seat, tipping his head
back as if he needed to work out a kink in his neck. As he did this
I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt slid down to reveal the
smooth curve of his collarbone. “Maybe we could be,” he said,
straightening up again.
    “What?” I was still mesmerized by the way
the light played on his skin.
    “Friends. Maybe we could be friends.”
    I tore my eyes away from his throat region
and concentrated on looking into his eyes, which was even more
distracting, in a way. He held my gaze as the air grew thicker and
heavier around us. “Okay,” I said, and then I leaned over and
kissed him.
    My impulsiveness surprised us both. But once
the initial shock had passed, he started kissing me back, his hands
gliding gently over my hair. Something within me sparked alive,
igniting like a pile of dehydrated brushwood. Kissing Brian had
never felt anything like this. If it had, I realized, we never
would’ve broken up in the first place.
    “Oops,” I said, backing away. My whole body
was buzzing and it wasn’t from the rum. “Friends aren’t supposed to
do that.”
    “We can be friends who do that,” Michael
said in a slightly uneven voice that told me he had felt the
electricity too. He buried his face in my hair, and I shivered as
his warm breath washed over my ear. “You smell like coconut.”
    Brian used to tell me the same thing, all
the time. Only it sounded much, much sexier when Michael said it.
“It’s probably the rum.”
    “No, it’s you.” He kissed me again and I
surrendered, finally accepting the fact that I was too far gone to
turn back. Besides, I didn’t really want to.

Chapter 8
     
     
    “What happened to ‘I’m done with boys.’?”
Erin asked, lowering her voice on the last four words in a lame
attempt to imitate me. Instead she ended up sounding like a
man.
    “I lied,” I said, hiding my annoyance behind
my milk carton as I took a big swig.
    Ashley looked perturbed when I said this.
She thought