Lost to You - - (readera ebook reader TXT) 📗

passed so quickly. Before I could make sense of it, November had come. Along with it, the approaching winter had ushered in a new feel in the air.

Christian had become a mainstay in my life, my closest friend, the one who I felt securest with. He was a comfort that wrapped around my body and spread all the way to my bones whenever he was near.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him from where I sat lengthwise on his couch. With my back propped up against the arm and my knees bent, I rested my bare feet on the soft suede of the cushions and balanced my calculus book on my thighs.

Christian’s apartment was so much more comfortable than mine, and we’d taken to studying here.

A decent-sized kitchen sat off to the left of the entrance, and the dining nook and living room took up the rest of the open space. Down a small hall to the back was his bedroom and bath.

Where my apartment had one small window over my bed, Christian’s apartment was open, two windows in his living room and one in his bedroom, something that felt like a total luxury.

During the day, it was brighter in here, a natural warmth flooding the room as rays of light slanted in from between the buildings on the opposite side of the street.

And at night . . . I loved it here at night. Lights seeped in, boasting the city and everything it had to offer. Horns blared and voices rose from the sidewalk below.

Christian’s couch had become my spot, and I relished in it now, snuggled against the plush fabric as I tried to maintain focused on my homework.

He sat on the floor, his legs stretched out beneath the coffee table and his back against the sofa. That head of black hair teased me from where it rested just at the juncture of where I had my knees bent.

Tonight, it was all over the place, sticking up in every direction. His hands continually came up to rush through it as if he were frustrated—probably because he was.

If I wanted to, I could reach out and touch, run my fingers through the softness. I could only imagine how his head would tilt back in undeniable pleasure, could almost hear a low rumble emitted from deep within his chest, how the sound would vibrate up my arm and cover me whole.

My hand twitched.

Sometimes that desire was so great I almost gave in to it, but we both always pushed it aside because the friendship we shared was so much greater than any fleeting attraction could ever be.

“I’m never going to get this,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you will. You always do.”

We studied together almost every night, but it wasn’t uncommon for us to get distracted, many times talking into the deep hours of the night about everything and anything.

While we were so much the same, there was also so much between us that was different—the way we looked at life and our goals for the future. Streaks of selfishness were so blatantly obvious in some of Christian’s words, the things he would say that would take me aback, reminding me of how distinctly different we were.

But here in this place, with Christian on the floor and me on his couch, those things couldn’t touch us. I settled into that safety, this place that was ours, where Christian was comfortable enough to put all those pretenses aside.

Christian groaned again, and his head dropped back onto my leg. He cut his blue eyes my direction. “Seriously, this sucks ass.”

“What sucks?” I trained my attention on my book in front of me and kept writing, pretending I didn’t love the way he felt against me.

That I didn’t savor in the slight pressure that slipped through my jeans and caressed my skin, that I didn’t love the sound of his voice even when it projected the most ridiculous words.

I already knew what was coming.

“This class sucks, is what.” A mischievous grin lighted at the edge of his lips. “Seriously, when do they think we’re ever going to use any of this garbage? It’s a complete waste of time.”

I laughed and nudged him with my leg.

His body rocked a little then settled farther against mine.

“Don’t you know that’s what college is about . . . students spending years gathering useless information they’ll never use again, going hopelessly into debt, just so they feel smarter than the rest of their family? I mean, that’s why I worked so hard to get here, anyway.”

Sarcasm rolled off my tongue. He was such a whiner. For being one of the smartest guys I knew, he sure found a way to complain about every subject, every night.

I subtly rolled my eyes.

Clearly, he liked the sound of his voice as much as I did.

One side of his mouth tipped up with the cutest smile. It perfectly matched the tilt of his head.

“Fine, it’s not useless.” He reached up and pinched my thigh. “But right now, I can’t think of a single time in my life when I’m going to use it.”

A vain attempt was made at ignoring the heat spreading up my leg. “Quit complaining. You’re going to kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.”

This time he really laughed. It vibrated through the cushions and crawled across my skin. I tried to hold in the smile, tried to memorize the way it made me feel.

From the top of the coffee table, the sharp ring of Christian’s phone sliced into the room.

Of course, Christian’s phone rang constantly. I was never so blunt to ask who was calling.

I found I’d rather not know if it was some girl on the line.

The truth was, I didn’t want to know anywhere he went or what he did once he walked me back to my apartment each night. He had no obligation to me, but that didn’t mean I could stomach knowing who he was running off to jump in bed with the second I was out of his sight.

Glancing at the screen, he lifted his face to the ceiling and exhaled heavily. “Great,” he mumbled.

He reluctantly accepted the call. “Hello.”

These were the only times when I paid attention, when I turned my ear to the conversation happening beside me.

I couldn’t help but listen when the calls he received caused Christian’s shoulders to sag and sucked his light from the room.

I was disgusted by it.

His parents’ pressures were so ingrained in him, they held him hostage in a place I was sure Christian didn’t even know he was a prisoner.

Every time they called, it was the same.

They never took the time to ask how he was, but rather questioned what he had done, what he had achieved, and pushed him some more.

I’d slowly begun to hate them, resenting them for forcing their son toward something that was so obviously holding him back. Christian insisted this was what he wanted for his life, and I knew part of him truly did want to be an attorney. But I could clearly see striving toward his father’s goals for him was more of a burden for Christian than a blessing.

“Hi, Dad.”

Through the phone, I could hear his father start right into him. The words might have been muffled, by they were a clear hostile coercion.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“No, Dad . . . I already did.”

Christian dropped his head, his fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. “I’m doing the best job I can,” he said, strained.

“What else do you expect me to do?”

Knots formed in my belly as I listened to the one-sided conversation. As I caught bits of the unfounded criticism and the unjustified berating.

“Fine,” Christian mumbled.

“You are?” Surprise increased the volume on those two words, followed by a frustrated sigh.

“Just let me know when and where.”

His father ended the call before Christian was given a chance to say goodbye.

It made my heart hurt. I reached out and touched him, my fingers light on his shoulder. This was not giving in. This was being there for my friend.

“Hey.”

He didn’t respond, just drew his knees up from under the table and wrapped his arms around them. Christian was always larger than life, but right then, he reminded me of a little boy.

“Please don’t let them do this to you, Christian. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see it, then they’re completely blind.”

The shake of his head was short and buried in his arms.

“Fuck,” he groaned on a gravelly breath, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He cut his gaze over to me with his cheek pressed against his forearm. “I’m going to prove him wrong, Elizabeth. I’m going to be the best damned attorney, and he’ll never be able to say another word to me about it.”

Worry cinched my lips into a thin line. This was the Christian who scared me the most, the one who couldn’t see what his parents were doing to him.

The one who, instead of fighting against it and living for what he wanted, ran head first into it.

Part of me had to understand the desire to please the ones who cared about us, but I didn’t believe Christian’s parents had his best interest at heart.