“If you think acting like you don’t exist isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done, you’re wrong. I hate not talking to you, I hate not bickering like we’re an old married couple and I hate not spending every day right next to you. But this is how it has to be, Brandon hates me, and Princess trust me when I say he has every reason to. So if after everything I’ve done to you, you’ll still even consider being my friend, then it has to be Sundays only.”
“Brandon won’t care if we’re friends.” Okay I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.
He smiled and shook his head, “I know you’re not that naïve. Now go have lunch with Mom and Bree, then get your ass back here so I can have my few stolen hours with you.”
I walked toward the entryway but stopped after a few feet, “Chase?”
“Yeah Princess?”
Looking over my shoulder, I held his gaze, “Will you please stop hurting me…in every way?”
Chase closed the distance and pulled me into a tight hug, “Go eat sweetheart.”
That wasn’t a yes, or no. But I wasn’t going to press the issue further.
7
The last three months had flown by in an amazing blur. I had three A's and one B last semester and was actually excited for my next classes to start. Bree was the best roommate I could have ever asked for; she showed me everything in the San Diego area, helped me ease into college life and welcomed me into her family. She was like the sister I'd never had, and I loved her dearly. We still spent every Sunday with her parents and Chase, and although it was my day away from Brandon, being part of a family was amazing, and Sunday’s soon became my favorite day. It hurt knowing I'd missed out on this growing up, but I was extremely appreciative of how quickly Robert and Claire took me in and grateful for my time with them.
As I had suspected, I only heard from Sir about once a month, and even then it was by e-mail. I tried to call him once a week, but he never answered and never returned the calls. It didn't bother me too much, even when I'd lived at home, I only talked to him if I absolutely needed to. Carter and I almost never talked now, I still missed the way we had been, but ending our friendship was most likely for the best. He still texts me every now and then when he’s wasted, usually telling me about whatever strip club he’s at, or what girl he slept with recently. And last I heard before his unit left for Afghanistan, he’d eloped with a girl he met the day before they married. I had worried that I’d pushed him into his new lifestyle, but Bree and Claire quickly pushed that worry out of my mind.
Chase and I still had our different kind of friendship. We continued to not speak during the week, and when Sunday hit, he never let me out of his sight unless I was having a girl’s day with Bree and Claire. I found out quickly that he hated those days. No matter how much I wished for it, my feelings for him never seemed to go away. Actually, the sexual tension between us seemed to grow each time we saw each other, rather than dwindle to nothing like I wanted. The week of Thanksgiving break, we had run into each other in the hall of his parent's house and he stopped me so he could run his hands across my cheek and jaw, then down my throat. He gently pressed me against the wall and leaned in. Through the hammering in my chest and quick breaths, I'd somehow managed to ask him not to kiss me, and that was the last time our bodies ever came closer than a few feet of each other. I didn't understand my unwanted feelings towards him, but I was glad we seemed to find a happy medium with our friendship, and as far as I knew there had been no more fights between him and Brandon.
Brandon is…amazing. He treats me like I’m the only person in the world that matters and we’re practically inseparable. Our “weekend only” sleeping arrangement hadn't lasted past mid-October and most nights were now spent in his bed, but we only ever slept. There have been quite a few more times where things had gotten hot and gone a little too far, but he always stopped us before we went there, and I loved him for it. He had told me to let him know when I was ready, and even when caught in the heat of the moment, I still hadn't said anything and he never pushed me. Bree and I went to almost all of his fights, and he had yet to lose. Every time it was over, Scarecrow would hand him a wad of cash, and every time he would shove it in his pocket without counting it. I was itching to know how much he was making, but figured if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. There were no more cracked ribs, but sometimes he would come home with a busted lip or a cut brow. I preferred the cut brow, the busted lips got in the way too often.
He had taken me to Arizona with him for Christmas, and I was completely taken with his mom and brother, Jeremy. His mom was thrilled that he was actually bringing a girl home, and to not have to be surrounded by boys for another holiday. I helped her cook, we went to get our nails done together and had a night of romance comedies after we'd sent the boys away. I could easily see myself in his family, and though that thought after only four months into our relationship scared me, it kind of exhilarated me too. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk about marriage, but eventually, I think I'd like to head down that road with him.