Lost to You by - (book club books .TXT) 📕

to feel so comfortable in his presence, the want inside had subdued to a peaceful glow. It had come into something that felt like a stronger connection, something I could control.

Tonight . . . I wasn’t sure. Something had shifted, tilted the axis where I thought I’d found a perfect balance.

He led me down a narrow hall and pressed the button to the elevator. An encouraging smile lifted his mouth when he looked down at me. “Don’t be nervous. Everyone’s really nice.”

A slight chuckle echoed in the confines of the old elevator when we stepped inside, and still he held my hand, a gentle encouragement, maybe a thank you for coming. “I mean, they’re idiots, but nice.”

I nodded subtly.

Great.

The elevator door slid open on the fifth floor. Music pumped into the hall from behind what seemed like every door.

Several doors down the hall, Christian rapped twice and swung it open without an invitation.

He towed me in behind him. My feet faltered, and I shrank back when I met the scene inside. People littered the room, packed together, the space so full and overbearing that my throat tightened, and I found it hard to breathe.

“Christian!” a guy shouted from across the din of the room. He wore his hat backward and a wrinkled button-up, his tongued slurred.

“Hey, man.”

Christian inclined his head my direction, whisper-shouted in my ear. “That’s Tom.”

I nodded. Christian had mentioned him before, always in a you won’t believe what my dumbass friend did sort of way.

“And who do we have here?”

“This is my friend, Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth.” The tilt of Tom’s head told me he’d heard my name before. He extended his hand. Dark brown eyes shifted down the length of my body as he shook my hand.

I had the urge to hide behind Christian or maybe run.

I looked back around the room again.

Yes. Yes. Running seemed like a really good idea.

“Come on.” Christian tugged me into the crowd.

A crush of bodies and music and the overpowering smell of alcohol washed over me in a heady wave.

His mouth was close to my ear. “You want a beer?”

Not really, but what else was I supposed to do in this atmosphere? “Sure,” I shouted over the music.

Christian wound us through the room. He paused to talk to a few people, introducing me to faces and names I would never remember. To the right, a small kitchen overflowed with students surrounding a keg. The music played from the other room.

In here, people yelled as they drank. Guys were clearly scoping out who they wanted to take home tonight, the girls laughing too loud and wearing too little.

Self-consciously, I peeked down at my jeans and sweatshirt. No question, I was out of place. It was affirmed by the stares I received, the quick glances and hushed whispers.

I edged closer to Christian’s side.

What in the world was he thinking bringing me here?

Strangest was, in it, Christian emanated ease, brash as he bantered with his friends.

It was hard to reconcile the two, the Christian I’d come to know in our quiet evenings at his place and the one I’d first recognized when he walked through the door to the café more than three months before.

Worst was, they were here. I could feel them, the eyes that caressed Christian with familiarity, those who’d known his body the way I’d never allow myself to.

Their eyes would ultimately slide to study my face with barely constrained sneers, then drop to the place where Christian had his hand wrapped around mine.

What they didn’t know was that this was the first time Christian had ever held my hand, that I didn’t belong to him, and that I never would.

Jealousy struck me like a slap to the face.

Because for the most fleeting moment, I wished for once to trade them places. For just once to slip into the role of the casual girl who could handle this.

Christian broke from me, filled a red cup, and passed it my direction, cutting into my thoughts. His smile was so infectious, directed only at me. Blue eyes embraced my face, searching, silently asking if I was okay.

I’d once thought him too pretty.

Now I knew better.

He was beautiful.

I’d spent countless days and hours with him, and the effect was still the same.

I’d just learned to disguise it, to lump it in with the affection I felt for him as a friend. And it was strong, the part of me that begged for Christian’s touch. But the affection I held for him was so much greater than the hunger these girls were watching him with, so much greater than the obscured lust that swirled and pulsed in my veins.

That was why I could never give into one night. Not even a short-lived affair. It just wasn’t worth it. I’d never survive without Christian in my life.

Sipping at the bitter liquid in my cup, I fidgeted uncomfortably as my attention flitted around the room at the faces of the people Christian called friends.

Halfheartedly, I listened to the conversations happening around me, pretending to act as if I was interested and enjoying myself since Christian seemed to be having fun.

I forced myself to finish one beer in the span of time it took Christian to down five.

He attempted to include me, but I just couldn’t settle. Couldn’t find comfort in this place.

Yanking at the hem of his shirt to get his attention, I tried to keep the discomfort out of my expression when he turned back to me.

“Is there a restroom I can use?” I asked.

No doubt, he was a little buzzed, his pupils wider and slowed. Squinting, he focused on me. Then he tipped me that earth-shattering smile. “Yeah, sure . . . it’s right down the hall. You want me to come with you?”

I forced myself to smile back. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” He turned back to the guy he was talking to.

Keeping my head down, I made my way through the crowd, twisting and turning as I did my best to avoid both eye and skin contact.

I fumbled my way through as if I were lost in a jungle and searching for escape.

Thank God the bathroom was empty.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. Raising my face to the ceiling, I expelled a weighted sigh into the reprieve of the bathroom. Music vibrated through the walls, though it was dimmed and dulled.

What the hell am I doing?

It was ridiculous to feel this much discomfort. It wasn’t like I wasn’t surrounded by these same kinds of people in my classes, that I didn’t sit by them every day, or that I really thought bad about any of them.

The most unsettling part was that I wasn’t normally this insecure girl who cared about prying eyes or what anyone thought of me.

Awareness pressed into my senses.

I refuted it.

Internally denied it.

But its truth screamed in my ear.

An unfound possessiveness rapid fired from my nerves, spun and wove a web around my heart, and the jealousy I’d felt earlier beat a steady song within the confines of my chest.

I forced myself to move to the sink and splashed cool water on my face. It struck me again, and I gripped my hands in my hair.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I was never supposed to allow myself to feel this way.

Straightening, I looked up at the misery that awaited me in the mirror.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Someone banged at the door. “Come on . . . you’re not the only person here.”

Sighing, I steeled myself and headed out, ducking my head when I was met with the scowl on the face of the girl waiting on the other side of the door.

“About time.”

I didn’t acknowledge her, just brushed by with my attention trained on the ground. The hall was dark as I hauled myself forward and worked my way back through the throng.

All I wanted was to find Christian and ask him to get me out of here.

A foreign hand pulled at my arm as I passed, and I spun around to one of the guys Christian had introduced me to when we first got here.

Max?

Yes, that was it.

Max.

“Where you goin’ so fast?”

Panic stretched tight across my chest, and I yanked my arm away, hating his obvious perusal and my reaction to it. “I’m looking for Christian.”

“Of course, you are. Just like everyone else.” The guy laughed in his stupor. “Well, if you can’t find him, you know where to find me.”

Ugh.

Why was Christian so into this?

Pushing forward, I came to a stumbling standstill on the outskirts of the living room.