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

>But anything beyond a friendship wasn’t going to happen.

I just wasn’t really sure Christian understood the difference.

When I tore my eyes from his penetrating gaze, he dug into his backpack and pulled out its content. His casual indifference made a reappearance. “So what are we working on tonight?”

I held up my Calculus I book. “Well, I was working on my calculus assignment. Math isn’t exactly my strong point.”

This time when Christian laughed, it was all throaty and warm, comforting. “Well, you are in luck, Elizabeth, because it’s mine. Now if you can help me pass our American Government class, I think we’re going to be a pretty good team.”

His head tilted as he raised a brow at me. Those blue eyes were both earnest and playful as they traveled my face.

I fought back the blush that crept to my cheeks, the way those words sounded rolling off his tongue, the way he looked at me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

I was going to have to get used to it if I was going to be around him.

“I think I can handle that,” I said.

We settled into an easy rhythm, both of us absorbed in our work. Every once in a while, Christian would lift his head, smile in my direction, as if he needed that small connection.

I’d smile back, welcoming the calm that slipped over my skin.

It was a warmth I knew I could easily get used to.

Yeah, I really liked him here.

With that thought, I closed my calculus book with a loud smack. “Are you hungry? I don’t think my brain can process any more numbers tonight.”

I hopped off the bed and headed to the kitchen.

“Starving, actually. You ready to take me up on the offer for dinner I made Monday?”

Cocky Christian was back, his movements fluid as he slinked up behind me while I bent down to rummage through the small selection of food I had in the kitchen.

I could feel his presence behind me, larger than it should be, filling up the entire room.

“Um, no.” I glanced over my shoulder at him, unable to hold in the smile. This Christian was just so over the top, but I found he was a whole lot easier for me to handle when he acted this way.

Maybe because it wasn’t real. “I think I made that plenty clear then, didn’t I?”

“A guy can try, can’t he?” He was all tease, moving over to lean back against the one foot of counter space I had in my kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest.

“If he wants to hang out with me, then no, he can’t.” I nudged him aside.

He laughed, this melodic sound that bounced off my walls and rumbled against my chest.

I filled a saucepan with water and lit the old stovetop with a match. A ring of flames sprang to life. I set the pan over them, pulled out two packets of noodles, ripped them open, and dumped them in. The directions said to let the water boil first, but when it came to food, I was never that patient.

Christian looked horror stricken as he watched the lump of hard noodles soften and separate as the water began to boil. “What are you making?”

“It’s ramen. You know, what every poor college student in the country eats?”

Clueless, he shook his head.

Um . . . yeah . . . we were from two very different worlds.

“Are you serious? You’ve never had ramen before?” Disbelief colored my tone.

Shaking his head again, he grabbed a fork from the counter. He jabbed at the noodles that roiled in the boiling water as if they were alive, as if he were ready to protect himself if they lashed out to bite him.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Not disgusting. Delicious. Obviously, you have no idea what you’ve been missing. Just wait . . . you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His expression assured me I’d lost my mind. “Whatever you say.”

A couple minutes later, I ripped open the foil seasoning packets and mixed them in, and then poured the soup into two bowls.

Shuffling around in the drawer, I dug out two spoons and two forks and dropped them into the bowls.

I handed him one. “You’re going to love it.”

I turned around, stopping just short of the bed. I slid my back down the wall as I balanced the steaming bowl in my hands.

Settling onto the ground, I stretched my legs out in front of me.

There was no resisting the smile that broke out on my face when I looked up at Christian.

Clearly, standing there, he didn’t quite know what to do.

I liked that he could be kind of awkward. That overbearing confidence stripped away.

“Sit,” I said.

He finally gave and moved toward me, settling on the ground beside me and mimicking my position.

His eyes were intent as he watched me twirl some noodles onto my fork, as if he were eager to learn something new.

I tried not to pay attention to how close his face was to mine. How his body felt warn and safe where he sat so close to me.

I blew the lump of pasta before I brought it to my mouth.

From the side, he studied me as is chewed the noodles as if he were learning some secret meaning of life.

Warily, he copied me and tentatively brought a heaping bite to his mouth.

“Oh . . . God . . . that’s hot . . . and so good.” He went in for a second bite, making these little appreciative noises that expanded my chest.

“See.” This time I nudged his foot with mine. “You’re going to learn to trust me.”

Blue eyes gleamed back at me, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.” I couldn’t help but smirk.

We sat like that on the floor, backs against the wall, our feet stretched out in front of us, eating dinner together.

Comfortable.

Relaxed.

And it felt . . . good.

I realized how thankful I was that he was there. He’d turned what would have been another solitary night into something I was truly enjoying.

Christian released a contented groan and placed his empty bowl on the floor beside him. “Thank you for dinner, Liz.”

I rolled my head his direction and murmured, “I’m glad you liked it.”

He just nodded, turned back to face forward, and seemed to vanish somewhere inside his head.

Dense silence filled the room.

And I just waited.

Somehow, I knew he needed this. He needed someone who didn’t want anything from him. He needed someone who would just listen to him, talk to him, someone who didn’t mind sitting beside him without saying a word.

“What’s your family like?” Christian barely whispered, breaking through the silence that had taken hold.

His feet rocked back and forth in a slow sway as he tugged at the hem of his shirt.

I could feel the nerves ripple across his skin.

As if he were wondering if he could trust me with the question.

Or maybe he was questioning himself for asking it in the first place.

He tilted his head to look back at me. He was wearing the same expression that had rocked my foundation earlier.

Genuine and real and open.

It stole my breath.

I didn’t know if he’d used his question as a distraction from where ever he had been caught up in his mind or if he really wanted to know about them.

Looking at him now, my gut told me they might be related.

I swallowed, trying to prepare myself to stop into his hidden world, and found my voice. “They’re wonderful. It’s just me, my mom, and my two sisters. My mom . . . she’s strong. She taught us to be strong, to work hard for whatever we want in life.”

Christian had drifted closer, the side of his thigh pressed against mine. Tonight, his eyes didn’t stray from my face, but remained steady, locked on mine, searching.

I fought getting lost in the murky sea that was Christian Davison, in the places he didn’t allow people to invade, but seemed willing to show me now.

When he didn’t look away, I continued, “My dad left when we were young. It was rough on my mom, but she never let it ruin her. She worked so hard to take care of us. Even though she worked long hours, she always made the time to make each of us feel special. Of course, my sisters and I had to take care of the house and each other while she was at work, but it just made us all closer.”

I stuttered through a self-conscious laugh when I felt tears welling up. “We’re all really close, have always been.”

I quickly wiped the moisture away. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to get all emotional on you. This is the longest I’ve gone without