Second Chance Boyfriend

the air, as if dismissing all of her problems with a flick of her fingers. “I’m sick of worrying and being stressed out over money, what Owen’s doing, if he’s getting good grades, if he’s lying to me. Worrying about my mom and what she’s doing and why she hates us so much.”
    “She doesn’t hate—”
    “She hates us,” Fable repeats, interrupting me. “She hates me especially. We’re a burden to her. If she could make us disappear, she probably would.”
    Damn. We always focus on my problems but she’s just as much of a mess as me. Her mom sounds like a world-class bitch.
    “Forget about her. I am.” She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let me pretend for just a little while we’re normal. That we don’t have issues and secrets and problems, that our lives are easy and we’re just two people who are falling for each other.”
    I’ve already completely fallen for her. I thought she felt the same way. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
    The smile grows, lights up her eyes. There’s my girl. “Thank you,” she whispers.
    Unable to take it anymore, I touch her. Thread my fingers through her hair so I can cup the side of her head and bring her lips to mine. “Why are you thanking me?”
    “Thank you for getting me. And for wanting to make me happy.” She closes her eyes when I kiss her and I study her face, her thick eyelashes, her tiny nose. “We’re probably avoiding the inevitable, but I’m tired of dealing with the heavy stuff. I’m jealous of people without problems.”
    “Everyone has problems,” I point out.
    She opens her eyes. “As heavy as mine? As heavy as yours?”
    “Point taken.”

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     
    I’ll never forget the things you said to me. Not because they mattered, but because they made me feel like I did. – Unknown
     
    Fable
     
    Drew made good on his promise. From the moment we agreed we’d pretend for a little while that we’re just two normal people in a new relationship, that’s exactly how he’s treated me. No mention of my mom, his dad, Adele, our problems, our past. Nothing.
    We’ve spent the last twenty-four hours together doing nothing but talking. Kiss. Lots and lots of dreamy, long and delicious kissing. Which of course leads to touching and then that leads to sex.
    Lots and lots of sex.
    We haven’t left his apartment since he came to pick me up. I checked on Owen and made sure he was okay. Again, he was at Wade’s. He asked if I was with Drew and I told him yes.
    He proceeded to both cheer me on and warn me. Owen loves the idea of me being with a football player. He hates the idea of me being with a guy who broke my heart.
    Conflicted—we all feel that way, I think.
    But I pushed the conflict aside and focused on the positive. Drew with me. Over me. Inside me. Whispering hot words in my ear when he pulls me in close. How he touches me so reverently, the way he holds me when we sleep. Not that there’s been much sleep going on…
    I was able to trade out my shift today so I could spend one more full day with Drew but tomorrow, reality waits. He has to go to class. I have to spend time with Owen before I go to work. Drew has to meet with his shrink.
    Sometimes, I really hate reality.
    Being with him constantly like this, I can’t concentrate. Since he’s walked so completely back into my life, I’ve been in a constant state of arousal I can’t control. I have never been so…needy. I look at him and he’s all I can think about. Funny how I believed for a fleeting moment I was interested in Colin.
    The way I feel for Drew can’t compare to any glimmer of attraction I’d had for Colin.
    We’re at a restaurant now, Drew and I. He ran out of food in his apartment and we were starving, so we finally made our escape. Plus, I thought it might be good to be out in public like real people versus naked and rolling around in his bed all day and night.
    Staring at him from across the table, I realize pretty quickly being out in public like real people is totally overrated.
    “What do you want to order?” His head is bent, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead as he reads over the menu. I wonder when he last got a haircut. I like it longer. It’s easier for me to run my fingers through and grip when I kiss him.
    “I don’t know.” I sound breathless, I feel breathless, but he doesn’t notice. He props his elbow on the table, absently scratches his