Page 23 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

LAUREN

I have my ‘date’ with Brad tonight and after Caleb turned up out of the blue at the club last night, my head’s a mess. I had to turn him away, no matter what I’m starting to feel for him.

Caleb and I are wrong. We don’t fit together, we lead separate lives, not to mention the age gap. Giving Brad a chance is a good idea, the best really. He’s my age, we could potentially fit, and no one would bat an eye about us being together.

So why does the idea of me being with Brad cause a knot to form in my stomach? The thought of someone else’s hands on me cause me to feel nauseous?

I stare at myself in the mirror, my makeup and hair done, because I want to at least try. Try to put Caleb out of my mind. Try to move on from this stupid… crush? Infatuation? I don’t even know what to call it.

Taking one last look at myself, I get up and blow out a breath.

What am I wearing? I tap my lip with my finger in contemplation before going with my usual jeans and hoodie.

I know Sydney picked out an outfit and I said I wanted to try but give a girl a break, I did my hair and makeup, that’s gotta count for something, right?

There’s a knock at the door as I’m pulling on my Converses. I head over and check who it is before opening it—safety and all that.

Brad.

Opening the door, Brad’s standing there with his hands in his denim jeans and a white button up. He’s got that bashful boy next door look down perfectly.

“Br-Brad, hi,” I stammer out. What is wrong with me?

“Hey, Lauren. You look great.” He smiles. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just get my bag.”

After locking the door behind me, we head down to his truck—a beat up red Ford F-150—before helping me get in. It’s clean and fresh making me wonder if he’s just had it detailed or if he’s just normally this tidy.

“Thought we could head over to Bucky’s? They do some great chicken wings, and the beer’s pretty good too,” he chuckles.

I smile softly. “Sounds great.”

We make the drive over in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable silence per se but it’s definitely weird. I’m not a conversationalist. I don’t know how to make small talk so asking a bunch of questions to fill the silence isn’t gonna happen.

We pull up at Bucky’s, Brad rushes round to open my door, but I’m already halfway out. We walk through the quiet parking lot where there are a few cars parked around.

The bar itself isn’t busy and I honestly don’t know whether to be happy or upset. At least if it was busy we wouldn’t be able to hear ourselves think, meaning less conversation.

Some first date I am.

Grabbing a table, we order drinks and look over the menu, not that I’m particularly hungry, my stomach turning in knots at the weirdness of it all.

Taking a sip of his beer, Brad leans back in his chair and asks, “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, Sydney and I are going to her parents,” I reply, glad to be on a topic that I could talk about for days.

“Sydney’s your roommate, right?”

“That and best friend extraordinaire,” I chuckle and Brad laughs, causing the tension to ease somewhat. “What about you? Any plans?”

“I’m staying on campus. My folks are away so there’s no point in me going home.”

I nod, completely understanding. Times like these I’m forever grateful that Sydney came barreling into my life with her crazy chaos.

We talk while we eat, the earlier tension completely gone. I’ve relaxed slightly now I’ve had a couple of drinks, and even though I thought Brad was easy to talk to in the coffee shop, I guess when you’re just sitting talking to someone versus being on an actual date, things get… strange.

I like hanging out with Brad, but there’s a part of me that wishes it was someone else sitting in front of me. Does that make me a bad person?

I’m laughing at something Brad says when I look over to the bar door opening. My laughter stops in its tracks when I see who it is—Caleb.

For five fucking minutes . Of all the places, he walks in here. I’m beginning to think the universe is trying to tell me something with the way we keep bumping into each other .

I’m attempting not to drool at how good he’s looking wearing a tight black Henley, jeans, and black sneakers, his peppered hair in a wavy mess, but I’m failing miserably.

As if sensing I’m near, Caleb glances my way, and I suck in a breath when his gaze locks with mine. At first his eyes brighten as if he’s happy to see me but when he looks to see who I’m with , his jaw clenches, and his eyes darken with subtle jealousy.

I gulp and quickly look away, trying to concentrate on what Brad’s saying—something about a tree and a broken arm when he was a kid. I smile and nod along, trying desperately not to glance over my shoulder and see if Caleb’s still here.

All of a sudden Brad pipes up, “Professor Anderson, hi.”

I internally eye roll at his overly enthusiastic ass kissing.

Caleb walks over and stands next to our table. “Brad. Lauren.” He nods to both of us.

Brad starts talking about an assignment, but Caleb’s gaze never leaves mine. The intense look he’s giving me causes my pussy to throb and I shift slightly to ease the ache, but Caleb catches it, raising an eyebrow in question.

How Brad is oblivious to the sexual tension between Caleb and I, I will never know. You could cut it with a knife.

“Excuse me,” I say as I bolt up from my chair, nearly knocking it over in the process. I briskly walk to the bathroom and exhale a sigh of relief when I enter and close the door behind me.

Taking a couple of deep breaths I walk over to the sink and pat water on my face and neck, trying to cool myself down from our heated encounter.

The door opens and I hear, “We need to stop meeting like this.”

I whirl around. “Goddammit, Caleb. What are you doing in here?” I hiss .

“This.”

I frown, not understanding when he strides toward me, one hand grabbing my hair before slamming his lips against mine.

I lean into the kiss, his tongue gliding across my bottom lip, silently asking for entrance which I allow, my mouth parting slightly.

This isn’t like the other kisses where it was angry and passionate.

No. This is a slow tongue dual and I’m not sure which one I prefer.

I thread my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss and whimper at the thrill of his hard cock against my stomach. Caleb slowly draws back, resting his forehead against mine, silently breathing me in.