Title: Between Everything And Us
Author: Rebecca Paula
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: January 20, 2015
Cover Design: Maggie Hall
Matisse Evans is determined to make her sophomore year of college successful after failing out of a prestigious art school and spending a horribly boring gap year at home. Despite her focus, time isn't on her side as she struggles to hold down three jobs so she can afford her first apartment while juggling course work. In the chaos of it all, Beau Grady moves in and shakes up her world. A college dropout and tattooed bad boy, the rumors about Beau mean one thing for Matisse—trouble. Paralyzed by the fear that she's missing out on life, Matisse discovers plans may unravel, but what rises in their wake can be worth the uncertainty.
After spending the summer couch surfing, Beau Grady moves into an empty room at his ex-girlfriend’s Portland bungalow, skipping his senior year of college to spend his days working at a Vietnamese food cart instead. Once a star hockey player and gifted student, he’s put his life on hold after receiving a life-altering diagnosis, complacent to live in the moment. Hiding behind false rumors and bad habits, Beau falls for Matisse, letting her believe the worst until their relationship blooms into something they both can’t ignore. Falling for her means having to face a future he’d rather forget, but loving her just might be worth it.
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“I didn’t mean what I said the other night.” Mati spins around and
tosses my T-shirt at my face. “And I guess I’m sorry for that.”
She glances over my shoulder, biting her bottom lip as I snap the
folded T-shirt against my shoulder. I laugh in spite myself. I’m a fucking
wreck, but something about me intimidates her. I can’t figure her out.
I stretch, pain radiating throughout my body as I do. I slip the
shirt over my head and pull my shit together.
“It’s whatever,” I say with a shrug. I try to play it off, grabbing
the ratchet from her hand. Truth is, she was right, even if I didn’t want to
hear it.
Mati pads over to the tool bench I built with Noah. She pushes
herself up to sit on it and places the giant sombrero from our party last
weekend on her head. It swallows her up. It’s not that Mati is small—she’s tall
and willowy—it’s just that I’ve always liked everything opposite before now.
And I hate that it takes her wearing a stupid costume prop for me to figure
that out.
“I feel like I need a margarita with this on.” Mati straightens it,
adjusting the strings underneath her chin. “Maybe a piñata, too.”
“Straight tequila would be preferable.”
She swings her legs back and forth, humming along to the Black
Keys. It’s a good thing she’s a painter; singing isn’t a strength of hers. But
it’s cute and I hate myself for thinking so.
“How are classes?” I don’t really care about the answer. I just
want to hear her talk.
“Oh, they’re fine, I think.”
“You don’t know?”
She stops swinging her feet. “Why do you care?”
“Making conversation, Mati.” I walk around to the bench. “Since we’re
talking to each other again.”
A smile spreads across her lips, those red lips that I want to
kiss.
“Why are you upset?” she asks quietly.
I swat my hand out and tip the sombrero over her eyes. “I’m fine.”
It’s easier to lie when I don’t have to look her in the face.
She straightens the hat. “Classes so far are a lot like my classes
freshman year two years ago.”
I skip the obvious question. Too many details and this impossible
distance I’m trying to keep between us is going to be obliterated. “How’s that?”
“Do you remember? It’s been so long since you went to class.”
Her teasing washes away the panic seizing me again. “I wasn’t
always a dropout. I remember fine.”
“Then you remember they’re pointless.” Her voice grows sad. “What
was your major, Beau?”
I help her remove the massive sombrero instead of answering. I need
exactly eight credits before I can graduate and start my masters for the
accelerated program. I know my major—had a plan, even, had a purpose—but it’s
not something I want to get into right now. It’s a far stretch ever imagining I
could be a counselor responsible for guiding troubled teens on a hike when I
can’t hold a damn wrench.
She taps her index finger over the tip of my nose. “Always Mr. Mysterious.”
I wonder if Mati has been
drinking tequila because this isn’t like her. Usually her contempt toward me is
blatant, not that I mind this Mati. This is who I was hoping the real Mati
would be like if she ever paused for a minute from bowling over everything in
her path. And that freaks me the fuck out—that today she’s quiet.
“Forestry sciences. I wanted to be a wilderness education
counselor.” I move the hat off to the side and help her down, my hand curling
over her hip. “What’s your major again? Being a pain in my ass?”
She rests her hand against my shoulder, not stepping away. “Charming
as ever, too,” she whispers.
I tell my hand to let go, but I only hold on tighter because she
sways closer and bumps against me, lost studying my face. I want to stay here,
feel this, watch her watching me forever. “What would you do if I kissed you
right now?”
Her eyes widen and shift focus to my mouth. They trace my lips
until I have to fight back a groan. Mati gives the perfect fuck-me eyes.
“It doesn’t matter—” She pauses, her fingers pressing hard into my
shoulder. “—because we both know you won’t.”
I slide my hand to the small of her back. My palm fits against the
gentle curve there. “Mati?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Her words tumble out in an awkward
rush. “I don’t want complications.”
My other hand slips up to rest against her stomach, cinching the
fabric of her shirt in my fist. She slams her eyes shut at my touch, her breath
escaping in staccato beats, mirroring my own.
The garage smells like damp earth and oil, but I swear we’re
standing out in the dark, lost in the woods under the endless cover of stars.
Even though she’s right, even though I am a complication, I can’t
shake the feeling in my gut that we’d be a good one. “You’re wrong,” I whisper.
Her eyes pop open. “You’re exactly the type of girl who wants complications.” I
rest my forehead against hers, her sweet coffee breath washing over my mouth. “And
you have no clue what I want.”
Rebecca writes
smart and gritty New Adult romances, as well as historical romances, featuring
flawed characters struggling to find their place in the world. She's a lover of
rainy days, an unabashed anglophile, and a devote Earl Gray tea drinker. She
lives in New Hampshire with her husband and their very spoiled cat, Bella. A
wanderlust connoisseur, Rebecca can be
caught daydreaming about her next travel adventure when not writing.
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