Only With You Read Online Free PDF Page A

have to have any awkward, ‘We kissed, but now I still feel obligated to be your friend’ conversation, that I’d been hoping to avoid. I knew I wouldn’t call her. I just couldn’t.
    Of course I didn’t factor in that talking to her wasn’t going to be the only issue in getting over my crush. When the girl you love is a super-famous pop star at the peak of her career and is kicking ass and taking names, well, you tend to see things about her from time to time. When I surfed the web there were articles about her, when I went grocery shopping she was on the cover of magazines, and hell even when I turned on the TV she was there – all the freaking time it seemed.
    Social media was the worst. I even blocked her on Facebook, but somehow things about her still got through to me from people I was friends with. Sydney hadn’t stayed friends with anyone else we’d gone to high school with, but since she’d become mega-famous, people who knew we were still close liked to share gossip with me when they saw it. Twitter and Instagram were worse because I couldn’t stop following her without her knowing, so for a while, I’d just stopped using social media altogether.
    By February I saw that she had a new boyfriend. Some pretty boy singer from one of those boy bands that were so manufactured and fake. He was preppy but tattooed at the same time, just the kind of guy I knew Sydney liked – a good mix of light and dark. I could never be that guy, and I’d always known that. It pissed me off that she was with him, but she looked happy in pictures, so I hoped he was at least treating her right. In the end, I did want her to be happy. I just wanted her to be happy with me.
    I told myself I wasn’t going to watch The Grammys since I knew she was opening the show, and I also knew she’d be going with her new boyfriend, holding his hand on the red carpet, sitting next to him in the audience, and since she was nominated for like six awards, they’d probably show her on-screen a bunch of times. Then I caved at the last minute and totally planned to watch the whole damn, painful show.
    Jake, m y roommate at the frat house, walked into our room and stopped short when he saw what was on the TV. I was sitting in a beanbag chair on top of the carpeted platform we’d build that covered our sleeping caves, as I liked to call them, drinking a soda and munching on popcorn. Some country singer was being interviewed on the red carpet, and the actual show was starting in about a minute.
    “What the fuck are you watching?” Jake asked.
    “The Grammys,” I said morosely. “This is the red carpet portion.”
    Yup, I’d chicke d all out and watched Sydney walk the red carpet, looking gorgeous in a long pink gown, her brown hair that I used to love to run my fingers through for hours sweeping behind her. She was so freaking beautiful it literally felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vice.
    “Dud e, don’t do this to yourself,” Jake said, climbing up on the platform to sit behind me on the couch.
    “Why?” I asked, as I shoved a handful of popcorn in my mouth. The show was starting, and in a few seconds I’d see Sydney again. I was practically holding my breath.
    “Because she shot you down. It can’t be healthy to watch this shit, and oh, right, there she is. Bring on the pain.”
    “Shh,” I said, leaning forward as Syd pranced out on stage wearing a hot little outfit that showed off her long legs.
    She was tall and had the longest legs. I used to imagine them wrapped around me, her heels digging into my ass cheeks. It was one of my favorite fantasies that would never come true.
    “You’re such a fucking pussy,” Jake muttered, but I ignored him, my eyes glued to the TV as Sydney sang and danced and smiled, driving me absolutely nuts.
    But w hen the number was finished, I smiled. She’d done awesome like I knew she would, dancing around on stage, singing, playing her guitar and captivating the audience with the title