His hand strokes his scruff. “Look, I’m just worried about you. You carry all that guilt…” His voice trails off and he lets out a long exhalation.
I do feel guilty. I’m the reason Willow is dead. I’m the reason—
Stop. I take a deep breath.
Part of me is tempted to tell him my relationship with Sugar is pretend, and though it might ease his mind, he’d tell Veronica, and she’d blab it everywhere, so I don’t.
“Just mind your own business, Reece.”
“I just care about you,” he says with a grimace, and then he’s walking past me and down the stairs.
I focus back on Sugar, who’s getting a drink from the bar. Eric runs up to her and twirls her around. I know he’s just clowning around, but, dude, stop. She’s different…
He says something to her, she turns and looks up, and we have one of our stare-offs. I watch her chest moving up and down in that tight dress, the way her lips part when she sees me.
I make my way down to her, pushing through the crowd, barely noticing anyone.
She’s waiting on me.
19
Sugar
“About time you got here,” he says in a gruff voice before cupping my face and kissing me.
It’s hard and sweeping and possessive.
I shouldn’t like it.
Fire and need all mixed together consume my body and I kiss him back, our mouths clinging. Each time we kiss, it’s as if it’s the first time, and I’m baffled by the intense desire that rises up inside me. Keeping his arm wrapped around my waist, he ends the kiss and stares down at me, his face shuttering, as if he doesn’t want me to know how it affected him.
I swallow, ignoring the stares from the players and girls in the kitchen. Some of the gazes are speculative, and a few are just downright jealous.
My voice is shaky. “Academy Award for your acting skills.”
“Not pretending.” His hand reaches out, toys with a piece of my hair, and he pauses, almost as if he might say something else but then changes his mind.
We’ve been here for a few minutes just talking about our week when a pretty girl comes up to us and throws her arms around Z. With honey-blonde hair and a perfect bow for a mouth, she’s dressed in a mini skirt and a flowy white shirt that’s nearly see-through. I wonder if she’s as cold as I am.
“Z! Happy Birthday!” she says, fluttering long black lashes up at him.
He arches a brow. “It’s Eric’s birthday.”
“Whatever. It’s the same.” She titters and rubs his arm. “We can celebrate everyone’s birthday any way you want.”
Z is unsmiling. “Have you met my girlfriend? This is Sugar.”
She swivels her head and gives me an envious glance, her gaze raking over my dress and sizing me up. “Hi, I’m Lola. Cute dress.”
I don’t even speak. I just glare down at her from my taller height and arch my brow with as much disdain as I can muster. Who the hell does she think she is? I don’t want her hands on him.
Her gaze sharpens. “Oh, hey, are you the girl who dated Bennett? The singer?” She gives me a knowing look and then smirks. “Lucky you. First him and now Z—you won the lottery.”
Z isn’t someone to win, and I cringe—not that she notices, already turning right back to him, her hand on his arm, talking about hockey and how great he is and how her brother wants to play for HU.
I want to pluck her eyeballs out, throw them on the ground, and stomp.
And that terrifies me.
My heart picks up the pace and I swallow down a wave of fear. Bennett had girls with starry eyes all over him, but this feeling…I might turn into a cavewoman if she doesn’t step off.
But he isn’t really yours, I remind myself.
Right.
She laughs up at him, her breasts straining against her shirt, and the room grows hot and oppressive. I try to get a read on him, to see if maybe he’s slept with her before, and the mere idea of it makes me queasy.
Fuck this.
“I need some air,” I murmur then brush past them toward the back door, but he catches up with me, holding my hand and leaving Lola mid-sentence with a frown on her face.
“Hey, don’t go. I need you next to me to help with this very thing.”
“Z, be honest—you can handle these girls. You don’t need me.”
“I do.”
His voice has softened, and I don’t think he means running girls off.
And that scares me too.
I unlace our hands. “I need a minute alone, okay?”
He frowns and exhales then watches me walk out the door. I suck in the cold air as I press hot hands to my cheeks.
Someone laughs and I look around. There are people milling about on the large wooden deck, most of them keeping warm at one of the gas heaters stationed in various places. What am I doing here? Why is he making me so crazy?
“We built this thing ourselves last year,” Eric calls from across the deck. I didn’t see him when I first came out, but he leaves a group of girls to walk over to me. He frowns as he gets closer. “You having a good time?”
“Of course.”
I guess I wasn’t convincing because he takes my elbow and we drift a few more feet away so we’re out of earshot of the other partygoers. We stand next to a heater.
“Parties aren’t your favorite?”
I exhale. “Nope.”
He nods. “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure.” I cross my arms as a cold gust of wind blows across the deck, ruffling the neckline of my dress. The motion pulls Eric’s eyes to my bust, and he blinks.
He looks back up at me. “Ah, sorry, what was I saying?”
I smack him on the arm and he rubs it like it hurt when I know it didn’t.
“Ow, babe. My eyeballs just went there, sorry. I’m a man, but you’re with Z and I respect that, so I won’t do it again. Plus, I’m thinking you’re going to be like the sister I never had, right? I hope so?” He grins.
I shake my head, laughing. I can’t even be mad at the babe because with Eric, it’s just a regular word.
“Anyway, the secret I was going to tell you is Z doesn’t like parties that much either. I don’t even think he likes all these people here at the house, but it’s my birthday.”
He must see the surprise on my face.
“He goes to the Kappa parties because they’ve hosted the hockey team for decades, and it’s kind of cool since we can’t pledge a real fraternity. Z knows he’s the star of this team, and after a big win, there’s always a party at the Kappa house, and you can bet your ass he’ll be there. He’s got a streak of devotion a mile long in him.” He takes a drink from his beer, his gaze searching mine. “Also, if you have any questions, I’m here to help. I’m your relationship guru when it comes to Z.”
I chew on my lips. “Has he ever had a serious girlfriend?”
“A high school sweetheart. I never met her.” He shakes his head, his face solemn. “She died in a car wreck right before he graduated from prep school…” He stops talking and sighs. “Willow was her name, but he doesn’t talk about her.”
My heart drops and I scramble to reinvent him in my head, picturing him with a girlfriend and then losing her. I think about his comments during class, about darkness and being lonely. “Is that why he doesn’t get serious with girls?”
He flashes me a bright smile. “Maybe he hasn’t met the right one?”
I blush.
He snorts. “Did you know he adopted a cat but pretends he doesn’t really care? I mean, she sleeps in his bed with him. You should hear him talk to her in the morning when he thinks I’m asleep. Dude is whipped by a cat.” He laughs.
I nod absently, my mind still on the girlfriend. I’m dying to ask more specific questions, but it feels like an intrusion.
I should just ask Z.
“You say you need a minute and here you are with Eric,” comes a husky voice, and we both turn to see him standing there. I freeze, wondering how much of our conversation he heard.
Eric holds his hands up and takes a step away from me. “Just being friendly is all.”
Z’s face is hard, and his gaze goes from me to Eric.
Some girl calls out Eric’s name, and he flashes an I’m sorry look at me before heading off. “Babe!” he says to the girl, giving her a twirl, and she ruffles his hair.
I look back at Z, and he’s never taken his eyes off me.
“He flirts with everyone,” he says. “Don’t think you’re special.”
I frown. “We were talking about you.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?”
“No.”
“Maybe if you’d stick around long enough to talk to me, you might learn something.”
“Lola isn’t my cup of tea, and you seemed to have it under control.”
He studies my face. “I never slept with her, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t. This whole thing between us is pretend.”
“Right,” he says with a frown. He holds up his black varsity jacket. It’s black with gold sleeves and has the Hawthorn Lions crest on the back. “I thought you might be cold so I brought you this. You seem to like coats.”
I stare at it.
“Put it on. It’s cold out here. Please.” That last bit is added after a beat.
“You like telling me what to do, don’t you?”