Boyfriend Bargain(50)

“I’m here to see if you need rescuing,” he says under his breath. “Or we can dance?”

I think about it and part of me wants to know what it feels like to have strong arms slide around me and guide me as we move together.

I take his hand and we head to the dance floor. I send Bennett a parting wave.

“He looks like you kicked him,” Dallas says, and I laugh up at him.

“Nah, trust me, he’ll rebound quick.”

He nods, looking down at me until I break our gaze. Dallas is nice, he is, but…

We’re quiet as we sway to the music, a few inches between us, and I like his arms around me even if they aren’t the ones I want.

A buzz goes through the air, an electric stillness that hums, and I freeze. The party seems to dampen down a notch, and my eyes scour the room, looking, feeling him.

I find Z near the door, but he hasn’t seen me yet.

He’s a goddamn fantasy come to life and my breath hitches in my chest. Tall, massive, and looming over those around him, his hair is wild, grown out, the dark beard on his jawline contrasting vividly with the lighter strands on his head.

His gaze sweeps the room, eyeing groups of people and moving on, flitting from person to person as he scans the perimeter and then looks to the dance floor.

Our gazes lock.

The temperature drops as his eyes move from me to Dallas, hardening before flying back to me. Accusing—until that emotion is shuttered.

Some girl I don’t know has her arm hooked into his.

“You okay?” Dallas looks down at me and follows my gaze. “Ah, shit.”

Bitterness builds within me as I watch them move through the crowd, people slapping his back and congratulating him on the win.

“You good?” Dallas asks, and I turn back to him.

“Just keep dancing.”

I feel winded, my body acutely aware of every move Z makes as he strides his way across the room, getting lost in the sea of people. I lean my head on Dallas’s shoulder so I don’t have to watch Z.

I should leave the party. That’s the rational thing to do.

But I can’t. It’s like I need to see him. I need to see that he’s moved on.

My neck prickles as if someone is staring, and I look over.

Z and his date are dancing next to us.

His eyes are on me, and my heart dips.

Dammit.

I never should have come.

This can’t go on. Why am I torturing myself?

I stop in my tracks, murmur, “I’m sorry,” to Dallas, and bolt away.





40





Zack





“And this is Carrie,” Eric says out in the parking lot of the Kappa House as the girl in question gives me a shy smile and walks over.

She’s pretty with long dark hair and…everything else, I guess.

I don’t know. Whatever.

We’re standing in the crisp April night air, and the sounds of the party come from just behind that door. I haven’t been to a party since…forever…and I’m definitely not in the mood to meet a girl, but Eric seems to think I need to jump back in the game with dating. He’s given up on Sugar and me getting back together.

Eric grins, dressed in slacks and a slick button-up shirt. His hair is tamed and he’s got that I’m gonna party look on his face.

I arch a brow at him and we have a silent conversation.

Enjoy the girl, he says with his green gaze.

Fuck off.

He rolls his eyes and I blow out a breath. He just wants me to be the way I used to be, pre-Sugar.

I won’t ever be the same.

He throws an arm around the girl in question, and when she smiles, I realize I’ve already forgotten her name.

“Just thought you might like some company after our big win. She’s friends with Eleanor.”

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me,” the girl gushes.

Yeah. This is all Eric.

He gives me a look, an indication for me to be polite, but I think I see something else there too, a reminder that Sugar isn’t part of my world anymore.

Bitterness pulls at me. Maybe dating is the right thing—or at least going through the motions.

Takes one to get over one, Eric told me earlier.

“I’m so glad we’re finally getting together,” she says. “I’m a huge hockey fan and I’ve followed your career since prep school. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” she says as Eric goes on ahead of us, “we don’t even have to go inside if you don’t want. It’s been a long tournament and I’m sure you need to just relax.” I get her meaning when she leans in and stares up at me with big brown eyes.

I want blue ones, though, and it makes me antsy. I clear my throat and step away from her, but she’s right there, following.

“The Kappa guys expect us to show. It’s a tradition,” I mumble, glad for once to use it as an excuse.

She flutters her eyes. “Oh. Sure. I get it. Maybe we can pop in, show our faces, and leave?” Her lips curve up, and a few months ago I would have been all about that mouth.

I rub my beard. “I’ll probably stay a while. Do you have your own way home in case you want to leave?”

She nods, frowning.

I guess I’m not the charmer she thought.

She eases in closer, and we walk inside the Kappa House.

I feel the buzz in the air as I look out over the crowd, a vibe that grows. I see Taylor and Poppy and my heart jumps. She’s here. My gaze roves over the room, searching the dark corners, and my eyes widen when I find her on the dance floor.

I’m breathless at the sight of her, the way her hair falls down her back and the short blue dress that sways against her legs. Shit. She looks so beautiful…I can’t…I can’t…

She cranes her neck, searching the room, her eyes wide, and I know, I know it’s me she’s looking for. Right? Or has she forgotten me already?

My hands clench, battling with myself to not rush over and pluck her out of the arms of whoever the fuck she’s dancing with and tell her she—

“What’s going on?” says the girl next to me, but I ignore her and walk in closer, needing Sugar to see me.

The girl follows, calling my name, but it doesn’t register.

I come to a halt near the bar, my chest rising as our eyes collide.

Anger flies over me when I take in the guy she’s with. His hand, his motherfucking hand is on her lower waist, close to her ass—

Sugar looks at me, and her face is flat.

My jaw pops. Fuck, kill me now. Why can’t we get this right?

The girl pulls on my arm. “Let’s dance.”

“No.”

She stops and looks up at me, her face slowly reddening. “I feel like everyone’s staring at us.”

“They are. They always are.” My voice is tired.

“Please,” she says, and I give her a look, take her hand, and head straight toward Sugar on the dance floor.

We make our way out there, and my eyes are glued on this guy and his arm around Sugar’s waist. I slow dance, but I’m barely aware of the girl I’m with. I stare at Sugar until she looks up and sees me.

She pales and takes off, and the guy looks after her with a perplexed expression then gazes back at me, accusation there.

Oh, hell no.

Hell no.

My fist is aching to crush his face—

No. No.

Not important.

Don’t screw up now.

I see a flash of blonde hair up on the stairs, and I know exactly where she’s headed.

Leaving the girl on the dance floor, I don’t even say goodbye. I’m taking the steps two at a time, but Sugar’s way ahead of me. I hit the third-story landing, noting the blessed silence, and make my way to the screened-in porch. I burst through the door, pushing it wide open, taking in the landscape of Sparrow Lake, the twinkling lights of the small town and campus.

I hear her breathing before I see her, huddled in the corner, her hands wrapped around her upper arms.

“Go away,” she says, and I tremble at the sound of her voice.





41





Sugar





The porch pulses as he stalks toward me, his shoulders tense and bunched. He’s whipped off his jacket somewhere in the process of getting here, and the sleeves of his button-up are rolled to his elbows. My eyes are hungry.

“Nothing is as bad as that,” I say, swallowing. “Seeing you with someone.”

He paces in front of me, his lips in a hard, yet sensuous line.

I look away.

He strides closer, getting in my personal space, and I smell him, my lips parting slightly. He puts his hands on the wall behind me, one on either side of my head, and his chest hitches.

I close my eyes as he leans in and runs his nose up my collarbone to the hollows of my neck. His shoulders shift closer to me, puffs of air mingling with the touch of his beard against my skin.

Shivers break out over my body. I can’t…God…

He’s spicy and male with a hint of pine, and I put up a fortress around me, trying to keep my heart safe.

His finger tilts my face up.

I think of the girl downstairs.

“Fuck you,” I say, barely pushing the words out, but there’s no mistaking the ache wrapped around the syllables. I jerk my chin from his grasp.

He closes his eyes, a muscle flexing in his jaw. Finally, he just breathes, just fucking breathes in front of me, emotions warring across his face.

He opens his eyes and looks up at the sky, as if he’s done, as if he’s given up.

And I can’t resist.

Maybe I just want to piss him off.

Maybe I just want him to stay.

“You lied to me,” I say.