Cannon(34)

PRESENT DAY



"Hendrix." I'm trying to open the stupid umbrella while I totter on my heels. Meanwhile, Hendrix is storming across the backyard with a purpose, and I know where he's going. He's headed straight for the grove of trees. My grove. Our grove. The place where he kissed me.

It's the last place I want to follow him. I don't want to look at it again. I don't need reminders of the past. And in the pouring rain, no less.

"Fuck." The stilettos on my ankle boots sink into the grass. "These are brand new shoes, Hendrix. Two thousand dollar shoes. In case you care!" He doesn't respond, and I yank my boots out of the stupid grass and peel them off, one at a time. Then I throw them as hard as I can, and watch them bounce on the lawn.

I should just finish dinner. I should ask the too-handsome Tustin about banking and investments and whatever the hell he does in his suit and tie, buy companies or fund movies, or order people around all day. I should find a normal fucking boyfriend.

I shouldn't traipse across the lawn in my bare fucking feet in a downpour, chasing after a ghost from my past.

But I don't turn back toward the house.

When I reach Hendrix, he has his back toward me. "Will you just stop for a second?" I yell. "You're soaking wet."

"Can't I get five goddamned minutes of peace without you coming after me?" he asks, not turning around. "Go back to your dinner, Addy."

"It's not my dinner," I say. "You're the one who dragged me to it, not the other way around."

"It's your date," he says.

"You're jealous," I say. I'm standing behind Hendrix. I want to reach out and touch him, spin him around to look at me, but I don't.

"Is that what you want me to say, Addy?" Hendrix growls. He finally turns, grabs my arms, and I drop the umbrella. I want him to kiss me the way he kissed me before he left for the Marines. But he doesn't. His grip tight, he pushes me against the tree, and the rough bark digs into my skin. The rain pummels us, and Hendrix's clothes are completely soaked through, his t-shirt half-transparent, the fabric clinging to his skin, outlining every inch of his muscled chest.

"It's the truth," I say. "You're jealous because someone else is interested in me. Say it."

"No shit I'm jealous," he says. "Some douchebag in a suit doesn't get to have you, Addy."

"Oh, but you do?" I ask. His hands on me, my breath comes in short gasps, my emotions confusing and overwhelming. I want him, but I can't forgive him. I want him to leave, and I want him to stay. "And if you don't have me, you'll just pretend you did, right?"

Hendrix furrows his brow and steps back, but his hands are still on my arms. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I say. "Forget I said it." Suddenly, I want nothing more than to get out of here, but Hendrix doesn't move.

"Screw forgetting," he says. "Say what you have to say."

"I heard you that night." I blurt it out, feeling shaky and vulnerable.

"Heard what?" Hendrix looks confused, rain running down his forehead. I realize how stupid I am, standing outside in the pouring rain, drenched from head to toe, barefoot and mud-splattered. Even more stupid because I'm fixated on something that happened five years ago. "Goddamnit, Addy, say it."

"I heard you talking about me," I say. "That night. Your graduation party."

"So?" Hendrix asks. "I'm sure you've heard me talk about you all the time. I don't get it."

"I heard you tell your friends you fucked me."

A look of realization passes over his face, and he lets go of my arms. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." I cross my arms over my chest, and wipe water off my forehead, which does me a fat lot of good. I can see black smudges on my hand, and I realize my mascara must be running down the sides of my face. I probably look like a clown.

"And you've been angry about this for five years?" Hendrix is smiling at me now.

"Stop fucking laughing about it, you asshole." A surge of irritation runs through me. I could slap him right now for being so smug and obnoxious, but instead I step forward and push him as hard as I can. He grabs my wrists and I struggle. "Let me go, you...jerk-face."

"Jerk-face again, huh?" he asks. "You get so obscene when you're angry."

"I tell you that I know you were a total asshole, and you make fun of me," I say angrily. "Not a damn thing about you has changed, Hendrix."

"No," he says, his gaze intense. "Not a damn thing has changed."

"Let go of me."

"No."

"Screw you."

"I said I fucked you, Addy."