I love you, Ava, Chance said in my ear, his hands curling around my waist, holding me like I was porcelain.
He kissed me and said that and I didn’t even remember! Holy shit. I blink.
I was already trashed, but the words are vivid now, a hot brand in my head. And what was my response? No clue, but I lifted my head from Chance’s shoulder and instead of meeting his lips again, I met the gray eyes of Knox Grayson glittering at me. Only two feet away. I could have reached up, stretched out my arms, and touched his unsmiling face. I could have unfurled his clenched fists.
He took a deep breath as our gazes clung.
Chance kissed my neck, and I trembled when I looked at Knox and he let me see…he let me see…a window inside himself. Anguish mingled with want. Longing.
Standing there by the fire, with Tawny by his side, he pressed two fingers to his lips and sent the touch to me. With twenty-twenty vision, without the alcohol clouding me, I saw him, saw the slow, regretful way he tore his eyes off of me and Chance.
Then—just like now—he tossed an arm around Tawny, escorted her to his car, and opened the door for her. He disappeared. And I…I was left behind.
My eyes find them now at the doorway. They haven’t moved.
He bends his head to her—my chest squeezes—getting lower and lower. My breathing intensifies. Unbidden anxiety ratchets down my spine.
I resist the urge to stamp my foot.
Look at me like that again, I want to shout.
Someone bumps into me.
Another nudge, this time on my arm. “…Ava…are you listening?”
The male voice penetrates and I start, glancing over.
“What?” I snap at Chance. He’s been standing there for a while. My hands, which have been clinging to the edge of the table, loosen their grip, and my back straightens. I toss a look around him. “Where’s Brooklyn?”
He flushes. “She left already. Ava…” He stops, his mouth opening and shutting.
“What do you want?” I gather my purse off the back of the chair. I need out of here. I don’t want to rehash that night, and I can feel him psyching himself up for something.
“You hurt me,” are the words he finally pushes out.
What fresh hell?
“I hurt you?”
He tries to hold my eyes but dips his head. “I can’t take it anymore. You’ve only been here two days and I can’t…” He trails off.
“Can’t what?”
His head rises. He struggles to speak, the words pulled from him. He looks as if he’s in some kind of crisis. I almost think he weaves on his feet. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Now?”
He nods.
I blow out a breath. “Really? Where were you when I needed you, huh? You weren’t thinking then. You left me at that party to hook up with your current girlfriend.” Somehow I keep my voice even, almost calm, but I feel the rage lingering, just waiting to pounce.
Shame—or at least I want to think it’s shame—colors his face.
Bitterness whips in the air like a tornado. I know I shouldn’t engage with him, but maybe I need closure. We never got that. I got his text and wrote him off.
“Tell me something, how could you tell me I love you one minute then leave me at that party the next? A brave person would have believed me. Cowards pussy out, Chance. You quit me like I was trash. Even now, I can’t believe I let you get so close to my heart…” I bite my lip, shaken by the torrent of words that have come out of me. I did let him close. God. I let myself be vulnerable for him.
He swallows, blue eyes downcast. “I’m sorry—”
I cut him off right there. “Yeah. You are. And the worst thing of all is maybe it was you. Maybe it was you.” My voice breaks, just a little, and I snatch it back.
He nods as if he expected that but sucks in a breath. “It wasn’t. I’m not capable of that. You know me. I’ve been thinking—”
“Please don’t.”
“I can’t stop it, Ava.” His eyes flick to the doorway, where Knox and Tawny still are. I can see them in my peripheral. “And everything Knox has done and said was right, and I’ve been wrong. I am sorry. You’re right about me. I messed up. I should have made you stop drinking, been more protective, or made sure I left with you—”
“But you didn’t. Ha.”
What has Knox done and said?
His eyes close briefly. “I’ve never been in that situation. I never cared about a girl like you. I didn’t dream someone I knew, a friend of mine, would hurt you—”
“Save your apology!”
“I know! I hate it, okay? I hate it! I can’t change how I reacted!” His voice rises, but there’s no one here to hear us. The room is empty except for that maddening couple at the doorway. I refuse to look at them, but I can feel them there like a dark shadow.
“I always thought I was a strong person, but I’m not,” he adds as he scrubs his face. “Ava, please.” His chest rises, expands. “I’ve…missed you. I’ve imagined you in the hallway a hundred times. I didn’t play one football game without looking at the sidelines and wishing you were there. I’ve played back that night in my head over and over, but I was drunk too, and I wasn’t thinking right. You ran off to dance, and all I saw was you at your first Shark kegger, leaving me for someone better. I didn’t do the right thing. I reacted like a sniveling, jealous asshole. I let you down and you got hurt.”
Ugly emotion tightens my throat and I kick it down.
He closes his eyes. “Tell me how to make it better.”
I scowl at him, really looking at him. The way his sandy hair is full and thick, how my fingers felt brushing through the wet strands after a game. His strong shoulders when he hugged me so tight. All the little notes he’d leave for me in my locker. You’re beautiful was the first one. I’ll be yours, if you ask was the second. And then, I dream of you more often than I should. Oh, I recall them and that last one got to me. So good. To imagine he wanted me… I imagined us at prom, at college together, me walking down an aisle toward him. Who was that girl? I got foolish. I forgot life isn’t kittens and rainbows.
“I know it’s too late to change anything—”
“Stop. Just stop talking. Don’t come near me and I swear to do the same.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I do!”
He flinches, looking like he might say something else, but he dunks his head and brushes past me.
My chest heaves. Big breath in. Long sigh out.
I hear the warning bell and other kids rush in from the hall to take the seats around me. I dash to the door and Knox and Tawny are still there. WTF. Go already!
She has him pressed against the wall, her manicured, red-tipped hands dancing over his chest as she daintily frowns at the bruise on his face.
His eyes cling to me. Knowledge gleams there, of my conversation with Chance. First-row seats to that little show—was it on purpose? Maybe. It feels like Knox always has a reason for everything.
I’m about to pass them when I stop and turn back around. I ignore Tawny and glare at him. “Tomorrow night. Vanderbilt library. I’ll meet you on the steps at seven and we can watch the movie together in one of the study rooms. I have an ID because I used to go last year when I was doing homeschool stuff.”
“Alright,” he says softly, his eyes studying my face, as if looking to see if I’m okay. He moves Tawny away from him, literally pushes her shoulders until she’s fuming prettily. She sends me a little glare and whispers in his ear. I definitely hear bleachers in her rush of words. He shakes his head at her.
I smirk.
She saunters off and I watch her, but when I turn back, he’s got those gray eyes on me.
“Should we eat first?” he asks.
“Please. This is not a date.”
“Agreed, but my stomach will growl. It might disturb the other people studying. Plus, I’ll be fresh from practice, and I get queasy if I don’t get protein.”
He is…ugh.
My hand goes to my hip. “First I have to drag it out of you to hear what happened to your eye, and then you want to watch this stupid movie together. Now you insist on eating.”
“It’s just food. Why can’t we eat? If you came to my house, Suzy would make us dinner.”
Nope. Not going to a Shark’s house.
“Meet me at Lou’s Diner and we’ll drive over from there. The restaurant is on Elm Street in Nashville. Happy?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Just two students watching an iconic romantic movie for a class. It’s a plan, Tulip.”
“See you, Cold and Evil.” I walk out the door.
Why did I do that? is racing through my head as I leave.
I blame it on Chance and his half-assed apology.
Maybe that memory of how Knox looked at me.
Whatever.
I push it aside and pick up my steps as I jog down the hall. Crap. I’m going to be late for English. Mr. Banks is old, though, and it takes him a few minutes to get his roll out. I can sneak in and sit in the back. I dash down the mostly empty corridor to my locker, my steps picking up when I see Brandon Wilkes, one of the football players. All crazy red hair and jacked muscles, he slows as he passes me and sends me a leer. He flips around, sliding black eyes over me as he walks backward. “Get the message, snitch. We don’t want you here.”