Page 70 of Foul Territory

The skirt of her dress skates over her upper thighs with every step she takes in my direction. She looks flawless from the tip of her hot pink painted toes to the flower clips in her hair.

“Show me what you got,” she says, with her hip cocked to the side. The song playing over the bluetooth speaker has a faster tempo than I prefer. I’m not much of a slow dance guy, but I’m definitely not a throw your hands up in the air and jump around kind of guy.

Fuck the tempo, I probably couldn’t dance on beat anyway. I slink an arm around Sydney’s back, pulling her againstmy chest. I place another hand on the curve of her hip and start rocking side to side.

“Is this what you call dancing?” she asks, breathlessly.

One at a time, I drape her arms over my shoulders. “You can call it whatever you want as long as it keeps you in my arms.”

“Why do you keep saying these things to me? You need to stop.” Her eyes shimmer with an emotion I can’t pinpoint before it flickers out.

“Why should I stop? Because you like it?” I spin us around until we’re hidden deeper in the living room. I drop my forehead to hers. “It feels right, doesn’t it? Like everything is falling into place.” My hands wander over her hips and up her torso, gliding over the silk of her dress and teasing her bare skin through the cutouts in the material.

“All I feel is you stepping on my feet,” she says, deflecting. I laugh, knowing that is not all she feels with us being this close together. “I need to get back to my date.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I stare at my defiant little trouble maker. I loosen my hold on her. Skimming my knuckles down her arm, I enjoy the way her skin pebbles. Once I reach her hand, I grab hold of it and start walking back toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” She tries pulling her hand loose but it’s pointless.

“I need to talk to you privately.” I turn around, smiling at the fact she’s stopped fighting me. I'll take this temporary reprieve as a small victory.

I catch Nash’s eye across the room. The tight grip he has on the table and the flare of his nostrils tells me all I need to know.

I’ll ask him for his forgiveness tomorrow. Tonight I need Sydney to understand I’m serious about giving us another shot.

“You have five minutes. I don’t want people assuming we are up here having sex,” she says, with her arms crossed over chest as I close my bedroom door.

“Relax. Everyone knows you hate me. That’s how you feel about me, right? You can’t stand to be in the same room with me?” I throw my arms out to the side. “How do you feel about me now that we’re alone?” I move toward her. “Do you still hate me?”

“I never said I hated you. You’re the one who keeps saying that. Not me.”

“No?” I question. “It feels like it most days.”

“Are we caring about each other’s feelings now? Why should I care about how you feel when you don’t seem to give my feelings a second thought?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Sydney.” I cup her cheek in my palm. “What will it take for you to give me a chance to prove to you that I care about your feelings? I didn’t know how much I hurt you over the years. I’m not just talking about graduation.”

She pulls my hand away from her face. “I’m not sure where you get your information from but you didn’t hurt me over the years. I don’t want to talk about that night or the next day. It’s done. We’redone.”

“Don’t be like that. I know you’ve felt like second best to Nash more than once. You’ve said it yourself. That doesn’t sit well with me. You have always been my first concern.”

“That's a lie,” she scoffs. “You and Nash have been inseparable for the past decade. An impenetrable force. I’ve been an outlier to your little duo and you know it.”

“That’s how it looks, but it isn’t how it feels to me. I want to show you but I can’t do that if you don’t give me a chance. Let me prove that you have always been my girl. I need you to see that we’re meant to be together.”

I stare into her deep brown eyes, watching as they slowly gloss over and pray that my pleading isn’t falling on deaf ears.

“You’re wrong. We aren’t meant to be. All we do is hurt each other.” Her eyes flutter closed and a single tear drips down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb and pull her closer. “I don’t want a man who only wants to control me and tell me what I should be doing.”

“That’s not all that I am and you know it.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Let me show you then. I’m just asking for a chance, Sydney,” I say, meeting her eyes.

“I’m afraid it would be anothermistake,” she says, pulling away from me. The word cuts like a knife. I’ve never realized how hurtful a single word could be until it’s used on you.

“I’m going to prove you wrong,” I say, as she opens the door. “I know you said it’s too late for us, but you’re wrong.”