Page 45 of Things I Wish I Said

I clench my jaw, staring at the ground beneath my feet while my heart beats a little faster, recognizing the sound of her voice instantly.

I stand there for a moment, debating my options. Run like a little bitch or face her like a man.

The former sounds enticing.

With a sigh, I lift my head, meeting her green eyes. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Talk.”

“Alone?” She chews on her lip as her gaze darts all around us .

With a sigh, I move a few feet from where everyone’s standing, waiting as she follows. Behind her, I catch a glimpse of Ry, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Okay. You got me alone,” I say, impatient. “What do you want?”

Rachel inhales, running a hand through her shoulder-length locks. When we were dating, she wore it long, halfway down her back.

I preferred it longer.

“I know how we ended things—”

“You ended things.”

“Right.” She shifts on her feet, eyes locked on mine before she closes the gap between us and reaches out, touching my arm.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I’ve had an entire year to think about how I ended things, and I regret it.

I was selfish and wrong. I hurt you at a time when you were already hurting, and if I could take it back, I would. ”

I laugh, a dry sound that sticks in my throat. “Well, now that your consciousness is clear, you can move on. No worries, I’m fine.”

Fine. I hate that word. It’s a shitty way to describe just about anything, let alone someone’s well-being.

“I miss you.”

I huff. “What do you want me to say, Rachel?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down so no one can hear, though from the looks of it, everyone has moved by the fire to give us more space.

I take a step back, out of reach, and her hands fall away .

“I tried to talk to you a couple of weeks after,” she says, her voice thick. “I already missed you, and I felt terrible about the way things ended, but then your father died right after, and you were unreachable. Different. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

“My father died , Rach,” I say, waving an arm around me. “If anyone knew how close we were, it was you. Hell, you were close to him, too.”

“I know, and part of me thinks that’s why I did it. I couldn’t handle everything that was going on.”

“So you break up with me and lose us both?” I ask, incredulous. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“I wanted to take it back the minute I got home that day, but you were so angry and not coping. I wanted to give you space, and then when I finally gathered the courage to talk to you about it, you refused to even speak with me.”

“What the hell did you expect?”

“I deserved every bit of the anger you directed toward me,” she says, stepping forward. “But I know you’ve been struggling this year, and I think I can help.”

I scoff, taking a step back before she touches me again. “This conversation is over. Done. You apologized, and you’re forgiven, but there’s nothing left to say.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I storm over to the fire where my friends are gathered.

Sinclair checks on me first, coming up alongside me and touching my arm with her hand. It’s the same place Rachel’s was just moments ago, except Ryleigh’s touch snaps like a live wire. “You okay?”

I offer her a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fucking great.”

Cameron hovers nearby, his gaze shifting to where her hand meets my skin, and my stomach tightens in knots.

“I changed my mind,” I say, taking a step back. “I need a fucking beer.”

An hour later, I’m three beers deep but pacing myself. All things considered, I’m proud of my restraint.

A handful of people have left already, calling it an early night.

Unfortunately for me, Rachel and her best friend Beth Anne are still present, so when Ryan finishes the rest of his beer and tosses it in a nearby trash can, then announces to no one in particular that it’s time to play a little truth or dare, I want to kill him.

I shoot him a scathing look, one that warns him not to go to sleep tonight, but he simply shrugs, and I wonder if maybe I underestimated him. Maybe he invited them, and this is some kind of ploy on his part to get us back together—to bury the hatchet.

Yeah, fucking right.

The only goal he’s accomplishing tonight is pissing me off.

I take a step back, a beer bottle dangling from my fingers. “Count me out. ”

“I’ll play.” Sinclair steps forward, and I jerk my gaze over to find her beaming up at Cameron.

“Wanna play now?” Trent mutters under his breath, and I flip him the bird. With a laugh, he starts to help Ryan drag chairs by the firepit so we can sit.

I hang back, both because I don’t want to play and because I’m waiting like a fucking schmuck to see if Ryleigh will notice.

She does.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. It’s warm and soft and sends a shiver down my spine.

“I’ll play,” I say in a husky tone, as my gaze dips to her mouth.

She swallows, and I stare, mesmerized, before she tugs my arm, and we head for the chairs. I quickly wedge myself between her and Ryan, more than a little smug when Cameron is forced to take a seat opposite us.

Ryan kicks us off with a rather benign dare from Trent to shotgun a beer, followed by Laura, a pretty chill chick from our class, choosing truth and having to admit how many sexual partners she’s had.

The entire time, I stare straight at the fire, ignoring the weight of Rachel’s gaze on the side of my face.

“Cameron, truth or dare?” Laura asks.

Cameron scoffs like there’s no choice to make. “Dare.”

“Take a dip in the lake . . . wearing only one piece of clothing.”

“Done.” Cameron rises from his chair. His shirt comes off first, followed by his shorts, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs everyone expects he’ll leave on.

So, when he tucks his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and drops them, there’s a collective gasp from the girls and a cacophony of displeasure from the guys.

The only article of clothing that remains are his socks as he balls up his clothing and tosses them at Ryleigh with a wink.

I glare at him so hard it’s a miracle his face doesn’t ignite, but he’s too busy grinning at Ryleigh to notice. “Hold on to these for me, will ya, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart?

The muscle in my jaw clenches. “Really? You left your fucking socks on, asshole?”

“What?” Cameron shrugs, unashamed. “I don’t like my feet.”

I grind my teeth, restraining myself as I watch the smile on Sinclair’s face grow in the seconds before Cameron turns and makes a beeline for the lake.

When he returns a few minutes later, I snatch his pile of clothes from Ryleigh and toss them at him. “Put some fucking clothes on,” I snap while he laughs.

“Yes, Dad.”

I roll my eyes, catching Ryleigh’s gaze by chance. She arches her brow, which I return with a dubious look of my own.

“Ryleigh, truth or dare,” Cameron asks, pulling us from our stare-off.

“Pick truth,” I say before she has a chance to speak.

Sinclair’s brows rise. “What?” she asks as if she heard me wrong .

“Pick. Truth,” I say between gritted teeth. The last thing I fucking need is anyone daring her to make out with Trent or Cameron, because if that happens, I might lose my fucking shit. “Please,” I whisper.

“Fine.” She sighs, turning back to him. “Truth.”

Cameron frowns, his gaze flicking between us, then settling on me. “Have you hooked up with anyone at this lake?”

Ryleigh’s throat bobs. “Yes.”

I fight a smirk as Cameron’s eyes narrow, and graciously answer his unspoken question with a shrug.

This time it’s Ryleigh’s turn to ask, which means I can relax a little knowing she’s out of the line of fire. “Rachel, truth or dare.”

I freeze, and if Rachel’s wide-eyed gaze is any indication, she’s just as surprised Ryleigh chose her as I am. I want to ask her what the hell she’s doing.

“Truth,” she answers.

“Are you in love with Grayson?”

My jaw drops, and I wonder if this is some way to get back at me for making her pick truth.

Across from me, Rachel’s mouth parts. She glances at me, cheeks flushing in the firelight, and I have to give her credit, her gaze never wavers as she stares me dead in the eyes and says, “Yes.”

I close my eyes, cursing under my breath as my nostrils flare.

I don’t need this right now .

The last thing I want is Rachel getting it in her head there’s a chance for us when there’s not.

Another couple rounds pass while I try to avoid her eye, fuming as someone says my name.

I glance toward the sound to find Ryan staring at me. “Truth or dare, man,” he asks.

I cast him a warning look, which he ignores as I say, “Dare.”

“Kiss Rachel.”

I stare at him, jaw locked.

I want to scream like a banshee, shout at the top of my lungs and ask him if he’s fucking serious, but based on the way he’s staring at me, I know he is, and I don’t even need to ask why.

His meddling has a purpose. The boys all think I never got over her.

Little do they know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Yeah, maybe I still resent her for the way she broke up with me.

It was cold and heartless, at a time when I needed her most. But I recovered from any heartbreak a long time ago.

If anything, I’m grateful, because Rachel, along with my father, taught me a valuable lesson.

Love doesn’t last and fairy tales don’t fucking exist.

My nostrils flare as I stand, but instead of crossing the distance to Rachel, I reach down and cup Ryleigh’s face in my hands, swallowing the small gasp in the back of her throat when I crush my mouth to hers.

It’s been a week since I touched her like this.

A week since I’ve had my hands on her, but it feels like years, and my body hasn’t forgotten.

Every nerve ending comes alive. My skin heats.

My mouth picks right up where we left off in her bedroom the day her mother barged in, and it feels a hell of a lot like the rush of sliding home.

My hands glide down her sides, moving to her waist and guiding her to her feet. I yank her to me, so our bodies are flush, allowing my fingers to skirt the hem of her shirt, where I connect with a sliver of hot, smooth skin while my mouth slants against hers.

My tongue darts into her mouth, tasting her and taking the kiss from languid to heated in an instant.

I bite her lower lip and she moans, fisting her hands in the front of my shirt.

The thudding of my heart feels like applause as everything around us fades until the only thing that remains is her and me and my anger.

I’m pissed that I’m jealous. Pissed at Sinclair for even looking at Cameron when I’m the only one she should want.

I have no illusions about Ryleigh’s feelings toward me.

She’s using me. I’m a means to an end. But even if I weren’t, she’s sick.

Feeling anything for her is a mistake. If everything goes to plan, we have a couple weeks before her award in LA, and then our deal will come to an end.

I’ll no longer be obligated to her, and she’ll no longer need me.

In a perfect world where I’m not heading to George Mason in the fall and she didn’t have cancer, maybe we’d fit.

Her tongue traces the seam of my mouth before she sucks on my lower lip, and I groan .

She’s dying.

If only my heart would listen.

Someone beside us clears their throat, and I slow the kiss, brushing my lips over hers one more time before pulling back.

And then I walk away.