Page 48

I can’t focus on having fun after that exchange. When I saw him walking through the bar toward the doors, it set my blood on fire.

This thing between us…it’s passionate, that’s for damn sure. Whether it’s love or hate remains to be seen. It started as love, but now I think I hate him. The fact that he’s dangling himself in front of me constantly when I can’t have him just solidifies that feeling.

He passed right by my table like I wouldn’t see him. Everyone else at the table was laughing at the chugging contest between Brian and Chase, but I glanced away long enough to spot him.

Under Armour hat pulled down low. Tanned, strong arms. The chest I could lose myself in. The long legs covered in jeans. The firm torso covered by a black shirt with abs of marble underneath.

I didn’t need to see his face to know it was him, and I was propelled by a vodka-induced rage to confront him.

And that confrontation didn’t go so well. I wasn’t sure why I was even out there other than the fact that I was a little drunk and I wanted to see him.

He’s still so beautiful.

Too beautiful.

It’s not fair.

He was mine for such a short time, and I just want to go back to the way things were. I just want a weekend at a hotel where we’re two strangers who are falling in love.

I just want him back.

Is that too much to ask for?

I guess it is.

“You okay?” Justin asks when I get back to the table.

I close my eyes real tight as I try to ward off the tears, but it’s futile.

“Let’s get you home,” he says.

I blow out a breath and shake my head. “That’s where he will be,” I whisper to him. I catch Chloe looking at us from across the table, and I’m sure she’s wondering what we’re whispering about as I look to be on the verge of tears. She’s nice enough not to ask, but I’m getting to know everyone here at this table.

It won’t be long before our friendship forces me to either confess or lie, and I don’t want to lie to these people. But I can’t exactly confess the truth, either.

“All the more reason for me to take you there,” he says.

“Okay,” I murmur. He picked me up and drove me here, and he’s only had one drink the entire time we’ve been here. “Let’s head out then.”

“I’m gonna take Gabs home,” he tells the rest of the group.

“You two are getting awfully cozy,” Mackenzie says, and there’s a clear accusation in her tone.

They don’t know he’s not into me.

Justin tosses an arm around me and pulls me in close. “Yeah we are.” He gives an exaggerated wink to everyone at the table, and uproarious laughter follows us out the door toward his car.

I glance at the spot where Cooper stood a few minutes ago, and he’s gone. I grab Justin’s arm and squeeze it as we head toward his Jeep. “You don’t have to lie to them for me.”

“I didn’t lie. We are cozy. They can interpret that however they want.” He shrugs as he unlocks the doors and walks me to the passenger side. I hop in, and then he moves around to the driver’s side and slides in behind the wheel.

“You’re a good friend to me,” I say softly.

“I feel like we have a lot in common. We’re both lying to our parents. We’re both unhappy. We’re both at a crossroads. It’s natural we’d gravitate toward each other.” He pulls up some rap song for the ride home, and I wrinkle my nose.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Bad Bunny,” he says.

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“He’s a Puerto Rican rapper.”

“I’m not into rap music,” I admit.

His hand flies to his chest. “What?” he asks, clearly horrified by my admission. “I’m not sure we can still be friends. What do you listen to?”

“Taylor Swift.” I shrug.

“Like…exclusively?” he asks, surprised.

I nod.

He laughs, and then he changes the song to something off her newest album. “Me too. I just put the rap on to make myself seem cool since it’s the thing.”

“Taylor makes you way cooler.” I lean over to bump his shoulder with mine, and we head toward home.

I let us in through the front door once we’re home, and it’s quiet. Dad’s car wasn’t out front, so he might not be home, and neither was Cooper’s—but he was waiting for a ride from the bar. I’m not sure where he was headed.

We collapse together on the couch and put on some Netflix, and I must fall asleep on Justin’s shoulder because some loud banging in the kitchen startles me awake.

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

“I think it’s Cooper,” Justin whispers. “He passed by a few minutes ago. Didn’t say a word to me when he walked by but I’m thinking he’s making something for dinner.”

I listen a little more closely and recognize the sound of pots and pans banging together—the kind of noise like he’s trying to get to the pan on the bottom of the drawer and everything else is stacked on top of it. And then the loud clatter of a plate being set onto the counter with a bit of aggression, along with some silverware.

The fridge door slamming shut.

The pantry door opening and closing.

The icemaker dispensing ice. And more ice. And still more—one of the loudest sounds in the entire kitchen.

The sound of liquid being poured into a glass and a glass bottle slamming down beside it onto the countertop.

He’s stomping around the kitchen in a huff, and I feel a little guilty that he’s probably extra huffy because he spotted me with my head on Justin’s shoulder as I lay sleeping and my friend watched a movie.

It’s complicated, this whole thing. I don’t want him to feel hurt, and yet…he’s the one causing the hurt. I guess I don’t need to mislead him where Justin is concerned, but part of me feels good, like I’m getting revenge for him ending it when it’s not what I want at all.

The other part of me feels like I should be honest with him, but every time we try to talk we just start yelling. Or he grabs me and pulls me into his arms, and I think he might change his mind, and then he doesn’t.

The movie ends, and Justin heads out. I stand by the door for a beat as I debate going into the kitchen where I know he is or going upstairs to my room.

Upstairs is safer. Besides, I don’t know if my dad’s somewhere here at home, and I don’t want him walking into the kitchen when we’re inevitably yelling at each other.

I’m about to walk into my bedroom when I feel a hand on my arm pulling me back out into the hallway. I’m slammed up against the wall, pinned there by his hips, and a thrill rushes up my spine.

Adrenaline courses through me. I want this. I want him . I want him in a way I don’t quite understand…in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before him, in a way I’ll never want anyone after him.

His eyes lock onto mine, and the stormy blue depths is all I see. I stare into them, his full of anger and fear and hopelessness, and I’m frozen to the spot as I take a breath.

I smell him. I’m close enough to breathe in that woodsy scent, the smell that became so comforting to me so quickly. I’m close enough to see the hitch of his breath, the flapping of his pulse in his neck.

“What the fuck are you doing with that jackass?” he demands.

“It’s not your business,” I grit out thickly.

“You can do better.”

I jut my chin upward a beat. “You mean like you?”

“You know it can’t work between us.”

“Why are you pushing so hard against it?” I ask him for the millionth time. There’s a begging desperation to my tone, but he stands firm for a beat.

And then his mouth crashes down to mine.

Now this… this is a kiss.

It’s hot and angsty and dramatic as his mouth opens and the urgency kicks in. His tongue moves against mine, one of his arms slinging around my waist as he hauls me closer to him, the other hand still perched on my arm. I kiss back with everything I have, wrapping my arms around his body, my fingertips reaching under his shirt so I can feel the warm, smooth skin of his back. I moan into him as he kisses me, pressing my body to him as closely as I can.

It's messy and wet, hot and sultry.

No space separates our bodies, and he shifts his hips so I can feel how hard he is for me, how ready he is. His mouth brutalizes mine with his kiss, teeth clashing together and tongues battering in some sort of epic battle that we’re both winning.

Except we can’t. Neither of us will win, not when he keeps building a stronger, taller wall between us.

And that’s when we both hear it. The front door opens and closes. My father’s voice rings loud and clear through the house as Cooper kisses me. “Gabriella?”

He pulls back, his eyes hazy as he drops his hand from my arm and unlaces his other arm from around me.

He takes a large step back, nearly bumping into the wall behind him. “I…I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He’s stuttering—unusually for the always cool and poised Cooper Noah, and I take a little pride in the fact that I’m the one who caused him to lose his cool.

“I can’t resist you, but I have to fight this. I have to. Too many people are depending on me. I can’t fuck it up.” His voice is low and resigned. He doesn’t want to walk away from me, from this, from us , but he has to. He’s convinced himself of that, and even though he’s having a hard time fighting against it, he’s trying to make good on the commitments he made, and I’m throwing something that’s nothing more than a friendship with a boy who’s more interested in him than he is in me right in his face.

He steps away, down the hall, down the stairs, back to whatever food he was making in the kitchen, back to start a conversation with my father, and I stare after him until he’s long gone, the scent of him still in my nostrils and the feel of his lips imprinted firmly on mine forever.