With his hand still clutched on my arm, Brandon pushes me to the wall, holding me firmly in place. He’s pressed against me, not about to let me loose, and my brain up and sizzles until it’s so fried, it’s completely worthless. Which is a bad thing, because that means I’m working on instinct alone, and my instincts are purring under his touch.
“You’re going to let me talk this time, and you’re not going to run away,” he says, his words tickling my cheek.
His hold is gentle yet firm, in no way painful. If I gave him a good shove, I know he’d let me go.IfI gave him a shove.
Instead, I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of his breath on my skin, of the light scent of his sports deodorant. For a moment, I compare it to Mason’s shampoo, but then I give myself a good, old-fashioned mental slap.
Brandon has you pressed against the wall. The least you can do is stay present for it.
“Fine. Talk.” There’s a catch in my voice, but I can’t do anything about it now.
Brandon’s grip softens, but he doesn’t step back. “I’m not dating Sadie. I wasneverdating Sadie.”
One second goes by, then two.
“Say something,” he murmurs, his voice growing husky.
I turn my head to look at him, which puts our lips inches apart. At some point—either at Thanksgiving, every day since then, orseconds agohe lied to me. And the thought of that finally draws up the anger I should have felt moments ago.
In fact, I’m angry enough, shoving him away seems like a good idea now, but first…
“You’re not dating Sadie…or anyone else?” I ask, just for clarification.
“No,” Brandon breathes. And then, as if testing the waters, his hand moves from my arm to my neck. It feels good. Maybe a little scary.
But mostly good.
I suck in a breath, overwhelmed with the sensation. Then I come to my senses and finally shove him back. “Youliedto me.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I did, and I’m sorry.”
I step forward, grabbing his T-shirt in my hand, livid. “Brandon!”
With his hands still in the air, he says, “I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t sit next to you at another family holiday, pretending it didn’t destroy me that after all this time, after adoring you for years—years, Harper—you still felt nothing. I couldn’t play the game, not again. So I asked Sadie to come so I could save face one time. You weren’t supposed to CARE.” Growing angry himself, he steps forward, moving into my space. “You’ve never cared before. I don’t even know if you like me—or if you justdon’t like me with her.”
My hand is still wrapped in his shirt, and my breathing is fast and shallow. I’m two seconds from either kicking him out the door or throwing myself at him.
“Stop,” I demand when he’s too close. I push on his chest. “Just…stay back.”
The anger in his eyes flickers, and then it morphs to dark amusement. “Why?”
He takes another step in.
I step back.
“Brandon,” I warn when my shoulders bump the wall.
“You hate this, don’t you?” His mood completely changes, like the anger was a cloak he simply slipped off. A smile plays at his lips—lips which are darn close to mine. “You can’t stand the fact that you can’t control this.”
I make a scoffing noise because it’s all I’m capable of at the moment.
“In your head, you probably have our first kiss all planned out, don’t you? Tell me, Harper. How was it supposed to go? Knowing you, I expect it wasn’t with you cornered in a hotel room.”
Excitement swirls in my stomach, mixed with a classic case of nerves.
“It changed depending on what grade we were in.”
He sucks in a breath and says a word his mother would not approve of. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
