“You knowexactlywhat thing.”
“Why do you think?” I could have sworn his gaze dropped to my lips for a millisecond.
I swallowed hard, had he been serious about the kiss? I honestly couldn’t tell. “Dare—I dare you to model for my art class next week.”
“I leave town in two days.” He said, his eyes darting between mine, regret possibly dancing somewhere in between.
Confusion washed over me, and I felt like a humiliated idiot. “Then drink.” I lifted my shot glass and tapped it to his before I knocked it back.
“You didn’t lose.” He said tightly.
“Yes, I did.” I could feel tears welling up in my traitorous eyes as I slid off the barstool, but he moved faster, bracketing me in at the countertop before I could escape.
“Sara.” He murmured, and I couldn’t possibly think straight with him standing that close. There was nowhere to go as one tear and then another slipped down my cheeks. Nowhere to hide as I desperately tried not to crumble in front of him, failing miserably with every second that passed.
I could feel his body heat radiating off him as he lifted a trembling hand. “Don’t cry, pretty girl.” He pleaded quietly before a callused thumb brushed across my cheek, carefully wiping away the tear. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” He tipped my gaze to his and split me in half with just a look.
“I lied.” I admitted against my better judgment. “And I hate that I don’t know if you were serious or not.”
His words were a deluge. “I know—I was—I’m sorry—I just can’t go another three years without talking to you.”
“Then don’t.” I might have pleaded.
“If you don’t tell me to stop,” he murmured, eyes wild. “Then I’m going to kiss you.” I froze, feeling the heat of him brush against my face as he pleaded. “Just tell me to stop. Remind me why this is a terrible idea.”
I knew I should pull away, but I wasn’t even remotely strong enough to exercise that much willpower, as everything I’d ever wanted dangled in front of me like bait—tempting and dangerously deadly all at once. And maybe that’s all this was to him, a catch and release—another one of our silly games that would leave me gutted once he got what he wanted and threw me back—just like everyone else had.
My fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt as he pressed closer, eyes fluttered as the heat of his breath rushed across my mouth, right there, just waiting for me to cave and close that last tiny little bit of terrifying distance.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Liam growled from the doorway, and we both froze.
Suddenly, Carter wasn’t in front of me anymore, he was flying backwards. They went crashing to the ground in a stupid heap of testosterone while I bolted for the door, biting back a sob.
“Sara,” Carter begged, but I didn’t stop.
Outside, I laid across the porch swing on the side of the house and cried. Ugly cried, snot and all. I didn’t even know exactly why I was crying, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Relief, nerves, anxiety. He knew my secret. He’d tried to kiss me. Liam had found us. It was all too much and simultaneously not enough.
Carter’s quiet, calm voice appeared behind me a little while later. “Truth.”
I sat up and wiped my nose. “Oh, my God.” I gasped, realizing one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. “Carter.”
“It’s fine.” He said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We were drinking, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” My chest collapsed like a sinkhole with no bottom.
Oh, that was the story we were going with.
“Truth,” Carter murmured from behind me again. “Yellow Gatorade is my favorite. Always was, always will be.”
I chewed on that for a minute, confusion washing over me, but when I turned to argue, a lump formed in my throat, realizing he was already gone. When I would see him again, I had no idea.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there by the time the screen door finally opened again. “You doing okay, sweetie?” My mother sat next to me, rubbing my back. “You seemed a little surprised that Carter was back today.”
“I think I’m just tired.” I lied. “And maybe a little drunk.” That part was true. All those whiskey shots had finally caught up with me, and I feltdisgusting.
My mother shook her head with a chuckle. “Let’s get you to bed, you wild girl.”
The rest of the house was already quiet as we walked arm in arm up to my room. She deposited me in my bed, clothes and all, before she pulled the covers up and pushed my hair out of my face. “I’m so proud of you, Sarafina.” My lower lip quivered, and my mother’s brows crunched sympathetically. “Oh, sweetie, it will all work itself out.” She promised. “It always does. Timing is everything.”
I nodded, another tear streaking down my face as I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “There’s chocolate melted on the loveseat.” I didn’t bother explaining which one.
