“Why am I even stressing?” I mutter, kicking the grass with my shoe. “She doesn’t want me anyway.”
I spin with a heavy sigh, my mind watching her run away from me over and over again as I shuffle to my car and thump into the driver’s seat.
Why waste my time on guilt when nothing’s going to happen between us?
“Shit!” I thump the wheel.
I promised Atlas I’d look out for her, but I’ve gone and fucked it up.
Tipping my head back, I let out a frustrated groan that turns into a full-blown yell that bounces off the windows of my car and right back to me.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.
Should I try and see Dani again?
Is there even any point?
She’s probably gonna start hanging with Rhys, and I’ll be leaving soon anyway.
“Just fucking drive home and forget about this whole damn thing.”
I start the engine with a growl and squeal away from the curb, my insides filled with buzzing, irritated bees… and I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to eradicate them.
CHAPTER 23
DANI
Tyrell kissed me.
He kissed me, and it was…
Aw man, it felt amazing!
His lips on mine were just…
And the way he croaked out his confession, all soft and husky and…
“He’s not me.”
Those words traveled right through me, igniting parts of my soul that I didn’t even know were dormant. But the second those whispered words registered, I felt this ping in my chest.
I mean, sure, I was shocked.
I never expected to hear something like that from Atlas’s best friend.
How long has he felt that way? Always, or is this a new development?
I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours obsessing over it, trying to recall every interaction from high school and read into it. Did those shy smiles he used to give me mean more? Was he harboring these secret feelings all these years?
Does he feel as guilty over the kiss as I do?
“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” Jed replies.
Oh shit, did I just say that out loud?
I bulge my eyes at him, and he smirks. “You know I’m right. I don’t want to be cruel or anything, but Atlas isn’t here anymore.” Lightly touching my shoulder, he ignores the guy at the bar, waving to get our attention, and softly whispers, “He’s dead… and Tyrell is very much alive.”
I frown, muttering, “I wish I hadn’t told you,” before moving around to plaster on a smile and serve the man impatiently waiting for a drinks order.
