I glance down at my dress. I’d found it at my favorite thrift store, and my grandmother altered it, replacing the zipper with a long row of buttons—buttons that would take forever to undo.I’d imagined Vincent’s hands on my back, fumbling one by one, and the thought alone had been enough to make me choose it.
But he’s not here. And I’ll probably end up falling asleep in the living room in this dress, eating takeout dumplings and noodles.
“Leaving already?”
I spin around. He’s right behind me, so close I almost collide with him. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his white shirt crisp under a black jacket. But it’s his tie that steals my breath—dark blue, the exact shade of my dress.
I step closer, rising on tiptoe on his scribbled Converse shoes—covered in band names and lyrics in pen—and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face against his chest. “Where have you been? Sometimes you’re such a jerk. You scared me to death!”
He chuckles, slipping his arms around my waist. “I love your dress. Are those blue boots?”
I pull back just enough to look at him, my face warming under his hazel gaze. “Yes, I... it was you who—”
He nods before I can finish. “I convinced Cece by promising we’d wash her dog.”
I arch a brow. “We?”
The corner of his lips curls, and my breath catches when he leans close, his mouth brushing my ear. “Yeah... let’s just say I don’t think I can stay away from you for too long. Can you?”
I shake my head before I can stop myself. His lips graze behind my ear, trailing kisses down to the base of my neck, one after another. My resolve to be angry at him for ignoring me for two weeks melts instantly. I don’t know what’s going on in his head—but I do know how much I’ve missed him.
“Did you listen to the song I sent you?” I ask softly, twirling a lock of his hair around my finger.
Vincent nods, eyes closed, leaning into my touch. “It’s my new favorite,” he murmurs, lips hovering dangerously close to mine.
I burst out laughing, and he laughs with me. His laughter—it’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.
“Even more thanDrain You?”
He cups my face in his hands as we sway together, lost in our own little world. For a moment, it feels like no one else exists.
“Let’s not exaggerate. The only song I love more thanDrain Youis the sound of your voice. I could listen to you talk, scream, complain—anything—for hours.”
“My favorite sound is your guitar,” I counter. “When you play the solo inSmells Like Teen Spirit... or when you playBoulevard of Broken Dreams. I know they’re the most mainstream choices, and you’re probably calling me a poser in your head after spending years teaching music culture—but I swear, when you play those two songs, it’s like something takes over you. I can’t explain it.”
His laughter rumbles through me, warm and unguarded. The kind of laugh he rarely lets anyone hear. “I thought your favorite wasThe Chain?”
I smirk, wanting to tease him. “Maybe you should play it for m—”
But I don’t get to finish. He spins me around, pulling me against his chest, his breath hot on my neck as he whispers the lyrics into my ear. “And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again...”
My knees go weak. I close my eyes and let myself lean into him completely, because without his arms I’d collapse right here on the gym floor.
He turns me back to face him. I climb onto his shoes again, holding onto him tightly. Together we finish the line, whisperinginto each other’s lips: “I can still hear you saying... you would never break the chain.”
His hazel eyes glitter beneath the lights. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath ragged, his heartbeat wild—matching mine.
“Wanna go home? Please.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I laugh, grabbing his hand.
We run together toward the exit, ignoring the stares that follow us. Right now, I don’t care about anything. Nothing but Vincent Cooper.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Nova Marshall
PAST (2018)
