I feel my face heat as he looks down at me, and I feel kind of dumb for insinuating the stalker thing. Of course he isn’t stalking me. He probably went to the bathroom, and I walked out when he did, causing me to bump into him.
Standing straighter, I try my best to look as confident as I possibly can.
“Whatever. Let’s just get this night over with. Gwen deserves the best bachelorette party there ever was, and I won’t let the fact that you’re here ruin it.”
As I walk past him, I purposely bump into him. He doesn’t even move. Not even an inch, and that pisses me off even more for some reason.
The rest of the night went off without a hitch. The guys kept to themselves for the most part, except for when Ryker took Gwen to dance with him during a few songs.
Ellie, Haley, and I got way too drunk and danced our asses off while Holland, Patrick, and Mason did the same. It ended up being a great night, and I’m glad I didn’t let the fact that Holland was there bother me.
Surprisingly, the only thing that did bother me was when some girl came over and starting flirting and touching Holland like she wanted to eat him.
I felt this twinge of jealousy and anger that she was touching him, feeling him, and making him laugh. He didn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest, which pissed me off even more. I’m pretty sure he even looked over at me at some point to rub it in.
This whole sexual tension thing between us is really messing with my fucking head, and I hate it. I didn’t anticipate this feeling with him, and I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d crave him.
I know I can’t go there with him. I know who he is, I know he’s my best friend’s brother, I know he’s like forbidden fruit. Maybe that’s why I want him so badly. Or maybe I haven’t had sex in so long that my body is desperate for something.
I can’t actually want Holland Monroe, can I?
Chapter 19
Holland
“Man, have you even packed anything yet?” Logan asks as he stands against my wall, looking around my mess of a room. We leave for the wedding tomorrow, and I in fact have not even begun to pack.
I know, I should have probably started like, last week. I’ve been busy with practice and classes and just not wanting to do it.
I nod as I pull open my suitcase. “Yeah, I’ve started,” I lie. Logan laughs sarcastically.
“You haven’t, have you?”
I scoff. “Ye of little faith, my man. Of course I’ve started packing, we leave tomorrow.”
Logan pushes off the wall, giving me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a thing I’m saying.Smart man.
“Bullshit. Your suitcase is empty,” he motions toward the empty suitcase on my bed. I look down, trying to think of something else to say to save my ass.
“Maybe I already packed a bag, did you ever think of that?” I question. Logan raises an eyebrow, not looking convinced.
“Well, have you?” I nod. Logan takes a step toward me.
“Okay, let’s see it then.”
Fuck. “Okay fine, I haven’t started packing. There, you happy?” I ask, throwing my arms in the air. “Jesus, what’s with the third degree?”
“I just asked if you’d started to pack since you know, we leave first thing tomorrow morning to get on a plane to Italy for my brother, your best friend’s, wedding.”
“Well, I’ve been kind of busy, man. I’ll get it done,” I shrug, turning back to the empty suitcase in front of me. I fucking hate packing, and I severely hate traveling.
Flying scares the living shit out of me. The truth is, I’ve been putting off packing for a while now because I’m scared shitless to get on this damn flight tomorrow.
No one knows that I’m terrified of flying except Ellie and Mason. We went on a trip to Disney World when we were kids, and I cried the entire way to Florida. Every time the plane would jerk, I’d cry harder, gripping onto my mom’s arm for dear life.
Ellie made fun of me for months, and I haven’t flown since. That was when we were like, twelve. I have been petrified to fly ever since. I really didn’t want anyone to know that.
Logan’s right, this is my best friend’s wedding. When Ryker told me he’d be getting married in Italy, I thought he was joking. Well, no such luck. He was serious as can be, and now I have to fly to fucking Italy.
