Why did it have to be her? That kiss… the way she felt…
“Skylar.” It ends there. Because I just made out with my best friend’s little sister. A best friend who is in the other room. Fuck! I haven’t seen her in forever. Not since she was a college kid, eighteen or nineteen, at a party that Micha dragged me to so we could keep an eye on her, and she threw up on me. That was… five years ago?
Jesus. What have I done? She wasn’t someone I could kiss. Or want to do more with. Shit.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” I mumble, scrubbing my hands up and down my face, feeling like a world-class asshole. “I didn’t know it was you. Your brother is right out there.” The things I said to her… the things I would have done…
Guilt swarms me like a pack of rabid bees.
“Relax. It’s not like I tell Micha who I kiss.”
I laugh caustically into my hands. “That’s not exactly thepoint, and you know it. This was a giant mistake. On both our parts.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the door bursts open, and someone walks in. Thankfully it’s not her brother. The tequila in my stomach roils, threatening to rebel. I have to go back out there and talk to Micha and pretend like I didn’t just kiss the hell out of his baby sister. Pretend like she didn’t make me hard and hungry and excited. Like she didn’t make me feel alive for the first time in so long.
“Hey,” the woman says, and I realize I know her, too. Awesome. Braelyn blinks her large brown eyes at us, shifting back and forth between both of us. “I’ve been looking for you,” she says to Skylar. “We should get going.”
Skylar nods. “Yeah.”
That’s all she says, but now she’s not meeting my eyes. And without a word to me, she walks off to join her friend, leaving me standing here in shock and torment.
I just fucked up. Big time. But even worse, I have a gnawing urge to run after her and do it all over again. And that’s something that can never happen.
2
SKYLAR
Two years later
“What the hell?” I cry at the ominous crunch from beneath my platformed heel and feel the buckle of cardboard beneath my weight. I step back, nearly dropping my cute clutch purse when I see what it is. A warm and anxious flutter rolls through me because there’s a giant red heart-shaped box—now partially crushed on one end—and a huge ultra-soft-looking teddy bear with a card perched in its arms right in front of my door. “Oh my god.”
Crouching down, I set my purse on the top step and snatch the card. Nerves shake me. Both the good and the bad kind. The good, because hello, chocolate, and a teddy bear. The bad because I have no idea who sent me these, but I worry it’s the last person I ever want sending me anything.
I glance up and down the sidewalk but don’t see anyone I know. Not that I expected to see Josh lurking. He’s more subtlethan that. Still, a girl can never be too careful. I open the envelope with a shaky hand and pull out the pink heart-shaped card.
Hope you enjoy these. We’re so proud of you and love you so much. Happy Valentine’s Day. Love, Mom and Dad.
A warm, gooey sensation fills my insides.I’m proud of myself, too.And I’m relieved. Not that I expected Josh to send me anything, but I’m grateful he didn’t. I’d hate to throw out all this chocolate and cut up the bear. What a waste that would have been.
With a sigh, I push the bear and card back inside, lock up, awkwardly pick up the large box of chocolates and my purse, and get my ass going, already late to meet my friends. I had a six-year-old with pneumonia who took a turn for the worse, and I wouldn’t leave until she was stable. Then I had to run home, shower, and change my clothes.
A few blocks up,I turn the corner and spot my friend Roman’s restaurant, Roundhouse, overflowing with people waiting in the cold February night for a table. I quicken my pace just as the phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and am not shocked to see it’s Braelyn.
Braelyn: Where are you?
Me: About to walk in.
I tuck my phone back in my purse, zip it up, and swing it behind me so I can slip it back onto my shoulder when the heavy leather connects with something—someone—and a sharp intake of breath is followed by a string of profanities.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I spin around to find a tall man doubled over, one hand on his knee, the other on his lower abdomen. “I didn’t see you. Where are you—oh.” A small laugh escapes my lips. His hand is actually covering his groin. “Wow. I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah,” he manages, his voice tight. “You sound like it.”
“No, really. I am. I didn’t mean to hit you. Especially not… there. I sometimes have strange reactions to things at inappropriate times. That had to hurt. My purse is heavy.” Another laugh that I poorly attempt to disguise as a cough, and he looks up at me through watering, pain-etched eyes, sending a jolt of recognition through me. His blond hair is longer now, styled differently, but his sharp-as-cut-glass blue eyes are unmistakable. “Aston?” His name escapes my lips before I can think better of it.
Aston Hughes, my brother’s best friend, squints through his pain. “Skylar?” His voice holds the same low timbre I remember from two years ago on this exact night, though currently strained an octave higher. “Did you assault me on purpose, or is this how you greet all your brother’s friends?”
“Just the ones I don’t like,” I quip, only to slap a hand over my mouth. I really need to grow a filter. At least he didn’t sayall men you make out with in the dark. Heat climbs up my neck. “It was an accident.” Though part of me isn’t entirely sorry, and I can’t even explain why that is. I never really liked Aston. He was always a little too arrogant and asshole-ish for me. His appalled look when he realized he had been kissing me didn’t help that. Nor the fact that immediately after, he called me a mistake and said it never should have happened.
