“If I was, you’d never see it coming.” He simultaneously winks and smiles, and I am once again not able to tell if it’s the heart failure, or Alex Cruz, but my heart skips a beat.
I hesitate to take the drink. Accepting anything from Alex right now feels like losing to the game we’ve played since we were kids. But my throat is dry and my hands are shaking. I don’t have the energy to argue, so instead I roll my eyes and snatch the bottle from his hand, turning away before he can say anything else. I continue on my way, trying not to notice how his gaze follows my every step.
I keep walking, letting the crowd and noise blur around me until I find a quiet spot to fight off the dizziness taking over. A small bench is tucked away near the edge of the park in the town square, under the golden canopy of an old maple tree. The whole area is lined with privacy hedges, perfect for someone that needs to escape, someone likeme.
Sitting on the bench, I finally bring the bottle of spiked cider to my lips. The first sip goes down cold, bitter, and grounding in a way I didn’t expect it to be. I take another drink, more of a chug this time. Closing my eyes, I try to breathe through the dizziness that remains.
Several minutes pass and all I can hear is the muffled sounds of the festival as I try to breathe. It's not helping. My hands are clammy and shaking, and there’s a heaviness in my chest. I can tell I am on the verge of passing out, I just pray my ICD still works and shocks me back to life.
“Mind if I sit, Princess?” The deep voice echoes from a shadowy figure towering in front of me. I blink up at the last person I want to see as he’s already dropping onto the bench beside me.
“Are you following me?”
“Nah. I knew you would be here.”
“How?”
“You used to come here all the time. Always lost in your sketchbook. Drawing random people or what you ate for breakfast that day.” He responds quickly, like he knew I was going to ask and already had his answer prepared.
“You remember that?” I question, eyebrows scrunching together warily.
“I remembereverything.” His eyes search mine, anticipating what I will say next. The tension is thick and hot between us. A simple spark would light this whole place on fire.
The dizziness has subsided and is now replaced with heat throughout every inch of my body. I don’t know what it is about him, especially this grown, taller, broodier version, but I feel vulnerable every time he’s around. Like my body wants to forget everything—our history, the fallout, the heartbreak, the what-could-have-beens—and instead just be consumed by him again instead. Deep down, I want to let him have his way with me, at least for one day, and pretend everything hasn’t completely gone to shit. His face is awfully close to mine, and before I lose any willpower I have left, I spring up from the bench and start to walk away.
Alex immediately stands and grabs my wrist, gently pulling me back. “Why are you leaving?”
“You—I—.” I don’t know what to say. No words come out because the only thoughts going through my mind are:
I need to leave before I take you home and ride that mustache like I don’t hate your fucking guts.
Hate-fucking is a thing people do, right?
I wonder how many other girls in this town have ridden that gorgeous face of his.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He steps in closer. I try to put space between us as I take several steps back. I’m now pinned beneath his body, my back against the tall hedges. Alex’s fingers are still wrapped around my wrist, making it look tiny under the ridiculous size of his hand. The other hand is propped up against the hedge near my head. My breath starts to falter and the dizziness is back in full force.
“Tell me why I can’t stay away from you, Emiliana? No matter how many times I tell myself that I should, I always end up back in your orbit.” His grip releases from my wrist, fingers coming up to my cheek and dragging their way across my jaw and down my neck. His fingers hover over my chest. It rises and falls underneath him with every one of my labored breaths. “Tell me to stop. Tell me touching you like this after all these years is a bad idea.” He growls, wild and pleading for me to restrain him.
I don’t.
