“That was an accident. I packed the wrong bottoms.”
He chuckles darkly, his lips brushing my hot cheek. “I believe you, your blush is your truth serum.”
His other hand finds mine and he laces our fingers. All I want is to feel his lips on mine.
I tip my chin up.
His warm, minty breath breaks across my mouth.
Will he kiss me?
Please kiss me.
“I’ve been trying to see you the way I used to.” His admission is full of the same longing that makes my chest ache. “But I can’t anymore.” He raises our clasped hands and presses mine against his cheek.
“How do you see me now?” My voice wavers with nerves and excitement.
“In ways I shouldn’t.” His lips touch the corner of my mouth. “Please, Talls, tell me not to do this.”
“But I don’t want to.” I hold my breath. Will he crack or run?
“Fuck, kitten.” His hot palm curves around the back of myneck. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” His lips hover over mine, and time suspends.
I skim the shell of his ear. “Maybe you’re not supposed to.”
His groan is pained, but before his lips touch mine, the closet door swings open. Flip shoves away from me as the robes part.
“Found you!” Connor’s gleeful grin drops as his eyes flit between us.
“Fuck.” Guilt laces the word and Flip’s expression as he pushes past Connor and disappears down the hall.
“I’m sorry, Tally,” Connor says, looking after him.
I shrug and smile, though it feels like my heart just took a right hook. “Curse of the coach’s daughter.”
CHAPTER 11
TALLY
I’ve replayed the almost kiss a thousand times over the past week and envisioned endless scenarios where it didn’t end with Flip guilt-riddled and me sad. I’m unsure what’s worse, knowing the attraction isn’t one-sided or that we’ll never be more than friends. And now I don’t even know if we can be that.
Flip left the following morning before anyone else woke up, and I haven’t heard from him since.
My final semester has started, and I’m throwing myself headfirst into coursework. I’m focused on dance, getting through the semester, and not fixating on how Flip almost kissed me, or the way my family is in shambles.
I have nearly daily phone calls with my sister, who vacillates between tears of anger and confusion. I hate that I’m relieved that I don’t have to manage her feelings for more than half an hour. Ties is coping by spending all his spare time with his robotics team.
The subway stops, pulling me back to the present. I exit the train and join the sea of people heading home from work. I haven’t seen my dad since Christmas, and he begged me to havedinner with him. I can’t get out from under this anger blanket if we don’t talk. I’m also worried about the team and Lexi and Hammer and Hemi, who work in the front office with him. It’s not my job to manage everything for everyone else, but I also don’t want to make the problem worse. So I’m on my way to the Terror office.
I adjust my toque and step out into the blustery January evening. It’s only four thirty, and the sun is already setting. This is my least favorite time of year. The frigid temperatures, the bone-chilling wind, and the short days deplete me. Add in all the other stuff, and the stress is an impossible weight.
I scurry out of the cold and take the elevator to the office floor, but I stop outside my dad’s door, and center myself before I alert him to my presence. He’s wearing reading glasses, pen tapping against his bottom lip, his focus on the papers in front of him. Despite being over six feet tall and built for sports, he somehow looks older and frailer. Like a regular man, not the super dad I used to believe in. It breaks my heart that my rose-tinted glasses are gone.
He looks up before I knock, and his expression brightens. “Tallulah. Come on in, kiddo.”
Roman sometimes calls Hammer kiddo, but it sounds different coming from him. I don’t know why it irks me when my dad does it. Maybe because Roman puts so much effort in, and my dad doesn’t.
He pushes away from his desk and stands, rounding it to hug me. It’s wooden and awkward. I miss the way things used to be, but I don’t. I’ve always been a pleaser, seeking his approval. Maybe because it meant for a few minutes, his attention was on me instead of the team. He’s never been present enough for us to be close, and it took my parents separating for me to see that.
