by Julie Cross
The arguments turn over and over in my head until I finally release a groan and say, “Will you give me a ride? I just had a vodka tonic.”
She smiles. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
–Haley–
Claire shifts on the blanket beside me. “How do you know he’s laughing about this?”
I roll over and press my face into the blanket, feeling the cool grass beneath it. Music drifts from Nick Wilson’s house. We came outside to escape it, but the boom, boom, boom of the bass carries farther than I’d thought possible. And all it does is take me back to the dance floor with Fletch. Why did I dance with him? Why did I let him take me backstage? Why can’t I stop hanging out at his place of employment?
“Haley?” Claire prompts. “How do you know he’s laughing at you? How do you know what he’s thinking if you just ran off?”
“I don’t know that he’s laughing at me, okay?” I admit, and then I turn over to look at her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it had gone differently. That I’d been more in control of the situation. More experienced. I mean I just let him…”
“What?” Claire asks, a grin sliding across her face. “Pleasure you? Meet your every need—”
I reach up and cover her mouth with my hand. Why did I have to tell her? I shoot a glance at the two guys standing near the lake, only about twenty feet from where we’re sitting. “Tate is right over there,” I hiss. “It’s already weird that I told you.”
Which is why I couldn’t tell Claire that what happened with Fletch was kind of a first for me. Yeah, Tate and I had sex when we were together, and he definitely tried his best to be considerate and unselfish, but still that never really happened for me. We were too young, too inexperienced for it to be amazing. But in the event that Claire and Tate are having mind-blowing sex together, my own pride is a bit too fragile to explain to her why tonight was more monumental for me than it may seem.
“Still don’t get how Leslie and Kayla missed you disappearing with Fletch,” Claire says.
“I know, right? What’s the point of safety in numbers if your numbers don’t notice that you’re missing?” Although, if I’m being honest, had it been the other way around, had any of them disappeared, I wouldn’t have seen a thing. I was way too absorbed in Fletch.
God, Fletch.
He’s still on my skin. In my head. In my panties.
I groan and return to pressing my face into the ground. My head is throbbing. I’ve had too many drinks tonight. And a lot of excitement. “No more club. Don’t let me go back there no matter what I say, deal?”
“We can revisit that request,” Claire says. “But first, what if we employ a little basic logic? Fletcher made it clear he can’t do the girlfriend/boyfriend thing with you—”
“Oh, so clear,” I say. A lump forms in my throat thinking about that last phone call, my stupid idea to ask him out. Like I’m so great that I can make anyone say yes. Didn’t work with Tate; sure as hell didn’t work with Fletcher.
“But,” Claire offers. “He’s obviously into you. He wants you in some way, maybe not in the way you want. But if we’re being logical, this means you can have something from him, just not everything. The question is—”
“Is that enough for me,” I finish. I sit up, slowly allowing that question to sink in. In the moment, I didn’t need anything else. Couldn’t think about anything but the feel of him, the taste of him. But now…?
“If you’re enjoying yourself,” Claire says, “what’s the harm in continuing?”
“That’s the thing, it is fun,” I admit. “Well, it was until I asked him out and he shut down all hope of anything in the future. But if we go back to that, what happens when things in my life aren’t so fun? What if I’m in a crisis and I really need someone?” I look her in the eye. “What if Tate was only willing to be the guy for you who shows up after closing time at the bar for hot make-out sessions? What if he wasn’t willing to stick around when your dad got sick or when that guy tried to attack you? Would that be enough for you?”
Claire’s face grows serious. She shifts her gaze to her hands. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“That’s what I thought.” My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. “So yeah, I definitely can’t go back to that club.”
“But is it like that for you and Fletch?” Claire says, her forehead wrinkling. “Is it just hot make-out sessions after closing time?”
As if someone hit the rewind button, I replay the events of my summer. Fletch trying his best to explain complicated outline structures to a distracted me. Fletch showing up at my house with Vixen to apologize for being an asshole. Fletch admitting to me how much he loves to play hockey. Watching the sunrise on the roof of his barn. Dancing in my basement. Him holding my hair while I barfed and pleading with Mrs. Markson to give me a retest. All the details roll over me in layers upon layers.
Slowly I shake my head. “No, it hasn’t been all about the make-out sessions, but he said he didn’t want—”
“To go to a stupid town dance with you,” Claire points out. She’s got that look on her face that people get when they think they’ve figured out something before you have. “My mom used to tell me not to judge a guy by what he says, but instead to pay attention to what he actually does. I think she wanted to make sure I didn’t fall victim to some sweet-talker, but what I’m saying is that Fletcher hasn’t promised you something and then broken that promise, right?”
Something about that advice and the way she worded that last thing about promises sends a punch of guilt through me. She’s right. Fletch didn’t promise me anything. But still he gave and he gave on many occasions. And then I pushed him. Like I always seem to do when I really want something.
And I really want him.
“It wasn’t fair, was it? When I asked him out?” I say to Claire, though I’m really talking to myself. “I knew he wasn’t ready, and then it’s like I gave him an ultimatum—either date me or never speak to me again.”
Claire opens her mouth to argue but instead bites down on her lower lip, likely seeing my point.
I spring to my feet, feeling both guilty and energized. I free my phone beneath my dress strap where I’d stowed it. “So, I’ll call him. I’ll tell him I’m sorry for running off and for pushing him and just…” I look at Claire for more, but she’s focused on something inside the house. “And whatever. We’ll just go from there. It’s a good start, right?”
“You could call him,” Claire mutters, her eyes now wide. “Or you could just tell him in person.”
I pivot to face the house and, sure enough, Fletcher Scott is pushing through the crowded living room, heading for the back-patio door.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
–Fletcher–
This living room is packed to the brim, worse than the club on Saturday night. My stomach is churning, my heart racing, my neck beginning to itch. The urge to turn around and flee the scene grows stronger with each pair of curious eyes that lands on me. But it’s too late. I’ve already decided. Angel is right. My only job right now is to tell Haley that I want to be with her. The rest will sort itself out later. But damn, I wish she hadn’t taken off like she did. It would be so much easier if we could have this talk at the club. On my home turf. Because a big high-school party at a football player’s house is so far from home turf for me, I might need a passport.
I spot Leslie standing near the sofa, but before I can ask her if she knows where Haley is, she points a finger at me, her eyes narrowed. “Hey…I know you!”
Her words mush together in a drunk and disorderly way. The chances of her being helpful are slim to none. “Yeah, you called me an elf once.”
“God, Haley’s right, I am a bitch,” Leslie says, and then because I needed more shit to deal with, she dunks her head and starts shaking with sobs.
Jesus Christ.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” I give her a small pat on the shoulder and quickly turn my back.
Cole.
He’s got a beer in one hand and appears to be telling an animated story to one of our teammates.
This is great. Just great.
I release a frustrated breath and head straight over to Cole. The look on his face when he sees me, though, is almost worth all the discomfort of being here at this party. Almost. I snatch the beer from his hand and pass it to a girl standing a few feet away.
Cole’s face reddens, but he separates himself from the little group he’d been chatting up. “What are you doing here?”
“Babysitting you, apparently,” I say. “How did you get here—” I stop myself and refocus on tonight’s objective. “You know what? I don’t care. Just don’t move from this living room. No one at this party is giving you a ride home, got it?”
His gaze darts left and right. He scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed, but he nods.
Maybe I should just call Braden to come pick us up now and call it a night. But then I remember what Angel said about Haley stewing in her embarrassment or whatever for fourteen hours. Truth is, I don’t know exactly what’s going on in her head. I just know that she was with me and she left upset, and I can’t wait until the morning to fix this.
Even though it goes against all my instincts, I exhale and then say to Cole, “Have you seen Haley?”
“Yeah, she’s out—” He stops, his eyes wider than when he spotted me here. “That’s why you came? For Haley?”
“Maybe…I mean yes.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I just need to talk to her.”
Before he tells me where she is, I spot her through the glass back doors. She’s standing on a blanket in the grass, her cell phone clutched in one hand. My heart picks up speed. My hand is on the doorknob. But I turn quickly to Cole. “I meant what I said. Stay right here.”
By the time I get the door open, she’s spotted me.
And suddenly this is all so much more real. She knows I’m here. I came to say something. My chest tightens, my steps grow heavier, but my resolve is still intact. All the eyes at this party could watch me, and I’d still want to tell her what I came to say.
Claire had been sitting on the blanket in the grass, but she scrambles to her feet as if preparing to make an exit. Tate, who probably doesn’t have a clue what may have gone down between me and Haley, lifts a hand to wave at me.
“Hey, man. You came!”
Claire rushes over to stop him from coming closer, and soon I’m standing in front of Haley, scared as hell, but here.
Her hair is still tangled from our make-out session, her dress is a bit wrinkled now, but she looks gorgeous and perfect and so many other things I can’t seem to articulate. Freakin’ hell, Angel is right. I am definitely falling in love with this girl.
She stares up at me for several seconds, and I’m about to dive in to what I came to tell her, but then she says, “I was just going to call you.”
“You were?” That’s a little surprising.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out.
“Sorry?” I feel my forehead wrinkle. “Don’t apologize for…what happened at the club. If you were feeling uncomfortable—”
Her face flames. “No, not for that. I’m sorry for asking you out. Especially the way I did it.”
“I shouldn’t have said no.” Before she can ask for clarification, I step closer and reach for her hand. Slowly, I tangle our fingers until they’re locked together. “What I should have said is that I don’t know if I can handle a town dance, but I want to be with you. I want to be able to call you and see you and talk to you and all the other yous that we haven’t even thought of.”
“What about—” she starts to protest.
I touch my free hand to her lips. “Can we do that? Can we just be together and figure out all that other shit later?”
She uses our linked hands to tug me closer and then lifts my fingers up for me to see them. “Your hand is shaking.” Concerned, she rests her other hand on my chest. “Your heart is racing.”
“Just nerves,” I reassure her. “I’m a little out of my comfort zone. And a little too close to a beautiful girl to keep my pulse in check.”
A hint of a smile crosses her face. She still hasn’t answered my question. “We should make a contract…”
“A contract?”
“You know,” she says, looking up at me. “So we can list all the things you’re open to and all of your hard nos—big town events, definitely no. Jock parties—maybe. Bondage, nudity, role play…probably.”
Relief washes over me. I bring her closer until her head rests against my chest, then I kiss her hair, her temple, her cheek. “No contract. I promise I’ll be much harder to get rid of from now on.”
The way her body relaxes against mine, I know that I’ve finally said the right thing. And even with the nosy onlookers, I lift her chin until she’s looking at me and then kiss her in a way that most people might reserve for when they’re alone.
Eventually, Haley pulls away, glances around, and then says, “Want to get out of here?”
“That would be a hard yes.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
–Haley–
I come out of the shower to find Fletch in my bedroom, spinning in a slow circle, taking it in.
“You cleaned…” He’s still gawking at the spot where the magazines had been. “You really cleaned. This is pretty incredible.”
After the kitchen-scrubbing session, I moved on to my bedroom. Something I’ve needed to do for a while. “My parents are gonna flip when they get back.” I stare at Fletcher, looking oh-so-sexy in my bedroom. The shock of him showing up at the party hasn’t worn off yet, and I’m not sure how much I can throw at him in one night. But the truth spills out anyway. “I just kept thinking about you being in here, and how it’s so messy and I don’t have a clue what’s in this room, and what if you came over again and there were peanut crumbs hiding somewhere—”
The look he gives me is so intense, so welcoming, words get stuck in my throat. He crosses the room in two seconds flat, and then his hands are on my face. And then his mouth is on mine, and I’m in heaven. This is what I’ve been waiting for from him all along. This kiss. One with layers and layers of us and what we’re willing to do for each other.
The towel I’d wrapped my hair up in falls to the floor, startling both of us into coming up for air. Fletch takes another moment to look around at the tidy room. There’s actually nothing on my bed except blankets. That hasn’t happened in years, probably.
“Can’t believe you cleaned your room for me,” he says, practically under his breath.
My face heats up, but I brave the honest path. “There are a lot of things I would do for you. Cleaning my room is just one of them.”
As if to prove that my new habits are here to stay, I scoop the towel from the floor and hang it over my desk chair.
Fletcher shifts from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable for the first time since his brother dropped us off here thirty minutes ago. “I guess it bothers me…some.”
“It’s too much?” Worry eats at my insides. I shouldn’t have told him why I cleaned it. He didn’t ask. “I mean, it isn’t like I meant to announce it to you or anything. You—or more like your situation—got me thinking about being clean as more than just a personal preference. It’s a safety issue. Andi is here sometimes, and she’s always getting these rashes—”
“Haley,” Fletch says, his voice and his eyes full of warmth. “It’s not too much at all. Not in that way. Just that I hate that you even have to think about these things. A month or two ago, it didn’t matter. And now it does. Because of me.”
Suddenly, a whole lot of things about Fletcher Scott make sense. The biggest item being his anti-relationship history. “That’s what bothers you? That it might be too much fo
r someone you get close with? Too much for me?”
He releases a breath and then nods. “Maybe not at first, but eventually it’ll get old. Dealing with my shit. Never eating in restaurants, probably never here, either. All the handwashing and gargling with Listerine just so you can touch me.” He looks away, runs a finger over the quilt on my bed. “I know my family will do whatever they need to, but anyone else? It’s always seemed like too much to ask. So, I make a point not to put someone in a position of needing to change.”
His eyes meet mine again, steady and strong, a hint of challenge as if he still expects that I might bail. “Not that I sat down one day and made a big decision to avoid…” He gestures from me to him. “Whatever you want to call this. It was all mostly subconscious. This is probably the first time I’ve put it into words. Out loud.”
My first instinct is to say I’ll do anything and everything he needs me to do, but even I think that’s too heavy. And it won’t turn his doubt. Only time will do that. Time spent taking a big risk. “No one can make promises about how they’ll feel in the infinite future, not even me, and I love planning for the future. It isn’t too much right now. And I’m not easy to get rid of, either.”
Fletcher cracks a smile and returns to standing close to me. “You’re right. No one can promise that.” He touches my wet hair, sliding a lock from the side of my face. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway, because I’m definitely falling in love with you, and there are no brakes on this train. Even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn’t.”
My eyes burn and blur in front of me. I throw myself into kissing him before I start crying. There was so much honesty in his voice, in the actual words he said, it’s making my chest physically ache.
Fletch walks backward, his mouth still glued to mine, tugging me with him until he’s seated on my bed. My hands are all over him, untucking his shirt, lifting it over his head. He loosens the tie on my bathrobe and slowly, giving me time to protest, slips a hand inside. His fingers glide gently over my back. Then he breaks our kiss, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Haley…about earlier tonight…at the club…”