Silver Heart

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Silver Heart Page 8

by Green, Victoria


  My eyes drifted to the thin veil of snow on the ground. “I don’t know,” I sighed, trying to steady my breathing.

  “Are you really that scared?” His voice was without a single trace of criticism, his eyes free of judgment.

  “I’m not sure if I’m afraid or if I’m just used to being afraid,” I told him honestly.

  He took my hand and pulled me closer, lifting my chin up to him. “If you’re scared, I’m not going to pressure you.” He peered into my eyes, warming me with his gaze. “But if you can find it in you to just let go and take that one tiny step, I promise you that it’ll be an experience of a lifetime.”

  “I want to, but…” But what, Dylan? What’s the excuse this time? I’d come this far and I wasn’t a quitter. I needed to woman up and just do this.

  His eyes lit up. “What if I jump with you?” he offered.

  “At the same time?”

  He nodded. “That way I can be in control of the jump and you won’t have to worry about letting go. Once we’re free-falling you’ll realize that loss of control can sometimes be a good thing. You’ll love it so much you’ll be begging for more.”

  “More bungee jumping?”

  He smirked. “More loss of control.”

  “Let’s get through this one first,” I groaned, though his words caused a slight tingle of heat to shoot through my body. It settled low in the depths of my stomach, making me shiver.

  “So we’re doing this?” Sawyer asked excitedly.

  I nodded, trying to mask my fear with a tight smile.

  “Then I better tie you up before you change your mind.” He winked, rousing that heat and making it plunge even lower.

  If he kept talking like that, the whole “keeping things public” thing was going to backfire on us.

  Once we were back on the jump deck, this time tied tandem, I almost changed my mind again. The moment Sawyer noticed that I’d stiffened up, he captured my face between his hands.

  “Do you trust me, Silver?” he asked softly.

  I nodded, mesmerized by the magnetic pull of his eyes. “I trust you.”

  “This is going to rock. I promise.” He slid his hands to my waist, and drew me tightly against his chest. “It’ll blow your mind.”

  “Since you’re smaller, your arms and legs need to go all the way around him,” the jump master explained, interrupting my thoughts of other ways Sawyer could blow my mind that didn’t involve any near-death experiences. “Monkey up and hang on tight.”

  “Monkey?” I croaked. My legs had involuntarily begun to tremble.

  “Arms on his neck. Legs around his waist,” the guy directed.

  “She prefers pandas over monkeys,” Sawyer said, alluding to my favorite animal. He pulled me even closer, but his attempt to get me to relax backfired. As soon as his hips connected with mine, I let out a tiny gasp. At least my legs had stopped trembling. If only because they had now dissolved into putty.

  “You remembered the pandas.” I held my breath, trying to keep myself from pushing deeper into him. My desire to be close to him was like an inborn instinct—a primal need I had no control over.

  “Of course I did. I remember everything.” He bowed his head to mine and grinned teasingly. “I especially remember how you tried to convince your parents to adopt one and let it sleep in your room.”

  “I forgot about that. For my tenth birthday, right?”

  “And your eleventh. And twelfth and thirteenth. No matter how many plush pandas I got you, it was never enough. You wanted the real thing.”

  “Well, pandas are cute.”

  “I think you’re cute.” It may have been below freezing outside, but I was overheating.

  “Are you two ready to go?” the tour operated asked.

  “Panda up, baby,” he whispered in my ear. “And don’t let go.”

  My body trembled against his as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He helped guide my legs around his waist, ensuring that I was firmly locked onto him. His hot breath caressed the sensitive skin on the side of my neck, sending intense waves of electricity through me. His heart beat wildly against my chest, and when he inhaled sharply, stiffening his abdominal muscles, every single worry I had about the jump vanished into thin air.

  All I could feel was Sawyer—the comfort of his warmth, the security of his arms, the smell of his skin. For a brief instant we existed as one, and I wished I could snap our photo, forever freezing us in this moment.

  Someone counted down from five. I managed to tighten my grip on Sawyer’s body as a void opened below us and time froze. For a split second, I stopped breathing. Then we fell and my lungs were hit with a massive dose of oxygen, forcing me to inhale a loud, liberating gasp.

  The thrill of plummeting down was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Every cell in my body was ablaze with excitement. Adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream, fueling my senses. I saw and felt everything at the same time. Hungrily, I fed on the beautiful mountain vista; thirstily, I ingested the loud rush of water beneath me; feverishly, I consumed all of Sawyer.

  I didn’t scream. I wasn’t afraid. I was…alive.

  Total loss of control was such an invigorating, empowering feeling I immediately craved more of it. I felt liberated of all worries, ready to rip through challenges and take on the world.

  Not to mention, tandem bungee jumping was one extremely hot experience. Or at least it was in Sawyer’s arms. With every bounce we lost speed and height, but my grip on him intensified. I had no intention of releasing him. Ever.

  Our bodies entwined, our hearts pulsed in sync, and our breaths came out in matching ragged gasps. Even under layers of clothing, I could feel every inch of him. Maybe it was the height, the velocity, or the adrenaline, but I was suddenly more turned on than I’d thought possible while dangling in mid-air. Sawyer was also feeling something—that much was clear.

  As we slowed to a stop, he loosened his grip and shifted his hip, but not before I could feel his hardness against my core. A wave of heat rocked my body in response, enveloping me in a feral need to annihilate every molecule of space between us. I pressed deeper into him, causing him to dig his fingers into my back and stifle a groan.

  “Total loss of control wasn’t so bad,” I whispered into his neck. “I liked it. A lot.” Once again, I could feel every muscle in his body stiffen as he breathed out sharply.

  “I knew you would. Thank you for trusting me.”

  Long ago, he’d been one of the only people in the world that I’d trusted with my entire body, heart, and mind. As much as I wanted him to know that, I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. The past was too much of a painful subject; it would shatter the magic of the present.

  With a reluctant groan, Sawyer drew his head back and met my eyes. “Silver?” he whispered, his lips less than an inch from mine.

  “Hmm?” It took every bit of restraint I had to keep my mouth from connecting with his.

  “I should probably apologize for last night,” he said. “For kissing you like that.”

  Before I had a chance to tell him he had nothing to apologize for—I was a willing participant in every part of that late-night dip in the pool—he added, “But I can’t. Or, rather, I won’t.” A sinfully wicked grin followed his words. “I’m not sorry. Not even a tiny bit.”

  “Neither am I,” I told him as the rope began to jerk. We were being pulled back up to the bridge.

  The fingers of his left hand slid to the back of my head as his right one coasted to my hip. “It’s going to take every bit of control to keep from kissing you again.”

  “Then ditch control,” I breathed.

  “You’re right. Screw control.”

  His lips brushed against mine, but it was too late. Out of the blue, we were right beneath the landing, being plucked up by the three employees who were eager to hoist us onto the safety of the bridge.

  Shit.

  The spell had been broken, the moment disturbed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT
>
  My time with Sawyer continued to be crudely interrupted. This time, by an S.O.S. text from Maddie. Preston had landed a few hours earlier than we’d expected. When the message flashed on my phone, I was ashamed to admit that I’d completely forgotten that he was coming. Maddie and Adam had taken him to a bar called The Peak and were waiting for me to join them.

  Citing an excuse of having to meet a friend—I wasn’t yet sure how I was going to introduce my unorthodox situation to Sawyer—I asked him to drop me off in the bustling Whistler Village. Thankfully, he had plans for a night run and declined my invitation to join us.

  I needed time to think of a proper introduction between my fake boyfriend and the guy who had always had my heart, and was now also capturing my body and mind.

  Though it had been almost five months since I’d last seen Preston, I spotted him the moment I stepped foot into the bar. His light brown hair was cropped in his usual short cut, bringing attention to his hazel eyes. The navy dress shirt and khaki dress pants stuck out amidst the sea of ski and snowboard apparel.

  “Hi, Dylan,” he said when I approached the table.

  He stood and greeted me with a quick half-hug, awkwardly patting my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I saw Maddie’s eyebrows soar so high up they nearly connected with her hairline.

  “Hello, Preston,” I replied, sliding into a seat beside him. “How are you?”

  He smiled politely. “Busy as always. You?”

  “An official Stanford graduate,” I said, returning his smile.

  “Congratulations are in order.” Apparently, so was another awkward pat. “I’m very happy that your dreams are coming true.”

  “Thank you.”

  There. We’d already exhausted a big portion of our conversation quota. Next, we would talk about the weather, then school and work respectively, finally ending on some piece of trivial political gossip.

  A girl I recognized as one of Mia’s friends passed by our table. Her gaze immediately shifted to Preston, drifting over his face and chiseled jaw, then down his chest and arms. Once again, I was reminded of the fact that Preston was a good-looking guy. Hell, with his broad shoulders, wide jaw, and All-American looks he could even be considered “a dream man.”

  Someone else’s dream man, that is.

  I had to keep telling myself that, just like with the rest of my life, there was nothing inherently wrong with Preston. We didn’t have much in common in the conversation department, and I definitely didn’t feel any kind of sexual pull toward him, but it wasn’t like he was an asshole. In fact, his behaviour couldn’t be further away from resembling a typical jerk. He was a genuinely nice guy. And there was nothing wrong with a nice guy. Sawyer was nice.

  But Sawyer was also so much more than just nice…

  “How about we do some shots?” Maddie clapped her hands, catching on to the beginning of what threatened to be a long and uncomfortable silence.

  “Yes!” I shot up from my seat. “Shots! I’m buying!”

  Adam and Preston agreed, albeit more reluctantly.

  I made my way through the semi-crowded room and found an empty space on the bar to rest my elbows while I waited to be noticed. Despite the fact that I was vastly overdressed—even in mid-January all of the other girls vying for the bartenders’ attention were sporting tight tube tops and tiny tanks—it didn’t take long for one of the guys behind the bar to serve me four shots of tequila. I grabbed two glasses in each hand and loaded up on some lime wedges. Turning around, I smacked into Preston, spilling some of the tequila to the floor.

  “Let’s get engaged!” he called over the music.

  My heart plummeted to the floor, nearly taking the tiny glasses in my hand along with it.

  “Huh?!” It may not have been the most eloquent response, but Preston’s words had left me utterly speechless.

  “We should get engaged!” he repeated, yelling louder this time.

  As if my startled reaction had been caused by lack of hearing.

  Two giggling girls pushed past me, one of them accidentally elbowing me in the ribs. Alcohol sloshed onto my hands, so I thrust three glasses toward Preston. He obediently took them, watching me intently as I downed the forth shot. The bitter taste caused me to grimace and cough.

  “Engaged?” I asked as I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Why?”

  Preston took a moment to contemplate his response. “I suppose because it’s the next, logical step in our…” he trailed off.

  “Our what?” I took another shot from his hand.

  His shoulders tensed. “You know,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably.

  No, I didn’t. That was the problem.

  I threw back the second shot. This time, my throat didn’t sting as much, though my stomach lurched angrily. “The next step in what, Preston?”

  “Our…relationship.” The word sounded foreign on his lips.

  If you have to mumble it, it doesn’t count, I wanted to say. Instead I looked over at the remaining drinks, “This proposal…is it your idea?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.” He gazed at the floor and swayed slightly, reminding me of a little boy getting caught in a lie. “Your mom was talking to my mom and they both think it would be good to get engaged before you’re off to school. They’re starting to ask questions about our lack of contact, so it just makes sense.”

  Again, my stomach rolled. My head throbbed, seemingly pounding to the beat of the music. Being the future med school student that I was, I soothed both of my ailments with a third shot of tequila.

  Preston was reluctant to let go of the glass, but then simply shrugged and let me have it. Maybe he thought that if I was drunk, I’d be more likely to accept his proposal. Most guys tried to get girls drunk to seal another kind of deal, but Preston Stonewall was all about business. And he and I both knew this sudden proposal was exactly that—just businesses.

  “When I told your brother about it, he agreed that it was the practical thing to do.”

  Practical. How romantic is that?

  “What about you?” I asked. “What do you think Preston?”

  “I think it’s a good idea. It’ll make our parents happy. My mom keeps asking why we don’t see each other more often. If we were engaged, it would quiet her down for a while.”

  He thought it was a good idea to spring a proposal on me after five months of barely speaking. As I was buying tequila shots. And getting pushed around by underage drinkers. Even though he knew that I didn’t love him. Even though he also didn’t love me and never would. Just because it would quiet down our parents.

  Romantic didn’t even begin to describe it.

  As the alcohol surged through my veins, I gained more confidence. “Do you love me?” I asked.

  His eyes widened, but then he quickly collected himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “What we have is an arrangement that works, Dylan,” he replied. “I love that.”

  The hurt reflected on my face had nothing to do with his words. It had everything to do with the fact that I was angry at myself. I was disappointed for having carried on this charade for so long, saddened for thinking that I didn’t deserve better. I mourned the years I’d spent as a coward, not allowing myself to indulge in so much more.

  The “more” that I should’ve had all along.

  Misinterpreting my look, Preston softened and added, “I really like you, Dylan. More than any other girl in the world.” He gently touched my shoulder. “We’re one of a kind—dedicated to our careers, devoted to our families. You know that we’ll never find a better suited deal.”

  His words cut through me like knife. Agreeing to his proposal would basically mean signing the death warrant to my happiness. Bile rose up in my throat and my ears popped. There was a loud whoosh of air, and I suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. My pulse raced; my breathing quickened. The walls began to close in on me.

  I needed to get out. Now.

  I pushed past Preston and headed straight for
the door. I didn’t even bother to grab my jacket. The moment I stepped out into the cold night, the frigid air slapped me awake. I bent over, placing my hands on my knees, trying to stop the world from spinning out of control.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck…

  Maybe Preston was right. Perhaps we were one of a kind, but it suddenly hit me that I’d rather jump off a thousand bridges and risk a million tears for one tiny moment of happiness than spend any more time living a pretend life with him.

  Preston would never take control and he’d never push me to lose it. He wouldn’t throw himself off a bridge with me in his arms, he couldn’t make my heart beat wildly, and didn’t make my body tremble with desperate longing. Hell, he didn’t even inspire me to pick up my camera and snap his photo.

  My knees wobbled and the ground closed in, but strong hands grabbed my shoulders and prevented me from greeting the pavement with my face.

  “Whoa! Are you okay?” I could recognize that voice anywhere.

  I looked up toward the starry sky, meeting Sawyer’s green gaze. Even in the dimness, his light eyes shone with so much brightness, illuminating his beautiful features. And, oh, God…he was beautiful. And handsome. And so, so sexy. Alcohol had nothing on him; the mere sight of Sawyer made me drunk with desire.

  “You coming, Carter?” One of his friends called from the entrance of the bar.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Go ahead. I need a minute,” he said, pulling me up to my feet. “What’s wrong, Silver?”

  “I need to get out of here.”

  His dark eyebrows drew together in a look of concern. “Have you been drinking? Are you going to be sick?”

  “Maybe. But not from alcohol. I just need to breathe.” I reached out toward him. “I want to live.”

  He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, then lead me to a dim alley on the side of the bar, gently resting my back against the cool brick wall.

  “How can I help?” he asked as he stood in front of me. His tall body shielded me from the wind, and it wasn’t long before I began to regain some warmth.

 

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