Every trace of desire leaves his face, and a mask of indifference repaints his features. He locks up instantly, swatting my hand away and sitting up. Swinging his legs around, he plants them on the floor, lowering his head into his hands. I curse my stupid, stupid mouth, crawling over and wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind. “It doesn’t matter, forget I said anything.”
His body is stiff as a board underneath me. I plant kisses along his neck, over his jawline, and up to his cheek. “Dev, please. I want you to make love to me.”
Silently, he lifts me off him and stands up. He rakes a hand through his hair, averting his eyes. “I want that too but not like this.”
“What?” I pull the covers up, wrapping them around my body, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I’m sorry I ruined the mood. Please forget I said it and come back to bed.” He reaches for his jeans and pulls them on. Tears prick my eyes. “I don’t want you to leave.”
He sits down on the corner of the bed, winding his hand around my neck. “I want you, Ange, but I want to make it special, because you deserve that. I don’t want your first time to be like this.”
“Why not?” Honestly, I don’t know what his objection is.
“You need to be sure you want to give this to me.”
“I am sure, Devin. I’ve been sure basically my whole life.”
His eyes pop wide, and he leans in, kissing me sweetly. I wrap my arms around his neck, and the sheet drifts down my body. I press into him, trying to deepen the kiss and put things back on the right path, but he breaks the kiss and removes my wrists carefully. “You deserve better than me,” he whispers.
“No.” My voice radiates with conviction. “Don’t tell me what I want or what I deserve.” Another thought occurs to me, a hideously horrific one. “If you don’t want this with me, just say it, Dev. If this was a mistake, I need to hear those words.” My mind frantically scans over the last half hour, wondering if I’ve somehow coerced him into this, but he wanted this as much as I did. I saw it in his eyes.
“Of course, I want you. I’m about to fucking explode in my pants. This is not about me not wanting you.”
My eyes flit to his straining erection and that goes some way toward reassuring me. “I don’t understand.”
He kisses me softly, before rising. Bending down, he grabs his shirt and pulls it on. Tears well in my eyes again, and I curse myself for saying anything about the bruise. That flicked some switch in him, and now he’s leaving. He kneels in front of me, taking my hands. “Don’t cry, Ange.” His thumb brushes across my cheek, gathering moisture, and a pained look appears on his face. “I want you to be sure, and I want to make it special. Your first time should be magical.”
“With you, it would be.” I choke over a sob, and I hate that I’m so pathetic.
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Think about it, and if it’s still what you want, we’ll make some plans.”
“I don’t need to think about it.” Or make stupid plans. This was spontaneous, and it felt so right. I’ve spent years thinking about this night, but in all my dreams it never ended with him leaving just as we were getting started. My heart aches.
“Then do it for me. I need to be worthy of you.”
I don’t understand. I really don’t, but Dev is a stubborn ass once he’s made his mind up on something. There is nothing I can say that will change his mind, and I’m not going to beg. I still have some modicum of self-respect.
He stands up, cupping my face, staring at me tenderly. “I care about you so much, Ange. Too much to let you make a mistake.” He kisses me one last time. “We’ll talk tomorrow or Sunday. Sleep tight, beautiful.”
And with those parting words, he walks away, leaving the shattered pieces of my heart in tatters on the floor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We don’t talk about it the next day or Sunday or at any stage over the next two weeks, because Devin is avoiding me. He only returns to his house late at night, and during school—when he shows—he shuns me like I’m contaminated. Hurt and my stupid pride stops me from confronting him. Ayden knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t pry. Mariah is furious with Devin, and she wastes no opportunity to glare at him in passing, although she’s glad he didn’t go through with it. Her view is I should only give him my virginity if we’re officially together, and if he’s not ready to make a commitment, then I shouldn’t sleep with him.
Her reasoning is sound, and if it was any other guy, I wouldn’t need convincing, but this is Devin we’re talking about. Everything is always different when it comes to him.
It’s obvious he regrets it, and for a guy who hardly ever turns a girl down, his rejection stabs deep, poking at hidden sores and festering wounds, leaving my self-confidence in shreds.
I’ve gone over the events of that night a thousand times in my head, and, at no stage, did he give me any inclination he wasn’t into it as much as I was.
My comment about his bruised ribs changed the atmosphere, and ruined the moment, and I’d like to know why.
Dev trains hard at the local boxing club, and it’s not uncommon for him to have a black eye or be covered in bruises and cuts from fight nights. And he’s gotten mixed up in plenty of fights outside the boxing ring, too, always quick and eager to lash out with his fists. So, I don’t understand what it was about that bruise that triggered his mood swing. Or why he’s felt the need to ignore me ever since.
Yanking myself out of my depressive inner monologue, I slick some pink lip gloss over my lips and survey my reflection in the mirror. I don’t usually wear this much makeup, but I need an additional confidence boost as I’m determined to have it out with Devin, and I want to look my absolute best. My cheeks are painted in a fine coat of wispy pink blush, and my eyes look wider and bluer under the frame of thick mascara and sultry brown eye shadow. My hair is freshly washed and falling in soft waves down my back. My gaze stares back at me, glinting with righteous indignation.
Today, Dev will have no choice but to speak to me, and I’m not leaving without some answers. I’ve gone beyond hurt and shame and ventured into a new phase: I’m just plain ol’ mad. Even if he doesn’t want to have sex with me, he doesn’t get to treat me like this. I’m one of his oldest friends, and he spouts crap about respect all the time. It’s about time he started practicing what he preaches. He can man up and own his actions. I’m done being treated like a piece of worthless garbage.
Ayden’s parents always invite Mom, me, Devin, and his brothers to their house for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s become our annual tradition, and I know Devin will be there, because he won’t let Lucas down.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I tug my black lacy peplum top down a little, flashing more cleavage. My skinny, dark-pink jeans are close-fitting and sculpted to my ass. Grabbing the soft cashmere cardigan, I slip my feet into my high-heeled black boots. Bending over, I shake my head and loosen my hair. Satisfied, I head downstairs to grab the pumpkin pie from the kitchen.
“Honey!” Mom exclaims when I step into the kitchen. “You look gorgeous. Trying out a new look?”
I shrug casually. “It’s Thanksgiving. I thought I should make more of an effort.”
Her wise eyes miss nothing. “Uh-huh.” She smiles.
“What?” My voice is gruff. “I’ll change if it’s that big of a deal.”
Her hands land on my shoulders. “Sweetheart. Stop. You look beautiful, and there’s no need to change. I’m just wondering if there’s any ulterior motive? Like any boy you might be trying to impress?” Her lips fight a twitch.
Goddamn it, that woman misses nothing. “Nope,” I lie. “Can’t a girl just look nice without there being an ulterior motive?”
She kisses my cheek. “Of course. Come on.” She lifts the dish with the potatoes. “We don’t want to be late.”
I take the pumpkin pie and follow her out of the house.
&
nbsp; Ayden opens the door to us, and the look on his face is priceless. His jaw slackens, and his eyes almost bug out of his head as he drags his gaze over me. “Wow, Lina. You look stunning.”
Jeez, I really need to do more with my appearance if a bit of makeup, a fitted top, and some heels has everyone noticing. “Thanks. You look nice too.” And he does. His blue, white, and red checkered shirt is open over a plain white top that fits his broad shoulders and muscular chest perfectly, as if it was spray painted on his body. He’s wearing low-hanging dark-navy jeans, and red and neon Air Max. His blond hair is still a little damp from the shower but spiked up in his usual style. Ayden is a seriously good-looking guy and a sweetheart to boot. Why couldn’t I fall in love with him?
“Ayden,” Mrs. Carter says in a chastising tone of voice, “are you going to let our guests in or leave them standing out there in the cold?” She takes the pie from my hands, ushering us inside with a welcoming smile.
“Chill, Mom. It’s not my fault the sight of Lina looking so utterly gorgeous eradicated all logical thought.” He winks, offering me his arm which I gratefully accept. Mom beams at me, sharing a knowing look with Mrs. Carter as we move through the house.
Sounds of laughter greet my ears as we step into the living room. Lucas is laughing with Mr. Carter over by the window, and he lifts his hand in a wave. I smile at him, returning his wave. My heart starts pounding in my chest at the sight of Devin, sitting on the couch with Ayden’s youngest sister on his lap, reading her a story. Ayden’s other two sisters are seated on the couch across from them, hanging off Devin’s every word. Ellie is twelve and Mia is thirteen now, and both are at the age where they are properly noticing boys for the first time. Mia has been crushing on Devin for a little while. Not that I’m in any position to criticize her for that. I feel like pulling her aside and telling her not to waste her energy.
Devin obviously knows we’ve arrived, but he hasn’t looked up from the book to acknowledge me and that ticks me off.
“Hi, Dev.” I practically shout the words.
Ever so slowly, he looks up. Shock is splayed all over his face as he stares at me. A flash of something blazes in his eyes before he composes himself, clearing his throat. “Hey, Ange.”
I offer him a strained smile. Kayla jumps off his lap, running at me. “Lina!” She throws her arms around my legs, and I almost lose my balance, but Ayden is there to steady me.
“Careful, munchkin.” He ruffles her hair. “Don’t knock Lina over.”
I bend down, pulling her in for a hug. “Hi, Kayla. I made your favorite pie.”
She squeals with delight. “Did you put fairy magic in it like always?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Mia throwing her eyes to the ceiling. She forgets she was as fascinated with fairies at age seven as Kayla is. I kiss the top of Kayla’s nose. “Come on? You really need to ask me that?”
She giggles, and I whisper in her ear. “I only put fairy magic in your slice so it’s your job to make sure I cut the pie.”
She holds out her hand. “Deal.” We shake on it, and the feel of her small, soft hand in mine helps erase some of my anger. I remember when Mrs. Carter brought Kayla home and how enamored all three of us were with her. As we got older, I regularly babysat with Ayden, and she feels as much my sister as his. I hate that I don’t have much time for her anymore.
I straighten up, and she tugs on my hand, attempting to drag me back to the couch—back to Devin and her book. Oh, hell to the no. As much as I need to speak to Devin, I’m not doing it with an audience, and I most definitely am not going to sit by his side and pretend that everything is perfect. Extracting my hand from hers, I kiss the top of her hair. “You go back to your book. I need to help our moms in the kitchen.”
Her little face drops, and I feel like the biggest bitch on the planet, but self-preservation wins out. Ayden trails me into the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face. “Can I help?” I ask his mom.
“Relax, enjoy yourself,” Mrs. Carter says, shooing me away with her hands. “We have this under control.”
I shuffle awkwardly on my feet, not wanting to go back into the living room. “Want to hang out on the back porch?” Ayden asks, and I gratefully nod.
The crisp fall weather blasts me in the face as soon as we step outside. I shiver, and Ayden tucks me in under his arm, pulling us both down on the love seat. He drags a thick blanket over us, and I snuggle into him, enjoying the familiar feel and smell of him. He toys with my hair as we sit in silence, both staring out at the manicured lawn. “Did he say something to you?” he asks after a bit.
“No.”
“So what is it? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know when my two best friends are avoiding each other.”
I want to tell him, but I’m not sure how he’ll react. If what Dev has alluded to is true—that Ayden has romantic feelings for me—then the news that I’ve been intimate with Dev won’t go down well. And I don’t want him to feel like he has to pick sides. Whatever beef I have with Devin is mine alone. Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one hiding stuff. Devin and Ayden are still frosty with one another, and I’ve no clue why. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, and I’m going to talk to him about it later.”
“Let’s do it now,” Devin says from behind, startling me. He’s lounging against the doorframe, watching us, with his arms crossed and his expression guarded.
“So you’re talking to me now?”
He pushes off the door and saunters toward me. “I was never not talking to you.”
“Oh, puh-lease. Don’t feed me that bull. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”
Ignoring me, he eyeballs Ayden. “Can you leave us? I need to speak to Ange in private.”
“That’s up to Lina.” Ayden glares at Devin.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. This will hurt Ayden but not as much as letting him stay will. “It’s okay. I need to talk to Dev on my own.”
He kisses my cheek. “Fine.” Standing up, he sends an icy look in Dev’s direction. “But if you hurt her anymore than you already have, I’ll kick your ass until you’re inhaling blood.”
“I have no intention of hurting her, but if I do, you have my permission. I’d welcome the ass kicking.”
Ayden begrudgingly concedes, walking off with one final look over his shoulder.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” I blurt. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off in one go. I try to prepare myself for the oncoming onslaught, but it’s a futile exercise where Dev and my heart are concerned.
He sits down beside me, staring out into the backyard. “I don’t want to upset you, and I’ve been putting off this conversation because I know it’s probably not what you want to hear.”
My heart sinks, and pain explodes in my stomach. “You regret it?” I whisper, not looking at him.
“I’d rather regret the things I haven’t done over the things I have,” he says, cryptically, while I try to work out the hidden meaning.
“So you don’t regret what we did but regret not having sex?”
He laughs, but the sound is biting, strained. He turns to face me, pain radiating from his eyes. “Regret and you are all too synonymous in my mind.”
“Don’t let me down gently or anything,” I mutter, feeling more and more dejected with every word coming out of his mouth.
He laces his fingers in mine. “I could live a million lifetimes and never be good enough for you.”
Not this again. “That’s what this is about?” He nods. “You’re being ridiculous, and we’re only talking about having sex, not my entire life.” Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day where Devin made such a deal out of something he freely offers around.
“You don’t get it.” He shakes his head.
“So, enlighten me then?” My tone bristles with barely disguised frustration and simmering anger.
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“It could never be just sex with us. You were willing to give me something I don’t deserve. Something I can’t take. Something that belongs to someone else.”
“And, like I said, that choice is not yours to make. It’s mine, and I want it to be you.”
He removes his hand from mine, stroking his stubbly jaw. “It’s not going to happen, Ange.”
“So that’s it?” I twist around, demanding he look me straight in the eye. “You’ll happily fuck any slut who opens her legs for you, but I’m here practically begging and you’re saying no?”
Naked emotion splays across his face. Reaching out, he cups my face between his calloused hands. “None of those girls mean anything to me, but you, you’re … you’re everything.”
“Then treat me like it!”
“Christ!” He drops his hands from my face and stands up. “What the hell do you think I’m trying to do? This would be so much easier if I didn’t care about you so fucking much.”
I snort at the irony. “How the hell do I know?” I hop up, rage doing a number on me. “You won’t ever give me a straight answer, and you issue mixed signals all the time.”
“Well, let me make this clear for you then,” he grits out, his own anger surfacing. “You and I will never be anything more than friends. I don’t regret what happened between us even though it shouldn’t have happened, but we will never do anything like that again, and we sure as hell won’t be having sex. Does that spell it out for you?”
“Loud and clear.” I’m glad my anger is holding the tears at bay, although I’m sure they’ll emerge at some point. I stomp toward the door, spinning around on my heel at the last minute, determined to have the final word.
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