by Haley Jenner
More, the beautiful redhead’s back his palm rested against as I walked down the aisle before Addy.
The moment I stepped into the room, he was the first person I saw.
I couldn’t take in the hundreds of white roses that filled the church.
I couldn’t hear the hauntingly beautiful sound of the organ as it edged me down the white carpet lined toward the altar.
My eyes set on my best friend—if I can still claim that—unwavering.
A flare of possessiveness overtook him when I caught sight of who he was with. He moved his hand to her back, holding it there protectively.
A claim.
A warning.
My heart, which it had no right to do, died a thousand deaths. In a room overflowing with love, I felt consumed by pain and longing.
We’re now defined by our mistakes. No longer allowed to feel excitement at the prospect of seeing one another. Instead, we’re waiting to stumble together again. The inevitable fall into our recreant and repentant ways. We can fight it. We can push against it, but in truth, we’re addicted to the pain as much as we’re entranced by the so-called love we share.
“Alex seems nice.”
I cough to cover the way I startle at Evelyn’s voice. “Sorry?”
“Alex, that’s his name, right? Your boyfriend.”
Shifting, I edge my hands under my thighs, hiding them away from the way they shake.
“Yeah.” I nod quickly. “Alex.”
“How long have you been dating?”
I hate how hot my cheeks feel. “About a year.”
“Cute. Have you met Brooks’s girlfriend?”
My nostrils flare of their own accord. “No.”
“She’s beautiful,” she comments, her eyes focused on the trees out the window.
“She is,” I whisper.
I’ve managed to avoid him for the first few hours of the evening. Hyper aware of his every movement, I weave away from him every chance I get. He’s at the bar, I’m dancing. He’s dancing, I’m in the bathroom. I refuse to sit, to relax. Afraid if I let my guard down, he’ll catch me.
If he even cares to.
Our last encounter was far from amicable. In fact, it was downright hideous.
“You’ve not stopped moving all night.” Alex grips my waist. “Let me buy you a glass of mediocre champagne.”
I laugh. “How can I say no to that?”
“You don’t.” He leans down to kiss me, his lips cold from his beer as he brushes them against mine. “I love this dress.” He squeezes my ass. “Have I told you that?”
I kiss him again. “Once or twice.”
“I’ll keep reminding you,” he tells me. “Just in case you forget all the nasty things I’d like to do to you while you wear it.”
My thighs clench in the opposite way my heart does. One with heat. One with guilt.
Oblivious to the racing beat of my heart, Alex turns us in the direction of the bar, right into the path of Brooks and his beautiful redhead.
“Squirrel.”
“Brooks,” I stumble out. “Hi.”
Stepping forward, he breaks contact with his girlfriend to pull me into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes into my neck, soft enough that it’s only for my ears.
Pulling back before I’m ready, I strain myself to smile. “Brooks, this is Alex.”
Staring at me for a beat longer than comfortable, Brooks eventually breaks his gaze to look at Alex, whose hand sits outstretched.
“Nice to meet you, man.”
Brooks smiles tightly at Alex’s greeting.
“I’m Henley.” I step forward, offering my hand to the girl standing behind my best friend.
“Grace.” Her slender hand slides into mine, a meek lift of her hand before she pulls it back.
“Did you two go to school together?” Alex asks.
My eyes shut in shame.
“Henley didn’t mention me?”
“Should she have?” Alex glances at me, then back to Brooks again.
“Brooks was, is, was my best friend,” I stutter.
“Is,” Brooks corrects.
Irritated by Brooks’s abruptness, Alex’s shoulders push back. “Funny, I’ve never heard your name mentioned before.”
His hair is shorter on the sides than I’m used to. The length on top is more pronounced, falling along his forehead messily. His light eyes still break at my soul, still lined with the blackest lashes I’ve ever seen.
His teeth bite into his bottom lip. “Henley guards the most important things in her life.”
Grace frowns at him. “Anyway.” She steps forward, her arm sliding through Brooks’s elbow. “Brooks and I were just going to dance. We’ll catch you guys later.”
Brooks doesn’t budge for an awkward second, his eyes set on me in frustration.
I expected animosity and maybe a little detachment, but he’s given me none of that. It’s as if it that night never even happened.
“That guy’s a dick,” Alex comments when Grace manages to pull him away.
“He is not,” I argue.
Stepping up to the bar, Alex moves up next to me. “You’ve never mentioned him.”
I swallow, avoiding eye contact and gesturing to the bartender for two glasses of champagne. “We haven’t spoken in a long time.”
“Hm.” He wants to push it further, but I clink my glass against his, swallowing the entire contents of mine before gesturing for another.
“Dad.” Hand to Carter’s shoulder, Brooks takes my hand from his dad. “I’m gonna have to cut in before you claim my bestie for yourself.”
The thick middle section of Carter Riley shakes as he laughs. The sound robust and easily heard over the soft melody of music filtering across the dance floor.
“Of course.” Carter smiles. “I should go and find my wife before she complains about me dancing with all the pretty ladies before her.” He winks at me conspiratorially.
The warmth of Brooks’s hand slides gently against mine, the long bend of his fingers wrapping around my hand as he pulls my body into his. His free hand fits against my lower back, much like it did earlier when he was dancing with Grace. I wonder if she notices now, her boyfriend's hand pressed possessively to the naked skin of my back. Or if she’s confident enough in herself that it doesn’t matter. She knows Brooks is hers. Whomever he touches, whoever he dances with, she’ll be the one tangled in his bedsheets tonight.
“You look beautiful, Squirrel.”
Chin to my shoulder, I check the vicinity for Addy. Confident she’s twisted up with Andrew and out of the vicinity to hear me.
“I feel naked.”
He takes a tiny step back, his eyes turning greedy, taking in every inch of the silk touching my skin. His lips part as he goes to speak, but he thinks better of it. His mouth closes, and he steps back into my body.
“Alex is a dick.”
I push him. “Funny. He said the same about you.”
He shrugs.
“I—”
“Can we not talk?” he whispers against my ear. “Just for this song. I just want a moment of light with you. One without expectation or guilt or . . . let’s just be us.”
Resting my cheek on his chest, I nod. “Okay.”
It’s easy to forget where we are in this intimate moment. Tangled up in one another, the soft melody of a song dedicated to love wrapping us in its own embrace. The scars we’ve nursed over the years forgotten, our hearts finding synchronization, our guards torn down, leaving us at the mercy of our feelings.
I can hear the beat of his heart against my ear. The prominent strum like a whisper of my name, over and over again.
Hen-ley.
Hen-ley.
I close my eyes, gifting myself this moment. This magical blink of time when the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
I don’t let myself panic at the touch of his fingers on the inner line of my dress, the rough skin of his fingers skating across my lower back in time wit
h the music.
I don’t let myself feel guilty for wanting that touch.
I don’t let myself worry about the fact that if he kissed me right here, on the dance floor, in front of our partners, I wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him back.
His nose finds its way to my hair, inhaling deeply. “I love that you still smell like the earth.”
I look up at him, resting my chin on his chest to anchor our eyes.
“When we fight, our arguments seem so important. Then time passes, and I see you, and I don’t even remember why we stopped talking.”
The hand wrapped around mine squeezes roughly. “Same shit. Us freaking out at crossing lines and blurring boundaries.”
I swallow. “Kinda like now.”
Our entwined hands move in, his thumb brushing against my chin. He nods. “Kinda like now. I just can’t stop myself.”
I’m obviously no better. I wouldn’t be tangled up in him the way I am if I were.
“Do you love her?”
His head shakes. “No. Not at all. Not with the ferocity I do you.”
I blink, unable to hide the tears filling my eyes.
“You?”
My chin wobbles. “No.”
I take a breath. “Horrible timing as always. But—”
“This can’t start now,” he says. “You and I. If that’s what you were gonna suggest. It’s. . . complicated. Now just isn’t right.”
I’m not quick enough to score the hurt on my face.
“I want you. I just. . .”
I step back, unable to bear the burn of his rejection.
“Maybe wanna stop eye-fucking on the dance floor, cheaters.” Evelyn pushes past me, and I glance up, my eyes falling directly into the reasonable anger of my boyfriend.
Brooks turns at the same time, and Grace’s back is turned, her head dipped low.
Alex turns on his heel, a disgusted shake of his head the last thing he offers me before storming from the party.
“Alex!” I call out.
Brooks grabs my arm, halting my movement.
I yank it back, following Alex’s exit on hurried heels.
“Alex!” I call to him again as his retreating back moves through the foyer of the hotel.
He whirls on me. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” I balk.
“Him.” He gestures toward the ballroom. “Your best friend. Brooks. Have the two of you been anything more?”
I can’t bring myself to lie, but I don’t know what I would classify us as, so I choose my silence.
“Fuck. Blondie in there told me you cheated with him a few years back.”
I cross my arms over my chest defensively. “That was a long time ago. We were young—”
“It’s true.” His head tips back, a frustrated growl catching the attention of people walking past. “Fuck, Henley. You invited me to a wedding you knew your fuck buddy was going to be at? What kind of fucked-up shit is that?”
“He’s my best friend, not my. . .” I can’t bring myself to call Brooks my fuck buddy to devalue him that way.
“You were all but salivating over one another on the dance floor in there. It wasn’t fucking, Henley. You were loving one another. In front of me,” he roars.
“Alex.” I reach out to touch him, but he yanks his arm away from me.
“Do you love him?”
I bite my tongue, tasting the warm, metallic tang of my own blood in my mouth.
“Tell me I’m wrong, and we’ll go back in there,” he commands. “Tell me you’re not in love with your best friend,” he says the words like they’re dirty, like they’re tainted.
“I . . . It’s not. . . You can’t. . .”
“Fucking hell.” He laughs humorlessly. “You’re a piece of work, Henley. Don’t call me again.”
Hand covering my mouth, I watch him leave, begging myself to chase him down to tell him what he wants to hear, what he needs to stay, but I can’t get my feet to move. As the door opens and he disappears into the night, I can only find relief flooding my body.
Glancing back at the ballroom, I can’t bring myself to walk back inside. I glance around the opulent space, choosing to move to the hotel bar instead.
Three glasses of champagne later, I wobble onto my feet. My head feels light. It buzzes with pain and self-loathing and a little bit of numbness and just a dash of zero fuckery.
My boyfriend just broke up with me.
I bark out a laugh.
My boyfriend just broke up with me at a wedding.
I bend over in giggles, unable to stop the hysterical laughter bubbling from my lips.
23
BROOKS
“I went through your messages,” Grace accuses, but I barely hear her as my eyes ache to search the space for Henley.
I can’t feel her in the room, the weight of her stare or the race in her heart when our eyes meet.
“You were involved,” Grace continues.
“Hm.”
“Brooks,” she bites out loud enough to make me pay attention.
“Yes. We were involved,” I admit distractedly, physically moving Grace, spinning her to give my eyes access to the whole room.
“More than once,” she pushes, shunning my hands from her body.
I shrug. “I don’t know what you’d call it, Grace.” I sigh. “You don’t just fall out of love with someone.”
“You love her?” She pushes my shoulder, and unprepared, I stumble back.
My eyes close in irritation. My anger spiking at the way her temper flares.
“She’s my best friend,” I grit through clenched teeth.
Her fists ball at her side. “I have best friends, Brooks, but trust me when I tell you that I don’t want to fuck them!” she all but shrieks, shocking the couple standing close enough to hear her tantrum.
I smile at them awkwardly, walking her a step or two away.
“I sure as shit don’t send them videos of my fucking cock.”
I frown. “That shit was private. Who the hell do you think you are going through my messages? My private messages.”
If she saw those pictures, she saw the ones Henley sent me back. The videos, the intimate words we’ve shared.
Her head shakes in dismay. “You’re lecturing me right now? After you and Henley were wrapped around one another like you were the ones who exchanged nuptials here and not Addy and Andrew.”
I scrub a hand down my face with a sigh. “It was nothing like that. In fact, I told her now doesn’t work for me.”
“Now?” she questions on a psychotic laugh. “Now doesn’t work for you.”
Wrong thing to say.
Fuck, I should not be having this conversation while drunk.
I feel bad. Truly, I do. She has every right to be mad. “Grace.” I sigh.
“Save it.” She shoves my phone back at my chest, then storms away without another word.
I don’t even watch her leave. I know I’m an asshole. The worst fucking kind.
My legs move in long strides, the material of my pants stretching with every elongated step. I move toward the main door in search of the one person I shouldn’t be obsessing over right now. Like fate herself has intervened, Henley stumbles past me the moment I breach the exit, a sway to her walk that says she’s had as much to drink as I have.
She’s so fucking beautiful. So much that it hurts my chest. Her thick brown hair sits high atop her head, her long ponytail falling down her naked back. The scattering of freckles that I love on her face decorate her shoulders now too. The countless hours of chasing the sun are catching up to her. Her body is still tiny. Her back swaying into a perky ass that the silk of her dress clings to. She doesn’t wear a bra, her tits bouncing with every step, her nipples greeting everyone they pass, standing upright and ready.
“Henley,” I call after her, moving my feet to follow her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she closes her eyes in defeat. “Not now, Brooks.”
“Are you okay?
” I jog to catch up with her.
“Fucking dandy. Where’s Grace?”
I should feel guilty, but I don’t. “I’m more concerned about you.”
Her feet stop at the threshold of the elevator, her hand braced along the door to keep it open as an elderly couple steps out. She forces a smile, waiting until they’re out of earshot before speaking again. “That’s the wrong fucking answer, Brooks.”
I don’t hesitate to step into the elevator with her. “This one’s taken.” I stop another woman from moving in as well.
Doors closed, I turn to the woman who haunts my heart.
“Where’s Alex?”
She shakes her head, refusing to meet my eyes. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what?”
Her head stops moving. “This!” she yells. “Whatever the hell this is. Not again.”
I hate the way her voice cracks, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t reassure her. I can’t tell her this isn’t wrong. I can’t even tell her what this is. I’m as lost as she is. Searching for a semblance of light in the cavernous hell of my mind.
Irritated by my silence, she pushes my chest. “Nothing to say now?” she cries.
Her brown eyes shine in the bright light of the elevator with unshed tears afraid to spill.
“Nothing?” she repeats, her small fists balled at my chest, pushing and shoving.
Grabbing her wrists, I feel choked by my own uncertainties.
“I hate that his lips have touched yours,” I whisper, giving in to the devil inside me that’s telling me I need her. “I hate that his lips have erased any touch of mine.”
Her jaw wires shut, the intensity in the gesture hollowing out her face. “Stop it.”
With a quick yank, I pull her against my body, tasting the sharp exhale of air as it dances across my face.
“I want to kiss you. I want my lips to stain yours,” I threaten. “I want him to have to taste me, knowing that your lips have never tasted as good as they do with me all over them.”
The line of her throat bobs heavily. The thick flutter of her pulse like a butterfly just beneath her skin.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” I demand, listening to her heavy swallow that echoes between us. “Tell me,” I grit against her lips when she remains silent.