Say You Swear

by Meagan Brandy

  I slip away for a moment alone, stepping down the patio and out into the sand.

  Leaving my shoes behind, I smile at the sea, moving closer and closer until my feet are at the water’s edge. I dig my toes into the wet sand, tugging my sleeves over my hands as the wind picks up, whipping me in the face as if to welcome me back.

  I walk a little farther down, until the dock comes into view, and standing right beside it, in the spot we once stood…

  “Chase.”

  I didn’t mean to speak his name aloud, but it slips from me anyway, and his attention snaps in my direction.

  He doesn’t move, so I shift a little closer.

  “Hey.”

  He frowns at the ocean.

  “Are you okay?” I wonder.

  At first, he’s quiet, but then his head falls back on his shoulders a bit.

  “No, actually,” he says into the air, a heavy sense of frustration in his tone. “I’m not.”

  I wait, folding my arms into my chest.

  “I thought you understood.” He takes a step toward me.

  My head pulls back. “Understood what?”

  “Me.” He jabs his finger into his chest, and I realize he’s buzzed. Maybe even drunk. “I thought you understood me. I thought you got it.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “That’s the problem.” He bends, stressing every word, nearly right in front of me now. “How did this happen? How can you not see?”

  “See what, Chase. You’re not making any sense. What am I supposed to see—”

  “That I want you!” He cuts me off with a shout.

  Every part of me stiffens, but slowly, I shake my head.

  “Yes, Arianna.” His brows jump. “I want you.”

  Oh my god.

  My chest caves in, and I turn away, but he grips my arms, twisting me back. “Chase—”

  “I want you,” he hisses, his entire being softening in the next breath. He whispers, “I want you…”

  My teeth clench, my mind spinning. “Please don’t say that.”

  “Tell me you want me too. Tell me you didn’t give up on me.”

  “Chase.” My voice is a broken murmur, attempting to tug free. “Let go.”

  But he only shakes his head, pushing closer. “Ari, look at me. Listen to me.”

  “I’m going to need you to take your hand off her.” Noah’s voice breaks through the night.

  Chase instantly flushes red, anger slipping over him as his eyes point past my shoulder.

  Calm as ever, and with his hands pressed into his jean pockets, Noah slowly steps up, his eyes on Chase. “You should go.”

  “You should fucking go,” Chase spits back.

  My pulse pounds out of control as I look between the two.

  “You’re drunk,” Noah tells him.

  “So?!” Chase throws his hands out. “She safe with me regardless. She knows that.”

  “You should sober up, try again tomorrow.” Noah’s voice is void of emotion.

  My brows crash and I whip around to face Noah, but Chase is still holding onto my arm.

  Chase scoffs. “I’d never hurt her.”

  Noah stares him in the eye. “You already did.”

  My spine stiffens, and Chase blanches, releasing me as he stumbles back a step, shock drawing up his features.

  “You told him.” He gapes at me. “You told this fucking stranger?”

  My chin lowers with guilt, but I force my eyes not to fall.

  “That was for us! That was ours!” He shakes his head in disgust, then jerks around and staggers off.

  “Chase!” My body aches. “Wait, I—” I jerk forward, but freeze mid-step, whipping around to Noah. “Noah, I just…”

  “It’s okay.” His face is blank as he nods. “Go after him.” His tone lowers. “I know you want to.”

  “It’s not like that,” I swear, my throat clogging.

  He steps to me, cupping my face as he presses his lips to my cheek. Pulling back, he looks me in the eye. “Isn’t it?”

  I shake my head. “Noah—”

  “Last time I’m going to say it… go.”

  “I don’t want you to misunderstand. I—”

  “Juliet,” he warns.

  Clenching my teeth until they hurt, I bite back tears, then turn and chase after Chase.

  It takes a few minutes, but I spot him about fifty yards in the opposite direction, head dropped in his hands, sitting on a boulder.

  “What the hell was that?!”

  His jerks upright, glaring past me, and once he realizes I’m alone, his eyes come back to mine. Something flickers across his face, but he only stares at me.

  “Chase,” I snap, darting forward. “You wanted to talk, fine, here I am. Talk.”

  “I’m sick of this shit.” He gets right to it.

  “Sick of what?”

  “Of him. You. All of it!”

  “Wha—” I throw my hands out confused. “What do you want me to do, Chase? Hide away?”

  “No—”

  “Let you enjoy the life that I belong in just as much as you do so that you feel better—”

  “Ari, that’s not—”

  “Because I did that already and you know what? It sucked! I missed out on so much, and I’m not going to do that anymore so you can stop trying to make me feel guilty for choosing to be happy.”

  “I want you to choose me!” he screams.

  My words evaporate, my body turning to stone on the spot.

  His eyes soften, and he comes closer. “I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me.”

  My insides swirl, tighten and pull. “Don’t do this.”

  “I want you to want me again.”

  “Chase.” Everything aches.

  “I want you to look at me like you used to.”

  “Stop.”

  “I want you to pick me,” he whispers, reaching toward my face, but I tip my head, avoiding his touch. “Arianna…”

  I shake my head, a nauseating feeling fighting its way through me, but he’s right there.

  And then his lips are on mine, pressing, stealing.

  Begging.

  Pick me…

  Stunned, I stand frozen, but my mind shakes me free, screaming no.

  Hell no.

  That this is wrong.

  My hands come up, and I shove him away.

  “You… are an asshole.” My voice shakes, tears instantly pouring down my cheeks. “Why would you do that?”

  His features pull, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

  “I told you I’m with someone, that I’m with Noah, and now you do this?” My words crack.

  Chase’s spine straightens. “What am I supposed to do when I feel you slipping away from me.”

  “Oh my god.” I swallow beyond the knot in my throat, but all it does is rise again. “I can’t believe you right now. How can you be so selfish?”

  Anxious, he reaches for me. “Ari.”

  “Don’t.” I jerk back. “For months I sat around wishing you’d show up at my door, knowing in the back of my mind you never would, so don’t stand here and say you felt me slipping away when I was right in front of you for months, years even if you really think about it. You just didn’t see it.”

  “I saw you.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “Ari, I see you.”

  I clench my jaw, anger slipping over the sadness and burying it.

  “Yeah, well, it’s too late.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Yeah, you do.” I swallow, taking backward steps. “You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

  The torment of standing before him is too much, so I walk away.

  “I see you, Arianna.” His repeated words are defeated, broken.

  While my feet pause in the sand, I don’t look at him, but stare straight ahead at nothing.

  “I don’t want to be seen anymore, Chase.” Emotion fights its way up my throat, but I push it do
wn. “I want to be loved.”

  Slowly, I begin walking again, tension winding around my muscles with each step, but thankfully, Chase says not a word, and he doesn’t try to follow.

  I want to fall to the sand and cry, to scream into the night around me and beg for understanding I’ll never find and that I’m unsure I even want. I don’t do any of those things, though.

  I head back to the house, my lungs shriveling when I find Noah sitting on the last step.

  He looks up then, and as slow as ever, pushes to his feet, the lanyard his keys are clipped to hanging from his right pocket.

  Panic whirls through me, but my feet don’t move.

  I shake my head, tears pricking at the back of my eyes, and he tips his head in encouragement.

  “He kissed me.” Guilt burns through my veins, and my hand presses against my stomach.

  His jaw flexes, but his tone is soft. “And?”

  “I didn’t kiss him back. I pushed him away.”

  He nods again, dropping his eyes to the sand where he stands, and when they come back up, the uncertainty within them is almost debilitating.

  He comes to me, the pads of his thumbs brushing under my eyes, wiping the tears I didn’t realize were falling.

  “I pushed him away,” I repeat desperately.

  “I know.” He presses his mouth to my forehead, speaking against it. “I know you did.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  I pull back, forcing him to look at me. “No. It’s not. Tell me.”

  “Come on, Juliet,” he murmurs, the ache in his tone crushing my soul. “I can’t compete here, not when everything you ever wanted is in reach now, just waiting for you to take it.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My lips clamp shut, but I nod, and all that comes out is his name.

  “It’s okay,” he promises.

  “No, it’s not.” I take Noah’s hands, pulling them into my chest. “It’s not. He doesn’t get to do this to us.” I shake my head, breathing him in. “I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have gone after him. I should have come back inside with you. I should have left it alone.”

  A shadow falls over us, and he strokes my cheek. “Some conversations have to be had. Even if they’re tough.”

  “I know.” I lower my forehead to his. “But I don’t want any part of anything that could hurt this.” My nose begins to tingle. “Noah, I want this. I want us.”

  “Baby.” His hands frame my face, his palms shaking.

  “I want you. Only you.”

  His lips throb against mine, his eyes closing, only to open, satin blue piercing mine as he whispers, “Say you swear.”

  My chuckle is more of a cry, and I smash my lips to his, my emotions whirling.

  He kisses me back, the sweep of his tongue against mine serving as a promise.

  An unspoken whisper from his heart to mine.

  A whisper I’m ready to answer with one of my own.

  “I swear.”

  Chapter 33

  Arianna

  * * *

  After the fiasco on Thanksgiving, Noah and I have found ways to spend even more time together, be it a quick walk to class or an early morning coffee run, even a few sleepovers a week at my place.

  One of the nights he was here was rather embarrassing, because my parents called pretty late, so I had to let it go to voicemail, then make myself presentable and drag Noah into the living room with me, so I could call them back. The minute I told them he was here, my mom insisted on a FaceTime call instead, as I knew she would.

  She was smitten in an instant, and my dad was won over when Noah deflected every compliment he was given regarding his game, finding a way to roll it over into something that didn’t place him in the spotlight, but highlighted the team as whole.

  It couldn’t have gone any better, and by the end of it, they invited him over for the holidays, which I had to promptly remind them they wouldn’t even be home for.

  Of course, that only led to Mom casually slipping in how she meant next year’s Christmas—her way of claiming him a keeper.

  I had to agree.

  Mason is back in full force and better than ever, according to Noah’s play-by-play of recent practices I had decided to skip. The game plan they went with when Mason was hurt is being rolled out again this week, but with several adjustments on the line.

  Brady is an official starter now. He only steps off the field when the ball is turned over and it’s the defense’s turn.

  Chase is doing well too, I guess, but I can’t even look at him, let alone speak to him.

  I’m angry and with good reason.

  But I wish I weren’t, because rage always leads to ruin.

  And it seems mine was no exception…

  Noah had to skip his workout this morning because he had an exam he had already rescheduled from their last game, so when he messaged me saying he was going to go to the stadium to use the gym he has a key for, he asked if I wanted to tag along.

  He’s been beasting it up for about forty-minutes now, but I’m shot.

  Completely winded, I step off the treadmill, snatching my towel off the railing to wipe my face, and as I turn around, I gasp, my hand freezing midair.

  A shirtless Noah stands not ten feet away. His body is angled just right, allowing me the perfect view of his abs, clenching and unclenching as he works out his delectable arms.

  I bite my lip, trailing the beads of sweat running down the center of his chest, over and between the lickable ridges of his ribs and stomach, before disappearing into his waistband.

  My breathing grows heavy, my core constricting as his muscles do with each movement he makes, sending a burning desire straight through me. Rhianna’s “Skin” plays through my iPod speaker and all I can think of is the feeling of his body against mine.

  My hand lifts, my fingertips skimming across my jaw, and slowly dragging down from there, past my throat, until they’re sprawled across my collarbone.

  Noah lifts the hand weights over his head with fluid motions, his arms bending backward, his elbow bent in the air, giving me a full view of his core working. His sexy scripture tattoo teasing me, begging me to touch it, to kiss it.

  To run my hands along it as I have so many times, waiting for the color within his eyes to change.

  To darken.

  Waiting for my man to lose his patience and take it out on me.

  When he brings his arms back to his front, he glances over and does a double take. His stormy eyes lock on mine, sending a bolt of electricity from my head to my toes. Goosebumps rise over every inch of me.

  There’s my favorite smirk.

  Every nerve in my body is on high alert, and I squeeze my legs together, a pathetic attempt to relieve some pressure.

  He knows it and holds my gaze hostage and motions for me to come to him.

  Hell, at this point I’m ready to come, but not in the way he’s asking.

  I don’t move.

  I feel like a starved animal, crazed and dazed. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.

  This is Noah.

  I don’t have to hide a thing from him.

  Without breaking eye contact, he turns his glorious body toward me, his front now on full, magnificent display as he continues his workout, a small curve holding on his juicy lips.

  He knows he’s turning me on and he loves it.

  With hooded eyes, he watches me, aware I’m totally transfixed.

  My heart rate spikes higher, and I lick my lips, unaware I’m moving until my back hits the mirrored wall behind me.

  He begins a new move, bringing both weights in just above his belly button, and throws his arms out wide with the next breath. This requires him to stand wide, steel his hips, and puff his chiseled chest out ever so slightly with each extension of his arms, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m burning up, everywhere, all over.

 
It’s a raw, desperate need I can’t and don’t have to fight.

  So I won’t.

  As my palms glide along my silhouette, I imagine they’re his, slowly sliding from the sides of my breasts down my stomach. My head falls back against the mirror, and my eyes decide to close.

  Just as I reach the band of my gym shorts, a warm hand wraps gently around my neck and I freeze, a smile curling my lips.

  Got him.

  I’m too far gone to open my eyes, especially when his heated breath fans over my face in the most erotic of ways, soft and warm and ragged.

  I turn my head, unable to handle to the sensation growing within me.

  Craving release, my fingertips slip into the waistband of my spandex, but he stops me from going any farther by pressing his tight body up against mine.

  I whimper, his overheated body pressed into mine too much of tease when I know the feeling of his skin on mine. Noah groans in response to the sound.

  His hand slips down my neck and across my collarbone, and my breath gets lodged in my throat.

  He dips his head into the crook of my exposed neck, his favorite place, my favorite place, and his tongue darts out, tasting my sweat-covered flesh.

  “Mm.” He moans. “I love the taste of your sweat.” His tongue runs from the bottom of my throat to my ear. “I want to taste all of you.”

  “You have.”

  “Not here.” He cups me over my bottoms. “Not with my tongue.”

  My thighs clench, and he takes my ear lobe between his teeth, biting down lightly. He assaults my neck next, earning another gasp from me. His hand presses more firmly against me, gliding up until the tips of his fingers are diving beyond the waistband.

  “I like these.” He peppers wet, hot kisses to my chest.

  “Yeah?” I croak, tilting my head more.

  “Mm-hmm,” he mumbles. The vibration of his lips against my skin sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Then they’re all yours,” I pant. “Go ahead, take ‘em now.”

  His body bounces with silent laughter.

  “I’m so glad I amuse—” I cut off in a moan when his coarse fingers flick over my clit, before settling over the sweet spot.

  I push into his touch, my plea desperate and needy. “Please.”