Until Its Right - Jamie Howard

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Acknowledgments It’s surreal that I get to do this a second time, and I am so, so thankful that I have the opportunity to do so. I have some amazing people in my corner and I wouldn’t be here without them. First and foremost, I’d like to thank every single reader, reviewer, and blogger who picked up one of my books. Hearing from you is always the highlight of my day. To my wonderful agent, Jessica Watterson—thank you for believing in

me and making my dreams a reality. I’m so excited to see what comes next. And to the rest of Team Watterson—you girls rock. A huge thank-you to the team at St. Martin’s Press. To my fabulous editor, Eileen Rothschild, I can’t possibly thank you enough. I’m so lucky to have had the chance to work with you. Your insightfulness and willingness to dig into this manuscript has made it better than I ever could have imagined. To my copyeditor, Terry McGarry, I am in awe of your skill and thoroughness, and to my publicist, Michelle Cashman, thank you

for all that you do to get my books out in the world. Without a doubt, this story wouldn’t be in your hands without the support, encouragement, and unflagging enthusiasm of my critique partner, Meredith Tate. Thank you for being a friend, cheerleader, therapist, and everything in between. And, of course, for your unwavering love of Kyle. To the NAC—Amanda Heger, Annika Sharma, Ara Grigorian, Diana Gardin, Jessica Ruddick, Kate L. Mary, Laura Steven, Marie Meyer, Marnee Blake, Meredith Tate, Sophia Henry,

Tegan Wren—I’m so grateful to have all of you. To the lovely ladies of The Hookup—Kelly Siskind and Heather Van Fleet—you girls are the best. Much love and gratitude to my entire family. To Aidan, for always reminding me to “do some work,” and then crawling into my lap and keeping me company. To my mom, for never doubting I could do everything I set my mind to. To my dad, for pushing me to always do my best. To Amanda and Kelley, for generously sacrificing their time looking at inspiration pictures for Kyle.

Lastly, to Steve— for everything you are and everything that you do. Your support means the world to me and I couldn’t do this without it.

Chapter 1

Haley I’m not sure what’s thumping louder— the bass or my heart. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Tara asks, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. The skin of her hand looks startlingly dark against my pale skin, which is even paler than usual from my recently shed hermit status. Something sharp stabs my heart, like the quick,

painful jab of a finger prick. Images of my ex, Luke, and his new girlfriend, Sloane, the resulting breakup and despair, crowd the edges of my mind. I quickly brush them away, mentally swiping at them like insignificant cobwebs. Not tonight. I shift in my heels, trying to relieve the pressure on the balls of my feet. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.” Tara links her arm through mine, and we walk together into Rodeo Jive, the signature bar of the young and wealthy, the career-oriented and highly aspirational twentysomethings. The

“suits” are lined up at the bar—jackets discarded, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up. Designer clothing and expensive price tags hug the curves of every woman in the place, and for the first time since I dropped a chunk of my savings on my new wardrobe, I actually feel as though my splurge was justified. Even the thought of showing up here in one of my thrift-store finds makes a blush heat my cheeks. “Two martinis, up, two olives,” Tara says, leaning her elbows onto the polished bar top. I scoot onto the empty stool next to

her, tugging down the hem of my black dress. Despite my efforts, it inches back up to mid-thigh. Taking a deep breath, I try to channel my inner Sloane. Yes, she may have stolen the former love of my life, and true, given the chance I’d probably … well I probably won’t do anything but ignore her, but still, there’s something about her that’s undeniably hypnotic. She walks into the room and she’s a presence. And it’s not just her looks or her money—though that helps; it’s her attitude, her confidence. Maybe if I’d been more like her in the first place, I wouldn’t be single right

now. The gin sloshes over the sides of the glass as Tara slides it to me. “To you, my dear Haley, on your first night back in the dating pool.” We clink glasses, and I take a small sip. A very small sip. The alcohol burns a path down my throat, but at least I’ve gotten used to it enough that I don’t choke. A couple of months ago I couldn’t say the same. “Delia really didn’t mind you going out with me tonight?” Tara waves a dismissive hand at me, her gold bracelet sliding up her arm. “Please, that girl was just glad she could

snuggle up on the couch with a movie rather than partying with her needy girlfriend until all hours of the morning.” She plucks the toothpick from her glass and pinches an olive between her teeth, dragging it off. “Enough about me. Tonight is about Haley and finding her a man.” Right. I don’t know why I’m so hesitant about the whole thing. It was my idea. After the last few years with Luke by my side, the past six months have been unbearable. It’s not that I need a guy in my life, but for all I avoided them when I

was in high school, I desperately miss the companionship. Being lonely sucks. “How about him?” she asks, with a subtle jut of her chin. I flick my gaze to the side—tall guy, gorgeous, dark brown hair, a smile that can melt butter. “No.” “Too hot for you?” “Too Luke for me.” “Right, right.” She takes a healthy swallow of her martini and swivels on her stool to face me, crossing one long leg over the other. “Remind me about the qualifications again.” I tick them off on my fingers. “No

manwhores. Can’t remind me of Luke. And—” “Money, yeah. I remember that one.” “You make me sound like a gold digger.” I frown. “It’s not about the money, necessarily. He just needs to have a plan. Or ambitions.” The words aren’t cooperating with me. “I just don’t want to live in a trailer park, okay?” “Relax, Hales—” Whatever else she says gets lost in a wave of noise, the rush of blood pounding in my ears. From across the room, a pair of eyes locks on to mine, and somewhere in my brain something

shifts with a discernible click. Tara may still be talking for all I know, but all I can see is him. Soft gray slacks over shiny black shoes, a navy button-down with the top two buttons popped, and a smile breaking from between his lips that makes me wonder if I’m the only thing he’s seeing too. He stops in front of me, green eyes never once leaving my face to scan down my body. “I’m Bryce.” “Haley.” I slip my hand in his to shake it, letting him hold on to me a little longer than is absolutely necessary. If I’m being truthful, which I always am,

I’d let him hold it for as long as he wanted to. He takes a seat next to me, where just a minute ago Tara was sitting. Scanning the room, I find her at the other end of the bar. She flutters her fingers at me in a quick wave and winks. “Well, Haley, I’d love to get to know you.” It’s cheesy maybe, a little blunt even, but I appreciate the fact that he didn’t give me a line. “I’d really like to get to know you too, Bryce.” A wide smile settles on my face, and any trace of nerves vanishes into thin air.

So we talk, and everything between us is just so easy—our conversation, my smiles, the chemistry. He tells me his favorite ice cream is Rocky Road, and that he just passed the bar. I admit that my favorite flowers are peonies. He’s addicted to watching Game of Thrones. I’ve never seen an episode. Everything is going so well that I don’t think he notices that I shy around the topic of my past, leaving out absolutely everything about my family and Luke. Even though the words never stop flowing, we take a break to dance. As the hours have crept up, so too has the

volume of the music, increasing to a decibel that’s close to making my ears bleed. I’m having such a good time that I forget to worry about what I look like. I don’t pat my hair to make sure it hasn’t frizzed, I don’t surreptitiously swipe my finger under my eye to make sure my mascara isn’t smudging, or even take a moment to get self-conscious about the fact that a light sheen of sweat dapples my skin. It takes me a minute to realize it, to place the emotion and give it a name. I’m having fun. And not just that, but I met a guy. A great guy, whose touch

makes my skin sing and almost makes me forget that Luke ever existed. Almost. From across the room, I catch Tara waving at me, apologetically pointing to the imaginary watch on her wrist. I have no idea what time it is, but if Tara’s ready to head out, it’s got to be really late. Leaning forward, I get myself as close to Bryce’s ear as I can without letting my lips graze his skin. “I gotta go.” His eyes flash up to mine, and he removes the hand that was resting on my

hip to glance at the actual watch on his wrist. He laughs. “Wow. I can’t believe it’s so late. Look at you keeping me out past my bedtime.” I grab his hand and twist it toward me—2:48. Holy crap. And look at me, casually grabbing on to him like his touch doesn’t send my heart rocketing out of my chest. “I’m not even tired,” I yell back to him. “Me either,” he says. Or at least I think he does. His words are carried away on the intro to a new song, and watching his lips is the only way I can even guess.

I regretfully drag my gaze up to his. His eyes crinkle at the corners like he knows exactly how hard I was just staring at his mouth. With a hand on my shoulder, he nudges me backward until we’re on the edge of the crowd. The noise is slightly better but not much. “I’m going to give you my number.” Immediately, my hand fishes out my cell phone, keying up a new contact. “You ready?” I nod and type in the first six digits. Looking up at him, I wait for him to give me the last four. “Seven-three-four-nine,” he shouts.

I type them in. “Seven-three-fourfive?” “That’s me.” My thumb presses down on the Save icon, and there’s something about it that seems so definitive. Like I’m not just saving his information, but saving him into my future. I give my head a quick shake, trying to dispel the love-at-firstsight nonsense that’s swimming through it. I’ve already been burned once by letting my heart get ahead of my brain, you’d think I’d have learned by now. But it’s the first time since I broke up with Luke that I’m feeling anything at all, and

even if it’s just pure, unadulterated attraction, I’m reveling in it. “Alright,” I say. “Well, let me give you mine.” “Nope.” He holds up his hands, palm out. “The ball is totally in your court. It’s completely up to you if this ends tonight.” In the next instant he inches close, so close in fact that his chest grazes mine. This time when he whispers in my ear, he lets his hand drift up to slip around my neck, his thumb resting on the edge of my jaw. “But Haley, I’m really, really hoping you’ll call.”

Before my liquefied brain can even start devising a response, he drops the lightest, sweetest kiss on my lips. I barely feel it before it’s gone. And then he’s backing away, a smile stretching to every corner of his mouth. I jump when a hand drops on my shoulder, another voice booming from a few inches away from my ear. “Hot damn, girl.” “Right?” I smirk up at Tara. “How’d you get to be so lucky?” I almost snort at the word. Me? Lucky? That’s the last word I’d use to describe myself. But then I catch sight of

Bryce weaving his way around the dance floor, and like he can feel me watching him, his eyes find mine one last time. Alright, well maybe I am. I, Haley Mitchell, am so freaking lucky.

Chapter 2

Haley “Stop staring at your phone,” Tara commands, leveling the wooden spoon in my direction. A drop of tomato sauce splats onto the counter, one of a dozen splatters that decorate our kitchen that I’ll have to clean later. Tara’s a sweetheart, but this place would be a pigsty if I didn’t follow around behind her with Lysol wipes and a garbage bag.

“I’m not. I’m just … checking the weather.” Lies, all lies. Bryce’s contact information stares up at me from the screen. To call or not to call, that is the question. She snorts, her wildly curly hair bouncing as she shakes her head. “It’s been three days, you’re in the clear. Go ahead and call him if you want. Trust me, you’re well out of the desperateneedy-clingy zone.” Randomly, she grabs a spice, oregano maybe, and gives it a shake into the pot. It’s not the timing that’s my issue, though.

“What if I imagined it? What if I’ve completely blown the whole thing out of proportion in my mind?” I twist a strand of my dark brown hair around my pointer finger. It’s been months since I dyed it but sometimes it’s still a shock to see dark strands instead of the pale ones I’d grown so accustomed to. She swings the spoon through the air, flinging another arc of red sauce in my direction. “What if you did? What if in the light of day he actually has a unibrow and a snaggletooth?” Shrugging, she lays down her weapon and picks up the pot of linguine. A cloud of steam envelops

her face as she drains the water, so it seems like her words are coming to me from the beyond. “The point is, you’re never going to know whether you’re right, or I’m right, or neither of us are right unless you just. Call. Him.” “Bossy.” “It’s my middle name.” She grins at me over her shoulder before returning to her pasta. I pick up my phone and then put it right back down like it’s liable to explode in my hand. “What if I just text him? Can I do that instead?” A delicious wave of garlic and butter

wafts out from the oven as she pulls out the garlic bread. “For Christ’s sake, Haley. Send him smoke signals for all I care. Just do something in the next five minutes, or I’m going to delete his number and be done with it.” “Fine, geez. I’ll text him.” Her smile is all smug and selfsatisfied, and I’d like to be mad at her for ordering me around, but I’ve never done angry really well. I consider my text, analyze it, reanalyze it, and then finally hit Send, watching the little blue bubble materialize on my screen.

Me: Hey Bryce, it was really great meeting you the other night at Rodeo Jive. I’d love to get together for dinner one night, if your free?

Only rereading it for the seventeenth time do I find my grammatical error. “No!” Tara drops the pot back onto the stove with a resounding clang. “What? What is it?” Plucking the phone from my grasp, she quickly reads my message. “I don’t get it.” She reads it again. “Oh for the love of … that’s what you’re howling about? He’s never even going to notice.”

She heads back to the stove, taking my phone with her. After dishing out two plates of linguine with red clam sauce and garnishing our plates with slices of droolworthy garlic bread, she props my cell up against the vase of fake gerbera daisies. Tara has a strict no-phones-atthe-dinner-table rule. Ten minutes pass. Then another five. Finally, when I’ve wound my linguine around my fork into a tennis-ball-size lump, my phone vibrates. It rattles against the glass before shaking itself down onto the oak table. Tara’s eyes flash from me to my half-

full plate to the phone. Message received. A short time later, it buzzes again, shimmying farther across the tabletop. The next ten minutes pass even slower than the first while I attempt to sedately finish my dinner rather than tilting my head back and tipping the long strands of pasta down my throat in one inelegant swallow. When it’s all gone, I practically dive across the table to reclaim my phone. Tara rolls her eyes at me. Bryce: I’m not sure who this is, but

unfortunately, this isn’t Bryce.

And then a few minutes later: Not Bryce: Also, I think you mean: you’re*.

Across the table, Tara watches me like a hawk, zeroing in on my falling expression. A sneaking suspicion, one that’s drawn from my deepest fears and insecurities, takes root in my brain and I can’t shake it. My fingers fly across the touch screen. Me: Are you sure this isn’t Bryce?

Because if it is and you’re just trying to blow me off, then that’s fine. You can say so. Not Bryce: I don’t know you, so I can’t say this with 100% conviction, but given my embarrassing track record with women, I think I’d be more than happy to be Bryce. Are you willing to consider a substitute Bryce? Because I’m definitely free for dinner.

“Wow, what a creep.” Tara motions for the phone, and I hand it over. She drops her head down as a laugh ripples through her body, shaking her shoulders. “This is priceless. Seriously.”

“I’m so happy you can find humor in this awful situation. Please, continue to laugh at my expense.” I motion with my hand for her to go on, then fold my arms across my chest. “Sorry.” She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing about the fact that you accidentally got Prince Charming’s phone number wrong. Although, wasn’t it just a few minutes ago that you were telling me you weren’t entirely sure that—” Taking one look at my face, she cuts off her sentence. “Right. Anyway, what can you do?” “Yes, what can we do?” I quirk my

head to the side. The side of her mouth twitches, warming up for a big smile. “That’s the spirit.” * * * Turns out, there’s not a whole lot you can do about getting a wrong number. My very rudimentary calculations inform me there are several billion different phone-number combinations. Even keeping the area code the same still leaves me with nearly a million possibilities. So, typing in random numbers? Not going to work.

After three weeks of hanging around Rodeo Jive on not only Thursday nights, but Friday and Saturday as well, I’ve come to one mojo-crushing, heartdeflating conclusion—he gave me the wrong number on purpose. Because really, if he didn’t, and he was as interested as he pretended to be, then wouldn’t he be swinging by the Jive to look for me too? In a rare display of frustration, I spend my last night staking out the bar getting embarrassingly drunk. Given that I’m not really a drinker, nothing more than a glass of wine here or there, three

frozen margaritas have me flat-out wasted. I think there might have been a few shots as well, but when I wake the next morning my memories are fuzzy. Full chunks of time are completely missing, like someone straight-up sliced them out of my brain. Lifting my head from the pillow, I pry off a piece of hair that’s glued to my face with an unhealthy amount of drool. Yet, for the amount of saliva I produced in my sleep, my mouth’s dryer than a desert during a drought. I huff out a breath, but the stench of it gets caught on my pillow and I nearly die from the toxic

smell. “Oh my God.” Flipping onto my back, I scrub a hand over my face and try to rub out the throbbing headache that’s set up camp behind my eyes. It feels like there’s a person trapped behind my eyeballs and they’re trying to tunnel their way out straight through them. How do people do this all the time? When I sit up, the room around me does a cartwheel, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip as my stomach heaves and curls in on itself. I’m just about to call out for Tara when the back of my thigh starts buzzing, making me jump. I

go through the whole topsy-turvy-room and trying-not-to-spew-vomit-over-mycomforter thing one more time. Hesitantly, my fingers search the mattress beneath me until they drag up my phone. As I squint at the too-bright screen and scroll through my messages, I clap a hand over my mouth. Me: Are you sure this isn’t Bryce? Not Bryce: Positive. Sorry. Me: What kind of a guy would give the wrong number to a pretty girl? Not Bryce: Umm … a stupid one? Me: That’s right. Bryce is stupid. We could’ve been the real thing.

Not Bryce: You met the guy once, and you’re ready to start planning your happily-ever-after? Seems a little quick if you ask me. Me: I don’t remember asking you. Not Bryce: Right, sorry. Me: You know, if we’re going to keep talking you should at least tell me your name. Right now you’re “Not Bryce” in my phone and seeing his name over and over is just making me sad. Not Bryce: Oh, we’re still talking? Alright. You first. Me: It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll just call you … Bob. Bob: C’mon, that’s so lame. You could at least come up with something cool. Like Thor.

Me: Didn’t you say your track record with women is a mess? That doesn’t sound very Thor-like. Bob: That’s not very nice of you to point out. Me: Oops. Sorry. Me: I’m still not going to call you Thor. Bob: How about Peter? Me: Like Spiderman? Me: Are you sitting at home in your Batman pajamas reading comic books right now? Bob: You’re doing the mean thing again. Me: Whoops. Let’s compromise. How about Clark? Bob: Superman. I dig it. Me: You are a guy, right? Because I can always change it to Clarkette.

Clark: Nope, definitely a guy. Don’t my texts come across as particularly manly to you? Me: Not really. Clark: Harsh, Lois. Harsh. Me: Lois, huh? A little prsmtuos of you. Me: Presumptuous* God that took me a long time to type out. Why are these keys so small? Clark: Have they been getting smaller the more you drink? Me: Now who’s being mean? Clark: My apologies. You safe to get home? Me: How sweet are you? I’d pinch your cheeks if I could. Clark: Don’t do that. My grandma does that. You’re not as old as my grandma,

right? Because if so I’m gonna be really skeeved out right now. Me: I am two and twenty. Or twenty and two. Either way. Me: Oh! I gotta go. Clark: Bye, Lois. Me: It was nice talking to you, Clark. Thanks for making my night not suck so bad. Clark: Anytime.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry about the whole thing. How humiliating. Thank God I don’t actually know this person or I’d never be able to look them in the eye again. And this is why getting drunk is a bad idea.

With a flick of my thumb, the very last message hovers at the edge of the screen, the one that alerted me to the unexpected presence of my phone in the bed. Clark: How’s your hangover treating you?

While I debate the merits of responding vs. not, a harsh, cringeworthy knock echoes around my room. “Haley? Are you alive in there?” “Yes,” I answer. “But I think something died in my mouth.” The door squeaks open, and Tara’s

head pops through, like she’s checking to make sure things are safe before committing to entering the room. Apparently deciding the coast is clear, she lets the door swing open and carries a bottle of water, a sleeve of crackers, and some aspirin over to me. Without a word, I down the pain relievers with a sip of water and keep on chugging until the entire glass is empty. “It’s a good thing you got this out of your system last night,” Tara says, taking a seat next to me on the bed. “Wouldn’t have wanted to start your new temp job

tomorrow reeking like you bathed in tequila.” I give her a dirty look. “You know I’d never do something like this on a work night.” “I wouldn’t have expected you to do this at all. Hell, you didn’t even reach for the bottle after…” Her words fade out, like they just plummeted off a cliff and fell out of hearing range. “And yet, here we are.” “Don’t worry, it’s never happening again. Not only do I feel worse than death, but somehow in my drunken stupor, I did this.”

I drop my head into my hand, and blindly stick out my arm toward her, wiggling the phone. The bag crinkles as I reach for a cracker and nibble at the edge. She snorts. Then cackles. The bed quivers when she throws herself backward and clasps her stomach as she shakes with laughter. “Oh. My. God. Haley! This is who you were talking about last night?” “What?” “Last night. I was trying to load you into the cab, and you kept going on about this Clark guy. I thought maybe you met

someone, but”—another snort—“this is not at all what I was expecting.” Gently, I let my feet hit the floor, shifting my weight one toe at a time. I ghost myself out of bed, moving with the same amount of care I’d use if a serial killer were napping on my mattress and I was trying to escape with my life. Now that Tara’s mentioned my odor, I can’t stop smelling the tequila. And every time I smell the tequila, my stomach does another somersault. I’ve got two options—take a shower or hug the toilet. As I tiptoe toward the bathroom,

Tara flops to the other side of the bed and my mattress protests with a squeal of springs. “Is this Clark guy single?” It takes everything I have in me not to whip around and glare at her. So instead, I say to the wall in front of me, “I’m not going to date some guy I randomly started texting because some jerk gave me the wrong number.” “Why not?” “Because. That’s just … weird.” “Or romantic.” She drifts into my peripheral vision, propping a shoulder against the wall. “Think about the story you’d tell your grandkids.” Altering her

voice, she imitates what I think is supposed to be an older version of me. “One wrong number, that’s what brought me to your grandfather, kids. Back in the old days they had letters, but we fell in love one text at a time.” I manage to twist my head so I can glare at her. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?” She rolls her eyes at me. “Fine. No Clark, but we’ve gotta get you out there. One failed attempt does not mean that you get to climb back into your sweatpants and resume your long-term relationship with Netflix.”

I thump my head against the doorframe and sigh. “Things with Bryce just seemed so … promising.” “Maybe that’s the problem.” “You’re right. Really hitting it off with someone is definitely a problem.” “Here’s the thing though.” She scrunches up her nose at me. “Other than Luke, you’ve never actually dated anyone. Like, ever. So, maybe it’s not that Bryce was so perfect, maybe it’s just that you haven’t sampled a wide enough variety of men to really know.” Her eyes widen and she snaps her fingers. I try desperately not to flinch

from the sound. “It’s like you’ve got a giant bag of jelly beans, and you reach in and take one—it’s grape. And it’s good and whatever, but you only think it’s that fantastic because you haven’t gotten to the better flavors—like popcorn. So, once you’ve had popcorn then you’ll be able to realize how wrong you were because let’s face it, grape is disgusting.” I rub my finger against my temple, trying to process her analogy. My brain is only functioning at about half speed this morning. “So, Bryce is a grape jelly bean, and I need to eat more jelly beans

to find a better one?” Tara’s eyes light up like someone injected her with a full syringe of glee. “Oh my God. I have the best idea.” She points to the living room. “I’m gonna go set it up, and you, my friend”—she twists up her face—“need to get in the shower.” “You don’t say.” She practically skips to my door, and every lighthearted bounce makes my heart sink a little further. This is going to be bad. * * *

I stare at the laptop screen. “MatchPerfect? You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Consider it practice. Getting your feet wet.” I shake my head, and the towel I’ve got wrapped around my wet hair drags across my shoulders. “Look, I’m not saying you’re going to find the man of your dreams on here, but it’s a really simple way to meet some new guys. Have some fun. And what you need is some more experience under your belt, so the next time you really fall for a guy you’ll know it’s the real deal.”

She taps a fingernail against the screen. “And look, someone already passed you a note!” Sucking my lip in between my teeth, I stare down at my bare feet. Admittedly, the thought of online dating freaks me out a little. God knows who you might end up meeting on there. Stranger danger and all that. But Tara’s words poke at a raw spot on my heart, rubbing like a brandnew pair of shoes against a blister on my heel. Was it a coincidence that the first guy I met after Luke I thought might be something special? Was it really just my inexperience talking?

Tara nudges me with her elbow. “Just give it a shot. I’ll manage your profile, set up the dates, and you just show up. Let’s say you go on … ten dates?” I snort. “Three.” “Five.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Fine, five.” I roll my eyes. “But that’s it.” Tara rubs her hands together, lips curling in a smile. “This is gonna be good. Trust me.”

Chapter 3

Kyle Monday morning—one steaming cup of caffè mocha, a bowl of banana Cheerios, and sixty-seven new e-mails to sort through. Off to my left, the servers hum out a rhythmless tune to the accompaniment of my mouse clicks and the clacks of the keyboard. As I’m attaching the instructions on how to reset your password for the

fourth time to Sabrina in Accounting, I scoop out a pile of cereal with the spoon in my left hand and then promptly choke on it when a fist bangs on my door. “Kyle!” Bang, bang, bang. I wheeze, but get up to answer the door, all the while trying to get that one stuck Cheerio out of my esophagus. Clearing my throat isn’t working, so when I pull open the door, my “Yes” comes out a little hoarse. Mr. Marchelli doesn’t even notice. Tilting the cell phone away from his red, sweating face, Mr. March whispers to me, “Lawson, new girl in Hal’s old

cube. She’s having trouble with her computer. Help her out, would ya? I need her to get working on the Kennedy proposal ASAP.” With a quick thump on my shoulder with his beefy hand, he hops right back into the conversation with whoever he’s on the phone with and keeps on his way. Right, new girl. I glance forlornly at my Cheerios and coffee—by the time I get back one will be soggy, the other cold. A sigh whispers out from between my lips. Closing the door to the IT room snugly behind me, I bury my hands in the

pockets of my gray sweater. It doesn’t matter that I’ve got a blue-and-whitecheckered button-down on underneath. Oh, no. It’s like the freaking North Pole in here. Mr. March has full control over the AC, and so, while he continues to perspire through his suits, the rest of us huddle in our winter coats and hide space heaters under our desks. The bitter February air is a welcome change from this place. Coming to a stop outside the cubicle, I take note of a hastily scrawled name tag that says Haley before peering over the side. She doesn’t notice me at first,

and her brown hair drifts forward in front of her face as she stares intently at the computer screen. With how zoned-in she is on the monitor, I take a quick second to check her out—white silk blouse, charcoal pencil skirt, some black pointy-toe heels. She doesn’t even need to stand up; I can already tell that she’s got killer legs. If her face matches the rest of her she is so out of my league. Damn. Precisely, but emphatically, she taps on the Enter button with her pointer finger. When nothing seems to happen, she starts pressing it even harder until

she’s practically pounding it. Right, now would be a good time to do my job instead of standing here and staring at her like a creeper. I clear my throat, but it comes out all strangled-like. Dumbass Cheerio. “Excuse me.” She jumps, but quickly recovers. Big blue eyes fly to my face and she smiles sheepishly. “Hello.” “Hi.” I take another step forward and lean against the cubicle wall. It wobbles. “I’m Kyle Lawson, your IT guru.” My lips curve in a smile, but inside I just mentally punched myself. IT

guru? Smooth. “You’re, um, having problems with your computer?” “God, yes.” She rolls her eyes, not even attempting to mask the frustration that’s written all over her face. “If you can fix this, you’re my new hero.” Double damn. She’s not only beautiful but sweet too. “I’ll give it my best shot. Do you mind?” I wave my finger between the screen and her chair. “Oh, right.” She shakes her head with a small laugh and stands up. Even though she’s got heels on, the top of her head only makes it to my chin, but that’s

not entirely unusual. I’m all length and lank. “Sorry.” I’m not sure whether I’m too far into her space, or there just isn’t enough room in the tiny cube, but we both step left at the same time, then right. It’s like some weird, awkward little dance that ends with her squeezing by me. Her hand brushes against my chest and I feel it all the way to my frigid toes. Flopping down into her chair, which is entirely too low for me and shoves my knees up uncomfortably, I set to work on her computer. Malware, a virus, incorrect login information, server error.

Geez, Hal did a number on this machine. I try to peek at her in my peripheral vision, but she’s all blurry since my glasses don’t stretch that far. Figures. I shake my head to myself. “That bad?” she asks. “What?” I flick my gaze up to her, where she’s got her chin perched on her hands, leaning against the cube wall. It takes me a second to realize she saw my head shake. “Oh, no, not really. Should just be another couple of minutes and you’ll be all good to go.” “That’s great, thanks.” A few seconds pass. “I’m not sure I introduced

myself. I’m Haley.” She sticks out her hand, but then retracts it. “Well, I’d shake your hand but you’re obviously busy.” Okay, so, she doesn’t hate me. That’s obviously a bonus. I smile up at her and lean back in the chair, sticking out my hand. “Not too busy for a handshake.” That gets her to really smile, and wow, the force of it is like a punch in the stomach. Her small hand fits neatly in mine and I swear to God she’s got the softest skin I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling. In fact, with the way her smile is deepening, I’m thinking I’ve been

holding on to her hand for a little bit too long now. Crap. Reluctantly releasing it, I swing back toward her computer. I navigate the mouse over to another icon, and my hand bumps against her lukewarm coffee mug, drawing my gaze. I snicker at it. “A Mets fan, huh?” Her eyebrows snap together. “What?” I hitch a thumb at her mug. “Oh, right.” She lets out a delicate laugh and her cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink. “Forgot I brought that with me this morning.” As her thoughts

take a change in direction, her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “Why, what’s wrong with the Mets?” “Nothing.” I lift my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I mean as long as you’re okay with not having won the World Series in over twenty-five years.” She takes a step inside the cube, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips. “Tell me you’re a Yankees fan and we’re no longer friends.” Oh, so we’re friends now? I’ll take it. “The Yankees? Please. The Braves

are where it’s at.” “The Braves?” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, it’s been what? Twenty years since they won the World Series? Not really something to brag about.” I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. “Someone knows their stuff.” Her expression tightens and the wide smile she’s been comfortably wearing fades away. “I used to watch a lot of baseball with my dad.” My heart sinks with how sad her words are. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” “No, it’s not that. He’s fine. I just

haven’t seen him in a while.” For the first time today she won’t meet my gaze. After a few uncomfortable seconds, she clears her throat and nods toward her computer. “Almost done?” Taking a hint, I swing the chair back around, tap a few last buttons, and push the chair back, getting to my feet. “All good.” She slips by me and folds herself back into the chair. “Thanks so much. Apparently I’ve already got e-mails I need to be reading and projects I need to be working on. Don’t want to get behind the eight ball on my first day.”

“Anytime. Your technology woes are mine to fix.” For God’s sake, are these words really coming out of my mouth? Luckily she laughs instead of giving me the side-eye. I hesitate, caught between bailing for the safety of my keypad-guarded IT room and putting myself out there, even if it’s just the tiniest step forward. I still haven’t convinced myself to take a chance on someone new since things went up in flames with Stacy. Now or never. “Uh, Haley? Since we’re, um,

friends and you’re new, if you wanted to, uh, eat lunch with me later, in the cafeteria, I’d be available for that.” Have I mentioned how smooth I am? She pinches her lips together to hide her smile, and she’s pretty subtle about it, but I can see her stop and look at me. Her eyes scroll from the top of my neatly styled hair to the soles of my black dress shoes. Hold on, is she checking me out? “I’d really like that.” Her lips finally curve into the grin she’s been fighting. Somewhere inside someone cued up The Mexican Hat Dance and is shaking the maracas, but realistically, a part of

me is wondering whether she’s one of those girls. The ones who are too nice to say no. Christ, even though she’s been nothing but sweet to me, now I’m thinking about Stacy again and comparing them. Wondering if I’ve learned my lesson enough not to go down the same road again. I opt to go with enthusiasm and save the pity party for later. Words start tumbling out of my mouth without the goahead from my brain: “Awesome. Let me give you my number. I’ve got like three of them—work, work cell, regular cell. Should I give you all three? Or maybe

you should give me yours?” I snap my mouth together and fight the urge to bang my head with the heel of my hand. Hastily, I try to recover and play it cool. “I mean we’re just going downstairs so you can always send me an e-mail or just swing by the IT room. You know where that is?” Laughter dances in her eyes. It seems genuine though, not like she’s laughing at me. “How about you come get me when you’re ready to get some food. I don’t think I’m going to be wandering too far from my cubicle.” “Right. That works for me.”

“I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” “Unless you have a computer emergency before then.” “Right, well let’s hope not.” My mouth curves up in a halfhearted smile. Even though she just agreed to have lunch with me, I can’t help but wonder if she meant she didn’t want her computer to crap out in the next few hours or if she didn’t want to see me before then.

Chapter 4

Haley Coffee scalds my tongue, singeing my throat on the way down. The fiery heat settles in my stomach, but barely spreads any farther than that. I shiver underneath my sweater, readjusting my space heater with a toe so that it’s practically pumping hot air up my pants. You’d think after being here a full week my body would start adjusting to the cold. Well,

you’d be wrong. I skim another e-mail before typing out a quick reply. Or semi-quick. My fingers are only so cooperative when they’re about as bendable as matchsticks. A feminine giggle drifts my way, perking my ears. With a quick shove against the floor, I let my chair glide over to the edge of my cubicle so I can peek around the side. Cubicles stretch out in a long row in front of me, the gray panels not creating much contrast against the slightly less gray walls. Somewhere down the

hallway there must be a window, because a small square of light dances across the, you guessed it, gray carpet. About halfway between my desk and the sunlight, a woman props her hip against her cubicle wall. She’s mid- to late twenties with dark red hair, and equally dark lipstick staining her lips. There are maybe one too many buttons undone on her blouse to be considered decent for the workplace, and as I watch, she lets out another throaty laugh at whatever or whoever’s inside her cube. My mind shuffles through the names and faces that were thrown at me on my

first day. It’s something with an S. Stephanie? No. Scarlett, Sherri … Sabrina. That’s it. She steps back, but only enough to let Kyle squeeze by while still brushing against her. Seeing him makes my lips quirk into an instant smile. Everyone here is friendly; Mr. Marchelli, or Mr. March as everyone calls him, is easy to work with, and the work itself isn’t anything I can’t handle, but Kyle is definitely the bright spot in my days. There’s nothing worse than being the new girl at a place and being forced to eat your paper-bag lunch huddled at your

desk. With a quick step backward, Kyle almost stumbles into the wall, but his smile never fluctuates. He misses it since he turns away, but I get an eyeful of the way Sabrina grins after him, her eyes taking a long, slow sweep down his body. I duck back into my cube as he heads my way. A few seconds later there’s a quick tap-tap against my wall and I’m greeted with his bright smile up close and personal. He continues to drum his fingers. “So, lunch?” “Yup, just let me…” I wrap up the e-

mail I’m writing and hit Send. “Alright, let’s go.” It’s only been a handful of times, but we’ve already fallen into a routine—he swings by my desk around twelve thirty and we ride the elevator down to the cafeteria together. We each go our separate ways to buy our lunches and then meet back at the same table, the one that’s off to the side and partially hidden by this palm-tree-looking plant. The first day was a little awkward, trying to feel each other out, getting to know each other. By the third day, the conversation was flowing so easily that we

accidentally talked twenty minutes past our allotted lunch break. Oops. Today’s lunch features a lovely Caesar salad with soggy croutons and wilted lettuce. Picking at it with the plastic tines of my fork, I ask, “So, what’s up with you and Sabrina?” Kyle promptly chokes on his sandwich. He clears his throat. “Sabrina in Accounting?” “Is there another Sabrina?” “Not that I know of.” “Then yes, Sabrina-in-Accounting.” I roll my eyes at him. He shrugs. “Nothing’s going on. I

mean, other than the fact that she can’t remember how to reset her password for her life.” Something inside of me eases, but I don’t let myself contemplate why all of a sudden I’m feeling the tiniest bit relieved that there’s nothing going on between them. It’s definitely not because I’m interested in Kyle. I’m not, am I? I glance across the table at him and a tiny dimple peeks out from his left cheek as he looks back at me. “What? Do I have mayonnaise on my face or something?” He dabs at his cheek with a napkin.

I snap my eyes back to my plate. Alright, so there’s definitely something there. Maybe. Kinda like that tickle in the back of your nose you get when you think you might need to sneeze, but you’re not entirely sure. And if it weren’t for Tara making me doubt myself, and this five-dates thing, I might encourage the feeling and see where it goes. Then again, workplace romances are almost always a bad idea. “Earth to Haley?” Kyle waves his hand in front of my face. “Sorry. No mayo.” I pop a crouton in my mouth. “Is it the whole working-

together thing?” He blinks at me, his sandwich frozen in mid-motion to his mouth. “Is … what?” Belatedly I realize the question that popped out of my mouth had more to do with my thoughts than our actual conversation. No wonder he’s confused. “I was just wondering if it’s the whole coworker thing that’s the issue. I mean, I know some people are really against dating someone you work with because it can get really uncomfortable if things don’t work out.” Uncomfortable—kinda like this.

His mouth opens, but then he shuts it again without actually saying anything. I take a quick sip from my water through the red-striped straw, trying to refresh my suddenly dry mouth. “Sorry, what I meant was: Is that one of your rules? Not dating coworkers?” Actually, that’s definitely not what I meant. Not at all. I specifically meant to ask him if he hasn’t asked Sabrina out yet because they work together and that could be awkward. Except, I’m definitely more interested in hearing his answer to this question instead.

Chapter 5

Kyle What is happening? We were talking about Sabrina, then Haley was looking really hard at my mouth, and now she’s asking me about my policy on dating coworkers? I’d onehundred-percent believe her question is related to the issue of Sabrina if it weren’t for that brief stop at my lips in the middle. And I’d be lying if I said I

didn’t hope her question had something to do with her instead. I finally find my voice. “I’ve never dated someone I worked with in the past, but it’s not like I wouldn’t consider it. In the future.” I watch her carefully, but her expression barely changes at all. She nods and sticks a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. “I guess that’s good news then.” She covers her mouth with her hand to add, “For Sabrina.” My heart droops a little. “Why Sabrina?” She grins at me, and whatever

weirdness was just circulating in the air between us completely vanishes. “You’re kidding, right? You really haven’t picked up on the way she looks at you?” I lean back in my chair and fold my hands behind my neck. “Honestly? I can’t say that I’ve paid all that much attention.” Haley cocks an eyebrow at me. “Not your type?” I shrug, trying to bring a picture of Sabrina up in my head. She’s got dark hair, right? “Not really.” “Alright.” Haley wipes her hands on

a napkin and then tosses it into her halfempty salad container. “So what is Kyle Lawson’s type?” Scratching a hand through my hair, I twist my lips to the side. “I’m not sure I have a ‘type.’” I air-quote the word. “Every guy has a type.” She scoots her chair in a little closer and leans her elbows on the table. “C’mon, spill.” Alright, so we’re actually going to do this. “I guess … I don’t know, I like brunettes. I like girls who are nice, funny. Bonus points if we have similar taste in music or movies or if she has a thing for board games.”

Haley frowns at that last one so I wave it away with my hand. “Um, a pretty smile. Legs, I’m definitely partial to a nice pair of legs.” Oh God, I’m rambling. Eyes front, do not look at Haley’s legs. “I don’t know.” I blow out a breath. “I try not to break women down into their components; I look at the big picture. I look for that … spark.” My eyes drift up to meet hers and without me even realizing it, one corner of my mouth curves up in a smile. “Doesn’t hurt if she happens to be a fan of baseball.” A smile creeps across her face

slowly, one tiny centimeter at a time. The entire time her gaze stays locked on to mine, and that spark I was just talking about? Yeah, it’s sizzling right through me. She leans a little closer. “As long as she’s not a Mets fan, right?” “Well…” I draw the word out like it’s got twelve “l”s tacked on to the end of it. “Depending on the person I might be persuaded to make an exception.” That gets her to laugh, but a second later it’s replaced with a frown. Reaching into her purse, she fishes out her cell phone and squints at the screen.

She groans. “Tell me today isn’t Friday.” “You may be the first person I’ve ever heard complain about that.” “I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for my stupid roommate.” Haley blows out a breath. “I’ve got a date tonight.” I freeze my smile in place, since all of a sudden it’s ready to disappear. “Again, not the typical response.” “I know, I should be excited, right? And I am, kind of. But it’ll be the first real date that I’ve been on since I broke up with my ex, and well, I can’t say that I’ve ever been a huge fan of online

dating.” There are so many things in those few sentences that are making my brain spin. “You met this guy online?” “Yes?” She grimaces, and her nose scrunches up in a way that makes her look fricken adorable. “It’s my roommate’s fault. She thinks I need to get out there more so we made this deal that I have to go on five dates that she sets up. She picks the guys, arranges the dates, and I just have to show up.” Her head finds its way down into her hands and she shakes it, the tips of her long brown hair brushing against the table. “I

never should have agreed to it, but it’s just five dates, right?” She bounces her gaze back to mine, looking for reassurance. “Yeah, sure. I mean, technically, you could have the whole thing over within a week if you really wanted to.” My fingers tap out an anxious rhythm against the fabric of my pants. “Is there a uh, particular reason for these five dates?” “Tara thinks I need more experience.” I try not to let it, but my mind takes an immediate dive into the gutter. And it must show on my face

because in the next instant Haley blurts out, “Dating experience, not…” Her face flames bright red. “Not that.” She grabs her phone again. “Oh, look at that. Lunch is over.” She’s out of her seat and hustling across the cafeteria before my brain even comes back online and I get my legs working. Hurrying, I just manage to slip through the elevator doors before they close. The elevator lurches up, but it takes a few seconds for Haley to drag her gaze off of the floor and to finally meet mine. Her teeth sink into her lower lip; I pinch

my lips together. And then we’re both laughing. Through laughs I manage to say, “The look on your face.” “My face?” She snorts. “You should have seen yours.” With a whoosh, the doors slide open, and I stick one arm across them, letting her exit in front of me. This is typically where we part ways, but I slip a hand around her arm, drawing her attention. “Come with me for a second?” She tilts her head to the side in question, but follows after me. I stop outside the IT room just long enough to

punch in the code, then push through inside. The door closes behind Haley, but I’ve got my attention focused on the Post-it in front of me. Ripping it off, I toss my pen back on my desk, and pass the little yellow square over to her. “It’s my number. Just my regular cell.” She laughs, clearly remembering her first day here when I tried to load her down with all my numbers and my email address just so we could go to lunch together. I fold my arms across my chest, then change my mind and rub one hand over

my other arm. “I’m sure everything will be fine tonight, but just in case, if anything feels off or I don’t know, well you’ve got my number. You can call me if you need me.” Her eyes go soft, her smile deepening. “That’s really sweet of you.” “Yeah, well.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “I’ve got a little sister and I hope someone would do the same for her.” Did I seriously just compare Haley to my sister? Why yes, yes I did. A small frown works its way across her lips, digging a small V in her

forehead. “Well, thanks for this.” She holds up the Post-it and then slips it in her purse. The door drifts shut behind her, but she catches it with one hand. “Have a nice weekend, Kyle.” I force my face to bust out a smile. “You too.” Just, maybe, not too good of a weekend.

Chapter 6

Haley Tara pops her head through my bedroom door as I’m fastening on some fake diamond studs. She bounces on the balls of her UGG-clad feet. “So, are you excited?” I shrug, battling down the little beasts that are swarming in my stomach. “Kind of.” Delia brushes by Tara and plops on

my bed, making herself at home on my pastel purple down comforter. “I still think it’s a bad idea. Online dating never ends well. Trust me. Isn’t there someone in real life you could go out with? I mean, you just started a new job, there aren’t any hot guys there?” My mind immediate flashes to Kyle, but I don’t get a chance to respond. “Please,” Tara says. “Like workplace romances are ever a good idea.” “Says the girl I’m dating, who I met in class.” Delia rolls her eyes, but her lips are set in a playful smile.

“Work and class are not the same thing.” “Close enough.” They stare at each other, eyes twinkling in silent argument. “Anyway.” I clear my throat. “Brown boots or black?” I hold up both pairs toward them. At the same time Tara says, “Black,” Delia says, “Brown.” This time they’re arguing not so silently. I glance down at myself—medium-wash skinny jeans and a burgundy blouse. While they continue to debate it out, I grab my phone and shoot off a quick text.

Me: Brown or black?

A few seconds later my phone buzzes. Clark: Always black. Me: Perfect.

Since it’s a toss-up, and I was kinda leaning toward black anyway, I lean down to slip on the black leather boots. Seeing as they’re still arguing, I slip into my bathroom to give myself one last check. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back. Three weeks after I left Briscoll Bay

without a glance in my rearview mirror, I walked into a salon, determined to erase the version of myself that was too pathetic, too meek and docile to hold on to her guy. In two hours I’d replaced my pale blond hair with my natural brunette color. At first I loved it. But now when I’m confronted with a mirror, the memory of my mother stares back at me, and I think that might be even worse. I still can’t believe that after three years with Luke I’m right back at the beginning again. Back to first dates and testing the water with someone new, worrying over how I can get away

without talking about my family, and now, avoiding the subject of Luke. Not that having an ex is anything to be ashamed of, but I can’t help feeling ashamed about the whole thing. Luke never said it to my face, but ever since that day I saw him with Sloane, I knew I’d never be good enough for him. She was a neon flashing sign to my pastelcolored, hand-painted display in the window. A vibrant, commanding presence to my quiet, muted one. Men want women like her. Women who have sex in elevators and in bathrooms at clubs, not ones who’ve

never gotten freaky anywhere weirder than the foot of the bed. My gaze flicks up to the mirror and my reflection makes me flinch. Who am I anymore? Wrenching my gaze away, I reach for my phone as it does its vibration dance across the counter. Clark: Want to tell me what I just helped you decide? Please tell me it wasn’t hair color. Me: Hah, no. Just boots. Clark: Going to a guy for fashion advice? Risky.

I chuckle to myself and head back

into my room. Me: Technically you didn’t know it was about fashion, so, risk averted. Clark: Touché.

“Hey!” Delia yells at me, pouting. “We were still debating.” “Sorry, I consulted an outside source.” I wiggle my phone at her and then tuck it in my purse. “I’ve gotta leave in ten minutes and it sounded like that conversation was going to go on for at least another twenty.” “What outside source?” She throws a look at Tara like she can’t understand

who I could’ve possibly gotten advice from, wrinkling her freckled-covered nose. It’s truly a testament to the way I’d been holed up in this apartment for the last few months. “Her text-a-friend,” Tara answers, lifting up one dark eyebrow. “Oh, right.” Delia crosses one leg over the other and leans back on her hands. “Have you gotten him to send you a picture yet?” I poke through my jewelry box trying to find a necklace. The one I want is tangled up with another, knotted in a mess of silver and gold. “Haven’t asked

for one.” “Alright.” Delia drags the word out so that it lasts for at least three syllables. I’ve got my back to them, but I’m pretty sure they’re trading a why is Haley so testy look. “How about the date tonight? What’s he like? Hot?” Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I try to pry apart the two intertwined necklaces, but only manage to chip some nail polish off my thumb. “His profile picture looks cute.” It does, though he’s not my usual type. But I’d already done the gorgeous, swoonworthy boyfriend and that had ended just as disastrously as

I thought it would. I blame it on the fact that I’d been closing myself off to men pretty much since my attraction to them surfaced. “Although, his name is Arnold.” I make a face at Delia. Her lips stretch as she grimaces. “Stop it.” Tara stabs her finger at the screen of her cell phone and then passes it to Delia. “He goes by Arnie. And look, he’s cute, right?” “He’s … actually not terrible.” She sucks in her lower lip as she flicks at the screen. “Twenty-nine, investment banker, likes to read. Oh, and this is cute. Look, he’s got a cat.” Lifting her hand, she

flashes the screen in my direction. Another fleck of nail polish goes flying, and I let out a groan. “Here.” Tara plucks the necklaces from my hand and deposits them back in my jewelry box. After fumbling through it, she grabs another, sweeps my hair to the side, and fastens it around my neck before I even have a chance to see which one she picked out. “How do I look?” I ask, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from my pants. “Beautiful, as always,” Tara answers with a smile, nudging me affectionately in the ribs.

Delia cocks her head and bounces off the other side of the bed, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. The red, messy knot of hair on top of her head flops to the side as she draws back my curtain and peers out the window. “You happen to have an umbrella to go with that outfit?” * * * Even though I leave on time, the roads are snarled in traffic because of the weather. By the time I reach the parking lot, I’m already fifteen minutes late and there’s not a spot to be seen. I have to

circle it twice before I finally find a place to wedge my Camry. The rain comes down in sheets, and the wind tries its best to turn my umbrella inside out and rip it from my hands. Though I manage to hang on to it, I’m a damp, soggy mess by the time I make it to the front door of the restaurant. Running a hand through my hair, I step into the press of people, trying not to whack anyone with my umbrella. I push my way to the front, apologizing profusely for every toe I step on. Of course the floor is marble, and just as I

step in front of the hostess stand, my foot finds a puddle and skates out from underneath me. Grabbing on to the edge of the stand, I manage to stay upright. The hostess avoids making eye contact as she points out Arnie in a booth on the far side of the restaurant, the corners of her lips quivering. I try to gather myself and get my head back in a good place, but at the moment, the only thing I can think about is how my socks are squishing inside my boots and how it feels like I’ve tweaked my hamstring. Alright, focus. You’re on a date.

Have a good time. Arnie picked the restaurant, some Asian-fusion place I’d never heard of or been to called Wild Ginger. Given how packed the entryway and parking lot are, I have to assume it’s a good place. Dark hardwood floors span the dining area, and wallpaper with a swirling gold pattern decorates the walls. A small red pendant light dangles above every booth, bathing the entire place in a soft, romantic light. At our table, Arnie pinches the bridge of his nose and glances down at his phone. Checking the time, I’m sure.

Suddenly realizing that I’m already late and just standing here, I finally get myself moving. As he glances up and his eyes catch mine, his shoulders drop, like he’s relaxing them for the first time in an hour. Possibly more than that. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” I wave a hand at my hair and then down at the rest of myself, encompassing the whole wet mess. “The weather and the traffic.” “Of course.” With a shake of his head, he pushes himself out of the booth and stands. He’s wearing a green-andwhite-checkered button-down, over a pair of khaki pants that are a few steps

shy of being too small. “It’s, umm … well, thanks for coming,” he says. The way he says it makes me wonder if he was hoping I wouldn’t show up after all. He takes a tiny step forward, hesitating between a handshake and a hug. Maybe even a kiss on the cheek. I’m so out of practice I don’t know what the protocol is. Right about the time I opt for a handshake, he must decide on a hug, and I end up poking him in the stomach. He jerks back, sticking out his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, Haley.” “You too, Arnie.” I force my smile to

stay put and my hand to stick it out through the handshake, even though his soft, sweaty hand makes me want to snatch it back. He gestures toward the booth. “Shall we?” Rearranging the colorful throw pillows that crowd the bench, I slide into my spot. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asks. I flip open the menu. “No, not really. It was just hard finding a parking spot. This place is packed.” “It’s usually like this. I used to come

here all the time with my…” He snaps his lips together and shakes his head. “The sashimi is really fantastic if you like that sort of thing.” “That’s, uh, good to know. Thanks.” I duck my head down to study the menu. Thank God they have something other than sushi or I’d be so screwed. Raw anything has never been my cup of tea. Glancing back up, I’m treated to the top of Arnie’s head as he looks over his own menu. Sadly, his profile picture didn’t advertise the balding patch front and center on his head that stares back at me like a crop circle in the midst of his

brown hair. The waitress makes an appearance right then, and Arnie flashes me a quick smile, making me immediately feel like a terrible mean girl for judging his thinning hair. Arnie orders dragon rolls and I go with chicken teriyaki. After she leaves, a silence descends on us, hanging as heavy as the clouds outside. “So.” Arnie clears his throat. “Have you lived around here for long or are you new to the area?” I mentally calculate. “Well, I graduated last summer and moved in with my roommate shortly after that, so,

about six months. How about you?” “I just recently moved back, actually. I’ve got family in the area, so it was the best thing for me.” I try not to cringe as he brings up family. It’s typical first-date material, but it’s never a topic I want to cover. Sipping at my water, I ask, “Are you close with your family?” “Well, since my mom and I live together, I’d say we’re kind of close.” He chuckles, but it sounds as painful as my smile feels. “It’s just temporary,” he adds. “Until I can get back on my feet.” Oh man, this is going downhill fast.

“Is everything alright?” “As alright as things can be after finding out my wife was screwing our landscaper and then being served with divorce papers in the middle of work.” He laughs again, but this time I can’t force myself to smile. I’m going to kill Tara. Arnie waves his hand at me. “It’s not a big deal. That was weeks ago, and I’m totally fine now. And hey, the divorce is almost final.” He takes a swig of his water. “So glad to be back in the dating game.” He leans back into his side of the booth and stretches his arms out across

the top. The conversation stalls again, puttering out till the only thing I can hear are the murmurings from other diners and the clanking of their silverware against their plates. My glass of water continues to sweat, creating a small puddle on the wooden tabletop. When the awkward tension is so taut between us it feels like the air is going to shatter, his phone rings and I blow out a sigh of relief. He frowns at his cell. “I’ve gotta take this. Back in a minute.” I sag back into the booth as he walks

away, fishing out my own phone. To Tara I send a quick, short message. Me: I’m going to kill you.

Then I flip over to my conversation with Clark. Me: Quick. Send help. This date is a disaster.

I only have to wait a few seconds for his response. Clark: Sure, let me just find a phone booth real quick and slip on my cape. Clark: Seriously, though, you okay?

Me: I may be surveying my escape routes, considering faking a stomach ache or something. You know, I went into this with wildly low expectations, but even with those I wasn’t really expecting my first date to be with a guy who’s balding, lives with his mother, and oh yeah, is still married.

This time it takes a little longer for him to respond. Clark: Sorry, I was just laughing so hard that I was having trouble texting you back. Me: Real nice. Clark: At least he didn’t bring his mom on the date?

Me: Omg! Although, he did just go answer a call on his cell. Maybe it’s her. Clark: Uh oh, maybe she’s on her way over …

“Sorry about that.” Arnie’s voice jerks me back into the present, and my smile immediately dims. I hide my phone in my lap. “That’s alright.” This time he’s not smiling, though, and the way he’s frowning brings out the worry lines around his nose and mouth. He runs a hand through his hair. “That was work, and I’m really sorry but I have to go.”

“Right now?” I bite my tongue, trying to keep myself from sounding overeager. “Unfortunately, yes.” He scoots forward toward the table, and folds his hands on it. “I really hate running out on you like this. I’ve been looking forward to this date all week. When I saw your picture on MatchPerfect I felt an instant connection.” His expression softens as he looks at me, and I try not to squirm. “You have the most gorgeous eyes. They remind me so much of my mom’s. Just beautiful.” Despite my best attempts, I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. Did this

guy actually just compare me to his mom? No, no. Correction: Did he just tell me he’s attracted to me because I look like his mom? I try to repress a shudder, but I’m not sure I’m entirely successful. He tilts his head to the side. “Do you think we can do this again sometime?” Crap. I take a deep breath. “Arnie, this was … nice, but I don’t really feel a connection between us. I don’t think this is going to work out.” “But it’s just a first date.” His eyes plead with me. “It’s the first date I’ve been on in years. I’m just so out of

practice. If you give me another chance I’m sure things would be better.” “I’m sorry but no.” A muscle jumps in his cheek as he clenches his jaw, but whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by the reappearance of our waitress, our dinners boxed up and in two plastic bags. She sets the check between us. “Well, thanks for nothing.” Arnie stands, flipping through his wallet. He tosses a few bills on the table. “This should cover my half. Nice to meet you, Haley.” He huffs and then mutters under his breath, “Not.”

He’s halfway across the restaurant, stomping toward the door, when my laugh bubbles out from between my pinched lips. Did that really just happen?

Chapter 7

Haley Torrential downpour? Check. Awful first date? Double check. Managing to make my night even worse? Yeah, that’s like the cherry on top of this horrid sundae. Resting my forehead against the cold glass, I thump my fist against my window. My keys wink back at me as the streetlight glints off them from their warm, dry perch on my driver’s seat. I

try the door handle one more time, probably the hundredth time in the last minute, but surprise of all surprises it’s still locked. I groan and clench my teeth together, trying to keep them from chattering. We’re only about ten degrees from where this rain would be snow, and my sopping jacket isn’t doing anything to keep out the chill. Giving up on any chance of rescuing my keys from the car, I dash across the parking lot, dodging a puddle as I make a run for my apartment building. Luckily I can at least huddle in the entryway, even though getting into my

apartment is out of the question. I pull my cell phone out of my purse with numb fingers, fighting off a shiver, and find a few messages from Tara waiting for me. Tara: You can only kill me if you can find me! Tara: Seriously though, are you alright? I definitely didn’t set you up with an asshole on purpose. I mean he has a cat for God’s sake, doesn’t that automatically make him nice or something? Tara: Okay, Delia’s yelling at me to put away my phone because we’re out to dinner.

Tara: But still text me that you’re okay, k?

I bite back a groan and push my dripping hair off my forehead. Of course the one time I’m stupid enough to get locked out of the apartment she’s out on a date. I shoot her back a quick message and let her know I’m fine, leaving out the whole I’m probably going to get hypothermia issue. It’s kind of pathetic that Tara’s just about the only person I can call for help. Alright, well I could call Delia too, but that’s not really gonna help me right now

seeing as they’re together. Scrolling through my contacts, my finger hesitates over my mom’s name. What I’d give to hear her voice right now, but I’m not even sure this number is still current. And even if it were, she’s not interested in coming to my rescue. She hasn’t been for a long time. My shoulders sink and it feels like my own personal storm cloud is hovering right above my head, following me around and dousing me with droplets of gloom. I try and shake it off, still searching through my phone for the magical answer.

And then Kyle’s name pops up on my screen. I sink my teeth in my lower lip, considering it. He did say to call if I needed him. Trying not to overthink it, I quickly dial his number and then pace around the entryway as the phone starts to ring. “Hello?” Something is making a lot of noise in the background, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “Hey, it’s Haley. From work.” “Oh, hey. Hold on a sec.” The sound vanishes. “What’s up?” “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you …

out?” Please don’t be out. “Uh, no. I’m just crashing at home tonight. Like all the cool people do.” He laughs. “Hold on, didn’t you have that date tonight?” “Yeah, I did. Just got back. I’m actually wondering if I can ask you for a really huge favor?” I cross my fingers behind my back. “Of course. What do you need?” “So, I may be locked out of my car and my apartment. I was in a rush trying to get out of the car and my keys fell out of my purse and now I’m kinda stuck. My roommate isn’t going to be home for

a couple of hours and normally I’d just wait it out but I’m a little bit … cold. And wet.” I blow out a breath. “Do you think, maybe—and it’s completely okay if you say no—that I could hang out with you for a bit? Just until she gets back?” Something squeaks on his end of the phone, like he’s shifting on the couch or sitting down on his bed. “Of course you can. No big deal.” “Are you sure?” “Positive. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up.” Something loosens inside of me. “I’m at the apartment building on the

corner of Fifth and Broad. You know it?” “Actually, yeah. I’m only like five blocks over. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be there.” “You’re seriously the best. I owe you big-time.” “Well, maybe I’ll let you repay the favor sometime.” His words are laced with humor and I can practically hear the smile in his voice. Surprisingly, despite the fact that I’m dripping water on the lobby floor and my night has been one of the worst ones I’ve had in a long time, I’m smiling too. Somehow Kyle always

has that effect on me.

Chapter 8

Kyle “Welcome to Casa Lawson.” I hold the door open for Haley, and she steps through behind me, gripping her purse and a plastic bag in her hands. I give the apartment a quick survey to make sure my chaotic cleanup was at least semisuccessful. My hamper with my dirty laundry is still sitting out in the hall, but at least the fifty or so water bottles I’ve

collected over the past couple of weeks are safely in the recycling can. Haley glances around her and then smiles. “I really like your place. It’s very you.” “Thanks,” I say, automatically. I’m never sure how to take it when someone says it’s very me. What does that even mean? Like, is my geeky underbelly given away by my choice of curtains or something? “How about we find you something to wear? I’m sure I’ve got something.” She follows me toward my bedroom, hovering just outside it as I rummage

through my dresser. I find a T-shirt and give it a sniff test before grabbing a pair of basketball shorts and handing them over to her. “These should work.” She sighs. “You’re a lifesaver.” “Well, I hope I’m one of the good flavors.” She laughs, but her eyes drop immediately to my lips. I so did not mean that as any type of sexual innuendo, but obviously now I’m thinking about what she’d taste like. Something sweet no doubt, like a pineapple Life Saver. Or maybe the fruit punch.

“—bathroom?” My ears tune back in to the conversation just to catch the end of her sentence. “The bathroom? It’s just to your right. Can’t miss it.” “Great, thanks.” The bathroom door clicks closed behind her and I run a hand over my face. I’ve got to get it together. Being attracted to Haley makes my brain revert back to its fifteen-year-old self, and teenage Kyle was not a catch. Not unless bumbling, stuttering nerds are your jam. But sometimes the way she looks at me makes me feel like she’s feeling it too.

Maybe I just need to consult an outside source on the situation. Get a female opinion on it. With a quick glance at the closed bathroom door, I dig my work cell out of my pocket, and a grin breaks across my face. Rereading my conversation with Lois, the funny, charming stranger I’ve been texting, has that instant effect on me. I send her a quick message, checking in on her horrific date. Me: Has Momma shown up yet? Or maybe his wife?

A response flashes across my screen

a few seconds later. Lois: You’re HILARIOUS! But no, the worst date ever is officially over. Except I ended my night by locking my keys in my car. I don’t know where you live but it’s downpouring here and I’m drenched. Thank God for my friend or I’d have a long wait before my roommate gets home.

My heart twinges at the response, and suddenly the sound of raindrops pounding against my window is the only thing I can hear. Involuntarily, my gaze settles back on the bathroom. It can’t be, can it? I mean it’s probably raining in at

least five different states right now, and it’s not all that uncommon to lock your keys in your car. There’s no way that of the millions of phone numbers and people who are out there, somehow I’ve been texting Haley, is there? As I’m staring at the door, it swings open and my stomach plummets to the ground. Haley’s a knockout at work— makeup perfectly applied, hair neat and straight, always in her business outfits. She’s killer in those heels and pencil skirts. But right now? With her hair wet and twisted up on top of her head and practically drowning in my clothes?

She’s just flat-out beautiful. I swallow and then mentally kick myself in the ass. “Let’s throw your clothes in the dryer.” She passes me the bundle of wet clothes and then lifts up the plastic bag she’s been carrying around. “I know I’m running a little low on favors, but do you think I could heat this up in your microwave? My date bailed on me and I never got to eat my dinner.” “Go for it.” I gesture toward the kitchen with my head. “Plates are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.” Taking care of Haley’s clothes—did

I mention she was wearing a white lace bra? emphasis on “was”?—I pull up a seat at my kitchen counter. The microwave beeps a few seconds later, and Haley heads my way, hopping up onto the stool next to mine. She sets the plate on the counter and passes me a fork. I look at her in question. “There’s no way I’m going to eat all of this. I figured you could help me finish it off. Consider it the beginning of my reparations.” She shrugs and then shifts on her stool. When we’re facing each other, our legs alternate—mine,

hers, mine, hers—like we’re some type of jigsaw puzzle. The tiniest hint of her slim knee pokes out from underneath my baggy shorts, and that small expanse of skin should not be turning me on, but it so is. “Oh.” She holds up a finger while she finishes chewing. “I texted my roommate and she should be home in an hour, so you’ll be off the hook pretty soon.” Oh, Haley. I’d much rather be on the hook, trust me. I scoop up a forkful of rice and finally ask the question that’s been impatiently waiting to stampede out

of my mouth. “So, how was the date?” “Awful. Horrific.” She rolls her eyes and nibbles on her piece of chicken. “I mean seriously, who joins an online dating site and actually goes out with someone before they’re even divorced?” The grains of rice I’m trying to swallow transform into tiny shards of glass and stick in my throat. “He was … married?” “Married, lives with his mom, balding.” She ticks them off on her fingers. Her eyebrows pinch together as she looks at me. “Are you alright? You’re not choking or something, are

you? I’m not really well versed in the Heimlich maneuver.” I shake my head and manage to squeeze out, “I’m fine,” between clenched teeth. Haley keeps talking about her date but I can’t hear her over the blood roaring in my ears. My gaze strays over to her boots as I desperately look for confirmation that it’s just an awful coincidence, but when they land on her black boots, black not brown, I give up looking for excuses. Lois is Haley. Haley is Lois. If I wasn’t convinced the universe had it out for me after everything that happened with

Stacy, this giant middle finger it’s giving me has to be a sign. Haley nudges me with her knee and I flinch. “Are you sure you’re okay?” This is my opening. I need to lay all my cards on the table and admit to her that I’m Clark. That she accidentally texted me and has kept it up almost every day since then. My mind theorizes her response—she’ll be embarrassed probably, but she might not think it’s a big deal. Or she’ll be so embarrassed that she won’t be able to look at me the same again. It doesn’t matter. I have to tell her.

“Haley…” I set my phone on the counter between us, not even wanting to look at it. “There’s something I need to —” My other phone starts blasting out “Enter Sandman” by Metallica from the depths of my pocket. Haley lifts an eyebrow in question. “Really?” “That’s all my brother. Hold on, I’ve gotta take this.” Wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I say, “Hey man, what’s up?” Brian’s voice booms back at me. “This was a test, Kyle. And you failed.”

“What are you talking about?” “It’s a Friday night! You’re supposed to be out, partying. What did we talk about last weekend? You’re never going to get any action if you never leave your living room.” Yeah, I am so not having this conversation right now. “I’m busy right now, Bri. I’ll call you later.” “Busy? C’mon, don’t lie to me. You’re at home, doing what? Playing Halo? Watching the game?” I clench my jaw and the words steamroll their way out of my mouth before my brain flashes the warning

sign. “Actually, I’m having dinner with a friend. A girl friend.” My eyes land on Haley—chin in her hand, cheeks a little bit pink, clearly amused. “I mean she’s not my girlfriend.” Her smile deepens. “She’s just a friend who happens to be female.” For God’s sake, Kyle, stop talking. “For your sake, I kinda hope that’s not actually true.” “Sadly, it is.” “Ouch.” He hesitates for a second and I can almost hear the gears grinding as he thinks. “You want me to talk to her? I can smooth this over for you.”

“No.” It comes out practically as a shout and Haley frowns. She nods toward the couch, slides off the stool, and squeezes me on the shoulder as she walks into the living room. “Sorry, didn’t mean to step on any toes.” “You didn’t.” I sigh. “Worried I’ll steal your girl?” I glance over my shoulder at Haley, and say softly, “She’s not my girl.” Brian grunts and the phone crackles in my ear. “Ky, you know I’d never do that to you, right?” “Yeah, I know.” I slide my fingers

under my glasses so I can rub my eyes. He’d never intentionally do that, but that doesn’t mean that any girl who met him after they met me wouldn’t instantly realize they’d picked the wrong brother. “I’m just a little tense.” “No kidding.” He laughs. “You know what’s actually really good for relieving some tension—” “Good-bye, Brian.” I cut him off with a laugh of my own. “Night, Kyle,” he answers, still cracking up. I shove my phone back in my pocket and walk over to Haley, flopping down

onto the couch next to her. The leather cushion is cold against the back of my neck as I lean my head against it. She shifts a little so she’s facing me. “Everything alright?” “Yeah.” I shrug. “Just my little brother checking in on me. He’s worried I’m not getting out enough.” “Sounds like my roommate.” She grins and then pokes me in the arm. “Hey, I know. Maybe he should sign you up for an online dating site and make you go out on dates with five different women.” I shake my head. “No way.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t really recommend it.” Something in her expression shifts, like her emotions are battling for center stage on her face. “I know you mentioned you had a sister, and now a brother. Any other siblings?” “Nope, just the one brother and sister.” I stretch out my legs and rest my feet on the coffee table, folding my hands over my stomach. “Teresa is … well, you heard me on the phone with Brian, and Teresa is about a thousand times worse. Then again, she’s a teenager, so she gets a little bit of a pass.” A smile spreads across my face. “Then there’s

my mom. If she’s not harassing me about grandchildren then she’s stuffing me full of food because I’m too skinny and sending me home with more leftovers than I can fit in my tiny freezer.” I belatedly realize I’ve gone off on a bit of a tangent and clear my throat. “Not that you asked about my mom.” “No, it’s nice. I don’t know a lot of people that have that good of a relationship with their family.” Haley tucks her knees up against her chest and leans her cheek against the couch cushion. “What about your dad?” “Die-hard sports fan—that’s where

Brian and I got it from. He travels a lot for work, so I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like.” I nudge her with my elbow. “What about you? I know your dad got you hooked on baseball, so that’s already won him points in my book.” Her eyes shift away from mine, just the tiniest bit so that she’s still looking at me but not really looking at me. “I’ve got two younger sisters, but I’m not really close with my family.” Then she lets me see it—the pain that’s clouding her eyes, so stark that it feels like someone sucker-punched me

right in the throat. My first instinct is to hold her, to wrap her in my arms and offer to help her fight off her demons. But I’m not sure that’s something our current relationship would allow. And damn but a part of me hates being her friend, because I want it to be so much more than that. Hesitantly, I reach out my hand and squeeze her knee. A deep sigh works its way through her that lets me know I made the right move, and then she lays her hand on top of mine. Without even thinking about it, I wrap my thumb up around hers, making a statement with just

that one finger—I’m holding your hand. And she lets me, not letting go for what feels like the longest sixty seconds of my life.

Chapter 9

Haley There has to be something fundamentally wrong with the universe that I actually look forward to going to work. Not only that, but I wake up with a smile on my face. A smile that’s still stretching to every corner of my mouth as I sit across the table from Kyle, eating my lunch. Nothing really happened between the two of us over the weekend. Him briefly

holding my hand can only qualify as a huge deal if I was, oh I don’t know, in middle school. But there’s something there, a spark that’s simmering underneath my skin, vibrating through me with a steady hum of excitement. I’d be reveling in it, soaking it in, if it weren’t for the fact that Kyle’s been acting weird ever since I showed up at work last Monday morning. I thought he’d been sending me signals at his place, even before that really, but I’ve got nothing but mixed signals now. His smile slides all over his face when he looks at me, like it’s trying to run away.

Kyle’s wearing that wobbly smile right now as he swallows down a healthy bite of his ham and cheese wrap. “So, how was date number … three? It’s three, right?” “Three. Number one was the married guy, number two was the really old guy who could’ve been my grandfather.” I shudder. “Number three was surprisingly good-looking, like the kinda guy you can definitely tell is an athlete. He was charming and funny, right up until the part where he slipped the waitress his number.” “Three strikeouts.” He grimaces and

snags a fry from my plate. “One more and you’ll get—” “The golden sombrero, I know. I’m up on my baseball terminology, remember?” I dunk a fry in the ketchup and bite off the tip. “Just two more dates to go and I am done.” He looks at me curiously. “You don’t want to date anyone?” Something clicks together in my brain. Does he actually think that I want to go on these dates? Or that going out with these other random guys means that I’m not interested in him? I mean, that actually makes sense. Why didn’t that

cross my mind before? I stand, taking one last sip of my water as Kyle grabs our empty plates and tosses them in the trash. “It’s not that I don’t want to date anyone, but I really don’t think this whole online dating thing is working for me.” Pressing my hand against the glass door, I push it open and hold it as Kyle follows behind me. The sounds of the busy cafeteria dim behind us as the door swings shut. “I know there’s supposed to be some type of formula with these websites to find someone you’re compatible with, but I haven’t clicked with any of these guys.”

He pushes the button for the elevator and it lights up red. “Right.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looks at me, one corner of his mouth turning down. “You just haven’t met the right person yet, I guess.” What’s the right way to tell him that I think I have? My purse vibrates against my side and I rummage through it. “Hold on, I’ve got to…” I read the name on my screen and can feel all the blood drain from my face. A wave of dizziness washes over me. “Haley?” Kyle’s fingers wrap

around my elbow, but I can barely feel them. My entire body tingles and it feels like a ball of ice has lodged itself inside my chest. My hand trembles as I step back from him, but I can’t even drag my eyes up from my phone to look at him. “Just give me a second, okay?” The sharp staccato click of my heels against the marble floor echoes around me. Luke’s name flashes across the screen as my cell emits another buzz. Why is he calling? What could he possibly want? My only thought and the

only reason I decide to answer the phone is that it has to be an emergency. There’s absolutely no other reason why he’d be reaching out to me after all this time. I slide a finger across the phone and lift it up to my ear. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s me.” Hearing his voice is like stepping in a scalding hot shower with a terrible sunburn. It hurts everywhere, and my spine stiffens from the feel of it. “What’s … what’s wrong?” “Well…” He pauses and the sound of voices and exuberantly applied silverware filters through the line. It’s

possible that he’s at Gran’s Diner, but I’d lay money on it that he’s working a shift at The Edge. He never could learn the art of delegating. After a full thirty seconds he finally adds on, “There’s a girl here, says she’s your sister?” This is the part where I’d stumble backward and fall into a chair, but sadly there’s a lack of furniture in the lobby. Instead I sway on my heels and slap my palm against the wall to steady myself. “My sister?” I can almost hear his shrug. “That’s what she says. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but she’s really adamant that she

speak to you.” Static crackles and Luke lowers his voice. “Listen, if this girl’s a whack job, I’ll get rid of her. I almost didn’t call at all. I mean I think you would have mentioned that you had a—” “Her name’s Beth?” “Yeah, it is.” I glance down at my watch. “I’m leaving work now but it’s going to take me a little bit to get there. Can you let her hang out at a table or something until I get there?” “You got it.” I’m just about to hang up when his voice buzzes through once more. “Wait.

You know we’re at The Edge?” “Yeah, I figured.” A long moment stretches out between us. One where I hate that I can’t forget the ins and outs of his schedule, where I wish I could erase the seemingly endless amount of good memories we shared there. Luke may have rebuilt that place with all his heart and soul, but there are chunks of mine in it too. I clear my throat. “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “See you then, Hales.” My heart gets a quick pinch at his casual use of my nickname, and an

unexpected sheen of tears washes over my eyes. I tip my head back and give them a hard blink, shooing them away. You’re moving on, remember? I fight off any more thoughts of Luke and focus on Beth. I can’t even begin to imagine what made her search me out. I remember, down to the day, the last time I spoke to everyone. The last words I spoke: Fine, if that’s the way it has to be. More than four years of radio silence and suddenly she pops back up on the radar. There’s no way Mom has any idea she’s trying to find me. Stuffing my phone back in my purse,

I hurry over to Kyle. He hovers between the elevators, waiting for me, a crease worrying its way down the middle of his forehead. “Listen, I have to go. Can you please tell Mr. March that I had a family emergency and had to run out?” He steps toward me, reaching out a hand, but it’s like he’s not sure where to put it. So he draws it back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Is everything okay?” “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. The weight of my family drama is like an anvil on my chest. I so want to tell him

about it, to let him share the burden so that it doesn’t crush me. But how could someone who loves their family so deeply ever understand what I did? If I tell him how selfish I was, he’ll never look at me the same way again. And I’m not ready for that. His eyes search mine, trying to read me, trying to find answers. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to drive you somewhere? You really shouldn’t get behind the wheel if you’re upset. I could—” I lay a hand on his arm and give it a squeeze. “I’ll be okay, but thanks for

offering.” “Will you…” He runs a hand over his hair and rolls his eyes. It’s not at me though, it’s like he’s frustrated with himself. “Will you text me when you get home? I just want to make sure everything’s okay and you got back safely.” “Yeah. I can do that.” I smile up at him, and something inside me goes all warm and fuzzy at the thought that he cares enough to ask me to check in with him. Before I see it coming, he wraps me up in a hug. I slip my arms around his

middle and let my head rest against his chest. His heart thumps beneath my ear, and his shirt is soft and smells like his cologne. It feels good to be held, to feel like someone is looking out for me, protecting me. I hold on to him for just a little bit longer, trying to capture the feeling. I take a step back and blow out a breath. “Alright, I’ve gotta run.” “Drive safe.” * * * Gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into the parking lot of The Edge. I rest

my head against the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. With my purse hooked over my shoulder, I brush a hand down my gray dress and comb my fingers through my hair. Luke and I may be incredibly over, but that doesn’t mean I want to look as frazzled on the outside as I feel on the inside. Stepping carefully across the parking lot in my heels, I reach the door and my hand hesitates at the doorknob. I visualize what I’ll find behind the door, preparing myself for the confrontation with Beth, with coming face-to-face with

Luke for the first time since I left him. Before I can give myself a full-on pep talk, the door swings toward me and I have to take two hasty steps back to keep from getting smacked in the face with it. “So sorry, dear! Didn’t see you standing there.” A woman in well-worn jeans and a sweatshirt smiles sweetly at me, holding the door open for me to come through. “Thanks,” I tell her, my gaze immediately scanning for familiar faces. I spot Luke behind the bar, and when he notices me he does a double take.

From the way his eyes widen appreciatively, I can tell he approves of my new wardrobe. Then again, I bought these clothes with the intention of being less like me and more like Sloane, his girlfriend, so they should be right up his alley. He gestures with his head to the far end of the restaurant, and I immediately spot Beth. Her light brown hair is like a curtain in front of her face as she tilts her head forward and spins her glass on the table. My heels are a sharp, strange sound in comparison to everyone else’s flip-

flops, and Beth finally peels her eyes off the tabletop to glance up at me. She does a similar double take to Luke’s, eyes raking over my face, down my dress, and stopping on my shoes. “You look different,” she says. I slide into the booth, setting my purse down next to me. “So do you.” She was only thirteen the last time I saw her—all knobby elbows and knees, long scraggly hair, and a gap-toothed smile. Even then she looked like the spitting image of Mom, but now it’s even more pronounced. In the past four years she’s grown up, learned how to style her

hair, how to wear makeup, and filled all her harsh angles in with womanly curves. A pang hits me square in my chest that I missed out on all of it. “Does Mom know you’re here?” She shakes her head. “Nope.” She pops her “p” like she’s snapping a piece of bubblegum. I clench and unclench my hands underneath the table, trying to take out my nervous energy without letting on to her how freaked out I am. She doesn’t have the same issue. Plucking a napkin from the dispenser, she starts shredding it into tiny pieces.

I wait for her to say something else. To explain why she’s here at all, but she’ll barely even look at me. “Is something wrong with Mom? Is Dad having more problems with his back?” “They’re fine.” “Alright.” I grit my teeth, trying to hold it together. I’ve waited forever for one of them to reach out to me, for this moment. And it’s nothing like I want it to be. It’s like the last thing she wants is to be sitting here, sharing the same air with me. “Well, are you going to tell me why you needed to see me?” Her upper lip curls and she finally

looks straight at me. “I knew you’d be like this.” “Like what?” “All judgey and up on some holierthan-thou pedestal.” She flops back against the back of the booth hard enough that the man on the other side tosses an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Mom always said you thought you were too good for us and she was so right.” “Beth, how can I be judging you on anything when I don’t even know why you’re here?” I lean forward on my elbows, pleading her with my eyes. It kills me that Mom’s poisoned her

thoughts with lies about me. Or not lies, but at least half-truths. She’s not even going to give me a chance to explain. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It was stupid of me to come here.” Grabbing her messenger bag, she slips the strap over her head and pushes to her feet. I’m latching on to her wrist before I even realize I decided to do so. “Wait. Please, just give me a chance. I don’t understand—” “I’m pregnant,” she yells at me, ripping her arm out of my grasp. The entire place goes silent and I can

feel a blush heat up my cheeks. My mind races for the appropriate response to teenage pregnancy. I can’t get a read on her. I don’t know whether to offer her congratulations or a shoulder to cry on. “O-okay. Congratulations.” I end my sentence halfheartedly, somewhere between a question and a statement. She rolls her eyes at me, but this time keeps her voice at a normal decibel. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you’re super proud of your slutty little sister. I mean, this was always your worst nightmare, right?” Her hand drops to her abdomen, covering the almost invisible bump.

I bite back my response. How can I even answer that question? My answer is unequivocally yes. Yes, getting knocked up in high school was my worst nightmare. Yes, I wouldn’t even date anyone because I was so determined to break the cycle, so adamant that I’d get my grades high enough to get myself a scholarship. And yes, I’d seen how hard it was for my parents trying to raise me when they weren’t ready for it, how much it dragged them down. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes they made. I guess my nonresponse is as telling

as anything I can say. “That’s what I thought.” Beth scuffs the toe of her sneaker against the floor, tapping it against the wood. “Listen, I don’t want your pity.” “Then what do you want?” “Money.” She lifts her chin and stares down at me. “I know you’ve got some, and as much as I hate begging you for it, it’s not the worst thing I’d do to make sure my baby’s gonna be okay.” I drop my head into my hands, and something halfway between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in my throat. She just wants money. How ironic is it that the

reason they hate me is the same reason they need me? I don’t even pull my head back up to answer her. “How much?” “A thousand. I know a doc that’ll take me on even though I don’t have insurance, and that’s what he’s asking for. He’ll give me the vitamins, and some ultrasounds, keep check to make sure me and the baby are doing alright.” Even though my mind is mentally calculating, drawing up the numbers of my checking and savings, tallying how much I still owe this month in rent, utilities, and student loans, my hand is

already inside my purse pulling out my checkbook. I wasn’t there to help her with her homework, or to tell her that there was nothing wrong with waiting to have sex, but this? This I can do. Even if in the end it makes her hate me more because it feels like I’m paying her off. I rip the check out and pass it to her, finally letting myself look at her again. “Is that all?” The check crinkles as she shoves it in her pocket. She fidgets with the strap of her bag. “Yeah, that was it.” She takes two steps backward and then stops, her expression softening. “And, thank you.”

“One second.” I find a blank piece of paper and scribble down my number and address. Walking over to her, I hand her that as well. “In case you ever need anything else.” She glances down at the paper and then back at me. “Okay.” “Okay.” Everything inside me screams at me to hug her, to hold on to her before she’s gone again. But I know it’s the wrong move, that she wouldn’t want that. So, I cross my arms over my chest and watch as she leaves, not sure I’ll ever see her again. The bell chimes over the door and

she’s gone. A hand drops on my shoulder. “You alright?” “No.” I shake my head and press my knuckles to my lips. The tears I’ve been holding at bay all day start to slowly leak from the corners of my eyes. It would be so easy to turn my head and cry into Luke’s T-shirt, but I force myself to step away. He’s not mine anymore. “I will be though.” One half of his mouth curves into a smile and he gives his head a slow shake. “I never doubted it for a second.”

Chapter 10

Kyle The hour hand creeps toward the nine and I’ve practically walked an entire mile with how many times I’ve paced back and forth in my tiny-ass apartment. She should be back by now, right? I mean, I don’t really know where Haley was going, but she did say she’d be back tonight, so it couldn’t be that far. I check my phone for the seven

thousandth time, but still no message. Hesitantly, I even check the Clark line, but there’s nothing there either. When another minute later my phone starts ringing, I nearly trip on my rug trying to get to it. While I manage to keep myself from falling, I stub my toe on the end table and have to bite back a groan. “Hello?” “Whoa, man. You’re not answering the phone while you’re taking a dump, are you? Because that’s nasty.” “Shut up, jackass. I’m just waiting on an important call.” Luckily Brian can’t see me hopping up and down on one foot

as I try to get my toe to stop throbbing. “Oh,” he replies, drawing the word out like it’s actually got twelve “h”s. “A call from a lady friend?” “Surprisingly, yes.” I flop down on my leather sofa and turn on the TV, giving my foot one last flex. “This isn’t the chick you’ve been texting with, is it?” I pull the phone away from my ear as he chomps down on what sounds like a chip. Or maybe it’s a nacho. “Well … kinda.” I haven’t exactly gotten around to admitting to him that the girl I’ve been texting ended up being the same girl

from work who I’m crazy about. Honestly, I’ve been hoping he’ll forget about the entire thing. It’s not completely unrealistic; he has been known to forget entire conversations in the afterhaze of his parties and sexcapades. “Hold on a sec.” He presses the phone into something—his shirt maybe? —but I can still hear him say, “Yeah, we should do it again sometime. Alright, yeah. Give me a call.” When he’s back I say, “Are you seriously calling me while there’s still a girl in your bed?” “She was in the bathroom.”

Right, that’s better. “Stop trying to throw me off track. I’m still waiting to hear whose call you’re waiting on. How can it kinda be the girl you’re texting?” I knew I never should have mentioned it, but at the time, that drunktext conversation had been too good not to share. Things like that never happen to me. I settle back into the soft leather cushion. “So, you remember the new girl at work I was telling you about?” “The one who was over your place last weekend? I remember.”

“So yeah, it turns out that the new girl at work is actually the girl who’s been texting me.” The only response I get back is laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. Maybe a little wheezing too. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I’m pretty sure he’s crying he’s laughing so hard. I’d probably punch him in the face the next time I saw him if I didn’t remember all the other times he sat on the phone, giving me advice. Or all those nights he spent on my couch after everything went down with Stacy and he was worried sick about me. “Only you would have

that bad of luck, man,” he adds. If he only knew the half of it. I scratch a hand through my hair and give it a tug. “I have to tell her, right?” “The douchebag part of me says, hell no. You’ve got an insight into a woman’s mind; do you know how rare that is? You could find out, easily if I might add, whether or not she’s into you. Just one text and boom, you’ve got your answer.” He blows out a breath. “But the nondouchebag part of me says, you need to tell her like, yesterday. If she tells you personal, private things and then finds out you were lying to her? You’re done

for.” The couch groans as I lean back into it. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been telling myself. Things were great when she was here last weekend, and I actually think she might be interested in me, but I can’t start something with her unless it’s all out in the open. And the worst part is: I’ve been acting weird with her ever since because I keep trying to figure out how to tell her and keep chickening out. So now she probably thinks I’m not interested in her. Which is insane, but still.” “Hold on to your hat because there’s

some mushy brother stuff coming your way. Kyle, you are a great guy. Any girl who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you. You get me?” My response gets stuck in my throat when my work cell lights up on the coffee table. For a few seconds I stare at it without making a move toward it. It’s the answer I’ve been waiting for all night, it’s just coming to the wrong person. “Brian, I’m gonna have to call you back.” “Alright man, I’ll catch up with you later. But hey, chin up. Your luck’ll turn

around at some point.” Unfortunately, that point is not tonight. Hanging up with Brian, I stretch over and grab my other phone. I unlock it to read my new message. Lois: Today has been one of the worst days I’ve had in a very long time.

My chest tightens, like I’m trying to breathe when it’s bitterly cold outside. Of the choice between the two of us, Haley chose him. Not the guy who eats lunch with her every day, or the guy who saved her ass last weekend, or the guy

she let hold her hand. No, she picks the stranger. The guy she doesn’t know, but who she apparently trusts more. A part of me doesn’t even want to answer her. If I don’t, would she eventually end up texting the real me? But as much as I might consider it, I can’t leave her hanging. Sometimes I really hate being a nice guy. Me: Don’t tell me. Another bad date? Lois: I wish.

Her next message takes a little longer to pop up, and if it weren’t for the little bubble that shows me she’s typing I

might think the conversation was over after that. Lois: Bear with me on the long text. I got a call from my ex this afternoon letting me know my sister dropped by his restaurant and was looking for me. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him since we broke up almost seven months ago. That would have been bad enough, just hearing his voice, but I haven’t spoken to my sister in even longer. It’s been more than four years since that happened. I wish I could tell you it was good news that made her reach out me, but it’s not. She’s pregnant. She’s only seventeen.

I read it twice. It’s awful. The entire thing. The selfish part of me is angry that she’s willing to spill her guts to Clark. That she’s making herself open and vulnerable to a guy she doesn’t know the first thing about. What’s wrong with me? The real me. If nothing else, I thought we were at least friends. It takes me a minute to get my thoughts in order and type out a reply. It dawns on me that if I’d just admitted to her this week that I was Clark I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. What’s that expression? “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty”? Yeah, well hindsight’s

also a bitch. Me: Bear with me on the long response. It sounds like a really rough day, in more ways than one. I’d crack a joke if I thought it’d make you smile, but I get the feeling you’re beyond that right now. Dealing with exes is always hard. Trust me, I’ve got a pretty bad one myself that did a doozy on my self-confidence. As for your sister, that’s a tough situation. Is she planning on keeping the baby?

While I wait for a response, I cross from the living room to the kitchen and snag a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. I pop off the cap and it

saucers on the counter. Next to it, my phone chimes out a happy little noise that makes me want to hurl it against the wall. Lois: Yeah, she is. That’s why she called actually. She doesn’t have any health insurance so she asked me for money for doctor visits and tests. Lois: She didn’t even want to see me. I could see it written all over her face. She was forcing herself to be there even though she hated it because that’s how bad she needed the money.

My insides twist. I can’t see her face, I can’t read her expression, but I

can hear the dejected note in her text. All of a sudden it doesn’t matter what craphole situation I got myself into. I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now. All that matters is trying to make it better for her, any way that I can. Even if the only way that’s possible is by being Clark. Me: What can I do to make you feel better, even just a little bit? Lois: I think I’m ready for that joke now.

Oh boy. I rack my brain trying to come up with something. All the ones I

know are lame, dorky jokes. But I just need something to lighten the mood, something that’ll crack a smile. Me: Alright. Knock knock. Lois: Who’s there? Me: To. Lois: To who? Me: No, silly. To whom.

I suck down a huge gulp of beer while I wait for her reaction. Rereading it, I wish I could take it back. That is probably the stupidest knock-knock joke known to man. She must think I’m an idiot.

Finally, I get a response. Lois: Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed. Clark: Well, I’m happy to be the bright spot in your day. Lois: It’s more than that. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that I have you to talk to. There aren’t that many people I feel like I can open up like this to. So, thank you. Really. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.

My insta-smile fizzles out when the implication of what she’s saying sinks in. I can’t tell her I’m Clark after she just admitted how much she relies on him.

How much she needs him. Dammit. Despite the obvious kink this puts in my plan to come clean, I’m still so goddamned pleased with myself that I got her to smile after that absolutely shitty day. Well, hopefully smile. I can’t be certain. Grabbing the beer bottle by the neck, I settle back into the couch and flip through the channels. When it turns out that there’s nothing on, I switch over to Netflix and cue up some reruns of Doctor Who. With that as background noise, I reach for my cell so I can call Brian back. I’m about to hit Call when

the phone vibrates in my hand, scaring the crap out of me. I pull up my new text message. Haley: Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I’m home, safe and sound. The family crisis has been handled. See you tomorrow!

And that lighthearted feeling I was just basking in? Yeah, it’s gone. My mood plummets like a rock sinking down into a dirty pond. I shake my head to myself, trying not to be hurt by her short text. There are no details, no explanations. Apparently Kyle doesn’t

rank nearly as high as Clark does. I keep my message brief and to the point. Me: Happy to hear it. See you at lunch.

Chapter 11

Haley I should’ve gone out with Tara and Delia. Flopping back onto the couch, I stretch my legs out along the dark microfiber and flip through the channels. There’s nothing on. Or nothing that’s going to hold my interest, anyway. I’ve been moping for weeks since I saw Beth, never going anywhere without my phone

stuck in my pocket or purse. I even sleep with it underneath my pillow—just in case. I should know better, but there’s a part of me hoping that she’ll call. That maybe she’ll realize I’m not the bad guy Mom made me out to be. But there’ve been no calls or text messages, and I can only assume Beth got what she wanted from me and threw out my number. The remote clatters across the table as I toss it over, rolling onto my back. This is pathetic. I’m a twenty-two-yearold woman and I’m spending my Saturday on a couch, wearing a pair of

sweatpants that has so many holes they’re the Swiss cheese of sweatpants, and a T-shirt that’s three sizes too big. Beth may have knocked me off my moving-on wagon, but it’s time to climb back on. I shoot a quick text to Tara to see where they are, hoping I might be able to catch up with them. They’ll give me crap for taking this long to change my mind, but it’s better than spending the rest of the day by myself. While I’m waiting to hear back from her, I shoot a text to Clark too.

Me: I’m ready to shake off my funk and head out tonight. What’re you up to?

When neither of them respond immediately, I head for the bathroom. If I plan on going anywhere sometime today I need a shower. Leaving my phone on the counter, I turn the water on extra hot and hop in. There’s still no response by the time I’m done. I frown at my phone. It’s entirely possible that Tara and Delia changed their plans; maybe they’re enjoying some alone time and I won’t hear from them. And it’s not like I’m

expecting to make plans with Clark. We’re a technologically sustained friendship only. Although … would it be the worst thing to meet him? I shake the thought out of my head almost as soon as it appears. Meeting Clark would likely ruin whatever weird thing we have going right now. I wouldn’t be able to pour out all the things I’m feeling in all the dark corners of my heart that I won’t let anyone else see. The beauty of Clark is that I can tell him anything without fear of judgment. Finding out who he really is, seeing him

face-to-face? It would break the spell. No, things are great the way they are and I’m not going to do anything to screw that up. Towel-drying my hair, I flick through my phone contacts. There has to be someone other than Tara that I could do something with tonight. I scroll past Blaire and Harrison, the two friends that Luke kept in our split. Losing Luke from my life was awful; losing the two of them on top of it made it almost unbearable. Thank God for Tara. I scroll through the “H”s and “J”s. My finger hesitates over Kyle’s name.

We haven’t hung out together outside of work since that night he came to my rescue. In fact everything between us since that day has been tense, not quite as easy and comfortable as it used to be. Part of me wonders whether he caught on to the fact that I was developing feelings for him and is trying to pull away. Another part … well, honestly I’m not sure what else the problem could be, but I’m really hoping it’s not option one. I bite my lip, considering it. I could always extend an olive branch, right? When no objections spring to mind I type out a quick text before I can change my

mind. Me: Hey, friend. Got any exciting Saturday plans?

There. A nice text that’s vague enough that if he does happen to have plans he won’t feel bad that I’m the only loser on Saturday without any. Well done. Finally, an answer comes through. Kyle: I’m not sure I’d call them exciting, but yeah, I’ve got some plans.

Damn.

Kyle: Why, what’s up?

I’m half tempted to reply with the absolute truth—that I’m afraid I might die of boredom if I don’t get out of this apartment. But I stick with something lighter. Me: Nothing. Just hanging out at home. Having one of those days where I need to get out of the house.

My mattress squeaks as I sit down on it. There has to be something I can do. Maybe I can pull up one of the million projects I’ve pinned on Pinterest and

keep myself occupied. I can make curtains out of tablecloths or repurpose old magazine pages into paper roses or something. That sounds … fun. No, I will do none of those things. I will go do my hair, get dressed, and go out by myself. I can do that. Bryce may have wrong-numbered me, and every date I’ve gone on since then has been disastrous, but the only way I’m going to find someone new is to actually put myself out there. Just the thought of tackling the bar scene by myself is daunting. Crawling up the length of my bed, I

face-plant in my pillow. Or I can just order in pizza, pop in Pride and Prejudice, and go to bed early. There’s always next weekend. My phone chirps from somewhere down by the foot of the bed. Using my feet, I’m able to maneuver it up to my hands because I am that lazy. Kyle: I can’t promise you’ll have a good time, but you’re welcome to come with me if you want.

A bubble of excitement has me sitting up in bed.

Me: Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin your plans or anything. Kyle: Trust me, you’re not ruining anything. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?

I pat a hand over my hair and dart a glance to my closet. Me: I can be ready in half an hour. Can you tell me where we’re going or are you going to leave me in suspense? Kyle: Since you put it that way, maybe I’ll let it be a surprise. Me: Alright … well can you at least tell me what I should wear? Kyle: Something casual. Jeans? Just make sure to bring your game face.

* * * It takes an hour to go wherever it is we’re going. The entire time I twiddle my fingers in my lap, half anxious, half excited for whatever’s going to happen next. I frown down at my old pair of jeans, hating that I haven’t had the money to update the casual side of my wardrobe. My pants are ancient, my shirt not much newer. It’s definitely not a Sloane-approved look. Somehow I don’t think Kyle minds, but I hate resurrecting the old me. Kyle glances at me over his shoulder with a weak smile.

The longer we’ve been in the car the less sure he seems about bringing me with him. He pulls his Countryman alongside the curb and puts it in park. I dip my head a little to get a good look out the window. We’re sitting outside a house, decent-size and with light gray siding. There’s a wide driveway with a basketball hoop hanging above double garage doors. Two giant planters overflowing with flowers flank the steps and lead to a small covered porch. “Are we … playing basketball?” I glance down at my boots.

That nervous smile is back. “Not exactly.” I open my door, but hesitate, waiting for him to take the lead. He walks up the driveway, down the walkway, and hops up the steps. We stop outside the door. “Listen.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinking I should have told you where we were going before we got here. It’s just that, I don’t want you to read too much into this, and it’s really not that big of a deal. I—” The door flies open and I swear I jump a foot in the air. “Kyle!” A girl takes two quick steps

and throws herself at him. He stumbles back but manages to brace himself against the porch railing. Okay, this is interesting. After an extra-long hug, she slides back down to the ground, her bare feet landing on the porch. She brushes a hand through her short black hair, and her bright green eyes light up when they land on me. She slugs Kyle in the arm. “You didn’t tell us you were bringing a date.” He glances at me sharply, the tips of his ears going red. “I didn’t—” “Ma!” The girl turns and yells, hurtling back the way she came. “Kyle’s

got a new girlfriend!” “Teresa! What did I tell you about yelling!” A replying shout echoes through the house and out the front door toward us. Kyle runs a hand over the back of his neck, not quite looking at me. “Sorry, that’s my sister. She makes assumptions a lot.” His eyes flick to mine. “I didn’t tell her that we were dating or anything, I promise. I just don’t bring girls home really. Not that there are all that many girls to bring. I haven’t really dated anyone in a while, and well, that’s not the point. They’re worried about me. My

family that is. They—” Footsteps thud toward us. “There you are. What is this?” A woman gestures between us. “You bring home a new girlfriend to meet your family and you don’t even bother to tell us beforehand? Your father’s not even here and look at me.” Taking a step back, she motions down toward herself. She’s got a dish towel in one hand and a pair of jeans speckled with what looks like tomato sauce. Pale blond hair is styled in a pixie cut, and crow’s-feet spread out from the corners of her brown eyes. “I look like a schlub.” She sighs, but it’s

halfhearted, like her brain’s already moved on to her next thought and can’t be bothered to linger over her resignation. A grin breaks out across her face. Cupping Kyle’s cheeks in her palms, she kisses each one. “How’s my boy been, huh?” She glances at me. “Pretty good from the looks of it.” Then she adds under her breath, although it’s not even close to a whisper, “I already like her better than Stacy.” “Ma.” Kyle rolls his eyes. “Don’t ‘Ma’ me.” She swats him with the dish towel. “So, are you going to introduce me to your girl or should I

try and guess her name?” His eyes squeeze shut for half a second, his expression dimming. But I’m the only one who catches a glimpse of it because she’s too busy looking at me, her eyes sweeping over me like she’s taking all my measurements and making mental notes. I feel like I’ve walked into a lion’s den with two big slices of filet mignon strapped to my chest and nothing to defend myself with but a pillow. But Kyle—his expression’s gone from embarrassed to mortified in the blink of an eye. It’s not just that though. If I’m

reading him right, he almost looks … sad. Like he knows by telling them I’m not his girlfriend he’ll be letting them down, disappointing them. Just from their conversation I can tell it’s a big deal he’s brought me here. While a part of me can’t help but wonder why he brought me, the other part is so grateful to be out of the apartment that I don’t care that I’m about to get interrogated by his family. If pretending to be his girlfriend for the night is going to help him save face with his family, I can do that. And man, I won’t even mind pretending.

“Mom,” he starts. “I think there’s been—” I cut him off, stepping forward and offering his mom my hand. “I’m Haley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lawson.” She pumps my hand once and then pulls me in for a hug. “We hug here.” I laugh over her shoulder and peek up at Kyle. His mouth hangs open a little, his head cocked to the side. What are you doing? he mouths at me. “Come on, let’s get you two inside.” She tugs me toward the door, one arm

linked through mine. I glance back at him and smile, giving him a shrug and mouthing back, Just for the night. Somehow I get the feeling that nothing about tonight is going to be boring.

Chapter 12

Kyle Somewhere in a parallel universe, there’s a sane Kyle who didn’t invite Haley to his family dinner. In a different version of reality there might even be a lucky version of me who’s actually dating Haley and is really bringing her home to meet his family. Unfortunately, I’m neither of those Kyles, so instead, I gape as Haley walks through the front

door arm in arm with my mom. What the hell just happened? Is she pretending to be my girlfriend tonight? Because that’s either the luckiest break I’ve had in a long time or the sweetest form of torture ever invented. I’m still standing outside the door, staring down the empty doorway, when Brian appears. “What’s up?” He holds out his fist for me to bump. Dude pleasantries exchanged, I shake my head, still trying to find the words. “Did I hear Teresa say that’s your girlfriend?” He hooks a thumb over his

shoulder and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Not really. I mean … kinda?” I pluck off my glasses and rub my eyes. “That’s Haley.” He steps closer and lowers his voice. “Work Haley?” I nod. “What the hell is she doing here? Did you finally come clean?” “No. God, I wish, but I already told you why I can’t. She texted me and she was bored, so I invited her. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea, but it meant spending time with her and I hate that I can’t just be with her. Not that I’m

entirely sure she wants to be with me, but I think she might. Except we got here and Teresa started calling her my girlfriend, and I froze, and instead of correcting them, she just went along with it.” I suck in a breath since I managed to relay all of that to Brian without once inhaling. “Relax.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Let the night play out, it’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be in this brainy head of yours.” Wrapping his arm around my neck, he drags me closer to him. “Bright side? She likes you enough that she’s willing

to fake it for Mom and save you some embarrassment. That definitely has to mean something.” “I’ve gotta put an end to this Clark thing. Change my number or—” “Boys!” Mom’s shout pierces through the air like a javelin. “In or out. You’re letting the bugs in!” “You heard her.” Brian grins at me. “Don’t want to leave your new girlfriend with the piranhas for too long now, do you?” Oh, right. I let Haley go in the house with my Mom. Alone. Those are some brilliant boyfriend skills right there. And

I wonder why I’m single. The thought of Mom breaking out the old photo albums and showing off a younger, paler, skinnier version of myself has me practically sprinting through the door. I skid to a halt in the living room. Haley’s holding on to a picture frame, but from my angle I can’t tell which one it is. I scan the room. Mom promised she’d get rid of that old one of me with those horrific glasses and those turquoise overalls. That’s gone, isn’t it? “This is a beautiful picture,” Haley says. “You look fantastic.”

Mom grabs on to the edge of the gold frame and tilts it toward her. “Well, that’s one of the benefits of not being pregnant, right? You get to look good in all the pictures with the new baby.” Haley shifts uneasily on her feet and her fingers fidgeting against her pants. Mom laughs and rests a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry; it’s never been a big secret around here. I just assumed you knew Kyle’s adopted.” “Oh.” I can see the puzzle pieces click together in her head. “Are Brian and Teresa … ?” “The doctors told us that we couldn’t

get pregnant. But what do doctors know, right?” Mom laughs and ruffles her fingers through her short hair. “Brian was a shock, and we adopted Teresa a few years later.” She glances back over her shoulder, having no doubt sensed me with her impeccable Mom-dar, and pins my gaze with hers. “We’ve been so blessed with the family we’ve been given. I couldn’t ask for more amazing kids.” Haley turns and catches sight of me. Hastily setting down the frame, she slides her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking like she just got caught

stealing or something equally nefarious. “Oven timer!” Mom shouts, drawing startled glances from me and Haley. She points a finger in the air and disappears toward the kitchen. I don’t care what she said, my ears are fully functional and I didn’t hear a thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop—” I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s really not a big deal. She wasn’t lying when she said it wasn’t a secret. It just never came up.” That comment gives me a quick flashback to Haley spilling her family secrets to Clark. Damn him. “Your mom is really great.” She

smiles at me, but it’s pinched at the corners, like she’s forcing it to stay in place. “Is this a regular occurrence or am I interrupting some special occasion?” I lean my hip against the old blue recliner. “Every other Saturday, like clockwork.” “That’s—” “Kinda lame? Yeah, I know. What self-respecting twenty-four-year-old is hanging out with his family on Saturday nights and not hitting the clubs, right?” She chuckles. “I was actually going to say that it’s really nice. There’s

something to be said about a guy who cares enough about his family to give up his weekend to spend time with them.” Warmth tingles in the back of my neck, and my tongue feels like it’s gone to sleep in my mouth. I poke my brain to try and wake it up, but it doesn’t produce any amazing one-liners. The only words it pops out for me to choose from are “cheese,” “rabbit,” and “vacuum.” None of which I can make an intelligible sentence out of. This happens to me all the time. I manage to get a date and anytime things are going remotely well, it’s like my

brain has a seizure and forgets how to function. But this isn’t a date. This is Haley. I can be me with Haley. Is just the thought of her pretending to be my girlfriend so anxiety-inducing that she’s having this effect on me? Teresa latches on to the doorframe and pokes her head into the room. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go, you two. Stop trying to make out with your girlfriend in the living room.” She winks at me, and I have an instant urge to strangle her. In the most loving way possible of course. Teenagerhood has turned Teresa into a nosy, loudmouthed little thing.

Haley snorts, but I can feel how red my face is. “Come on.” She holds out her hand to me and I barely hesitate before giving her mine. My mind pinballs between two thoughts —God her skin is so soft and Crap, I hope she doesn’t notice how sweaty my hand is.

Chapter 13

Haley My stomach’s ready to explode from Mrs. Lawson’s lasagna. I love any kind of pasta, but this one takes the cake. And speaking of cake, or pie rather—Brian slides a plate of apple pie across the table to me. A glob of ice cream sits on top of it, melting and dripping off the sides of the crust. I lay a hand over my abdomen. “I

don’t think I can eat another bite.” “Hang on to it,” he says. “You can pick at it while we play.” “Play?” Brian flashes me a smile full of bright white teeth. “He didn’t tell you about game night?” I elbow Kyle in the ribs and he jumps. “What else haven’t you told me?” Panic flashes across his face. “Oh, umm … I—” “Relax.” I squeeze his leg affectionately under the table. When his face turns an extremely dark shade of red, I quickly let go and pull my hand

back into my lap. Too far, I guess? Brian buries his smile in his glass of milk and Teresa pinches her lips together, suddenly fascinated by her manicure. Mrs. Lawson breaks the awkward tension when she reappears in the dining room, a Scrabble box in her hands. She sets the box on the long table, and Teresa rips off the lid while Brian snags the bag of tiles. “I’m assuming you know how to play?” Brian asks, his attention not deviating from a small notebook he pulls out of the box. “I’ve played a few times. I wouldn’t

call myself an expert or anything.” “It doesn’t matter.” Brian rolls his eyes. “Kyle always wins anyway.” “Hey, that’s not true. I’ve won two games.” Teresa points at a page in the notebook and I squint at it but can’t make out the tiny writing. “Three for me,” Mrs. Lawson adds. “And another three for my absentee husband.” Brian huffs under his breath and I wonder if he’s got any wins at all. “How many do you have?” I turn and ask Kyle. He twists his fork in between his

long fingers, then pokes at his pie. “I don’t remember.” “Twenty-one,” Brian says, giving him a meaningful look. Well, either Kyle’s family is terrible at this game or he’s very, very good. I’d put my money on the latter. “Don’t expect too much out of me.” I give my head a small shake. “I’m not a seasoned player like the rest of you.” “Hey Brian, maybe that means you won’t come in last for once.” Teresa smirks at him. She flinches and mutters a curse under her breath and I can only assume he kicked her under the table. A

small knot tightens in my chest. It’s been there ever since dinner as I watched the three of them laugh and joke and tease each other. Would my sisters and I have been like that if I’d stayed? “Alright, newbie.” Brian holds the bag out to me and draws me back into the here and now. “Pick a letter. Let’s see who goes first.” I wouldn’t call the game a massacre, but I wouldn’t call it a close one either. After Kyle played “muzjik” for ninetythree points it was pretty much over. I made a mental note to do some Googling when I get home to find out who or what

a muzjik is. The rest of us battled it out for second place, since first was out of reach. I landed right in the middle of the pack, with Kyle and Mrs. Lawson taking first and second place, Teresa swiping fourth, and Brian landing in last. Brian picks the tiles up one by one from the board. They clink together as he drops them in the bag. “I told you. He’s always kicking our asses.” A devilish smile slides across his face. “Too bad he can’t say the same about his baseball team.” Kyle rolls his eyes. “Sorry we don’t have enough money to buy

championships.” “Don’t give me that crap. With revenue sharing you guys get more than your share of money. Just because you can’t put it to good use isn’t our problem.” Kyle cups his hands around his lips and mouths to me: Yankees fan. “Ugh.” I grimace. “You know I was actually starting to like you, but nope. I take it back.” Brian points at me. “You’re a Braves fan too?” “Please don’t insult me. I’m a Mets fan.”

Brian snorts. “Braves, Mets—we’ve beat you both.” Leaning my chin in my hand, I tilt my head to the side. “Remind me, when was the last time you made it to the World Series? Because I’m pretty sure it’s been a while. Longer than my Mets if I remember correctly.” “We lost two Hall of Fame players in Jeter and Rivera; it’s going to take a little bit to recover from that. And I’m sorry but I wouldn’t be all high-andmighty about losing in the World Series.” I laugh under my breath and shake my

head. “We could have this debate all night.” Scooting back my chair, I ask, “Can one of you point me in the direction of the bathroom?” Kyle leans his chair back on two legs, the tips of his sneakers just touching the ground. He points behind me. “Down that hall, first door on your left.” “Thanks.” The carpet squishes under my boots and I can’t help peeking around as I make my way to the bathroom. The walls are painted in soft greens and blues, and there’s an abundance of picture frames

clustered on end tables and shelves. Everything about this house radiates warmth and family. I wish I could bottle up the feeling and take it home with me. Popping the lock on the bathroom door behind me, I do my business and take a quick scan of my phone. I haven’t checked it since we got here. Haven’t even thought to, really. There’s nothing from Clark, which is slightly disappointing, but I’ve got a few messages from Tara. Tara: Sorry, we went to a movie and my phone was off. Wanna meet up for dinner?

Tara: Please tell me you didn’t fall into a pizza coma and are asleep before seven. Tara: Just kidding, found your note. Hope you’re having a good night with Kyle! Tara: Is this the same Kyle from work whose place I picked you up from the other night? Because he was super cute. Tara: Delia and I are crashing here tonight. My apologies in advance for any strange noises you might hear.

I’ll catch up with her later. I have no interest in interrupting any of that. I flip back over to my unanswered message to Clark. I’d completely forgotten I’d even

texted him. It’s strange that he hasn’t answered me, but it is Saturday night. He’s probably out, maybe having a successful date for once. A small pang trespasses across my heart at the thought of him out with someone else. I shake it off. What a stupid thought. Things aren’t like that between us. Washing my hands, I dry them on a soft green towel and tuck my phone away. When I make my way back, the dining room is empty. The sound of water running pours out of the kitchen, so I make my way in that direction. Pausing in the doorway, I find Kyle

leaning over the sink. He’s got one hand wrapped around the edge of the counter as he bends forward, and the sprayer gripped in the other. But he isn’t washing any dishes, he’s just staring into the sink like he’s watching the water drain. I step up behind him and lay a hand on his waist. “You alright?” He jumps and spins simultaneously. The sprayer goes haywire in his clenched fist and he manages to shower water over the cabinets, the countertop, the floor, and my face. A droplet of water careens down my cheek and plummets off my chin,

splattering in the smallest possible puddle on the tile floor. “Crap, I am so sorry. I didn’t hear you.” He runs a hand over his face. “It’s alright. My fault. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” I flick another drop off my cheek. “I didn’t realize you were so jumpy.” I smile up at him, but he winces and blows out a breath. His eyes travel over my face, and as if he’s finally reacting to the situation, he reaches for a towel. “I didn’t get you too bad, did I?” Reaching out with the towel, he dabs it across my forehead and then down

over my cheek. He swipes it so delicately over my neck that the faint touch sends goose bumps shivering down my arms. I’m standing in Kyle’s mom’s kitchen and he’s drying me off with this frilly yellow towel that is the furthest thing from sexy, but there’s something about it that’s … turning me on a little. My breath freezes in my chest. I must have made some little noise, because he stops patting me with the towel and his eyes snap up to mine. Our gazes lock together and I can’t move, I can’t breathe. It’s like everything else in the

world fades away to nothing and there’s just this—his eyes on mine, the pad of his thumb trailing against my cheek. The moment stretches until it’s impossibly long. And then it snaps. “Guys, you wanna watch a movie?” Teresa asks, her eyes intent on her cell phone. Kyle snatches his hand back to his side and takes a quick step backward. I go to speak but nothing comes out on my first attempt. I try again. “Sure.” “Great.” She divides a look between the two of us, and one corner of her

mouth curves up. “Five minutes and we’re starting it without you.” Her sneakers squeak across the floor as she disappears back the way she came. “I’m just gonna finish cleaning up in here.” Kyle balls up the towel and tosses it on the counter. “Go on in, I’ll be right behind you.” “Are you sure, I could—” “I got it.” A muscle bunches in his cheek, but he’s too busy staring down the roll of paper towels to look at me. “Alright.” Folding my arms across my chest, I

leave him. I’m not sure what just happened, but it’s almost like I crossed a line. Or at least that’s the way Kyle’s acting. Like I did something to offend him. This was a dumb idea. I should’ve told his mom to begin with we weren’t together. I thought it was the right move, but maybe it was the exact wrong thing to do. It’s been easy, almost too easy, pretending we’re a couple. At least for me. Kyle on the other hand has been jumpy and uncomfortable-looking all night long. Dammit. Did I screw this up? Walking into the living room, I find

Mrs. Lawson in the recliner. Brian and Teresa are sprawled across half of the couch. I sit in the open space, trying to leave as much room for Kyle as I can, but it’s not a whole lot. He saunters in the room just as the opening credits come across the screen. With a glance he takes in the seating situation, clenches his jaw, and squeezes into the tiny spot left for him. At first we’re all smooshed together, side by side, our arms pressing awkwardly into each other. After a minute or two of shifting, he finally slides his right arm up onto the back of the couch, allowing me

to scoot into him. My head fits comfortably against his chest, and his hand drops onto my shoulder. He’s warm and smells good, and I don’t think I’ve been this comfortable in ages. I curl my legs up underneath me, and my muscles uncoil as I relax. In no time at all I find myself drifting off to the unsteady cadence of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

Chapter 14

Kyle The movie’s been over for twenty minutes now. Everyone else has already headed upstairs and is getting ready for bed. Since it got so late, even Brian’s crashing for the night, rather than heading back to the dorms. Haley’s fast asleep, snuggled into my side. Her hair drifted in front of her face, and a small section of it puffs out every time she

exhales. I haven’t gotten up the courage to wake her yet. This whole night has been a total mind-fuck. Pretending that we’re a couple is royally messing with my heart. How is it freaking possible that I finally found a girl I could fall for and I can’t let it happen because she “met” Clark first? I hate this. I hate the fictional me. The worst part is how perfect it all is. My family loves her, and what’s not to love? She’s smart and genuine; she schooled Brian on baseball, too. After tonight, this crush I’ve been nursing for her has been blown way out of

proportion. All the touching hasn’t helped either. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she laid her hand on my thigh, or skimmed her fingers over my waist. She did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It’s ridiculous how much I want it to be. I trail my fingers down her arm and let out a sigh. I need to get a grip. Tonight has been a nightmarish fantasy. As awful as some parts of it have been, I’m sad to see it end. This might be the only chance I’ll ever get to enjoy the experience of Haley being my girlfriend. “Haley.”

She grumbles, tucking herself tighter against me, and her hand drifts up and settles on my stomach. I curse under my breath. This is the most action I’ve gotten in almost a year, and the belowthe-belt parts of me are starting to sit up and take notice. “Haley.” I give her a little shake and her eyes blink open slowly. Her gaze sweeps over the room like she’s trying to place herself. Pushing herself up, she rubs a hand over her face. “What time is it?” “Late.” I twist my wrist to look at my watch. “Almost one.”

She stretches next to me, but hasn’t moved away, so I can feel the muscles in her thigh flex against mine. A yawn has her covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.” She laughs lightly. “Literally and figuratively.” “No problem.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. If she’s comfortable with the touching, I can be too. I just have to be really careful not to cross that line with her. “You’re kinda cute when you snore.” “What?” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Did they hear me? You let me

snore in front of everyone?” “I’m kidding. Sorry. You should see the look on your face.” She swats me lightly in the arm. “Jerk.” I clamp my fist to my mouth as a yawn overtakes me. “You ready to get out of here?” “Yup.” I stand and stretch, fighting back another yawn. The light blinks on in the hallway and Mom steps into the doorway, her purple robe cinched tight across her waist. “You two still here?”

“Just packing up,” I say. Mom crosses her arms, pulling the edges of her robe a little tighter together. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you’d like.” “Oh, umm…” I glance at Haley. Personally, I wouldn’t mind crashing here for the night. It kinda feels like I’ve got sand in my eyes and I’d be out in seconds as soon as my head hit a pillow. But I don’t want to put Haley in an awkward position. Or a more awkward position. Haley hesitates. “I just worry, you know?” Mom says.

“It’s late and really dark. You both must be exhausted and it’s a long drive.” I wouldn’t call an hour that long of a drive, but okay. Lay it on thicker, Mom. Haley glances up at me and defers the decision. “We can stay if you want.” “Thank you, Haley.” Mom walks over to her, her slippers scuffing against the carpet. She gives Haley a quick squeeze. “You’re saving me some worry tonight. I’m just gonna get myself a glass of water; Kyle can show you up to his old room.” “Thanks, Mrs. Lawson.” “Anytime. You’re always welcome

here.” I sneak a glance at the couch and sigh. “Ma, are the extra blankets still in the upstairs linen closet? Or did you move them somewhere else?” She freezes halfway out the door. “Blankets? It’s not that cold upstairs.” “Right, but I’m gonna sleep on the couch.” “Kyle, dear, I’m not that big of a prude.” She laughs and flicks her fingers at me. “You live on your own. I’m well aware of this generation’s views on premarital sex. I mean really, your father and I—”

“No, no.” I give my head a quick hard shake, nearly dislodging my glasses from my nose. “Stop right there.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Good night, you two.” “Good night, Mrs. Lawson,” Haley says, waving at her retreating back. I rub a hand up and down my arm. Christ, could this night get any worse? An idea snaps together in my mind—the floor. Once we’re upstairs and behind closed doors I’ll offer to sleep on the floor. Haley clears her throat. “You um, ready?”

“Yup. Alright. Here we go.” I bite my tongue, forcing the words to stop falling out of my mouth and splatting at Haley’s feet. I take the stairs two at a time and take a right down the hallway. The doorknob is cold in my hand, and I lean my shoulder into the door to push it open. “This is it.” Her shoulder brushes against my chest as she steps through ahead of me. It’s not a big room, and practically nothing’s changed about it since high school. There’s a big bookcase in the corner, overflowing with books, and butted up right next to it is my desk with

my old computer. Two blank monitors stare back at us, dull and lifeless. A dryerase board hangs above it with various lines of code and notes to myself. Haley wanders over to the full-size bed and sinks down on it; I shove the door closed behind us. She smooths a hand over the navy comforter, and then leans forward, bending over to unzip her boots. Pressing her toes against the heel of her boot, she pushes and it slides onto the floor with a thunk. “Do you have something I can sleep in?” “There’s gotta be something here.” I rummage through my dresser, managing

to find an old pair of shorts and a T-shirt for her. I take a T-shirt for myself too and a pair of pajama pants. She holds the clothes to her chest. “Can you … turn around?” Her finger rotates in a circle. “Of course, yeah.” I turn my back to her. “I’m gonna change too, so, just give me a minute.” I shuck off my socks and drop my jeans, bouncing from one foot to the other to hastily yank up my pajama pants. Leave it to me to wear purple boxer briefs today of all days. All of me is keenly aware that I’m

half undressed and somewhere not five feet behind me Haley is also losing her clothes. Ripping my shirt up over my head, I dislodge my glasses and they thud to the floor. Dammit. Crouching down, I frisk the carpet for them, feeling across the floor like I’m patting it down. My hand hits my frames, and I push back to my feet to slip them on. When I glance over my shoulder, I find Haley watching me, sitting on the end of the bed with her feet tucked up against her butt and her lips pinched together like she’s trying to hide

a smile. I straighten up, resisting the urge cross my arms over my bare chest to hide myself from her. I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. You won’t be doing your laundry on my washboard abs anytime in the next century, but I’ve got a little bit of muscle definition working for me. “You peeked.” “Sorry.” She rests her chin on her knees and covers up her eyes with her hands. “Better?” I roll my eyes even though I know she can’t see me. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

I tug the T-shirt down over my head and shift my shoulders so it settles in place. Running a hand through my hair, I say, “Sorry about my mom pressuring you into sharing a room with me tonight. I’ll just sleep on the floor and you can take the bed. Can you toss me a pillow?” Haley scoots up to the head of the bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both adults here. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.” Lifting the covers, she slips her legs underneath them. Not that I’m looking at them or anything. I’m definitely not taking note of how long and shapely they are. And my mind is not

at all conjuring an image of those lovely, long legs wrapped around my waist. Nope. Not happening. “Besides,” she adds, “I’m going to be asleep in less than five minutes and I won’t even know you’re there.” Oh, well that’s not deflating my ego at all. Haley might not be conscious of me being in the bed, but hell if I won’t be supremely aware that she’s lying next to me. In my bed. Wearing my old shorts and a baggy T-shirt that gapes enough I can see the sharp edge of her collarbone. Sadly, present-day Kyle will be getting as little action as past Kyle did in this

bed. She pats the mattress next to her. “C’mon, I won’t bite.” An image of Haley sinking her teeth into my earlobe sears itself across my brain. That is so not helping. Taking a second to flip off the light, I lower myself down onto the bed and crawl underneath the covers. I discard my glasses on the nightstand, then lie flat on my back, my arms pressed to my sides to ensure that no accidental touching is happening underneath the sheets. This is torture. A sliver of moonlight slices through

a gap in the curtain, bathing the room in a pale blue light. Without my glasses, everything is blurry and indistinct, like colorful Rorschach blobs. Haley’s face appears in my peripheral vision, like she’s leaning up on an elbow and looking down at me. I have no idea what expression she’s wearing. “You look really different without your glasses.” A long blob moves like maybe she’s tucking her hair behind her ears. Quite possibly she could be giving me the finger and I wouldn’t have the slightest clue. I rotate my head on the pillow and

squint up toward her. “Good different or bad different?” “Neither. Just different. I think…” She pauses and I consider reaching for my glasses so I can see what type of face she’s making. “I like the glasses. They suit you.” “Yup. Nerd with the glasses, that’s me.” “That’s not what I meant.” The bed bounces as she flops onto her back. “Being intelligent isn’t a bad thing.” “Yeah, let me tell you. As soon as the ladies find out my IQ they all just swoon at my feet.”

The fabric of her pillow rustles like she’s shaking her head and a small sigh whispers out from between her lips. “Why did you do it?” I ask her. “Do what?” “Pretend to be my girlfriend tonight. Why not just tell my mom the truth?” My heart stutters in my chest as I wait for her answer. “So you are mad about that.” “Mad? No.” Why would she think I was mad about that? I shake my head and glance over at her. She’s still nothing but a blurry shape, but I think she’s got one arm draped over her head. Maybe. “A

little surprised though.” “They seemed so happy to see me and meet me and that you brought someone home. And you had this look on your face like it was going to physically pain you to break the news to them.” She takes a breath. “You helped me out the other night, so I wanted to help you out too.” Right, she was repaying the favor. “They’re gonna be bummed when they find out you dumped me.” “I dumped you?” She laughs and the sound of it dances all over my skin. “It’s your family, feel free to make me the bad

guy here.” I scoff. “They’d never believe it. There’s no way they’d buy that I’d dump you.” “Why not?” “C’mon, Haley. You’re you and I’m me. Everyone, including myself, is aware that you’re way out of my league.” She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and after a few minutes I’m almost convinced she’s fallen asleep. Her breathing is steady and even, and the warmth from her body creeps toward mine. The mattress groans as she rolls

onto her side. I’m half tempted to copy her, and tuck her against my body. It’s probably lame of me, but the thought of my knees tucked under hers, her hair tickling my nose, sends a wave of longing crashing through me. That’s how I know I’ve got it bad for her. It isn’t just that she’s sexy as hell or how badly I’d love to bend her over my desk. I want the little things. I crave them. Falling for Haley is going to ruin me. Her breath caresses my cheek as she says, “Kyle?” I startle, realizing she rolled toward

me instead of away. We’re practically nose-to-nose, and mere inches separate our lips. “Yeah?” Her fingers skim down my forearm underneath the covers, sweeping over my wrist until she finds my hand. “Thanks for today. For bringing me. For letting me be part of your family for a day. It’s…” She sucks in an unsteady breath and I squeeze her fingers in encouragement. “It’s been a while since I’ve really felt like I belonged somewhere.” Then she adds, almost too quietly for me to hear, “I missed it.”

I know she means she felt like she was part of the family, but God, I wish so much that she meant that she felt like she belonged with me. Her breathing deepens and that’s when I know she’s asleep. But her fingers are still curled in mine and I want it to mean so much more than it does. The only problem is that I can’t tell if her hand in mine is the lifeline I’ve been waiting for, or the anchor that’ll drag me to the bottom and drown me.

Chapter 15

Haley My legs get tangled up in the sheets as I roll onto my back and force my eyes open. Sunlight streams through the window, lighting up the entire room. Glancing to the side, I find the bed empty and Kyle nowhere in sight. I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. Tiptoeing to the door, I crack it open, but find the hallway empty

as well. I creep down it and luckily have no problem finding the bathroom. Once I’m done with my morning business, which includes squirting a blob of toothpaste on my finger and trying to annihilate my morning breath, I scurry back to Kyle’s room to get dressed. After zipping up my boots, I fold the clothes he lent me and leave them on the foot of the bed. He’ll probably want to wash them, but it’s not in me to leave them in a pile on the floor. I pause and trail a finger over the comforter, my thoughts circling back to last night. There was more than one moment where

I wanted to scoot closer to Kyle. Where I imagined his fingers tracing over my hip and him snuggling me into his chest. Where I had to fight against the urge to close the few inches between us and press my lips against his. To make matters worse, the dreams I was having last night were about as far from platonic as they could possibly get. With one last glance around the room, I head downstairs in search of people. The living room’s empty, but I find Kyle in the kitchen, a frying pan in one hand, a spatula in the other. A pair of red flannel pajama pants hugs his narrow

hips, and his bare toes poke out from underneath them. His gray T-shirt is snug across his back, pulling tight as he reaches for the powdered sugar. I can’t help but appreciate how good he looks this morning, and I let my eyes drift down his body, lingering on all the best places. Having learned my lesson from yesterday, I keep my hands to myself and say, “Good morning.” He flicks a glance over his shoulder and raises the spatula in a wave. “Morning, Haley. You want anything for breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you’re making.” I walk over to the kitchen table and take a seat. “French toast work for you?” “That works for me.” He turns his attention back to the stove, and the egg-soaked bread sizzles in the pan, the smell of cinnamon drifting toward me. My stomach lets out a hungry grumble as my eyes sweep around the kitchen. The walls are painted a bright yellow, like the color of sunflowers, and gauzy curtains surround sliding glass doors that lead out onto a deck. Beyond that I can see a manicured lawn and

several deep blue and indigo hydrangeas. Turning my attention back to Kyle, I ask, “Have you been up long?” He shrugs. “A little while. Not too long.” “I didn’t … wake you up or anything, did I?” I can’t quite bring myself to ask him if I accidentally groped him in my sleep. The bread rotates in the air as he flips it. “Nope. Nothing like that. Just couldn’t sleep.” “Oh.” I pick at the small spot in my jeans that’s worn almost completely

through. I’m going to have to buy a replacement pair soon. “Where’s everybody else?” He piles the French toast onto two plates and carries them over to me. “Brian went back to his place, and Mom and Teresa are at church. You want orange juice? Coffee?” “Orange juice would be great, thanks.” He’s back a second later with two tall glasses of OJ and a bottle of syrup. He uses it first, drizzling spirals on his French toast. When he passes it over to me, I’m less precise with my syrup

application and squeeze out big globs onto the center of my bread. Using his fork, he slices into his breakfast. All of his attention is focused on it, like the only things that exist in the room are him and his plate. I start to wonder if maybe I really did do something in my sleep that he’s too nice to tell me about. Sliding a piece of French toast in my mouth, I let my gaze coast over his face. I follow the length of his long, straight nose down to his full lips, then back up to his warm hazel eyes and his bold, dark eyebrows. A flicker of attraction

ignites in my chest. Kyle is cute and sweet, kind and funny. His family is amazing, and he passes all the guidelines I set out with flying colors. I’ve been a good sport and gone on three of Tara’s dates, but it hasn’t changed how I feel about him—I want this. I want him. Kyle’s eyes jump up and catch me staring. His eyes narrow behind the lenses of his glasses. “What?” I dip my gaze back to my plate, feeling my cheeks go scarlet. “Nothing.” When I cautiously look back up, he’s watching me so intently it’s like he’s burrowing into my brain and trying to

dig out my thoughts. It’s actually a very similar look to the one his mom gave me when she found me on their porch. That thought snowballs into another one. “Can I ask you a … personal question?” His lips twist to the side. “Go for it.” “Have you always known you were adopted?” After hearing my question, his face relaxes and he pops another bite in his mouth. “Always. As long as I can ever remember.” “Have you ever met your birth mom?”

He shakes his head and takes a second to swallow before he answers me. “No. It was a closed adoption so I don’t really know anything about her. I know she was a teenager when she had me, and not in a place where she could take care of me, so she gave me up.” “Does it bother you that she didn’t keep you?” “It used to a little, but not anymore. I mean, in the end she did what was best for me. I’ve had a great life, never missed out on anything.” He gives his head a little shake. “It’s probably going to sound crazy, but I’m not sure I’d even

want to meet her. Not that I really could, but I don’t think I’d look for her given the chance. When it comes to family, I’ve got just about everything I could possibly want.” My stomach clenches, but I force my lips to curve up into a smile. “Well, having met your family, I’m not all that surprised.” “Yeah, I really lucked out.” His eyes go all warm and soft, like chocolate chips in just-out-of-the-oven cookies. Seeing his reaction makes me feel like someone’s got their hand wrapped around my heart and won’t stop

squeezing it. My family isn’t just a dark spot in my memory; they’re a secret I like to keep hidden, a shadow of my past that still makes me ache to talk about. Here Kyle is, spilling his guts to me, and all I could give him was the sugarcoated, glazed-over version of my “family emergency.” I’ve already tried building a relationship on secrets and half-truths, and I don’t want to make the same mistake with Kyle. If I want a chance at something real with him, I have to tell him. “My family hasn’t spoken to me in four years,” I blurt out.

His fork freezes halfway to his mouth and then reverses, the small square of French toast uneaten and oozing syrup back onto his plate. “Why?” “It’s … complicated. We had a falling-out over college, and we didn’t see eye-to-eye on the situation.” I squeeze my eyes shut and blow out a breath. It’s the best I can do right now. I’m not quite ready to tell him the whole ugly truth. “The family emergency I had a couple weeks ago? It was my sister. She showed up at my ex’s, looking for me.” The hard edge of my fork digs into my palm as I fist my hand. “She’s

graduating high school in a couple months, and a few months after that, she’ll be a mom.” “Wow.” Kyle leans back in his chair, running both hands through his hair. “I mean that’s not ideal or anything, but it’s good right? Her reaching out to you?” “I wish. But she wasn’t interested in patching things up with me. She just wanted money.” His eyes drop to his plate, and that gooey affection that’d been filling them earlier has been sucked out. I knew this would be a deal breaker for him, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised by the sharp

pain that’s piercing my heart. Needing to escape it, I stand and walk my plate over to the garbage. After letting my uneaten French toast plop into the garbage, I flip on the sink to wash my plate. Footsteps pad toward me, and I can feel him hesitating behind me. “You don’t have to do that you know.” I’m tempted to ask him: Do what? Wash my dish? Share the agonizing truth about my family? Try to avoid his reaction? I lift one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

His dish slides across the counter next to me, and he steps closer, resting his hands on either side of the sink, boxing me in. He’s close enough that he can touch me if he wants to, his front pressing up against my back, but he keeps his distance, leaving that sliver of space between us I want so desperately for him to close. He dips his head forward and says in a low voice, “It is to me.” This time I don’t have to question his meaning. My heart creeps up into my throat and wedges itself there so I can’t speak.

Even my limbs refuse to cooperate, like they’ve all solidified into stone and I can’t move a muscle. Before I can recover, he steps back and clears his throat. “I’m just gonna go get changed and then we can head out.” His footsteps fade from the room, then pound up the staircase. And I’m still standing here, the plate wobbling in my fingers as my hands shake, watching the clear, cold water swirl down the drain.

Chapter 16

Kyle “Heads up!” Instinctually, I lift my hands and just manage to trap the basketball between them. In my own form of personal torture, Brian’s insisted on brother bonding time via HORSE when it’s warm enough. The cold winter months were left up to my discretion—so, video games.

It’s not really fair that Brian’s good at both. I miss the winter. Taking a step to my left, I toe my sneaker up to the foul line. I glance up, trying to figure out the right angle the ball will need to take to bank off the backboard and bounce through the rim. I give it my best shot—relaxing my knees, flicking my wrist. The ball clangs off the backboard and bounces aimlessly to the side. Brian shakes his head at me and effortlessly dribbles the ball next to him, not even looking at the damn thing.

“You’d think that after almost a year of this you’d have figured it out.” “I hate to break it to you, but I have a feeling I’m never going to ‘figure it out.’” He jogs over to the top of the key and sinks a jump shot. I learned all the terms, but unfortunately expanding my vocabulary to include basketball lingo didn’t actually help with anything. “So,” he says. “Mom tells me Haley spent the night last Saturday.” He grins at me. “How’d that work out for ya? Did you finally christen that room?” I jump and heave the ball toward the

hoop. It lands about five feet short. “I already told you that’s not gonna happen. Not until I fictionally assassinate Clark or fess up.” “That’s H.” Brian lines up another shot, shifts his gaze toward me, and then takes two more big steps forward. Nothing but net. “I don’t know, man. I was definitely getting some vibes off of her.” “That’s because she was pretending to be my girlfriend.” “Nah. Not buying it.” He shakes his head. I trade my work cell for the

basketball. “Go ahead. Take a read through the conversations she’s had with ‘Clark.’ If she’s really interested in me, don’t you think she would have stopped texting that asshole by now?” I take aim for the basket and at least manage to nail the rim this time. The ball bounces back to me and I’m tempted to kick it into the fence to ease some of my frustration. Except, I’d probably miss the ball and land flat on my ass. Or I’d make contact and somehow manage to punt the ball into my face. I’ve already broken one pair of glasses playing this dumb game; I refuse to let it happen again.

Brian’s thumb moves over the screen as he scrolls. “Okay, but she hasn’t even texted him once since that night at our house. There’s nothing after her seeing what he was doing that night, and you eventually texting back and apologizing for being busy.” We trade again and I shove my phone back in my pocket as he makes another shot effortlessly. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t be with her because I’m lying to her, and I can’t tell her because she’d probably never speak to me again after she found out.” He turns to watch me miss another

one. “H-O-R.” With a quick snap of his wrist, he bounces the ball, the sound of it ricocheting around the court. “Is this really about Clark, or is this about Stacy?” I drop my head back between my shoulders and stare up at the crystalclear blue sky. “Why would you bring her up?” “Because, she royally fucked you up and I want to make sure she’s still not messing with your head.” “I haven’t spoken to her in months.” “Doesn’t mean she’s not still up here, sabotaging you.” He taps his finger

against my forehead and I bat it away. “Haley is nothing like Stacy.” Brian dribbles the ball in and lays it up. He’s not even breathing hard when he says, “So, you don’t think she’s too good for you then?” I sink my teeth into my lower lip, trying to bite off my reply. “Right.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought.” His bounce pass catches me in the stomach, and I let out an unmanly oof. With great care, I half walk, half jog toward the basket, and finally, finally, get one in. Okay, I was literally standing

directly underneath the hoop, but whatever, I’ll take it. Another several minutes of tense silence pass in which Brian continues to pummel me, and in no time I’m up to HO-R-S. Thank God we’re almost done. Brian tucks the ball underneath his arm, even though it’s my turn. I wiggle my fingers at him, signaling I’m ready for it, but he ignores me. “So are you gonna ask her out?” I drop my arms down and my hands slap against my thighs. “Who, Haley? No. Haven’t you been listening?” “Haven’t you?”

“News flash, Brian. Not everyone is you. Not everyone is a star fucking athlete and has women lined up around the corner spreading their legs for them.” I fist my hands in my hair. “God, sometimes you’re such an idiot.” He slams the ball down against the asphalt and it bounces at least ten feet in the air. “Good one. Dumb jock. Never heard that one before.” A muscle bunches in his cheek. “You know, if I’m so good at getting chicks to ‘spread their legs for me,’ you’d think maybe you’d be willing to take my advice. Since I’m such an expert and all.” He shakes his

head at me. “Sometimes for a nerd you’re really stupid too.” We stare each other down for a good sixty seconds, and although Brian’s a tall guy, I’m no slouch either. He tops me by an inch or two, but it’s not enough that I can’t look him straight in the eye. “I never said you were stupid.” “No, just an idiot. Sorry, I’m not intelligent enough to know the difference.” His words have lost all their heat by now, and instead he just sounds defeated. “Brian—” “Forget it.” He waves his hand and

turns his back to pick up the ball. Bouncing it at his side, he serves up another shot and like it’s got some type of radar on it, it toilet-bowls around the rim before it drops in. He passes it back to me, and I barely put in enough effort to make it skim off the backboard. “H-O-R-S-E. That’s game.” Without waiting for me, he walks over to the bench and slumps down on it, bending over to unlace his sneakers. He’s already got one off and stuffed inside his duffel bag by the time I make my way over. And like we never fought

at all, he smiles and shakes a finger at me. He never could stay angry for more than a few minutes at a time. “Alright, so things aren’t going to work out with Haley. That blows. But if you’re not going to change your mind, let me set you up with someone.” I grimace. “I don’t know. I’m sure when girls hear you have a brother they’ll probably get unreasonably excited about it. It’ll definitely end up being a letdown.” “Give me a little more credit than that. I’m not gonna set you up with some superficial bitch. C’mon, whatta ya

say?” I hesitate and try to stall. Just because I can’t see a way out of this whole Clark situation right now doesn’t mean it won’t work itself out in the future. And the fact that Haley hasn’t been texting him at all? Yeah, I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up about that all week. But if I go on a date with someone else and she finds out about it, maybe she’ll think I’m not interested in her after all and I’ve moved on. And it’s stupid and pathetic that I’m trying to dictate my love life over minuscule possibilities, but if being celibate a bit

longer ensures no miscommunications with Haley? I’ll take one for the team. “I don’t know, I’m not—” I frown at the pocket of my shorts where my work phone is vibrating. Pulling it out, I give it a quick read and feel my heart sink to my feet, plummeting straight out of my chest and splattering on the ground into sad, tiny pieces. I give my eyes a quick, hard blink, and look back up at Brian. “You know what, whatever. Set it up.”

Chapter 17

Haley The entire apartment smells like popcorn. Fresh, buttery, salty goodness. My stomach gives a little groan at the thought of adding those kernels on top of the cookie dough I just ate, but I ignore it. Today is a watch-all-the-movies, eatall-the-junk-food, and have-girl-bonding time kind of day. I toss Delia a bottle of water and

curl up in the corner of the couch. Gone with the Wind is playing on our television, our go-to classic, but it’s really only background noise at this point. We could all probably recite it line for line. I turn on the couch so I’m facing the middle, and my knee pokes through the gaping hole in my sweatpants. “So, Tar, how are classes treating you this semester?” Sticking my hand in the popcorn bowl in her lap, I scoop out handful. “Not bad, really.” She shrugs, and the messy bun on top of her head

wobbles. “I mean for master’s classes they’re not as bad as I expected. Except thermodynamics theory, which is an absolute bear.” Delia laughs. “I could barely pass physics—” “I’m sorry, you passed physics?” Tara arches one dark eyebrow at her. “All by yourself?” Delia leans a little further to her left so she can look around Tara and make eye contact with me. “You know, I was trying to pay my girlfriend a compliment about how smart she is, and how sexy it is to hear words like ‘thermodynamics’

come out of her mouth. But I think I’m gonna have to pass now.” Tara narrows her eyes at her, and Delia sticks her tongue out in response. The two of them are so cute sometimes it makes me sick. Or jealous. Sickly jealous, maybe? “So, what’s new in the world of work?” Delia asks, shoving up the sleeve of her sweatshirt so it doesn’t drag in the popcorn bowl. “Not much.” I lick some salt from my thumb. “Although, Mr. March did let me work on this huge project with him, and it turned out fantastic. I’m super proud of

it.” “Way to go, Hales.” Tara offers me a high-five, and I slap her hand. “Now what’s this I hear about some guy you work with? What’s his name?” Delia asks. “Kyle? Yeah, we’re … friends.” I redirect my gaze to the television in time to watch Scarlett fall down the stairs. Ouch. Tara elbows me. “Yeah, friends who have sleepovers.” “Oh, really?” Delia scoots forward. “Tell me more.” “There isn’t really anything to tell.”

Tara leans closer to Delia and grins. “Last weekend she met his parents and pretended to be his girlfriend.” “No!” Delia smacks Tara lightly in the arm. “You knew this for a week and didn’t tell me?” “I forgot.” “You’d forget your brain if it wasn’t tucked in your skull.” I roll my eyes at them. “It was nothing. Just a favor.” “So, you don’t like him?” Delia cocks her head to the side. “I…” I twist my water bottle in my hands and it crackles. My very empty

water bottle. “I’m just gonna grab another water.” “Chicken!” Tara tosses a handful of popcorn in my direction. “At least bring back some napkins if you’re going to the kitchen!” I scurry into the kitchen and duck my head into the refrigerator. The water bottles are all lined up along the door, but I take my time about it. My feelings for Kyle are anything but simple. They’re all rolled up and tangled like a bunch of messily stored Christmas lights. Tugging on one end just makes things more knotted and confused.

Snagging a water bottle, I shove the fridge door closed and blow out a breath. I do like Kyle, there’s no doubt about it. I like him probably more than I should given that we spent an entire night in his bed together and he didn’t make a move. Didn’t even try. And the next morning he dropped me off at my apartment with a smile and a wave, while my lips were literally aching to be on his. The thought of asking Kyle out makes my stomach riot and my palms go instantly damp, but I’d still do it if it weren’t for the fact that all signs were pointing to how bad an idea that would

be. When I reach for the napkins, a small creamy envelope wedged between the knife block and the flour canister catches my eye. I slip it out and flip it over. That’s weird; it’s got my name on it. “Tar?” I wiggle the envelope in the air. “Where’d this come from?” She covers her mouth so she can finish chewing her huge mouthful of popcorn. “The mail. It came a few days ago. Sorry, totally forgot I stuck it over there.” Inching my fingernail under the envelope flap, I peel it open. It’s only

when the invitation falls out into my hand that I realize what it is, and the sight of it hits me in the chest like I stepped into oncoming traffic and got plowed down by a bus. How could I have forgotten about Blaire’s wedding? The wedding I was supposed to be in. The wedding I imagined I’d be attending with Luke’s ring on my finger, back when I still thought there was a future for us. I glance down at my bare finger, and feel my barely mended heart tremble. I fist my hand and squeeze until my knuckles bleach white. She’s going to be

there. My replacement. The better version of me that’s more beautiful and outspoken and daring. I’ll have to spend the entire night seeing them together. It’ll be like watching someone dismantle my heart, one tiny, broken shard at a time, after I worked so hard to piece it back together. “Haley?” Tara scurries into the kitchen, her big chunky socks slipsliding across the kitchen floor. “What’s the matter?” Delia’s right behind her, skidding to a stop on the other side of the kitchen island. “What is it?”

I slide the whole thing across to them, and Tara peers over Delia’s shoulder to read it. “Oh, Hales,” Tara says, her expression drooping. “You’re not going are you?” “I have to. I was supposed to be in the wedding. I can’t not go.” “Of course you can.” She purses her lips. “She hasn’t even called you once since you left him. Not once. She took her sister’s side without a thought for you. What kind of friend is that?” “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s going to kill me, but I’m going to be

there. It’s the right thing to do.” “Maybe the right thing to do would’ve been for him to not get all cozy with his ex while you were still together, hm?” “Tara.” Delia lays a small, pale hand on her arm. When Tara glances down at her, Delia gives her head a tiny shake. “Alright, alright, you’re going.” Tara throws up her hands. “But you’re not going to mope all night. You’re not going to give them the satisfaction.” She spins the invitation around and reads it again, then jabs it with her pointer finger. “You got a plus-one, so you’re bringing a

plus-one.” A smidgeon of hope takes root in my chest. “You’re going to come with me?” “Hell. No.” She snorts. “Do you want me to cause a giant scene?” I give my head a quick shake. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. But just because I’m not going to go with you, does not mean you should go alone.” Delia picks up on her train of thought, and her mouth curves into a smile. “Right, so who can you bring with you to show them all that you’re over it and you’ve moved on?” “The texting guy.” Tara snaps her

fingers. “It’s time. You’ve been flirttexting him for weeks—” “We don’t flirt.” “—and enough’s enough. Meet him. See if he’s a keeper. And if he is, invite him to the wedding with you.” I drag my lip between my teeth. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be fast, inviting him to a wedding?” “With two months of foreplay?” Delia asks. “Please, just text him and see if he wants to meet. If not, fine, whatever. We’ll move on to plan B,” Tara adds. “What’s plan B?” I ask.

“I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.” Tara winks at me. “So, let’s do it. Right now. Pull your phone out of your pocket and make it happen.” I hesitate. What Tara doesn’t know is that I haven’t spoken to Clark since I spent the night at Kyle’s. Not out of any type of disloyalty or anything, but I haven’t really needed to speak to him. Kyle has almost replaced him, so that when I’m having a problem, or a bad day, the first person I think to look for is Kyle, not Clark. But maybe that’s a good thing in this instance? I’m almost a hundred percent

certain that Clark is about as interested in meeting me as I am him—so, not at all. Despite Tara thinking we’ve been flirting and it’s leading to something more, it really isn’t like that. We’re just friends. Ours is a technology sustained relationship only. And on the off chance he does agree, if we meet and it doesn’t work out it won’t be the worst thing in the world. Losing Clark wouldn’t at all be like losing Kyle. Unless … what if I invite Kyle instead? Now, that is an idea I can get on board with. “Haley, please,” Tara pleads. “Just

text him.” “Fine, fine.” I flip to my messages and type out a quick text. I don’t even bother to worry about it because I’m secretly hoping he won’t want to meet me at all. I’ll send this text real quick to get Tara off my back, and then I can worry about how I’m going to convince Kyle to go with me to Blaire’s wedding. Maybe a night of getting dressed up and dinner and dancing will be just what I need to figure out if Kyle might be feeling something for me too. Or not. Me: Hey, sorry I haven’t texted in a

while. I haven’t forgotten about you though ;). I’ve been thinking. We’ve been chatting for a bit and would it be all that crazy if we met?

I show her my phone. “Happy?” “As a clam.” Delia scrunches up her nose. “That’s such a weird expression. Do like, clams actually get happy?” Huh, I have no freaking clue. One corner of my mouth twitches and I bite back my smile. Kyle would. He’d know something like that—whether clams feel or not, or where that stupid saying comes from.

A shrill chirp from my phone interrupts my thoughts. I tilt it so that Tara and Delia can read it with me. Clark: I’m flattered, really, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea. It’s kinda nice the way things are and I wouldn’t want to ruin that. Don’t hate me? Me: Hey, I get it. I respect that. We’ve got a good thing going here, and I wouldn’t want to mess that up either.

“Damn,” Tara mumbles. “Well, there goes my plan. I was seriously hoping I wouldn’t have to come up with a plan B.”

I flash her a grin. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got this one under control.”

Chapter 18

Kyle The glass door to the cafeteria swings shut in my face, and I take a step back from the entrance, shoving one hand down into my front pocket. The place is teeming with people, like ants scurrying around a lollipop that was accidentally dropped on the ground. Every table is packed, loaded down to capacity. The wall of noise is barely contained by the

glass, and snatches of conversation burst through the door every time it swings open. “Well, then,” Haley says, delicately resting one hand on her hip. “Think it’s the special?” I have to take a step closer to read the small sign posted outside the cafeteria door—Taco Salad. “Maybe? Is that something that sounds really appealing?” “Cafeteria taco meat? Not particularly.” She taps her foot against the ground, the toe of her red stiletto clicking against the marble. From there, I

can’t help sweeping my gaze up her toned calves to her navy skirt, and then up over her light blue pinstripe buttondown. My eyes linger there a little, where a hint of cleavage shows through the popped button at the top. God, she’s gorgeous when she’s at work—all sexy and spiffed up in her classy, professional clothes. Not that she isn’t gorgeous all the time. But these outfits have inspired a fantasy or two. She makes the clothes, not the other way around. “Kyle?” I blink hard and redirect my eyes to her face. “Yeah?”

“I said did you want to brave the mob or try and find somewhere else to eat?” “Right.” I scratch a hand over my jaw. “I know a place, not too far. They’ve got good sandwiches.” She gestures ahead with her hand, and my stupid heart squeezes with the thought of threading my fingers through hers. Enough already. I have got to get over this. Nothing is going to happen between us. Nothing. You hear that, heart? I hold the door open for her, and the warm spring sun beats down on me from

above, the smell of car exhaust and pizza assaulting my nose. A man, weighed down by four grease-stained pizza boxes, flashes me a grateful smile when I keep the door propped open for him. It’s only a short walk around the corner to the café, and I’m happy to find the place only mildly busy. The aged wood floors shine from a good polishing, and the walls are covered in photographs. So much so that you can barely see the maroon paint sneaking through between the multicolored frames. We step up to the counter and order—smoked turkey and cheese on a

croissant for her, and a BLT for me. Settling down into an empty table for two along the window, I give the time a quick check. Mr. March is never super strict about lunch breaks, but I don’t like to take advantage of it. Haley takes a bite of her sandwich and groans. “Wow, this is amazing. Why’ve you been keeping this place a secret?” I shift in my seat. God I have such a love/hate relationship with that type of noise coming out of her mouth. “You like it?” “Love it. I don’t know why we were

ever wasting our money in the cafeteria.” A small dab of mayonnaise clings to the edge of her lip and her tongue darts out to lick it away. My mind immediately conjures up plenty of other things she could do with that tongue. Biting off a chunk of my BLT, I give myself a mental smackdown. No more thinking about Haley. It’s a dead end, a lost cause. Instead, let’s think about my blind date—Kerry. Kyle and Kerry, that has a nice ring to it doesn’t it? Or is it a little obnoxious with the whole double-“K” thing? You know what? Who cares? Brian swears up and down she’s

pretty and that I’m her type. I decide to spill the good news to Haley, but we both start talking at the same time. My “Guess what” collides with her “I wanted to ask you.” Haley laughs into her napkin. “You first.” I take a sip of my Coke, the bubbles gliding down my throat. “So, Brian’s setting me up on a blind date.” My mouth curves up of its own volition. I stop thinking about Haley for ten seconds, and I’m actually able to remember that I’m really looking forward to my date with Kerry.

Haley on the other hand isn’t smiling at all. It actually kinda looks like she’s eating rotten cheese or something. “A date?” she asks. My cheeks heat. Also without my permission. “I know it doesn’t happen all that much, but it’s not that hard to believe.” “That’s not what I meant. Sorry. You just … surprised me a little.” Her hand hesitates, then inches forward across the table and pats the back of my hand. What the hell? “That’s great, really. Is she um, I mean, tell me about her.” Her lip tucks in at the corner like she’s biting the

inside of her cheek, and one hand drifts up to play with her necklace. “Well, technically I haven’t talked to her yet, so I don’t really know all that much about her. Brian says she’s really cute though.” My shoulders do something kind of like a shrug. “Right.” She lets out a little chuckle that doesn’t sound at all like she’s amused. Her eyes look everywhere but at me. It’s like she’s replaced her eyes with bouncy balls and they’re just jumping everywhere. Well, this is weird. “Haley, are you … okay?”

“What?” Finally, she’s focused back on me. “Of course. Yeah. Fine.” She lifts up her sandwich and takes an enormous bite. Like a me-size bite. Her cheeks puff out with the effort of trying to chew it. She smiles around her mouthful and gives me a thumbs-up. I have no idea what’s happening here. A voice comes from somewhere behind her. “Haley?” Her throat works as she tries to swallow. Lifting a hand to her mouth, she rotates in her seat. Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Bryce?”

He runs a hand through his sandyblond hair and flicks a glance at me. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, when I saw you…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve taken a hint when you never called, right?” “No, no!” Haley pushes herself to her feet, a grin splitting her face. “I tried to call.” “You don’t have to say that.” “Really. Hold on.” Digging through her purse, she steps closer to him. So close that she’s practically leaning up against his chest. The name Bryce is ringing a bell in

my head but I can’t quite place it. Who the hell is this well-dressed, GQ-looking guy? Because I’m really not a fan. “See?” She points to something on her phone. “It’s the wrong number, right?” He tilts the phone toward him, his fingers casually overlapping hers. “Shit. I’m seven-three-four-nine.” He beams down at her. “God, I can’t believe I found you again.” Her head quirks to the side. “Well, now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do with me?” I’m tempted to clear my throat, or

maybe drop something on the floor. It’s like my brand-new superpower of invisibility kicked in and they can no longer freaking see me. “First, I’m going to get your number, and I’m going to triple-check that it’s right. Then before I leave here I’m going to convince you to go on a date with me. This weekend. Whatta ya say?” “I … yes. That’d be great.” While Haley inputs her number into Bryce’s phone and I manage to get the jealousy-induced fog to recede from my brain, a memory clicks into place. This guy. This guy is the entire reason that

Haley started texting me, why this whole debacle with Clark got started in the first place. Wait, did Haley actually tell me about this guy or is it something only Clark would know? My mind blanks as I try and remember what information belongs to me and what I’ve gleaned as Clark. Crap, I can’t remember. I look him over one more time. Expensive suit, stupid-ass grin on his face, and it looks like he has a second home at the gym. Fuck me, and if I hadn’t suggested this place for lunch she never would have run into him again. Well,

probably not. Damn this guy and his similar phone number. I clench my jaw and try to force my thoughts into the friend zone. Haley was really interested in this guy back when she first told me about him. Or told Clark about him, I can’t remember. So, this is great news for her. I’m happy for her. I try to work up a smile, but my cheeks are fighting me on it. “Oh, God. I’m so rude.” Haley shakes her head. “Bryce, this is my friend Kyle. Kyle, this is Bryce.” I stand and brush my hands on my pants, then give his hand a good shake. I

give myself a mental tick mark for being taller than him; it’s just about the only category I’m going to be winning against this guy. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “You too.” “Anyway.” He turns back to Haley. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll call you so we can settle our plans for this weekend?” She holds up her phone toward him. “I’ll be waiting.” He strides toward the door, then turns around and yells back to her, “This place is my new favorite restaurant.” It’s a café, not a restaurant,

dumbass. Haley’s still chuckling to herself when she slides back into her seat. Her face is all lit up like she’s about ready to explode with happiness. I corral my brain back into a positive place. Kerry. That’s what I should be thinking about—our date, how well it’s going to go. Haley nudges me under the table, the toe of her shoe brushing against my ankle. “It’s great, right?” “Super.” My voice is a little low on conviction but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Both of us with dates this weekend.” She reaches across the table, and this time she does squeeze my hand. “This is going to be great.”

Chapter 19

Haley I drum my gold sandals up and down on the carpet, my legs bouncing against the couch. Nope, I can’t sit still. I hop to my feet and try to pace off some of my nervous energy. I shouldn’t be this nervous; it’s just a stupid date. One that, if I’m being honest, I don’t even really want to go on. I can’t stop wishing it were Kyle

coming to pick me up in twenty minutes. And what the hell is wrong with my brain? My heart sang, flat out started composing music when I met Bryce two months ago. Things were storybook perfect. Or just plain perfect. But from then till now, it doesn’t feel the same. Bryce is sinfully handsome and sweet. And yet, when I was standing next to him in the café, I couldn’t help thinking that I wished he were taller like Kyle, or that his hair were a little darker and a little longer on the top like Kyle’s, or that he knew the difference between a restaurant and a café because that’s

something Kyle would definitely know. Ugh, the only reason I even agreed to go out with Bryce is because of Kyle’s blind-date bombshell. I wonder if he could tell I was faking the enthusiasm and gluing my smile in place. Tara pokes her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush protruding from her mouth. “What are you doing?” I skid to a halt, my dark hair swinging over my shoulders. “I’m just … walking. Waiting for my date.” She frowns, then turns to spit some toothpaste in the bathroom sink. She’s back a second later. “You have a date

tonight?” “Yup.” “Did I … set this one up?” I laugh. “No, but good to hear that you’re not even sure.” Tara’s five-date plan fell by the wayside after bad date number three when her classes picked up. Can’t say I was all that upset about it and I certainly haven’t gone out of my way to remind her about it either. “So, why don’t I know about this? Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it with?” She ceases her rapid-fire questions to bounce on her toes. “Oh my God! Tell me it’s with Kyle.”

I grind my teeth together. “Nope. Bryce.” “Bryce…” I wave my hands in the air. “The wrong-number guy.” “Ohhhh. Wait, how did this even happen?” “It’s a really long story and he’ll be here any minute.” With a hand I gesture down at the navy shirtdress I’m wearing. It’s cinched tight around my middle and falls a few inches above my knees. “Is this okay for a date?” “It’s perfect. It’d be too casual without the necklace.” She steps closer

and adjusts the chunky necklace that’s edged in gold and sporting pale pink stones. “I don’t know about the sandals though, I normally recommend heels. Unless the guy’s short? Is he?” “A little.” “Right, so good call. You never want to be taller than him if you can help it. It’s a power-play thing.” “That’s stupid.” “But true.” I shrug, trying not to think about how I wouldn’t have to worry about being too tall around Kyle. It’s never something I had to worry about with Luke either.

There, that thought swept Kyle right out of my mind. A knock resounds on the door and Tara gives me an excited smile. Ducking back into the bathroom, she pokes her head out the door and motions for me to answer it, mouthing: Go. Straightening the hem of my dress, I cross the room and open the door, a smile pinned in place. Bryce grins at me, his green eyes sparkling in the light. “Wow, you look beautiful.” “Thank you. And how about you?” I gesture toward him. He’s wearing a pair of dark khaki pants and a navy-and-

white-striped sweater that’s pushed back to his elbows, revealing a tanned, muscled expanse of forearm that’s dusted with golden hairs. “You look great.” Actually, it kinda looks like we’re trying to match. Is it too late to go change real quick? “These are for you.” He hands over a huge bouquet of red roses that weighs down my arms. I dip my nose toward them, loving the delicate smell. Finally, one category he measures up to Kyle in. “These are gorgeous. Thank you.” “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.” He

winks at me. I wait for his look to send something zinging to my stomach, to make my toes curl in anticipation for tonight, but instead … nothing happens. My smile tries to abandon me. “I’m just going to slip these in some water. Give me one second and then we can go.” Filling a vase with water, I settle the flowers into it, arranging the baby’s breath in the spaces between the vibrant blooms. Once they’re all taken care of, I lean my hands against the counter and drop my head between my shoulders. What is wrong with me? There is a great

guy who brought me flowers for God’s sake and all I can think about is what’s going on with Kyle and his date. When I look back up, I find Tara looking questioningly at me, her ratty Tshirt hanging off her shoulder. A whole boatload of questions sails across her eyes, but before she has a chance to ask a single one, I’m back to my smiling self and out the door. The drive to the restaurant is quiet. Sports radio filters through the speakers in Bryce’s Mercedes, barely audible over the drone of the tires eating up the road. The leather seat is cool and soft

against my skin, and the sky has faded outside my window to that bluishgreenish color that reminds me of the ocean. I don’t let myself think about it much, but I miss Briscoll Bay—the sand between my toes, the small-town feel, my quiet spot on the beach. Half an hour later, we’re there, pulling up underneath an overhang that has Il Villaggio written in gold script across the front. A valet sweeps open my door, and in the next breath, Bryce has his hand resting on the small of my back, guiding me forward. Little twinkling lights wrap around small trees that flank

the entrance, and once we step inside, I have to tip my head back to take it all in. The ceiling is high, like really high, and dark wooden beams run perpendicular across it. From somewhere, smooth classical music is being pumped into the room, and the sound of it blends with the buzz of voices. The lighting is romantically dim, and everywhere I look, I see couples. Bryce hands over his name to confirm our reservation, and we’re led immediately to a table. One half of it is a booth, while the other sports a chair. I slip into the booth side, and am once

again sitting on top of black leather. A small square candleholder is centered on the table, the flame jumping and dancing, casting the table in a warm, yellow light. “This place is amazing.” I slide my menu into my lap to look it over. “I love it here. Always have. I know right now it’s got more of a couples’ thing going on, but my family used to eat lunch here every Sunday afternoon.” “So, what’s good to eat?” “Everything.” He laughs. “Seriously, you can’t go wrong.” After much debate, I go with the chicken saltimbocca, and Bryce picks a

tried-and-true classic—lasagna. He orders a bottle of red for the table, and even though I’m not much of a drinker, I go with it. Despite my earlier reluctance to go out tonight, my tension unravels and our conversation is easy and open, just like the first night we met. Even Bryce’s question about my family doesn’t dampen my spirits. I break off a piece of bread and dunk it in my olive-oil dip. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really like to talk about my family. Things aren’t great between us and it’s

kind of a sore subject. I’d rather not bring down the mood.” I eye the white linen tablecloth as I tell him. Strangely, the pain is only minimal this time, like a paper cut on my heart. Bryce’s hand slides across the table until he can wrap his fingers around mine. “I guess that means we’re doing pretty good with the mood then, huh?” I pull my hand back to pick at my bread again. The crust is hard and flakes into tiny crumbs on my plate. “Maybe.” I glance up at him from beneath my lashes, my lips curving in a smile. Gripping the stem of my wineglass

between my fingers, I tilt it up so I can take a quick swallow. This wine is fantastic. It tastes like chocolate and blueberries, with the tiniest hint of coffee. My eyes shift around the room until they land on another couple, across the room. The girl has her back to me, but the guy almost reminds me of Kyle. Or maybe they’re not all that similar, but he’s been dominating my thoughts so much that I’m seeing him everywhere. My mind whisks up an image of him all spiffed up and out on his date. Maybe they’re holding hands, or even sharing

the same side of the booth. Maybe she’s got her hand on his leg and he’s smiling down at her. I tear my eyes away from the random couple before they can feel me staring and zone back in to my conversation with Bryce. But whatever good things were going for me here, they’ve flown out the window. “—I’m telling you, you never ever want to do that. Take my word on it.” I flash Bryce a smile, having no idea what he’s talking about. “Alright, I’ll do that.” Conversation starts to sag on my end, but Bryce has no difficulties holding it

up all by himself. I’m not sure he’s even noticed my brain has checked out. I try really, really hard to listen, but my thoughts keep straying back to Kyle. Every once in a while I tune back in long enough to give an intelligible answer, a smile, or a nod. At least when the food comes, there’s less talking because one of our mouths is usually full. Kyle is ruining my date and he’s not even here. “What do you think, Haley? You want dessert?” His eyebrows lift up with the question. “Not tonight. I’m so full.” I rub a

hand over my stomach, which is not at all full. In fact I wrapped up most of my dinner because I couldn’t stomach it. Too bad I can’t heat it up in Kyle’s microwave afterward and share it with him. He’ll be too busy … nope. Declining dessert, Bryce passes over his credit card to the waitress, and a minute later he’s signing on the dotted line. My legs feel a little wobbly when I stand, like someone replaced my bones with jellyfish, and I peek at the empty wine bottle on the table. How many glasses did I have? I’m so going to pay for that in the morning.

Bryce offers me his arm and I take it, tucking my hand through the crook in his elbow. The cool spring air nips at my legs as we walk outside, and Bryce drapes an arm across my shoulders, tucking me closer to his side. The valet brings round his car and before I know it we’re heading home, his headlights cleaving through the night. We keep up a steady stream of small talk until we pull into my parking lot. Throwing the car into park, he turns so he can look at me. “This was fun.” He shifts a little, his fingers tapping restlessly against his pants. “So, I know

this isn’t proper date etiquette. I know I’m supposed to wait three days or something before I tell you that I like you, but I do. Like you that is. And I’d love to do this again sometime, if you’re interested?” Never in a million years would I have imagined turning down a second date with Bryce after spending weeks trying to hunt him down at Rodeo Jive. And yet, a gentle letdown is exactly what comes out of my mouth.

Chapter 20

Kyle As far as blind dates go, this one is really not that bad. I mean as long as you discount the fact that there’s absolutely no chemistry whatsoever and we gave up any pretense of this going anywhere about an hour ago. Still, it’s been kinda nice just sitting and chatting with someone for a while. Kerry’s spoon bounces off the edge

of her mug as she swirls it through her coffee. “It’s awful trying to find somewhere affordable to live offcampus, but after failing miserably to find a decent roommate my first two years in the dorms, I gave up.” “I don’t blame you. My freshman year I got saddled with this kid who used to watch me while I was sleeping. Talk about creepy.” A shudder works its way through me. “Wow. Well, my last roommate had absolutely no boundaries whatsoever. She had sex right in front of me and everything.” Taking a sip of her coffee,

she holds up a finger. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that she used to use my laptop all the time when I was gone because I’m having a serious problem with porn.” I inhale my latte. “I’m sorry, porn?” “Picture it: I’m trying to write a paper on the effects of global warming and suddenly there are dicks everywhere. Big dicks, little dicks, hairy dicks—” “I got it.” I squeeze my eyes together hoping that’ll extinguish the dick parade going on in my brain. “You’ve probably got a Trojan.”

“The condom?” “No.” I crack up. “The virus.” Kerry taps a finger on the tip of her nose. “Right. I knew that. So, how do I get rid of it?” “I mean you could take it to something like Geek Squad, but they’ll overcharge you for it. Or you could ask your new friend very nicely and he might be willing to help you out with it.” Her eyes light up. “You’d do that?” “Maybe.” I shrug. “Man, your brother wasn’t lying about you being a nice guy. I’m actually kind of pissed at myself that I’m not

feeling anything for you because you’re pretty fantastic.” She sighs and runs a hand through her long dark hair. “What’ll it take to buy your services? Can I bribe you with a Danish? Maybe a cookie?” “I might be persuaded with a good cookie.” She grins and hops off her chair. “Be right back.” I watch her go, mentally berating myself for comparing everything about her to Haley. She’s not even here but she may as well be with how much I’ve been thinking about her. It’s been a long time coming, but I think I’ve finally made a

decision about what I’m going to do— I’m going to tell her, I have to. It’s the only way I can really ask her out with a clean conscience. I hope to hell and back she’ll be able to forgive me. Just as I think it, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. It’s my work phone. Which means either there’s an actual emergency happening at work, or Haley’s ringing the Clark line. I shake my head to myself. It has to be work. There’s no way that my date is lasting longer than hers. That would never happen. An image of her and Bryce together at a

restaurant, holding hands, doing more than holding hands brands itself in my brain. I dig my phone out of my pocket, all the while sending up a silent prayer that the servers haven’t imploded and whatever Mr. March wants can wait until morning. Turns out, there’s no emergency at all. Lois: So you know how you mentioned how you keep going on all these bad dates? I think it’s contagious.

Well, that’s unexpected.

Me: Another one? What’s that, four in a row for you? Lois: Yup. And get this. This date was with that guy I was telling you about, Bryce. The one who accidentally gave me your phone number? Me: Weren’t you pretty much convinced you were going to have his babies after the first time you met him? Lois: Wow, someone’s testy tonight. Me: Sorry. So what happened, he married too? Or maybe he had a really bad sweating problem? Lois: Nothing like that, thank God. The night was actually pretty perfect. He brought me flowers, took me to a nice restaurant, the conversation was great. It’s just that … I don’t know. I wasn’t

feeling it. Things have changed.

Things have changed? What in the hell does that mean? I check back on Kerry. She’s heading back with our pastries, so I don’t have a chance to respond even though I’m burning up with curiosity. She spots my phone as she settles back at the table and passes me a warm chocolate-chip cookie. “That the girl you’ve been thinking about all night?” I choke on a chocolate chip. “What?” “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” She lifts up one shoulder and nibbles at the edge

of her red velvet cupcake. “How did you … how?” “Just a feeling. Your mind’s been off somewhere else, and when you’re out on a date with a beautiful woman the only other place your thoughts would really be is on another beautiful woman.” “Guilty.” I run a hand through my hair. Kerry screws up her face. “So what are you doing on a date with me when you’d clearly rather be on one with her?” I suck the chocolaty remnants off my thumb. “It’s a very long, very

complicated story.” “And you’d tell me but you’ve gotta run because you want to finish your conversation with her?” I bark out a laugh. “Am I really that transparent?” She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m just an expert at reading guys.” Waving a hand at the door, she gestures toward it. “Go ahead, get out of here.” We both stand and I give her a quick hug. “This has been the weirdest date I’ve ever been on.” “Sorry bud, you’re not even close to taking that top spot for me.”

I back away, fingers worrying the edge of my phone. “Give me a call about your laptop; I’ll get it working as good as new.” She grins and gives me a thumbs-up. “You’ve got it.” With a wave, I leave and carefully pick my way down the stairs. I slip into my car, start her up, and pull out of the lot. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to my apartment, but all nine hundred seconds of it are crammed with silent reprimands. It’s not until I’m climbing my stairs and goose bumps are racing up and down my bare arms that I realize I

left my jacket at the coffee shop. Fingers crossed Kerry picked it up and I can grab it when I go over to fix her laptop. I unlock my front door, and I’m already typing a response by the time it shuts behind me. Me: Sounds like everything was going alright. What changed?

My heart pumps extra hard in my chest, so loud that I can practically hear it. The wait for her response is agonizing, and as the minutes tick by I think maybe she’s not going to answer me at all. Maybe in the twenty or so

minutes it took me to get home she fell asleep or something. Then my phone lights up. Lois: Do you think attraction is always an immediate thing?

Well, question.

that

doesn’t

answer

Me: Aesthetically I think it usually is. You see someone and you’re either physically attracted to them or you’re not. Lois: I don’t mean the physical stuff, or not entirely. I’m talking more about someone you’ve been friends with for a

my

while. I guess I’m worrying whether a guy might develop an attraction if it wasn’t there from the beginning.

I have to sit down. Holy shit. I need to hide my phone and stop answering, right now. This is bad. It’s one thing for her to unload on me about her family, but if she starts talking to me about me? Letting that happen would be awful and pretty unforgivable. I set my phone on the coffee table, then pick it back up. No, I can’t answer her again. Tossing it back onto the table, I lace my fingers together and set them in my lap.

Another text comes through. Lois: You should see me. I can’t stop laughing at myself. Imagine it. I’m sitting at this fancy restaurant, having a fabulous time with this guy who, not that long ago, I was pretty crazy about. Like stalk the bar where we met crazy because he gave me the wrong number. You remember. And then there’s this other guy (actually, we work together, I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned him?) and he is literally all I can think about tonight. My whole night was ruined because I’m crazy about this guy who’s out on a date with another girl and I don’t even think he actually likes me!

I should probably breathe, but it feels like someone’s strangling me. Like my windpipe has collapsed in on itself and nothing is getting through. I reread the text twice, three times, a fourth, trying to memorize the words and erase them from my memory at the same time. I ruined her date. I’d never have let Brian set me up on that blind date if I hadn’t gotten that damn message from her asking Clark if he wanted to meet. If she had feelings for me, then why would she ask Clark to go with her? Why would she have gone out on a date with Bryce at all? It doesn’t

make sense. And fucking hell, how is it possible that the girl of my dreams telling me she likes me is the worst thing that could possibly happen to me right now? Oh wait, because she’s not actually telling me. At least not that she knows, and I’ve been too much of a coward to get my head out of my ass and tell her what’s been going on so now I’m screwed. I just wanted to be the nice guy who was there for her in whatever way she needed and instead I’ve fucked this up beyond repair. Thoroughly hating myself, I give in

and answer. I mean what does it matter now? Me: Alright, so Prince Charming no longer has your heart. It happens. What about this other guy? Does he know you’re into him? Lois: No. At least I don’t think so. Me: So why don’t you think he’s into you? Lois: You mean other than the fact that he’s out on a date tonight? We’ve known each other for months and he’s never asked me out. We actually spent the night together, in the same bed, and nothing.

I’m trying to come up with a response when the little bubble pops up again, letting me know she’s sending me another message. Lois: I know I’ve told you about my ex, but I’m not sure I’ve ever admitted how much damage he did to my selfconfidence. We were together for almost three years and I was so sure that we’d be together forever that when I saw him with his ex, I kept making excuses for it. I saw what was happening and I didn’t want to believe it. But in the end I wasn’t enough for him. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe I’m good enough for anyone. I’m not the confident, flashy

girl who gets the guys. I’m just me.

My heart feels like someone sliced it open with a steak knife and is bleeding me dry. That’s really what she thinks? Jesus. I wonder what she’d say if she knew just how much I thought I wasn’t good enough for her. I rake my hands through my hair, wanting to tear it out. It’s too late to turn back now. Slumping down onto the couch, I rest my elbows against my knees as I type out my response. Me: Guys are really, really stupid sometimes. We’re not always too good

at picking up on the signals, so he may just be oblivious to how you’re feeling. As for the rest of it … I’m sorry a guy made you feel that way. It breaks my heart that someone hurt you like that. But believe me when I say you’re more than enough. And I know that might not seem like a whole lot coming from the stranger you text with, but I know you.

Sometimes we’re fucking morons. Lois: I wish I could reach through the phone and hug you right now. Lois: Alright, so the guy. What should I do?

I blow out a breath and study the

ceiling. What I think she should do, or what I want her to do? Me: I can’t answer that for you. Only you know whether the guy’s worth taking a risk on. Lois: You’re absolutely no help, you know that? Some superhero you are.

Lifting up my glasses, I rub the bridge of my nose, laughing at the irony of it. If she only knew how well her nickname fits me. I’ve always been a shoe-in for Clark Kent, a bona fide geek with the glasses, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be anyone’s Superman.

Chapter 21

Haley I spray the window with some Windex, swirling the paper towel in time to the music that’s pumping through my headphones. A strand of hair has plastered itself to my forehead with sweat, and my iPod may be getting a little damp as well in its hidden spot in my bra. Swirl left, swirl right. Spritz, spritz, spritz.

Using a forearm to wipe my face, I ditch the Windex and switch to the vacuum. My arm feels like it’s vibrating when I flip it on, and it takes me a good minute to get a rhythm going. I drop down into a squat to maneuver it under the coffee table, and when I pop back up, Tara’s flailing her arms at me like she’s trying to land an airplane. I yank off my headphones. “What?” “What. Are. You. Doing?” “Vacuuming.” Her eyes narrow and it sounds suspiciously like she just growled at me. “It is seven-thirty in the morning.”

Man, have I really been up for two and a half hours already? I glance around the apartment—the kitchen is gleaming, the throw pillows have never been better fluffed, and the small pile of DVDs on our entertainment center has been neatly alphabetized. I lock the vacuum in the upright position. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.” Hesitating, I bypass the couch and sit on the floor instead. I’m too gross to sit on the clean cushions. Tara rubs sleep out of her eyes and flips her head upside down to wrap up her hair into a ponytail. Belly-flopping

on the couch, she wraps her arm around a pillow. “How late did you get in? I didn’t even hear you.” “Not late. I think I was home before you were.” “But why? This was the guy.” I scrunch my toes in the carpet. “I’m not sure that he is.” Tara’s eyes had been drifting closed, but at that they pop back open. “What?” Pushing up on her elbows, she slumps into a seated position and rubs her face vigorously. “Okay, I’m awake and listening.” “It’s Kyle.”

“What’s Kyle?” I grimace. “I think I might have a small, teensy, tiny crush on him.” “And by teensy, tiny you obviously mean huge.” She laughs, then catching sight of my expression immediately swallows it. “Alright, so what’s the problem?” I lie back on the floor, and thump my head against it. “He was out on a date last night.” She cocks her head at me. “So, you’re wondering if maybe he’s dating this girl now and aren’t sure whether he’s interested in you, yeah?”

“Pretty much.” “That’s simple. Next time you see him, just ask him how it went. If things are going well, they’re seeing each other again, maybe you let that play itself out. Or, maybe things didn’t go well and you should just lay all your cards on the table.” She shrugs. “Then again, he just met this girl the one time and he’s known you for months, so if you really like him, just tell him either way.” I prop myself up on my elbows, digesting her words. It was one date. One date. It’s not like he fell in love with her over dinner. I hope. Regardless

of what happened, I still have a chance. If I want it. I do want it, right? Yes, I want it. I want Kyle. The idea of it, us, feels so … right. I roll over onto my stomach and then push myself to my feet. “Alright, I’ll tell him. It’s settled.” The thought of it makes the breath rush out of my chest, but I’m going to have to get over it and strap on my big-girl panties. I reach for the vacuum. Tara levels a finger at me. “No. No vacuuming. I’m going back to bed and you are not allowed to use any type of

loud appliances. No vacuum, no blender, nada.” “Fine.” I’ll just need to find something else to occupy my mind for the next … forty-eight hours. Crap. Standing up, Tara leans up onto the balls of her feet and stretches. Her gaze travels over the apartment, her eyes narrowing. “How long have you been up?” I shrug. “A while.” “Seriously, relax. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do some yoga or something. Or take a nice bubble bath with some candles, bath salts, and some Enya.” She

backs slowly into her room. “But just do it quietly.” She presses her pointer finger to her lips in the universal shush symbol. * * * Three hours later, I’ve taken a bath, deep-conditioned my hair, cleaned out the refrigerator, sorted the bills, painted my nails, and reorganized my closet by season and then by color. Nothing is taking up nearly enough time. And for every second that I don’t keep my brain occupied, it reverts to conjuring up all the worst possible reactions from my

confession to Kyle. I haven’t been this nervous since the first time Luke asked me out. He stopped me after the business class we were taking together, and I was sure all he wanted was to borrow my notes or something. When he asked me out, my jaw nearly hit the ground. The epic cleaning spree that erupted prior to that date rivals my frenzy this morning. Although, thinking of Luke makes me remember about another event I’m dreading, maybe even more than my conversation with Kyle—Blaire’s wedding. Rifling through my closet this

morning has only reminded me that I have absolutely nothing to wear. The only thing even close is the pink dress I wore to their engagement party, and after Sloane dubbed me the Bubblegum Princess in it, I’m not sure why I haven’t burned the thing. I snap my fingers. That’s it. Shopping. It’s going to take me forever to find something to wear, and it’s going to be physically painful to hand over my debit card to pay for it. But, on a day where my mind is completely overrun, maybe it won’t hurt as bad. Plus, it’ll suck up almost an entire day.

I throw on an outfit, and I’m just tying my shoes when my phone lets out a chirp. Kyle: Hey there. What’re you up to?

My heart does a curious little fluttering thing that I’m not at all used to. Me: Just getting ready to head to the mall. Gotta do some shopping.

His next text comes through a second later. Kyle: Want some company?

Excitement hits me first, followed immediately by panic. My thought process goes something like this: Oh my God, if I see Kyle, then I can tell him today! But, but, then I’d have to tell him today! Holy crap, what am I going to say? My mind continues to flail while I make plans to meet Kyle at the mall, never settling, just hopping from one thought to the next like an agile grasshopper. The answer’s so obvious that it nearly smacks me in the face. Of course, the wedding. I’ll ask him about

his date, see how it went, and then I can ask him to go to Blaire’s wedding with me—as my date. * * * The hanger screeches as Kyle shoves it to the side. “Is there anything specific I’m looking for? ‘Dress’ is a pretty board descriptor.” I peek at him over the rack. “Just nothing pink.” His eyebrows lift in question, but he leaves it at that. “Umm…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know … I mean, I’m not sure what size you are.”

I shift the dresses I’ve already collected to my other arm. “How about you hold these for me, and I’ll look.” “Right. That’s probably a better plan.” After transferring the dresses over to him, I shake out my arms. Man those things are heavy. It takes another fifteen minutes to make one lap around the store, and Kyle valiantly totes around a ton of dresses for me, holding the hangers up over his head so the ends don’t trail on the ground. He’s super relaxed this afternoon and a smile’s taken up permanent residence on his

face. The sight of it makes my stomach clench, and every time I see it I can’t help wondering if the girl from his date last night is the reason it’s there. Okay, I’m officially jealous. Slipping into a dressing room, I kick off my sneakers and wiggle out of my clothes. The first dress is a pretty shade of green, but requires more boobage than I have to hold it up. The second is lavender and looked great on the rack. Not so wonderful on me though. Off that one goes. “So, uh, what’s the dress for?” Kyle asks from his perch on the small couch

outside the room. Oh, right, I didn’t even tell him. Mainly because I wanted to work the conversation around to his date first. But every time I think about bringing it up, I chicken out. So far we’ve skirted around last night entirely. “My ex–best friend is getting married in three weeks and I have to go to her wedding.” “Ex–best friend?” The next dress gets stuck over my head and it feels like I’m suffocating in layers of satin. My butt bumps up against the door as I try to yank it back off,

making the lock rattle. When it finally snaps free, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—flushed face, slightly sweaty, and with my hair shooting up in about a thousand different directions. “Long story short? My ex–best friend is sisters with my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend.” I whip my hair up into a ponytail, and instantly get some relief as the cool air brushes across the back of my neck. These dressing rooms are always stifling. “That sounds … complicated.” “It is.” My next attempt is this gorgeous red dress that I picked up on a

whim. It’s bold and attention-grabbing, and something I never would have even considered wearing when I was dating Luke. Which is exactly the reason I’m trying it on now. Holding it in place, I scoot out of the dressing room and give Kyle my back. “I can’t quite get the zipper up on this one. Would you mind?” “Yeah, sure.” His fingers brush across the bottom of my shoulder blade as he pulls the fabric together and gives the zipper a tug. “There you go.” I turn, readjusting the top and kicking out the extra length on the bottom. I’d

definitely need to wear heels, and might need to get it altered anyway. There goes another chunk of change. “What do you think?” Kyle takes a step back and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Wow. That’s … wow.” When it comes to commenting on appearances, with guys, less usually means more. Rotating back to the mirror, I angle myself left and right to get a better look at it. Dark red beads outline the sweetheart neckline, and flowy chiffon fabric drifts out from a center point right

underneath my chest. It’s beautifully simplistic, but completely classy and elegant. The color is a little out of my comfort zone, but I love it. I’m not even trying on any more dresses, I’m buying this one. If me showing up at Blaire’s wedding isn’t a statement in and of itself, this dress certainly is. I glance at Kyle in the mirror. “I think this one’s a keeper.” “Already?” He glances down at his watch. “We’ve only been here like half an hour. That’s gotta be a new record or something.” I bite my lip to keep my smile from

spreading out of control. “You do a lot of dress shopping?” He rolls his eyes. “I went shopping for a dress with Teresa last year for Homecoming. I swear we not only visited every store in this mall, we went to some of them twice. By the time I got home I thought my feet were going to fall off.” “Well, if you help me out of this, we can get out of here. I won’t even torture you with shoes.” “You’re so sweet.” He grins at me and our gazes catch in the mirror. Wait, are we flirting a little?

His fingers trail down my back, sending a shiver skating down my spine. But before he undoes the zipper he asks, “Are you taking Bryce with you to the wedding?” I’m still looking at his reflection, but his eyes have dropped to study my shoulder. “No, I don’t think things with us are going to work out.” I lift one shoulder in a half shrug and take a deep breath. “I was actually kinda wondering if you might want to go with me?” His eyes bounce back up to me with a smile in them. “Yeah?” “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Me too.” Crap. I just ruined my own plan. Can we rewind the past couple of minutes so I can adjust my question to him? As my date. Three words. How hard is that to remember? And I can’t say anything now because then I’ll just look like an idiot. I mean, maybe he’s only agreeing because we’re friends. And I’ve already done a family function with him, so maybe this is a quid pro quo thing. “Haley?” “Hm?” “I said, you’re all good here. With the zipper.”

“Right.” I turn and smile up at him. “I’ll just go change then.” Once the door’s closed, I lean back against it and close my eyes. The plan consisted of two things—find out how Kyle’s date went and ask him to go with me as my date to the wedding. So far I’ve accomplished less than half of what I set out to. High-five, Haley. “Hey, Haley? Is this a fancy wedding? I mean, going by your dress I’m gonna say yes, and since we’re here, I was thinking I could pick up a new pair of dress pants for my suit? The last ones kinda got eaten by the washing machine.

Unless you’re in a rush? I mean, whatever works for you.” I pinch my lips together to keep from laughing. That boy really knows how to ramble when he gets worked up. Although, I’m not entirely sure what’s causing the spike in his anxiety at this particular moment. “Yeah, I’ve got time. No rush.” “Alright, I’ll just grab a few to try on then. I’ll be right back.” By the time I step out of the dressing room with my dress in hand, Kyle’s back with a handful of dress pants. As the door closes behind him, I take a seat on

the couch, and then immediately rock up onto my hip to fish out whatever I just sat on—a phone. Kyle’s phone, maybe? I sit it down on the cushion next to me. “So, how’d everything go last night? Was the restaurant at least good?” Kyle’s voice echoes around the room. The top of his hair is barely visible over the door. The mention of last night makes me squirm a little, but it’s actually kind of good news. He’s redirected the conversation right where I wanted it to go. “Yeah, the food was pretty amazing.

How did…” The phone vibrates next to me and I glance at it. A message pops up on the screen. Kerry: So, you forgot your jacket with me last night. I’m proposing a trade: one Trojan and your services for the safe return of your apparel. Call me.

“What’d you say?” Kyle calls out. I can’t stop staring at the screen, but my mouth moves anyway. “I was wondering how your date went last night.” Not that I really need to know now.

That text message can only mean one thing really. “It was alright, I guess,” he says. “We probably won’t go out again.” It was alright? That’s not quite how I’d describe a date that ended with a text message like that. The entire time I’ve known Kyle I’ve pegged him as funny, smart, sweet, shy. But, maybe it’s just a front, a way to lure girls in, before he sleeps with them and never speaks to them again. Maybe he’s not the guy I think he is, and that hits a little too close to home, poking at wounds that aren’t even close to healed.

Grabbing the phone, I place it on the floor and nudge it forward with my toe. “Oh, hey. Is this your phone?” The door flies open and Kyle comes barreling out, his pants unzipped and slipping off. His hands pat frantically at his pockets and his face drains of all color. He stoops down to grab it and releases a breath, not even checking it. “Yeah, this is mine.” A second ago I would have found his reaction really bizarre, but at the moment I’m just wondering what else he’s hiding on that phone. How many other similar messages might be stored there that he’s

worried about me seeing? I mean, what other reason would he have for freaking out about his phone like that?

Chapter 22

Kyle My heart hasn’t slowed down since Haley said, “Is this your phone?” I nearly ran through the damn dressingroom door trying to get out there and stop her from looking at it. Bending over, I rest my hands on my knees and try to breathe. It wasn’t the Clark phone, which is exactly what I thought had happened. Luckily, that one’s tucked

safely in my other pocket. I almost ruined everything. I can’t stop carrying the phone, it’s for work, but I need to do something about the whole Haley thing. After last night my options are down to one: I need to break things off with her as Clark, get my number changed, and hope with everything I have that she never, ever finds out. I stayed up half the night coming to that decision and I feel sick to my stomach about it. The feeling is almost eclipsed by the hum of excitement that’s been buzzing through me since I realized that Haley and I are finally

going to get our chance. Finally. My fingers shake as I try and button my pants. This last one is the best fit, and after sliding them down my hips, I get dressed and head back out toward Haley. She smiles at me, but it sits tightly on her face, like someone’s holding it in place with thumbtacks. After we pay, we step out of the store into the hubbub of the mall. People swarm in every direction—weighed down by bags, weaving strollers in and out of the crowd, bumping elbows. The smell of pretzels wafts toward me and my stomach gives a groan.

“You hungry?” I ask, nudging her with my elbow. She shrugs. “I could eat. If you want.” Okay, well that was an enthusiastic response. Not. “C’mon, let’s get some ice cream.” We walk to the food court in silence. Somehow in the past ten minutes things have gotten weird. I can’t for the life of me figure out why though. It’s not like I came today expecting Haley to profess her undying love for me, but a small part of me might have been hoping she’d tell me how she’s feeling. And I’m not

entirely sure that she didn’t with the whole wedding-invitation thing. The food court is mobbed, so we split up. Haley takes our things and heads off to find us a table while I go and get us some ice cream—chocolate mint chip for her, cookie dough for me. It takes me a little bit to search her out after I pay for everything, but I eventually find her over in front of the Japanese place. “Here you go.” I slide her ice cream over to her, the spoon sticking out of the top like a flagpole. “Thanks.”

I bounce my knee up and down, but my shoe keeps connecting with something sticky on the floor, making this irritating noise. So I have to stop and reroute my nervous tic. I settle for fidgeting with my spoon, spinning it round and round between my fingers. “My mom was asking about you the other day. Wondering if you might be coming over again.” “Oh yeah?” Haley spoons up some ice cream, keeping her eyes on her dish. “I thought you were telling her I dumped you or something?” Wait, what?

I tap the end of my spoon against the table. “I … can I ask you something?” “Sure.” Her eyes find mine as she waits for the question. Even being privy to Haley’s conversation with Clark last night, I still need to summon up a huge amount of courage to actually get the question out of my mouth. “This wedding thing. Were you asking me to go with you as your date or just as friends?” My heart slams so hard into my rib cage I’m sure it’s visible through my shirt. She purses her lips and a hand drifts

up to run over her hair. “As friends. Why?” “Just wondering.” Heat floods my cheeks and I can’t convince my eyes to look at anything other than the chunk of cookie dough I’m unearthing with my spoon. “I figured I helped you out with your family thing, you might help me out with mine. It’s not a big deal, right?” “No, not at all.” The words almost choke me on the way out. What’s going on? I don’t get it. Is this wedding a test? Is she inviting me to take us as a couple on a dry run? That strangely makes me a

feel a little better, and my smile eases on my face. “I’m just glad you asked me. It sounds like a crazy situation, and not a really good one. I’m glad I can be there for you.” A frown puckers her brow, drawing her eyebrows together. She gives her head a shake and it’s gone. “Well, thanks. I really do appreciate it.” “Any time.” Haley glances behind her, her ponytail swishing over her shoulder. She sticks a last heaping spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, flipping the spoon upside down so she can lick it clean. “I

have to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Wiping my napkin across my mouth, I retrieve my phone from my pocket when it buzzes. I’ve got one text from Brian checking in on our game tomorrow, and another from Kerry … shit. My gaze darts around the room, looking for Haley. Did she see this? Holy crap. This whole time I was worried she got ahold of my work phone. I never thought my regular phone would do almost as much damage. I squeeze the phone in my hand, half tempted to throw it and every other

piece of technology I own in the garbage. I swear these things are out to destroy my life. I’d lay money on the fact that Haley saw this. It’s the only reasonable, nonparanoid explanation for how she went from flirty to frosty in less than thirty seconds. I read the text again. Yeah, there’s pretty much no way in hell she could have taken that in a good way. Just about every interpretation of this text message paints a very detailed picture of me and Kerry. A very naked picture. Me downplaying my date must have made me sound like a liar. Or a player.

God, that’s laughable. Me, making my rounds with the women. If that’s not the joke of the century. I rub a hand over my face. Alright, this is fixable. I can do damage control. I’ve got three weeks to think of a plan, and one entire wedding to prove to Haley that she’s the girl for me.

Chapter 23

Haley A tendril of heat twists in the air, drifting up from the barrel of the curling iron. When I release the section of hair, it bounces down and sticks in a thick curl. I give it a quick layer of hairspray, trying not to breathe in any of the noxious fumes. There, done. I survey my reflection, running a hand carefully over the thick waves of my hair. My makeup

is a little heavier than I usually wear it —a bold slash of black eyeliner, eyelashes curled and standing at attention with mascara, and subtle shades of brown swept over my eyelids. All that’s left is to slip on my dress and shoes and I’ll be good to go. “Hot damn.” Tara leans her hip against the doorway of the bathroom and fans herself. “You are smoking.” “Hopefully, not literally.” She rolls her eyes at me, and blocks my exit from the bathroom. “One second.” Grasping my chin between her fingers, she tilts my head left and then

right. “You’re missing something.” With her hand still holding my face firmly in place, I can’t see what she’s doing, but I can hear her rummaging through a drawer. A second later she’s smearing something across my lips. “There, much better.” “Really? Red lipstick? Isn’t that—” “Sexy? Why yes, yes it is.” I take one last glance in the mirror, feeling contrasting emotions battling it out inside me. On the outside I look calm and collected; no one would have any idea that underneath the surface I’m a freaking piñata of emotions. One hard

poke and everything’s going to come bursting out of me. Between the prospect of seeing Sloane and Luke together, dealing with an awkward reunion with Blaire, and trying to get through an entire evening with Kyle without breaking down, I’m a bona fide mess. A knock sounds from the front door, and Tara hurries over to it. “I’ll get it!” Delia slips through a second later, her hands wringing the strap of her purse. “Hey, guys.” I smile at her. “Don’t you look pretty.” Her hand plucks at the edge of her

turquoise dress. It’s gorgeous on her, the perfect complement to her blue eyes and bright red hair, and a huge change from her typical yoga pants and sweatshirts. The most dressed up I’ve ever seen her is in a pair of jeans. “Are you guys going somewhere tonight?” I ask. Normally this is something I’d know, but my brain’s had a one-track focus this week. Tara wraps an arm around Delia’s shoulders and kisses her on the top of the head. “Delia’s finally coming home to meet my parents.” Delia snorts. “Yeah, they’re gonna

love the country bumpkin you’re dating.” “Would you stop.” Tara snags her gaze. Delia shrugs, but before she can respond, there’s another knock on the door. That’s gotta be Kyle. Clutching the edges of my robe together, I hurry back to my bedroom and shove the door closed with my shoulder. In a flurry of action, I shed the robe and swap it for my dress, sitting down on the bed to strap on my heels. I inch the door open and peek through the crack. Kyle stands with Delia and Tara, chatting, a black suit

clinging to his lean frame. A stark white shirt pokes out from underneath the lapels of his jacket, with a skinny black tie running down the middle. For the first time since that night at his parents’, he’s not wearing his glasses. I wasn’t lying that night; he does look really different without them. Given the choice I’d pick him in glasses hands down, but even without them he looks amazing, heartstoppingly handsome. Or maybe it’s just my heart that’s tripping over itself in my chest. Pulling back, I lean against the door and remind myself why we’re going

tonight as friends—because he slept with Kerry and then downplayed the whole thing. Because even though he can sleep with absolutely whoever he wants to and I can get past the disappointment that he wasn’t pining over me like I was him, what I can’t get over is someone who isn’t honest. Alright, here goes nothing. The instant I step through the door, Kyle’s eyes sweep over to me. They widen a little as they take a trip from my carefully styled hair to the hem of my dress that brushes against the carpet. I wish I could say the way he’s looking at

me doesn’t affect me, but it does. It so does. Every place his gaze touches me tingles with awareness—the neckline of my dress, the hollow at the base of my throat, my lips. Tara hustles over to me, slipping behind me to yank the zipper up the last few inches. “With the way you two are staring at each other, I’ll be surprised if you even make it to the wedding,” she mumbles under her breath. “There, you’re good to go.” She pats my back. Fighting through the haze that’s currently fogging my concentration, I walk over to Delia and wrap her in a

tight squeeze. Drawing back, I rest my hands on her shoulders and pin her gaze with mine. “They are going to love you. Just be yourself and there’s no way you won’t win them over. Trust me.” She gives me a grateful smile and blows out a heavy breath, nodding. Taking a deep breath of my own, I try to rearrange my face before I turn back to Kyle so it’s not giving away quite as much of what I’m thinking. “You ready?” His head cocks to the side, taking in the shift in my expression. “Are you?” “As I’ll ever be.”

* * * The valet swings open my door and offers me a hand. Quickly and efficiently, he relieves Kyle of his keys and zips away with his Countryman. We’re not quite late, but we’re just on the edge of it. The small concession I made today for my sanity was to skip the ceremony and head straight to the reception. I didn’t think I’d make it through all the vows, the promising to love one another forever, and the sight of Luke and Sloane standing up there, flanking Harrison and Blaire like I should have been. It was too much. Too

real. Too big a reminder. Kyle comes up next to me, a whiff of his cologne teasing my nose, and offers me his arm. I slip my hand through it, ordering it to remain relaxed. Without carefully calculating my motions, I’d be clinging to his arm and squeezing the life out of it in no time. “Shall we?” I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Glass doors are swept open for us and there, right in front of us are Blaire and Harrison, greeting their guests as they arrive. Their hands are linked together, matching smiles on their faces.

His tux is impeccable, black, polished. Blaire’s dress is everything I imagined it would be. Sheer lace cap sleeves, allover beading with crystals, and lacework that hugs in at her hips before flaring out into a gorgeous train. Her eyes flick over to us and away before darting back again. “Haley?” She takes four quick steps toward me and throws her arms around my neck. Pulling back, she holds on to my hands. “Oh my God, your hair! It’s gorgeous, and this dress! Luke wasn’t kidding when he said I’d barely recognize you.” They were talking about me?

My smile freezes on my face. “You look beautiful. And this place is lovely. Congratulations, I’m so happy for the both of you.” I sound like an automaton. Harrison finally breaks away from the other couple he was talking to and pulls me into a hug. He squeezes me so tight I can feel my ribs creak. “Killer dress, Hales. I didn’t know you had it in you.” That stings. I can’t help but wonder if I’d “had it in me” when I was with Luke if he’d still want me or if we’d still be together. Did no one think I was good enough for him?

An arm slips around my shoulders, pulling me in to a warm chest. Kyle gives my arm a quick squeeze. “We haven’t met. I’m Kyle.” He holds out his hand and Harrison gives it a shake. Blaire grins. “Are you two dating?” “Just friends,” Kyle tells her. Her eyes zero in on his hand on my shoulder, narrowing. “Really, because —” “Blaire,” a voice hisses from the doorway. Sloane slips through and shuts the door behind her quietly. “Mom’s looking for you again, something about a toast or flowers or God, I don’t know.

I’m trying really hard here to put on my happy face, but you cannot leave me with them for that long.” My jaw automatically clenches at the sight of her, but the corner of my mouth tips up when I see what she’s wearing. It’s not quite pink. Technically you can call it champagne, but after the grief she gave me over wearing pink to Blaire’s engagement party, in my mind I am definitely calling it pink. Blaire jerks her head to the side, toward me, widening her eyes meaningfully. Sloane’s mouth drops open. “Haley.

Oh, um, hey.” She clasps her hands behind her back. A part of me that I didn’t even know existed bubbles to the surface. “Nice dress.” Sloane tosses a withering glare at Blaire, who rolls her eyes. The door opens again. “What is going on out here?” Luke asks. “Everyone’s looking for you two.” Blaire drops a hand to her hip. “It’s not like we’re hiding. We’re standing right here. We’ve been greeting guests like we’re supposed to. Haley just happened to be one of the last people

here and we were having a little chat.” Luke’s gaze rebounds over to me, and Kyle stiffens at my side. “You made it. I told them you wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles at me, his face lighting up. “You look great. Red really suits you.” I finally find my voice again, but the only thing that manages to come out is “Thanks.” I’d been mentally prepping myself to see them all, but I’m not prepared to have all of them ganging up on me at once. My brain is overloading, short-circuiting. It’s like no time has passed, with all

the half-finished thoughts, glances overflowing with meaning, and thickly coursing undercurrents. Kyle steps forward, half blocking me with his body. “Luke, is it? I’m Kyle, Haley’s date.” He sticks out his hand. Standing next to Luke, Kyle is just a few inches shorter, and quite a few pounds lighter, but you wouldn’t know it from the look on his face. The corner of Luke’s mouth twitches. “Nice to meet you.” Blaire glances around Kyle so she can shoot me a message with her eyes, her look practically screaming: Just

friends, huh? “Alright, well as much as I’m enjoying this reunion,” Sloane says, “if we get any more off schedule Mom’s going to lose her shit. Please take the heaviest bouquet on the planet, and get in there.” Sloane holds out an enormous mass of flowers, and light bounces off her hand, nearly blinding me. No, not her hand. A ring. An engagement ring.

Chapter 24

Kyle I think Haley just stopped breathing. Or she’s having a panic attack. I’m not really sure what that looks like. She’s only twenty-two, she can’t be having a heart attack, right? From the look on her face and how pale she is, I’m not entirely sure. Then again, her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend just flashed us with an

engagement ring the size of the glacier that sunk the Titanic. The whole room goes dead silent, which is creepy because I can hear everyone breathing. The two sisters trade a look, the groom shakes his head and rubs his forehead, and the ex drops his eyes to the ground. Finally, Haley’s shoulder lifts under my hand like she’s drawing in a deep breath. Her voice is soft but steady. “Congratulations.” “Thank you,” Luke says, still not quite willing to look at her. His mouth opens and shuts, like there’s something

more he wants to say but nothing’s coming out. “C’mon.” I wrap my fingers around her elbow, then look up at all of them. “We’ll see you inside.” Another look skates around the group of them as we leave, but I don’t know them well enough to interpret it. When the door closes behind us, voices sneak through after us, squeezing through the cracks. I keep Haley moving forward, away from them, hoping that whatever they’re saying she won’t hear and won’t hurt her. Because the look on her face right

now? It’s breaking my heart. * * * Two hours of socializing later, I’m convinced that Haley knows everyone in this entire room. It’s finally hitting me that when she broke up with this guy she didn’t just lose a boyfriend, she lost a huge chunk of her life. The worst are the looks they keep giving her—pitying looks that make my hands clench. So far, nearly every conversation has ended something like this: “How are you doing, Haley? You know, with the … news.”

Tight smile. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I’m about ready to scream, so I can only imagine how she’s handling it. Not that I have any clue. Her face is as calm as ever, her smile never fluctuating, other than the almost invisible pinching at the corners. What really sucks is that she doesn’t even let her guard down around me. I want her to lean on me, open up to me. That’s why I’m here, right? But instead, she lightly lays her hand on my arm and I trail after her like a useless tail. The room is packed and loud. The

whole wall at the end is big glass windows that look right out on the beach. Beige walls glow red and orange as the sun sets, bouncing its light off chandeliers that drip with crystals, throwing rainbows all over the room. There are skinny white candles gnarled with wax, huge pale pink bowls erupting with flowers on the tables, delicate lace tablecloths, gold chairs, and a thousand other tiny details I have no doubt were intricately planned. The only reprieve we’ve had all night was dinner—a juicy filet and fresh lobster that made my stomach stand up

and applaud. Then we were right back at it. The couple standing in front of us, don’t ask me their names, finally finishes up chatting with Haley and walks away. Before someone else can jump in their place, I dip my head next to her ear and whisper to her, “Dance with me.” Her eyes flick up to mine and something sparks there, like a fire on the verge of going out simmering back to life. In the next instant it’s gone. “I’d like that.” Sliding my hand down from her elbow, I lace my fingers through hers. Her gaze darts from our entwined

fingers back up to my face, a question lingering in her eyes. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. My opportunity to take action on my plan to show Haley that her feelings aren’t one-sided at all and we should be together. I open my mouth, ready to spill my guts, tell her the truth about Kerry, and that I’m crazy about her. But someone cuts in before I get the chance. “Haley Mitchell! You best get over here and give me a hug, pronto.” Even with the booming music, her voice pierces right through it. I’m not sure who

she is, but she’s got snow-white hair, a bright purple dress wrapped around her small frame, and a diamond brooch the size of my fist pinned to her chest. For the first time since Sloane flashed her rock at us, a real smile spreads across Haley’s face. “Bunny.” Haley slips from my grasp and crushes her in a hug. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?” “Me? I’m fine. Still kicking it. They wouldn’t let me bring my cane. Party poopers.” “Let me introduce you to my date, Kyle.” Haley gestures toward me.

Her date. I’m all prepared for handshake number four hundred twenty-nine, but get swallowed up in a hug instead. Drawing back, Bunny studies me, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. She stares at me so intently I start to sweat a little. Who is this woman? “You be good to my girl, you hear me?” “Yes, ma’am.” She slaps her knee. “‘Ma’am,’ did you hear that?” Her head turns off to the left and cocks to the side. “There goes Lucy calling me for more pictures. Too

many more and I’m going to go blind from that obnoxious flash. I’ll see you two later.” Just as quickly as she popped in, she’s gone again. “Who was that?” “Blaire and Sloane’s grandmother.” I frown. “But you’re friends with her, too?” Haley lets out a little chuckle. “I told you, it’s complicated.” As much as I’d love to hear about all of Haley’s complications, I think that’s enough about them tonight. The past is the past and I’m happy to leave it there. I

reach for her hand again, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “So how about that dance?” My heart gallops in my chest as I rub my thumb against her wrist. “You still up for it?” I nearly flinch when her other hand finds mine, tangling our fingers together. She tilts her chin to look up at me. “I just need to run to the bathroom first, okay? Then I’m all yours.” All mine. I could get used to the sound of that.

Chapter 25

Haley In the past two hours, I’ve had to say the word fine more times than I have in my entire life. I knew tonight was going to be bad, but this is worse than anything I ever imagined. Finding out Luke and Sloane are engaged was the emotional equivalent of stepping into an empty elevator shaft. And when I hit the bottom, it really, really hurt.

But not quite in the way I was expecting. I’m not grieving for my failed relationship with Luke; I’m not pining after him and nursing a broken heart. Not anymore. But I am mourning the death of another tiny piece of my self-confidence. We dated for years and the subject of getting engaged was only rising to the surface. With Sloane it’s been a measly ten months. I slip into the hallway, the carpet squishing beneath my heels. I don’t even need to go to the bathroom, I just need a minute to breathe. I need a second to

escape from the hordes of people who keep asking how I am. I want to let the subject go, to stop thinking about it, but everywhere I turn someone’s rubbing it in my face all over again. And trying to navigate tonight with Kyle by my side? Between the Luke issue and him, it’s like a one-two punch. It’s taking every little piece of my resolve to not step into his arms and hold on to him for dear life. Every time he looks at me with a smile playing about his lips, or squeezes my hand in reassurance, I have to remind myself to breathe. The way his thumb was just

sweeping across the inside of my wrist had my knees turning to butter and all of my objections melting to the ground. So, space. That’s what I need. And the only place I can think of to find that is the bathroom. I lean my shoulder into the bathroom door and nudge it open. A flash of lace catches my eye, but before I can retreat back into the hallway I hear my name being called for the thousandth time today. “Haley!” Blaire grins at me, motioning me through the door. “Hey.” The door thumps closed

behind me. “I’m so glad I have you to myself for a minute.” She leans a hip against the counter. “My mom is incessant today with the picture taking and the socializing. I’ve danced two dances with Harrison. Two.” There was a time when talking to Blaire was effortless, but that ended about the same time as my relationship with Luke. I can’t even make small talk with her now. “That’s awful. Maybe, um, you can avoid her for a while?” “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” She rolls her eyes. “But that’s not what I

wanted to talk to you about anyway.” Her dress rustles as she takes a step toward me. “How are you dealing with everything?” I know exactly what she’s referring to, but for some reason I feel the urge to play dumb. “Dealing with … ?” She widens her eyes suggestively. “You know, the whole engagement thing. Are you okay?” It’s such a simple question. One I’ve already heard a thousand times tonight. But this time, something in me snaps. Maybe it’s that I’m tired of everyone asking. Or maybe it’s months’ worth of

pent-up hurt spurting from my mouth. “What right do you even have to ask me that?” She flinches like I just reached out and pinched her. “What do you mean?” Anger expands inside me, making my chest feel like it’s going to explode from the pressure. “I mean, what right do you have to ask me that? We’re not friends anymore. We’re not anything.” “I didn’t—” “It doesn’t matter.” My eyes burn from the tears I’m holding back, but I don’t let them out. I clench my jaw together, trying to stop myself from

shouting at her. Now isn’t the time for an argument. Not on her wedding day. My words come out coated in defeat. “I broke up with Luke and you broke up with me. I haven’t heard from you once. Not once.” “Haley, c’mon. That’s not fair.” A laugh rips out from between my lips. “Fair? You want to talk about fair? What part of any of this has been fair?” She takes another step toward me, and her dress brushes against mine. “This isn’t how we wanted you to find out. We were going to tell you, but we didn’t want to spring it on you. We knew

tonight was going to be hard enough for you as it is.” “‘We’? Right, because Sloane cares at all about my feelings. Like any of you do.” My gaze locks on to hers, and I finally ask her the question that’s been gnawing at me for months. “Did you know what was going on between them? Were you just watching it all happen from the sidelines, cheering Sloane on and shoving Luke in her direction?” “Haley…” Blaire’s eyes fill with tears and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip. My vision blurs. “You were my best

friend. That may not have meant anything to you, but it meant something to me.” She reaches for me, but I jerk back, desperately fighting to stop myself from crying. My heels slamming into the tile floor echo like a gunshot. Then a toilet flushes. The door to the bathroom stall inches open on squeaky hinges. Blond hair peeks through the crack first, followed slowly by Sloane’s face. You’ve got to be kidding me. Blaire gets the full weight of my glare. “Really?” I don’t give her a chance to respond;

I’m out the door faster than words can leap out of her mouth. What could she possibly say anyway? For once, the blast of music that hits me in the face as I head back into the main room is welcome. It’s loud enough to drown out all the thoughts that are rioting in my head. From across the room I catch sight of Kyle, leaning against the bar, sipping a drink. Seeing him is like jumping in the ocean on a hundred-degree day—it just washes everything else away. As I make my way toward him, I argue with myself. Maybe him leaving

his jacket at Kerry’s wasn’t what I think it is. Maybe I’m misinterpreting things. Maybe things really were “alright.” Or maybe he had a great date and slept with her, and I really just don’t care because he’s here with me and not with her, and that’s what matters, right? A hand tightens around my elbow and I stumble to a stop. “Hey, Haley,” Harrison says, his eyes scanning the room. “You haven’t seen my wife anywhere have you? She disappeared and threw me to the wolves.” “She’s in the bathroom.”

“Figures.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I uh, just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I mean with—” “I’m fine. Really.” This time I almost mean it. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to my date.” His fingers loosen, and he gives me a quick nod. Slipping by him, I’m a few feet away when Kyle spots me. He sets his drink on top of the bar and levels me with a smile. I slip my arm through his, and it feels like coming home. “Dance with me.” “You want a drink or something

first?” His head tilts to the side. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol all night despite how much I could’ve used one. And at the moment, the only thing I want is Kyle. Somehow I think being in his arms will be more therapeutic than any amount of alcohol. “No. I want you to dance with me. Right now.”

Chapter 26

Kyle She doesn’t have to ask me twice. With her fingers linked through mine, I shoulder my way through a bunch of guests until we’re standing on the dance floor. The lighting is dim, but even in it I have no trouble seeing Haley’s face. She’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the entire room, like I’m the only thing that matters.

A slow number pumps through the speakers and she lifts her arms to lace her fingers around the back of my neck. Her fingertips graze the ends of my hair and I want to tip my head back so she can run them all the way through it. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I tug her closer until we’re chest-to-chest. We sway together, getting swallowed up by the music. I’ve never been good at reading body language, at picking up the subtle cues thrown off by the opposite sex. So, I’m having trouble interpreting the look that’s flashing in Haley’s eyes. She

hasn’t looked away once, and I couldn’t pry my gaze away if I wanted to. I hope Haley’s as terrible at reading people as I am, because right now I’m an open book. Everything I’m feeling is right there for her to see. And on a scale of one to ten, I’m probably feeling a hundred times more than I should. With a fingernail, she traces along the edge of my collar, the corner of her mouth kicking up on one side. The sight of it, the way she’s practically devouring me with her eyes, makes my heart sprout wings and take flight out of my chest. Pale purple light splashes across her

face, disappearing and reappearing as we turn in circles around the dance floor. For a second, her gaze slides away from mine and her entire body tenses. A small muscle jumps in her jaw and her smile evaporates. I lift a hand to brush my finger across her cheek. “Haley, what’s—” Without any warning, she tightens her grip on me and drags my mouth down to hers, crushing my lips. I’m so shocked that I don’t even respond. It’s all awkward and uncoordinated, one of the worst kisses I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I don’t even have the

presence of mind to close my eyes because I’m taken so off guard. What the hell is going on? I grip her by the shoulders and push her away. She immediately takes a step back, sucking in a deep breath. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks a little pale, and she presses a hand to her mouth. “What was that?” Her gaze darts over my shoulder and then back. “N-Nothing.” I don’t want to look. Every cell in my entire body screams at me not to turn around. But I do, already knowing what I’m going to see. A few feet away, Luke

watches us, one hand tucked inside his jacket pocket. Just behind him I catch sight of the blonde and her sister, the groom too, all watching us with speculative looks. My hand fists at my side as I turn back around. “Did you get what you were looking for tonight?” I throw a hand out to the side, gesturing toward them. “Did I put on a good enough show for you?” “Kyle.” Her hand reaches out for me, but I take a hasty step away and it falls back to her side. “No. Just no.” I force myself to

swallow around the resurrected memories that are clogging my throat. “I can’t believe you did that.” Then I turn around and leave her standing in the middle of the dance floor. * * * The breeze tugs at my hair, and hard wood digs into my elbows as I lean against the railing. Twenty minutes may have given me enough space for my brain to dive back into rational thought, but dammit if I’m not still pissed. There’s this little voice in my head telling me that I’m overreacting, that I

knew I was doing her a favor coming to the wedding with her. And besides, what right do I have to be pissed at her after everything I’ve done? But that favor didn’t include me kissing her. Or really, her smashing her face into mine in something that kinda looked like a kiss, but was really a thousand shades of awful, messy lipmashing. The truth is that I would have done it if she’d asked. She didn’t ask though, she just took what she wanted regardless of how it might affect me. How I might be feeling. Christ, how does she not

know what she does to me? Bottom line: Haley used me tonight. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not doing it again because fuck that. My inability to read people? Apparently it’s reached epic proportions with my misjudgment of Haley. Who would’ve guessed that she’d be just like my ex? Not me, that’s for damn sure. My chest gives a twinge where my heart flutters its snipped wings inside its new cage. I can’t believe I was actually stupid enough to read into tonight and think there was more happening than there was. I should’ve known better.

Hell, she even told me this wasn’t a date. Haley put on a good show for my family, but her performance tonight was stellar. She couldn’t have fooled me more. I rub my eyes, which’re growing itchier by the second from these damn contact lenses. I didn’t even remember to bring eye drops. My glasses are sitting at home on my nightstand, where I purposefully left them. Stupid guy that I am, I convinced myself to wear the lenses so that I could look better for her. So that when we walked into this stupid wedding people didn’t judge her for

bringing me. So that when they saw us together it might actually look like I deserved to be with her. Screw it. They can think what they want. Yanking on my tie, I loosen it and shrug out of my jacket. I flip back the long sleeves of my shirt and roll them up to my elbows. It’s time to get out of here, with or without Haley. I leave the salty, humid air behind and slip back into the air-conditioning. The music is still loud, people are still dancing and drinking and laughing. Nothing’s changed since I left. Apparently the sound of my heart

cracking wasn’t loud enough to disturb them. I peer over the heads around me, searching for Haley. In a crowd of black and silver dresses, her red one is hard to miss. She’s a bright splash of color in a room of hushed tones. I find her at our table, sitting alone with her hands folded in her lap and her head down. “Haley, I’m gonna head out. You ready to go or do you wanna catch a ride with someone else?” She pushes to her feet. “I think I’ve had about enough for tonight.” You and me both.

She glances up at me, but I can’t even look at her. She’s like a completely different person now. Someone who recognized I was a nice guy and took advantage of me. We walk to the front in silence. We wait for the valet to bring around the car in silence. And then we ride home in silence. When we finally pull into her parking lot, she turns to me, one hand wrapped around her purse, the other on the door handle. “Kyle, I never meant…” She snags her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m so sorry.”

I give her a quick, jerky nod, not trusting myself to say anything. I’m caught somewhere between the urge to yell at her and wanting to cry. Neither of those options sound like a good one at the moment. What I really need is to go home, have a long, stiff drink, and then try to forget this ever happened. I have to, because if I don’t, it has the possibility to destroy me. She’s pretty much already annihilated the small amount of trust I’d built up after Stacy smashed it beneath her Louboutin heels. I stare down at the steering wheel, inspecting the patterns in the leather until

the door closes behind her. And because I’m a chump, once I know she’s not looking at me anymore, I peek out the window for one last glimpse of her. I wait until she disappears inside her building because even though the sight of her physically hurts right now, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. Earlier, I never wanted this day to end, but right now I wish I could rewind time and never let it happen to begin with.

Chapter 27

Haley I spent the first few days after the wedding ignoring Kyle. Regret and shame were the only company I had during my lonely lunch hour, eating soggy PB&J at my desk. I was so appalled by what I did that I couldn’t even text Clark for support because then I’d have to admit what I did. By Wednesday, I finally worked up the

courage to face him and apologize, but it looked like I was needlessly dodging him. Kyle was just as actively avoiding me. The breeze tugs at the hem of my pink sundress, and I tilt my head back to look up at my office building. Glass stretches up toward the sky, white puffy clouds reflecting off its surface. My thumb traces along the edge of the brown leather belt that wraps around my waist. Trying to pin down Kyle is like attempting to twist a doorknob with wet hands—frustrating, difficult, and nearly impossible. So, after receiving an e-mail

yesterday about rebooting and migrating servers this weekend (whatever that means), I devised a plan that involved showing up at the office on a Saturday, hoping he’d let me into the IT room to let me apologize, and if not, delivering my preplanned speech through the closed door. Even if the worst happens, I have dinner plans with Tara in half an hour so heading home to wallow some more isn’t an option. Pushing open the heavy door, I walk through the quiet lobby and depress the button for the elevator. When the doors open on my floor, I take a cautious step

out. It’s eerie being here when no one else is. All the lights are on, but other than the drone of the air-conditioning, it’s silent. I inch up to the IT-room door, surprised to find it slightly ajar. Leaning back against the wall, I take a deep breath. I know what I need to say, but I’m terrified that after I’ve finally gotten it out, I’ll be walking back out with a Kyle-shaped hole in my life. Taking a step closer, I peer around the doorjamb. Four monitors glow back at me, the back of Kyle’s head blotting out the majority of one. His fingers fly

across the keyboard, an assortment of green characters flashing across the screen that make about as much sense to me as an alien language. For all I know, he could be signaling to the mother ship right now. I step into the doorway, simultaneously giving a quick knock on the door and pushing it open. Kyle jumps, spinning around in his chair. His hand clenches the armrest, and his expression goes from startled to wary in a millisecond. “What are you doing here?” I shuffle forward. “I’ve been trying

to track you down, but you haven’t really been making it easy for me.” The chair squeaks as he leans back in it, and his gaze shifts away from me. I lace my fingers together, squeezing until my knuckles dig into my fingertips. “I’m not here to bother you, and I don’t want to take up your time, but I hope you’ll let me apologize for what happened last weekend.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I can’t stop worrying about it. What I did was inexcusable, and I can’t blame you for not wanting to speak to me.” I drop my eyes to the ground. “I just want

you to know that’s not why I asked you to come. I wanted you there because I wanted you there. Not because I was trying to prove a point, or anything like that. And I didn’t … I didn’t kiss you just because of Luke. I did it for me too.” A small line etches itself into Kyle’s forehead as his eyebrows pull together. “What are you talking about?” Words crash together in my brain as they fight for my attention, ricocheting off each other like shoppers exploding through the entrance of Wal-Mart on Black Friday. I planned exactly what I wanted to say, I just didn’t anticipate

him responding at all. “I may have been”—I wave my hands in front of me—“developing feelings for you for … quite a while.” I don’t have access to a mirror, but even without it I know I’m blushing. “Quite a while.” He says it so flatly I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement of disbelief. “Well, yeah, for a while. Since … well from the beginning really.” I shake my head. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make here. Look, what I did was inexcusable—” “You already said that.” His hand

drifts from the armrest to his thigh, sliding down his jeans. “Right, I did.” I try to run through the speech in my head, but I’m so flustered that I can’t remember anything I wanted to say. I latch on to the first errant thought that scurries through my brain. “I didn’t plan on kissing you at the wedding. I wanted to, in the moment and everything. And I’m glad I did, but I never wanted it to be like that.” “Like that.” His inflection is still the same, and without any sense of tone or physical reaction I’m really thrown off. “Well yeah. I mean it wasn’t

something you, uh, wanted to do. And well, I’ve had these feelings for you that wouldn’t go away, but obviously it wasn’t reciprocated. Also, Kerry. Who you like and had a good date with and sl —” I bite my lip to cut off my train of thought. Pushing up from his chair, Kyle pinches his lips together and takes a step toward me. “So, let me just make sure I have this straight. You’ve had feelings for me from the beginning but never said anything, then you were worried about another girl who I only went out with once, and then determined that I didn’t

feel the same about you based on one shitty kiss that you orchestrated just for your ex?” My heart thunders in my chest, and I have to swallow before I can answer him. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. “Well it wasn’t just the kiss. There were other … things.” “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” When he puts it that way it does sound really ridiculous, but it made sense at the time. “I just want you to know how sorry I am.” He pins me with his gaze so that it

feels like I’m glued to the wall behind me. “Stop being sorry.” Finally, the ending thread of my speech unravels in my mind and I blurt it out. “I hope we can still be friends.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be your friend, Haley.” Taking another step, he dips his head and his lips crash into mine. My purse clatters against the floor as my hands skim up his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he steps into me. My head slams up against the wall from the force of his kiss. I open my mouth to suck in a breath, and Kyle slips his tongue inside

without hesitation. This kiss is nothing like the one at the wedding. This kiss is eating me alive, burning me up from the inside out. His hands are on my face, my fingers are twisted in his hair. The rough fabric of his jeans scrapes against the bare skin on my legs, and I tighten my grip on him, dragging him down further so I can bite his lip. With a soft groan, he wraps his fingers around my shoulders and pushes me back. His lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown out behind the lenses of his glasses. A muscle bunches in his

cheek as he clenches his jaw. “Tell me again that I don’t feel anything for you.” My chest heaves as I try and catch my breath, and my heartbeat pulses across every inch of my skin. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that everything I’ve been looking for was right here all along. If only I’d been brave enough to reach out and grab it, to take a chance on Kyle. Kyle’s eyes lose some of their heat and dart away from mine, and as I feel him start to pull away, I tighten my hold on him. “Kiss me again.” Except I don’t give him a chance to

make the first move. Rocking up onto my toes, I suck his lower lip into my mouth. He sways forward into me, and the light switch digs into my shoulder as we crash back into the wall. I don’t care. With all these sensations coursing through me, I can barely feel it. His mouth detours from mine, grazing over the sensitive spot by my ear, tracing a path down my neck, slipping inside the collar of my dress. I can’t keep still. I slide my hands underneath his shirt, and his skin is warm underneath my palms. His muscles give an involuntary twitch as I scrape my

fingernails over his stomach. I groan as he pops open two buttons on the top of my dress, roughly shoving my bra to the side. His thumb rubs over my already hard nipple, and in the next instant, his tongue replaces it, swirling over the sensitive skin. I push up onto my toes, trying to give him better access, and I latch on to his hips trying to drag him closer. There’s too much extra space between us, too many layers separating our skin, too many spots where he’s not touching me. When I arch my back, the hard length of him presses into my stomach, and I

drop a hand to it, rubbing him through his jeans. His moan vibrates across my breast, sending shivers speeding over my skin. “God, Haley. Do you know how much I want you?” He glances up at me, his heart in his eyes. My heart is right there too, pinned to my sleeve, but I’m too scared to admit it to him. Instead, I show him what I can’t say by devouring him with my mouth, tilting his chin down so I can kiss him as deeply as I can possibly manage. Gripping me underneath my thighs, he lifts me up, and I lock my legs around

his waist. A second later, the cold surface of his desk is pressed against my skin, and it’s like sitting on ice cubes, because every part of me feels like it’s on fire. Kyle’s hand skims up my leg, edging underneath the hem of my dress. His finger brushes against the fabric of my panties, tracing around the elastic. Normally I’d like the teasing, appreciate that he’s taking it slow, but right now, slow is the last thing I want. There’s this crazy tension curling up inside of me, urging me to go faster, take more, demand what I want.

I squeeze my legs together, trapping his hand against me. Jerking on his belt, I tug it open. “Next time. Right now I just want you inside me.” Kyle’s mouth drops open, and if I didn’t feel the words coasting off my tongue, I wouldn’t believe I had the nerve to say that either. Gathering himself, he tosses his wallet on the desk next to me, and I shove his jeans down over his hips. My panties go next, then his boxer briefs. Sitting up straighter, I run my tongue over his chest and drop my hand lower. I wrap my fingers around him, stroking

from base to tip. “Ahhh … that’s…” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, trying to stifle a groan but failing. “There’s a, uh, condom in my wallet.” His fingers dig into the edge of the desk, the tendons in his forearms straining. I keep teasing him with one hand while I search out the condom with the other. When I’ve finally got it out, I rip open the packet and roll the condom down onto him. Grabbing me by the knees, he yanks me forward until my butt is hovering over the edge of the desk and my dress is

bunched up around my waist. I lean back on my elbows, hooking my foot behind his leg and urging him closer. He steps in between my thighs, but instead of taking me then and there, he drops his head down and tastes me with one long, smooth slide of his tongue. Involuntarily, my knees clamp together, smooshing his ears and knocking his glasses up on an odd angle. My head thumps back against the desk and I nearly bite clean through my tongue trying to stop myself from moaning shamelessly. When he slips a finger inside of me, stars burst behind my

eyelids and my thighs quiver. He works me over, setting a slow rhythm with his fingers and tongue that leaves me panting and writhing. Just when I feel like I’m about to burst apart at the seams, he lets up, and nips the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. He grins down at me, setting his glasses straight. “Don’t expect fair play when you play dirty.” Without warning, he grips me underneath my hips and slides inside me. This time I can’t prevent the moan that skates out over my lips. My heart races so hard it’s like a

miniature drum in my chest, trying to beat its way out. I curve my back up, lifting my hips so that I can meet his thrusts. Kyle’s head drops back, outlining the muscles in his neck. They work as he swallows, and the faintest gleam of sweat shines against his skin. Turning my head to the side, I let sensation overwhelm me—the cold desk against my upper thighs, the soft fabric of my dress against my stomach, my breasts, the feel of Kyle inside me, his fingers biting into my hips. One hand relinquishes its grip on me to drift down lower, and when he touches me right

where it counts, everything inside me splinters apart. The expression on his face tightens, and he leans forward on his elbows so he can pick up the pace. I wrap my hands around his shoulders, lifting my face up so I can kiss him with all that I have. His thrusts become more erratic and then he stills inside me, gasping into my mouth. One hand trails up over my neck, and wraps around the back of it, holding my lips to his. All of the urgency is gone, but the feelings aren’t. His lips play over mine in a slow, leisurely fashion, finally stopping with one lingering peck on my

lips. When he pulls back, a smile overtakes his face, lighting up his eyes. “I think working on the weekends just became my new favorite thing.”

Chapter 28

Kyle Holy. Shit. That was … amazing. Incredible. Actually, I’m not sure someone’s coined the right phrase to describe how good what just happened was. The strenuous activity is over, but my heart’s still working overtime. Flopping down into my chair, I scoot it over to where Haley’s still sitting on top of my

desk. I reach out and graze her hand with my fingertips. In response, she lifts it, letting me twine my fingers through hers. It’s such a small thing, tiny in comparison to what just happened on this desk, but in a way it’s so much more. That frantic, adrenaline-filled moment is over, and she’s still craving my touch. Sex will always be a huge deal, but in the big scheme of things, the casual, unremarkable moments can be equally life-changing. I blow out a breath. “Listen, there’s something I want to tell you.” Slowly, I

let my gaze coast over her thighs, up across her dress, to her eyes. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and nods, tensing. “I didn’t sleep with Kerry.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “You didn’t?” “No.” I shake my head. “The date was pretty much a bust from the beginning and we both knew it. The only reason I actually heard from her again was because I agreed to help her with a computer problem and I forgot my jacket at the coffee shop.” Heat floods my cheeks with my next admission. “Kerry

and I never even had a chance because I spent the entire night thinking about you.” Haley sucks in a deep breath and pinches her lips together. “When we were shopping that day, I saw the text message she sent you. I didn’t mean to read it, but I did, and well, it wasn’t too hard for my brain to make a leap about what happened that night. And it wasn’t even so much that you slept with her, but that I thought that you lied to me about it.” She lifts a hand to rub over her face. “Luke and I, neither one of us wanted to talk about our past. Which was all fine

and good until the past reappeared in the present. Before me, he … got around. I accepted that the version of Luke I was dating wasn’t that guy anymore, but a part of me felt like I never knew the real him. And then after everything with Sloane, let’s just say I have a few trust issues.” I slip my other hand behind her knee and drag myself a little closer. The wheels of my chair scratch against the floor. “Well, if we’re talking about trust issues.” Tugging my hand from hers, I swipe through my hair and then clench my

hands together in my lap. “I’ve only ever had one serious relationship. We dated for a few years at college and then right after. Her name was Stacy, and she was…” I rack my brain, trying to think of how I used to see her before everything turned more sour and rotten than a six-month-old gallon of milk. “She was striking. The type of girl that walks in a room and immediately demands everyone’s attention, you know?” Something flashes in Haley’s eyes, but she looks away before I can decipher it. “Yeah, I know.”

“The entire time we dated, I felt like I didn’t deserve her, that there was some cosmic screw-up that landed her with me. So, I did everything I could to keep her happy. In college, I helped her with her homework, later I took her out to fancy dinners, bought her presents. Everything and anything I could think of. “I thought it was the real deal. My heart was all-in. And then, being the overzealous boyfriend I was, I showed up to one of our dates early. She was chatting with her roommate, oblivious that I’d shown up. The door was cracked open just enough that their voices snuck

through.” Even after all this time, I can still hear her voice. It’s like my brain recorded the damn conversation so I can replay it at times like this to torture myself. Or to kick myself when I’m feeling really shitty. Hopping off the desk, Haley curls herself in my lap without a word. She tucks her feet up next to my leg and rests her head against my shoulder, her nose snuggling in against the base of my throat. I wrap my arms around her, one hand on the curve of her waist, the other on

her shin. My stomach clenches, like it’s trying to digest razor blades. “Stacy was telling her roommate about her boyfriend, her real boyfriend who took her out the night before. They laughed about the geek who thought he was dating her, the one she was just using for the boost to her grades, the free meals, and expensive gifts.” Haley stiffens in my arms and sits up straighter so she can look me in the eye. “And after the wedding you thought…” Her hand drifts up to cup my cheek. “Kyle, I would never do that.” She drops her head into her hands, digging

the heels of her hands into her forehead. “I just wanted them all to back off and leave me alone. The whole night was like rubbing salt into an open wound, and I saw them watching me and I thought, well, if they won’t believe what I’m saying, maybe I can show them. And you were right in front of me and I’d been thinking about kissing you since I saw you standing inside my apartment and—” “Hey.” Wrestling one of her hands into mine, I draw it up to my lips and kiss her smack-dab in the center of her palm. “I think we’re a little past that,

right?” Her face softens, and her mouth kicks up at one corner. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She relaxes, and eases against me. One finger traces patterns—swirls and tiny hearts—against the fabric of my shirt, and damn if I’m not almost ready for another round. Somewhere from near the door, a phone starts ringing, like one of those old rotary phones. It echoes so loudly around the room it’s like the noise is coming from inside my brain. Instantly my brain is catapulted to another phone that’s sitting a few feet

away on my desk. A phone that holds a dozen conversations between Lois and Clark. I hate lying to her, even if it’s just by omission, but I can’t tell her. What way could I possibly tell her that would make her not hate me? That would make her not walk out this door and never come back? My train of thought gets interrupted as Haley claps a hand to her mouth and jumps to her feet. “Crap! What time is it?” She dives for her bag and whips out her phone without waiting for me to answer. “Hey, I’m so sorry.” A pause. “No, it’s totally my fault. Just give me

fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.” An even longer pause. “I promise I didn’t forget about you, I’m on my way.” My spirits dip and my heart plummets back to Earth from where it’d been soaring through the stratosphere. Haley rushes around the room— straightening her dress, slipping her sandals back on, gathering up her purse. She turns to me and grimaces. “I’m sorry to run out on you like this, but I have plans tonight, otherwise I’d stay.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Do you have a date tonight?” “A date?” It takes a few seconds

before understanding washes over her. “The phone call? No, no. I’m having dinner with Tara. There’s only one person I want to go out with.” She presses her lips together. “I mean, if that’s what you want.” “This is what I want—you, us.” I pause to try and corral my thoughts. “I don’t want to see other people. Will you be my girlfriend, Haley?” It sounded much cooler in my head, but now that I’ve actually said it, it sounds incredibly corny and juvenile. I might as well have just asked her to go steady with me. For every second that

passes before she answers me, my heart must pound a hundred times. In fact, if she takes much longer to answer me it might explode from the extra effort. She takes two steps toward me and wraps her arms around my waist, tipping her chin up so she can meet my eyes. “Kyle, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Chapter 29

Haley The air-conditioning whirs above me, teasing out a few strands of hair from the knot on top of my head. I wrap my button-down sweater a little closer around my body and cross my legs, trying to hold on to the warmth. It’s eighty degrees and wonderfully sunny outside, but you’d never know it in here. I sort through a few new e-mails,

marking one from Mr. March to follow up on later. As I’m scooting the mouse over to open my documents, my sleeve catches on something. Frowning down at it, I twist my wrist away from whatever it is. A small folded corner of notebook paper peeks out from underneath my mouse pad. Taking a quick look around, I pull it out and unfold it. Neat block handwriting in black ink stares back at me. Have dinner with me tonight?

A grin overtakes my face. My expression immediately shifts to a polite smile when a hand gives a quick knock on the top of my cubicle. Spinning to my left, I simultaneously crumple the note in my hand. “Haley. You have a minute?” Mr. March smooths his thumb and forefinger over his thick black mustache. “Of course.” I sit a little straighter in my chair. “What can I help you with?” He chuckles a little. “It’s not so much a matter of what you can help me with, but what I might be able to offer you. I’m sure you realize there’s a little bit less

than a month left on your contract?” My mouth has the urge to drop open, but I manage to clamp my teeth together to keep it in place. I absolutely had not been counting down the days like I had with some of my other temp jobs. With the avalanche of distractions I’ve had lately, it’s been the last thing on my mind. Rather than tell him that, I give him a curt, professional nod. “Right, right.” He clears his throat and laces his fingers together, resting his clasped hands on top of my cubicle wall. “You’ll be getting something formal from

HR in the next week or two, and I should probably have some pretty speech planned out to try and woo you, but I think by now you know that’s not how I operate. Fact is, you’re a hard worker. You get your work done in a timely and efficient manner, and I like to think we work pretty well together. What I’m getting at is that we’d be damn pleased to have you join the team permanently if that’s something you’re interested in. There’ll be a raise, PTO, all the bells and whistles.” He swats his hand through the air like he’s swiping at an annoying insect, then points at me. “You

think about it, and when the time comes, you let me know.” “Thank you, sir.” He snorts. “Haven’t I told you to stop it with that ‘sir’ business?” I smile up at him. “Yes, sir, you have.” His eyes all but disappear as his cheeks bunch up in a grin. He pats my cube one more time before sauntering away. It’s not the first time one of my temp jobs has offered to take me on. But it’s probably the first time I’m actually considering it. I like Mr. March, and I’m

good at what I’m doing. Having Kyle here is definitely a bonus, but will it become a problem? I don’t have a clue what the policy is on workplace dating, and other than our spontaneous encounter in the IT room, we’ve been incredibly discreet. Speaking of discreet. I unclench my fingers and retrieve the mangled piece of paper. Spreading it out on my desk, I try to smooth out the wrinkles. Once it’s as good as it’s going to get, I fold it cleanly in half and slip it into my purse. Ripping out a piece of notebook

paper, I scissor off the top and scribble my response in the little rectangle. Only if we can do dessert afterwards. At my place.

I blush as I reread it and quickly fold it up before I can change my mind. Now the only problem is getting it to Kyle without him spotting me. Stupid locked room. Shielding the note in my hand, I casually stroll over to the IT room and peek through the little window in the door. Empty. With a quick look in either direction to make sure the coast is clear, I lean down and slide it under the door.

Hurrying away, I round a corner and slam to a halt. Kyle stands at the outer edge of Sabrina’s cube, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing through the air. Whatever he says makes her laugh, and for a brief instant my stomach cramps. Between one breath and the next my vision blurs, and I’m bombarded with snippets of all the times Luke watched Sloane when he thought I wasn’t looking, all the times he forgot to guard his expression from giving too much away. I blink hard to banish them back into the recesses of my memory. Sucking in a steadying breath, I remind myself that

Kyle isn’t Luke, and I push the sick feeling away. I know I have nothing to be jealous over. A split second later, Kyle’s gaze darts over to me. Worry clouds his features, but immediately evaporates when I give my head a slight shake and smile at him. The corner of his mouth tips up, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to hide it. I carry my smile all the way to my desk. I’ve only been there a few minutes when my phone vibrates, buzzing against my desk. Kyle: I was reading a magazine the

other day (a very manly magazine btw) that said girls love spontaneity. And notes. Glad to see their suggestions panned out. Although, this plan did violate the three day rule so it had me a little worried. My stomach muscles tense as I hold back my laughter. Me: I guess you’re just lucky I’m flexible. Kyle: Hmm, I feel like you’re trying to set me up with that one, so I’m gonna skim right over it. How’s seven tonight? Me: Perfect.

* * * Kyle’s knock on the door coincides

almost exactly with the hour hand ticking over to the seven. I bite the inside of my cheek to try and hide my amusement. He does no such thing, and practically knocks me over with the force of his smile when I open the door. The tips of his dark hair are damp and he smells like soap—those are the only two details I manage to process before he wraps his arms around me and drops his lips to mine. He kisses me like the world is ending and we’ve only got a few minutes left to live. I wrap my fingers around his biceps to steady myself and finally let my smile overtake

my face when he pulls back. “Sorry,” he says. “I just still can’t believe that I’m allowed to do that.” I poke him in the nose. “Not only are you allowed, but you’re encouraged to do it, too.” He chuckles, the sound of it vibrating through me. “I’ll keep that in mind, but for now, we have a date and—” He glances down and frowns. When he steps back from me, something crinkles. That something is plastic that’s wrapped around a bouquet of peonies that are a little worse for the wear. Pale pink petals decorate the carpet beneath our

feet. With his empty hand, he slips his fingers underneath his glasses so he can rub his eyes. “Well, we’re already off to a great start I see.” “You mean you bringing me my favorite flowers before our first official date as a couple? You’re right, that is a very good start.” I take the rumpled flowers from him and bring them to the kitchen to put them in some water. “So, how’d you know? That they’re my favorite I mean?” “What, you don’t believe in coincidence?” He leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing his feet at the

ankles. I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine.” He heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I asked Tara.” Something about the fact that he cares enough to seek out my best friend to ask her my favorite flower does funny things to my stomach. It feels like someone’s turning it inside out and upside down and shaking it for good measure. “So, dinner?” “Yes, dinner. I thought we could ride together. Ya know, save some money on gas, do a favor to the environment.” He

winks at me. “Plus, I’ve heard you have a penchant for getting locked out of your car, so I’m really just suggesting it for your own good.” I laugh and roll my eyes at him. “Well, how can I say no to that brilliant logic?”

Chapter 30

Kyle The streetlights are just winking on when we pull into the parking lot of Blossom. The breeze smells like flowers and sunshine, and the crickets are just warming up for their first performance. I hold Haley’s hand the entire trip into the restaurant and all the way to our seats. Sitting down in that booth and having to let go of her—it sucks. Not in an I’m-so-

possessive-I-don’t-want-you-out-of-mysight kinda way, but more of an I-can’tget-enough-of-this way. I order my dinner and train all my focus on making sure this date goes well. “So, anything new with you?” Lame. So lame, Kyle. “You mean since we had lunch this afternoon?” Haley lifts her eyebrows at me and takes a pull of her diet soda. “Oh, well actually, Mr. March told me they’re going to offer me a permanent position.” “Really? That’s fantastic.” The thought of seeing Haley every day for the

indefinite future shoots an injection of pure excitement straight into my veins. “What’d you tell him? Are you gonna take it?” She swirls the ice in her glass with her straw, dropping her eyes to the table. “I’m not sure. I mean … would it be a problem?” The corner of my mouth quirks. “You mean is it difficult to see you every day at work and not want to drag you back into the IT room for an encore performance? Yeah, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done actually. I’m not sure I’d really call it

problematic though.” She swats me halfheartedly. “I was talking about having to hide our relationship at work because I’m not sure we’re even allowed to date each other.” “There’s no policy against dating coworkers.” I scratch a hand through my hair. “But if things didn’t end up working out between us, that could be a little awkward.” Haley’s hand sneaks across the table until she can reach mine. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.” My voice comes out less steady than

I planned. “Me either.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. And even though I can tell she’s worried about something, a part of me can’t stop thinking about her mouth. About how good she tastes and how much I want this damn dinner to be over with so I can taste her again. “Listen,” she says. “I don’t know about you, but this isn’t really like a second date for me. It feels more like we’ve jumped right into date eight or ten. And I don’t just mean what happened at the office.” She flashes a grin at me, and her cheeks flush pink. “I

guess what I’m trying to say is this isn’t some casual thing to me. I really care about you.” I open my mouth, but absolutely nothing comes out. That’s probably because I can’t even breathe. My chest burns and my heart squeezes like someone’s using it as a stress ball. Despite the fact that this is all mildly painful, it’s also a really great thing because it keeps me from doing something incredibly stupid. That stupid thing being me telling her that I’m in love with her. And damn it all to hell, I am so in

love with her. It’s not even something that’s been creeping up on me. It didn’t blindside me or take me by surprise. No, falling in love with Haley was inevitable, predictable, unavoidable. I saw it bearing down on me like an oncoming train, speeding toward me from the moment I met her. My only fear is that one day that train’s going to run me over and absolutely ruin me. I try my best to downplay the emotions that are clashing together inside me. “I, well um, I might have some feelings for you too.”

“Just some feelings?” A playful smile sweeps across her lips. Oh good, she thinks I’m being deliberately coy. “Maybe a few.” She gives a tiny shake of her head, and her gaze drops to my mouth. My. Mouth. Like she’s thinking about kissing me. I’ve never hated a piece of furniture as much as I hate this stupid expanse of fake wood that’s separating us right now. I’m actually considering flagging down our waitress and asking for the check right this minute because in comparison, my need to kiss Haley completely trumps my desire to eat.

Except, our waitress chooses that moment to show up with our food. Crap. Haley grins down at her plate of food like everything I was just thinking shone across my face like a movie screen. As Brian has reminded me more than once, I have a glass face, so yeah, I’m probably not hiding all that much from her. Cutting into my chicken, I mentally calculate how quickly I can chow down my dinner without choking on it. Four minutes. Five tops. Although, me shoveling food into my mouth probably

won’t be all that attractive, so maybe I should take a little more time than that. Alright, I can stretch it out to eight minutes. As I slide my first forkful of rice into my mouth, something brushes lightly against my ankle. A second later, I feel it again. I dart a glance across the table at Haley, but she’s staring intently at her plate. The corner of her mouth twitches. Catching me watching her, she flicks her eyes up to mine. “What?” “Nothing.” I shake my head, restraining my smile. I inch my foot closer to hers until I

feel the sole of my shoe bump hers. Another two bites of my dinner find their way to my mouth before she nudges me back. I’m at a pretty significant disadvantage at this game. With a layer of socks and my dress shoes covering my feet, there’s not a whole lot of sexy I can make work with that. My fork slips from my fingers and clatters against my plate when Haley’s toes edge underneath the hem of my pants and graze bare skin. Her eyes twinkle at me, but her mouth is hidden behind her napkin. It’s one of those moments when

everything feels right in the world. Like everything has shifted neatly into place and is exactly how it’s supposed to be. The image of her there, that look in her eye, it brands itself into my brain so deeply I know that I’ll remember it until the day I die. Right then and there I send a silent thank you out into the void to her ex, for fucking things up between them so that I could have this moment with her. Folding her napkin and setting it next to her plate, Haley lifts one delicate brow at me. “You know, I’m actually feeling pretty full. I’m thinking about

taking the rest of my dinner to go.” I glance down at my food that’s barely been touched due to Haley’s distractions. “Funny. I had the same thought. I was actually considering saving the rest for … later?” I keep my face expressionless, but inside my heart is trembling, and tiny beads of sweat pop up on my forehead. Does she want there to be a later? I’m not going to push her into having sex with me again if she isn’t ready, but it’s definitely on the table if she wants to. “These leftovers would make an excellent midnight snack.”

Footsteps near our table, heels clicking across the wood floor. “How is everything going over here? Is there anything I can get—” Our answers come at the same time. “The check.” The waitress probably makes some strange face at us, but I’m too busy looking at Haley. Each tick of the minute hand is agonizingly long as I pay for dinner, stroll back to the car with Haley, and drive her home. In reality it’s not even half an hour, but by the time Haley unlocks her front door and attacks my

mouth, it feels like an entire lifetime has passed. She kicks off her shoes as we stumble backward, and I nearly trip on them trying to keep up with her. That’s all I need to do—accidentally tackle her to the ground and break one of her ribs or something. I wrap an arm around her back to keep us both steady, and she slips a hand underneath the back of my shirt. Her fingernails graze my skin and I suck in a quick breath. A groan pushes its way out of me and I tug her a little closer until she’s intimately aware of

how turned on I am. She retreats another step, taking me with her, and bumps into an end table. The lamp tilts heavily to the left and it’s only by sheer luck that I’m able to make a grab for it and stop it from tumbling to the floor. “Whoops.” Haley laughs and wrinkles her nose. She takes my moment’s worth of distraction and drops a kiss onto the corner of my jaw, and her hands glide around my rib cage until they’re resting on my shoulders. Her tongue licks a line down my neck, and holy shit. My pants have been uncomfortably tight all night, but they

just got a hell of a lot tighter. In the dim lighting of the apartment, I try to direct her around the couch. We weave across the room like a pair of drunken idiots, too intent on kissing each other senseless to pay attention to where we’re going. When Haley slips her hands into my back pockets and squeezes my ass, I rock into her, and take two quick steps forward until she’s pressed up against the kitchen island. I slip the white strap of her tank top down her shoulder, kissing my way south until I meet the soft fabric of her strapless bra. In the brief moment it

takes me to grasp the cup and pull it down, I try to gather myself. My thoughts are hazy, my sensations on overload, and everything inside me is racing forward. Every time I get my hands on Haley, things start spiraling out of control. As much as I want to slow down and savor the taste of her, I’m not sure I can wait. Rubbing my hand over her breast, I trace a small circle around her nipple with the tip of my tongue. Her chest heaves underneath me like she’s having trouble breathing, and when I glance up at her, she’s got one hand gripping the edge of the counter and her cheek resting

against her shoulder, her lips pressing together. I watch her as I tease her with a mix of tongue and teeth. Her hips buck up against me and she bites her lower lip. With my other hand, I skate over the soft fabric of her skirt until I can bunch it in my hand. I tug it up, searching for bare skin. While I continue to play with her breast, I slide my fingers up the inside of her thigh. My fingers brush against the outside of her panties and she lets out a gasp. I’ve always been pretty decent at the bedroom games, probably because I

spend more time researching the best way to get women off than I’d like to admit, but there’s something about Haley that makes me feel like a sex god. And it’s not just that she gives me confidence in my abilities to rock her world; she makes me forget who I am, who I’m supposed to be. With her I’m the guy who makes her blush. I’m the guy who makes her skin shiver and her knees quake and her mouth moan in the most delicious way. When I slip my finger inside her panties so I can touch her, her other hand flies back onto the island, looking for

something to grab on to. But instead of finding anything, she nails the vase of peonies. The clear glass wobbles on the counter and then tips over. The rim makes a pinging noise when it hits the countertop, but luckily doesn’t break. Water surges out, spilling all over the floor and soaking a pile of paperwork on the counter. “Crap!” Haley makes a grab for the vase and sets it back up. Reluctantly, I extract myself from our entangled position, taking care to slip her strap back up onto her shoulder and cover her up. Haley flips on the lights,

which makes me blink, and my first move is to readjust my pants before I make my way toward the paper towels. She holds up the paperwork, or as I can now see, mail. “I’m so sorry. God I am such a klutz sometimes.” I drop down to my knees to soak up some of the mess. “It’s fine. Just a brief intermission.” I flick my gaze up to her, and our eyes lock. The air around us seems to crackle, and frankly I’m a little surprised that with all the heat in the room the puddle on the floor isn’t evaporating. Haley blows out a breath. “This

thing between us, it’s…” Rip-your-clothes-off heartstoppingly fantastic? But I don’t have to say it. I know she feels it, from the way the sexual tension is pulsing through the air. I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it is.” For a second she looks relieved, like she isn’t sure I’m feeling the same thing. I’m half tempted to show her just how much the same thing is eating me up inside, right here on this kitchen counter, and save the cleanup for later. Haley clears her throat, interrupting my erotic daydream. “Is it … is it

always like this for you when you’re, um, with someone?” It’s so absurd that I have to laugh. “I’m not sure how many women you actually think I’ve been with, but it’s never been quite like this.” I wad the wet paper towels in my hand and toss them in the garbage. Then, after I make sure that she’s looking at me again, I say, “I can’t stop wanting you.” She blinks, but not a single muscle in her face twitches. “Do you want to?” “No. Hell no.” She drops her eyes to the envelopes in her hand, and even though she’s not

looking at me, I can see the tension ease out of her shoulders. Ripping off a few more paper towels, I finish sopping up the rest of the damage. When I stand back up, envelopes are fanned out across the counter like Haley dropped them. Clenched between trembling fingers is a small envelope. Her face is nearly as white as the stationery. “Haley?” She glances up at me—eyes wide and confused. “It’s an invitation. To my sister’s baby shower.” Her hand reaches toward me, offering it up so that I can

see it myself. It’s one of those grocery-store invitations with messy handwriting spelling out all the pertinent details. A tiny yellow duck is centered on the top with little blue bubbles swirling out on either side. Strangely, the bottom half seems to be sliced off at an upward angle, clipping off the RSVP information. “This is good, right?” She leans on the counter and covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Dropping the invitation back on the counter, I slip my arms around her,

tucking her against my chest and resting my chin on top of her head. Slowly, she circles her arms around me, and then pulls me to her even tighter. We stay like that for a while—not speaking, not moving. As much as I was ready and raring to go a few minutes ago, the urgency has faded. I’d be more than happy to spend the entire night standing here, letting her lean on me. “Kyle?” She says it softly, but it’s so quiet in the kitchen it comes out almost like a shout. “Yeah?” “The party, will you go with me?”

She asks just as quietly. “Of course I will.” I don’t even hesitate. Inside my heart is paralyzed with shock, because holy crap this is a huge deal. I know what it means for her to ask me, and the feeling that’s spreading through me is a thousand times better than if I’d just gotten laid. She pushes against my chest, and quickly swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I sure know how to kill the mood, huh?” “Don’t worry about it.” I glance back at the clock. Not even ten. “Do you want to be alone? ’Cause I can go if you—”

“No.” She shakes her head and slips her fingers through mine. “Stay.”

Chapter 31

Haley “Maybe I shouldn’t go.” I saw my bottom lip between my teeth. Tara drops her head and muffles her groan of frustration in my comforter. When she pops back up, her hair frizzes in a hundred different directions. “I am not having this conversation with you again.” “But what if they don’t want me

there?” I can see it in my mind. Everyone gathered together outside, balloons dancing on the warm summer air, plastic tablecloths pinned to the tables by plates and presents. They’re laughing and joking—until they see me. Tara stretches back so she can pluck the invitation from my nightstand. She waves it at me. “Then why would they have sent this?” “Maybe she just wants me to send a present.” “To where? You don’t have her address and there was no return address on the envelope.”

“I could buy something off the registry and they’ll ship it to her.” “There is. No. Registry.” “Ugh.” I flop down onto the bed next to her. “Why would she chop off the RSVP section?” She lays her hand on my forearm and squeezes. “You know why.” Of course I do. She either doesn’t want to know if I’m coming, or she didn’t want me calling whoever was throwing the shower. Probably my mom. Which means my mom doesn’t know I’m coming and almost definitely doesn’t want me there. But Beth does. Otherwise

she wouldn’t have sent the invitation. Unless Beth didn’t send the invitation. What if one of her friends stuck it in the mail and Beth didn’t know I got the invitation either? I tap my fist against my forehead. “I need some Aleve.” Rolling off the bed, I take care of my headache issue, and take a quick gulp of Pepto-Bismol for good measure. While I’m in the bathroom, I peek at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are pale and my smile’s strained, but at least I managed to hide the little bags underneath my eyes with some concealer.

Twisting to the side, I eye my dress. I’d debated on what to wear for hours— nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive, nothing too revealing, nothing too demure. In the end I settled on a purple and yellow paisley dress I’ve owned forever. The colors are soft and faded, the fabric silky against my skin. I run the brush through my hair one last time for good measure, then sweep my long hair behind my shoulders. My cell phone sits on the corner of the counter, practically calling my name. Without thinking too much about it, I pick it up and type out a quick message to

Clark. Me: I’m going to my sister’s baby shower today. An invitation appeared in the mail, but all the RSVP information was cut off. I don’t know who sent it. I don’t know whether my mom really wants me there or my sister either. I have no idea how they’re going to react to seeing me. I’m kinda freaking out a little. Talk me off the ledge?

I drop my head into my hands and blow out a breath. I’ve been trying to relax practically since I got the invitation in the mail. But as many deepbreathing exercises as I’ve tried or yoga

DVDs I’ve forced myself to do, nothing’s working. My phone buzzes. Clark: Well, someone sent the invitation, right? So that means there’s at least one person who wants you to show up today. Me: Alright, that’s helping. What else do you have?

His response is almost immediate. Clark: How about some guided imagery? Where’s your favorite place to go? Somewhere that calms you, relaxes you?

Me: What’s yours?

Deflecting the question to give myself time to think, I tap my fingers against the counter as I consider his question. I’m not sure it’s exactly the place he means, since I’ve gone there to do some heavy thinking and make some tough decisions, but if there’s one place on this planet I can call “my spot,” I know where it would be. Clark: My happy place is with my family, but somehow I doubt that would work for you.

His answer makes me laugh, and I really needed that right now. Me: For me it’s the beach. But not just any stretch of sand. There’s this one spot that’s secluded, almost always empty, really only known by locals. It’s always just me, and the sand, and the sea. It’s beautiful. Clark: Alright, well when you start to climb out on that ledge again, picture yourself there. Hear the ocean, smell the salty air, run your fingers through the sand. I know it sounds ridiculously corny, but it works. I promise.

I send him one last message:

Me: You’re the best.

With my phone in my hand and my smile sitting easier on my face, I head back into my bedroom. Tara’s exactly where I left her, sprawled out across my bed, feet dangling off the edge. She twists her head toward me at the sound of my footsteps. “I’m really proud of you, you know.” “For what?” She scoots into a sitting position and crosses her legs underneath her. “For going. For spilling all the details to Kyle. For really giving him a chance.

For finally giving up this nonsense about needing to be more like Sloane.” Have I given up on trying to be like her? I rack my brain trying to figure out when I stopped. It only takes glancing down at my dress to see that it’s at least partially true, but it’s not so much that I stopped trying as I finally wasn’t afraid to be myself. Kyle is the first person I’ve really let see me—the whole me. And as terrifying as it is to let him in that deep, I know I can trust him with it. Nothing in my life has ever brought me to life the way that being around Kyle does. “I have to tell you,” Tara goes on,

“after everything that went down with Luke, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to open up again and risk getting hurt.” I lean against my dresser and trace a fingernail over the wood grain. “I’m afraid.” I flash a small smile at her. “I never gave this much of myself to Luke, never let him see this much of me. So, if things go south with Kyle—” I shake my head. “—I think it’ll be worse because he’ll be rejecting all of me.” “Sweetie.” Tara gives me her sad puppy-dog eyes. Turning around, I give her a halfhearted shrug. It’s time to change the

subject. “So, are you all packed?” She sighs—not at her lack of packing, but that I’m redirecting our talk. “You know I am. You watched me shovel all the clothes right out of the dryer and into my enormous suitcase.” I cringe, thinking of all those wrinkled clothes. “What time are you leaving again?” “Well, I wanted to head to the airport at eleven, but Delia insisted that if our flight left at one, that we needed to leave at ten.” Tara glances over her shoulder at my alarm clock. “So, in like fifteen minutes. What time is Kyle coming to get

you?” A knock echoes through the apartment. “That’s him now.” I blow out a breath, hoping I can exhale some of my nervousness with it. But instead of flying away, my nerves congeal into a tangled mass in the pit of my stomach like a solid knot of twisted rubber bands. Tara slips her arms around my neck, the scent of her sunflower shampoo tickling my nose. “You’re gonna be fine.” She sandwiches my cheeks between her hands. “If nothing else, this will give you the closure you need,

right?” Can I do that? Finally walk away and let them go if this whole thing blows up in my face? “Yeah, maybe.” Looping my fingers through the handles of the yellow gift bag I picked out, I scoop up my purse with my other hand and go answer the door. “Hey.” Kyle jingles his keys in his hand. “You ready?” Tara walks up behind me and bumps me with her hip. “She’s ready.” I turn to her. “You’ll text me when you land.” “The very second our wheels touch

down in Honolulu.” “Alright.” I glance up at Kyle. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” * * * I should have stuck a paper bag in my purse. Every mile closer we creep, anxiety circles up my throat—tightening, squeezing. My heart’s pounding so rapidly that I’m starting to feel lightheaded. Kyle glances at me. “So, what’s in the bag?” “The bag?” I don’t really have a paper bag, do I?

He gestures between my feet, the sleeve of his green polo riding up his biceps. “The gift bag?” “Right.” I force myself to swallow. “Um, it’s some onesies, gender-neutral of course, and a gift card to Babies ‘R’ Us.” A sudden thought pops into my brain. “You don’t think a hundred-dollar gift card is too much, right?” “I don’t think—” My brain’s not even processing that he’s speaking. “Dammit. We need to find another Babies ‘R’ Us so I can get something less. Maybe fifty dollars would have been better?” I dig through

my purse, nearly upending it trying to find my phone. “Haley. Haley.” Kyle wraps his fingers around my wrist. He divides a glance between me and the road. “Take a deep breath for me.” I inhale through my nose until it feels like my lungs are going to explode. Then I close my eyes and let my breath burst out my mouth. Following Clark’s advice, I picture myself at the beach, pretending I can hear the rhythmic crash of the waves against the packed sand. I keep the process up until the calm I always get from visiting there starts to spread

across me. After a few minutes of it, I let my eyes flutter open just in time to see the town sign: Welcome to Cedar Creek, population 2,176. The last time I passed this sign, tears were streaming down my face, watering the holey cloth interior of my Camry, my bags tossed haphazardly across the backseat. Bile burns in my throat, but I choke it back I down. “Stop! Pull over!” The brakes squeal as he slams on them, and I’m thrown into my door as he swerves to the side of the road. A cloud of dirt brushes past my window.

“What? What’s the matter?” Kyle reaches for me, but gets all tangled up in his seat belt. “Are you alright?” He curses and finally manages to get the thing unbuckled. I shake my head. “I can’t … I can’t…” His hands cup my cheeks. “Hey, you don’t have to—” “No, it’s not…” I thump my head back against the headrest and squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t let you go with me without telling you what I did.” “What do you mean?” Running my tongue over my lips, I try

and figure out how I’m going to tell him something I’ve never told another soul in the world. “Haley,” he whispers, drawing my attention to him. His eyes lock on to mine, holding me in place. “You can trust me.” He wants me to tell him. Wants me to open up and lay the deepest, darkest secrets of my heart in his hands. I want to, I so want to, but I’m terrified that once he’s seen exactly who I am, he’ll decide I’m not worth it after all. I push down my fear and start at the beginning. “Growing up, my family

never had a lot of money. We lived in this tiny two-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town.” I gesture in the general direction where I assume the red brick building still stands. “When I was ten, my dad was in a really serious car accident. He had to have spinal surgery, and afterward there was never a day he wasn’t in pain.” When I close my eyes, I can still see the rows of prescription pills that marched across our bathroom counter. “Things got really tight after that. We were trying to scrape by on his disability checks and Mom’s measly pay from her shifts at McDonald’s. There

were some nights where the only thing we had to eat were instant mashed potatoes or a can of baked beans. Sometimes there was so little in the pantry that I ate nothing at all just so Beth didn’t have to go to bed hungry.” I can’t look at Kyle, don’t want to see the pity in his eyes. “From then on I decided that I wanted out. I knew that I never wanted my life to be like that. So, I swore off guys. No dating, no sex, no chance of a teenage pregnancy like my mom when she got pregnant with me. Everything I did was about getting the best grades I could and searching out

every single scholarship I could find. “Three weeks before I graduated, my mom found out she was pregnant again. An accident, obviously. She wanted…” I bite my tongue to try and hold the tears at bay. “She told me that I had to rescind my acceptance to the college I’d chosen. That I needed to enroll at the local community college and get a full-time job so I could help support the family and the new baby.” The scene plays out in my mind again —the screaming, her slapping me across the face when I refused, the cold look in her eyes as she leveled a finger at the

door and told me to get out. A warm tear coats my lips, tasting of salt. I finally glance up at Kyle. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. I knew that if I stayed I’d never get out and I just—” Kyle reaches over the center console and wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his neck, sobbing. My whole body convulses as I fight my way through it, reliving the whole thing over again. His fingers thread through my hair, sliding from the top of my head down to the back of my skull. He makes small shushing noises in my ear, waiting it out

until I’m calm enough to speak again. I swipe away the tears from underneath my eyes, sure my makeup has gone down the crapper. Sniffling, I force myself to look up at him, already cringing at how he’s probably taking this. One hand strokes down my arm. “Thank you for telling me.” I blink at him. “That’s it? You don’t think I’m the worst person to ever walk the planet?” “No.” He sighs and shifts a little, the leather groaning underneath him. “Look, the whole thing completely sucks. Your

mom asked you to give up your dream. She never should have done that. Even if it was the best thing for your family, it wasn’t the best thing for you. You were only a kid, Haley.” “Yeah.” I snort. “A kid who thinks she’s better than everyone else.” “Is that what she said to you?” I glance out the window and nod, watching a car whiz by us, the taillights fading in the distance. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting something better for yourself.” “I did send them money.” I run a hand down my leg. “I worked my ass off,

taking classes and holding down a job. Every time I got paid I’d send them a check for half of what I earned. In the beginning she cashed them. And then she stopped. I called, but no one would answer. I left messages, but they never called back.” “Well, then it sounds to me like you did everything you could to make things right.” I tip my face toward him. “It wasn’t enough. I was never enough.”

Chapter 32

Kyle It isn’t until I pull up at the curb and throw the car in park that it dawns on me that I’m at a baby shower. Me, a guy, attending a baby shower. This isn’t going to be awkward at all. One look at Haley reminds me exactly why I’m here and why I couldn’t care less about walking into an embarrassing situation. I glance at her out of the corner of my

eye. She grips the gift bag in her hands, her knuckles turning white from how hard she’s squeezing it. I follow her gaze out the window to the small house we’re parked in front of. It’s light blue with darker blue shutters, and a small concrete path winds its way from the street to the steps that lead to the front door. Neatly trimmed bushes sit underneath two windows on the front of the house, dotted with purple flowers. On either side, I catch a glimpse of a chain-link fence that seems to stretch out and circle the backyard. A trio of pink balloons strain against a thick cord of

ribbon that’s wrapped around the gate to the right. “I can do this,” Haley whispers under her breath. “I can do this.” A minute ticks by but she still hasn’t moved. I clear my throat. “You know, Brian has this trick he taught me. I know it may be hard to believe, but I get a little nervous when it comes to the fairer sex and, umm, asking them out and everything.” A small smile plays her about her lips, clueing me in to the fact that I’m getting through to her. I go on, “When I get unbearably nervous, I try

and think of the worst-case scenario. Like literally, what is the absolutely worst way things could go right now?” “Huh.” She sucks in her lower lip while she thinks. “I guess the worst thing would be my mom freaking out on me for being here. She’ll yell, cause a scene, and we’ll turn around and leave. Except this time when I leave I’ll know that’s it’s over for good—my relationship with my family that is.” I so did not think this through. “Oh, uh, well…” I scratch my temple with my pointer finger. “This may not be the best exercise for this situation. See

normally, I realize that the worst thing I can imagine isn’t really all that terrible and is worth the risk, but—” “No.” She nods. “I think it’s helping. I mean sure, would that be absolutely awful? Yeah. Would I be really upset that my family is cutting me out permanently? Definitely. But on the other hand, I’ll have done everything I can to try and make things right between us. And not going in there would be even worse. Then I’d just wonder forever what might have happened. Yeah, this is good.” She keeps nodding, but she’s stopped speaking, so I know whatever

pep talk she’s giving herself is going on internally. Thank God. Totally thought I blew it. “Alright.” She pushes open her door. “Let’s do this.” Hurrying after her, I catch up by the time she makes it to the fence. From our new vantage point, we can see most of the backyard. Three round tables covered with pink tablecloths are spread out across the lawn, with more pink balloons weighed down in the middle as centerpieces. There’s another, thinner table closer to the house with a small pile of presents, and a handful of people

mill around the yard. As if sensing our eyes, a young girl turns in our direction. From behind she looks like a skinny teenager, but once she’s facing us I realize she’s also the guest of honor. Her round belly sticks out in front of her like someone stuck a basketball underneath her dress. Even without that obvious hint of who she is, just one look at her face would tell me she and Haley are related. The similarities become more and more obvious as she stalks toward us. Oh boy. She does not look happy to see us. In fact, I can almost hear her grinding

her teeth from here. I take an involuntary step backward when she flips the latch on the gate and throws it open. It squeals as it rocks on its hinges. “What are you doing here?” Beth hisses, throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone’s noticed us yet. For the record, they haven’t. “I…” Haley straightens her shoulders. “I was invited.” “Invited?” She purses her lips and drops a hand to her hip. Haley echoes her pose. “Yes,

invited.” These two may have missed out on a whole lot of sibling bonding time, but there’s no denying they’re sisters. They’ve got the whole sibling-spat thing down cold. Haley digs through her purse, pulls out her invitation, and hands it over. Her sister squints at it. “Did you do this?” She points to the rough edge where half of the invitation has been cut off. “No, I assumed you did when you put the invitation in the mail.” “Well, I certainly didn’t send it—”

“I did.” Both of them whip around toward the newcomer, who if I was paying attention I’d have noticed standing just inside the gate. Dark brown hair that nearly matches her eyes is pulled back in a ponytail and streaked with gray. She folds her thin arms across her chest, bunching the flowery pattern of her dress. And wow does she look like Beth. Damn, it’s like looking into a mirror that shows the future. Minus the age difference, the two of them could be twins. “Seriously?” Beth waves the

invitation through the air. “You invited her? Why?” The woman, who has to be their mom, shrugs. “It was time.” Then she turns around and heads back toward the party. There are several curious glances tossed in our direction, but for the most part no one’s paying any attention at all. They seem to be much more interested in the overflowing bowls of popcorn and pretzels that are laid out on the tables. When I notice the food, my stomach gives a quiet rumble and my nose picks out the scent of burgers charring on the grill.

Brown eyes flash toward me, narrowing. “Who’s this?” Haley glances behind her, eyes widening like she just remembered I’m here. “Beth, this is my boyfriend, Kyle. Kyle, this is my sister Beth.” Regardless of the tense situation, a wave of excitement rolls through me at her casual use of the term boyfriend. I’m not sure I’ll ever get sick of hearing her say it. I hold out my hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Beth looks at my hand, shakes her head, and then turns on her heel and

leaves. As the gate slams shut behind her, Haley blows out a breath and runs her hand through her hair. She tilts her head back to look at me, her lips almost smiling. “Well, at least it wasn’t our worst-case scenario.”

Chapter 33

Haley I feel lighter than I have in years. My heart is floating around my chest like one of these pink balloons that I can’t seem to stop from whacking me in the face. I’d be annoyed about it, but I’m too pleased with how the day is going to waste the effort. The party is winding down; guests are funneling out the gate back to their

cars. A garbage bag sits off to the side of the house, practically exploding with torn wrapping paper. All the presents are neatly stacked on a table. I give the yard a quick sweep for Mom and Beth. They’re off toward the side of the house handing out hugs and thank-yous. Circling another empty table, I pile up a few used napkins and dirty plates, then carry them over to the garbage can and dump them in. Other than claiming responsibility for sending the invitation, Mom still hasn’t talked to me. Beth’s avoiding me like I’m carrying the plague. But neither of them have

yelled at me; they haven’t told me to get lost, or ordered me off the property. I’m counting that as a win in my book. My plan, if you can call it that, is to wait them out. Hopefully, once everyone’s left it’ll just be us and whoever owns this house. I’m not keeping my fingers crossed for much, maybe just a five-minute conversation. And even if I don’t get that, it’s still more than I imagined I’d ever be leaving with today. Making my way back over to our table, I prop my hip against the edge and chuckle at Kyle¸ who’s sitting right

where I left him. “You’ve still got baby food on your face.” I dab the corner of his mouth with a napkin. His face turns red. “I can’t believe they suckered me into that.” I try not to laugh again, but can’t help myself. It bubbles up through my throat and slips out between my pursed lips. As one of the shower games, they set up a baby-food taste test—that you had to do blindfolded and then guess the flavor. Of course since Kyle was the only guy in attendance, they wheedled him into it. His face when he tried the beef and then declared it was cat food almost made me

pee my pants. He shakes his head at me, his mouth fighting against the smile that’s trying to sweep across his face. “You’re lucky I l … like you.” My grin freezes on my face at his stumble. He wasn’t going to say … ? No, no way. I shake away the thought. Instead I tell him, “So lucky.” I drop a kiss on his lips, lingering a few extra seconds and letting myself melt into him. “I don’t think I could have done this without you.” He rolls his eyes. “C’mon. We both know you would have come with or

without me.” “Well, yeah.” I shrug. “I probably could have powered through today by myself if I had to, but it was so much better with you here. But that’s not quite what I meant. It’s just, when we were talking about worst-case scenarios and what could go wrong? The only thing that really got me through it, past it, was knowing that no matter what happened here today I’d still have you.” He laces his fingers through mine. “That’s not changing anytime soon.” The look in his eyes steals my breath, sucking it right out of my body.

Realization hits me like a sledgehammer —I don’t have to examine my feelings for Kyle too closely; I think I’ve known them all along. Whether I’m falling or fallen, love’s still a definite part of the equation. “Haley Jane.” I flinch a little at my mom’s voice, even though it’s warm and soft. My first instinct is to jerk my hand away from Kyle’s, but that’s just dumb. I’m not a teenager anymore, and I’m more than allowed to hold my boyfriend’s hand. Boyfriend. I still can barely wrap my mind around the word.

“Mom.” She tilts her head toward the house. “Would you like to come inside? Say hello to your father?” “He’s … here?” “Well we do live here. Where else would he be?” They live here? I scan the house again, but from a new perspective. Everything is neat and clean—the grass is cut short, the flowers are blooming, the little house is well taken care of. My mind flashes back to the cramped apartment, Beth’s and my bunk beds, the tiny galley kitchen. I try to fit the puzzle

pieces together from then till now, but too many of them are missing. I swallow through the rock that’s lodged itself in my throat. “I’d love to come in, thank you.” Following her, I step out of the bright sunlight, and inside. The smell of apples hits me on my way in, but I can’t tell if she’s been baking or it’s just a lit candle. I have to blink a few times before my eyes adjust, and then my gaze sweeps across the room as I try to absorb everything I’m seeing. Nothing is new, but everything is clean—from the white refrigerator that

hums in the corner to the yellowspeckled floor, and the square wood table that’s dinged up on the top. Beth slumps down in one of the chairs, her hand dropping to the top of her stomach. My gaze flicks to the chair next to her, and my heart creeps up my throat, tears stinging my eyes. Dad’s gaze locks on to mine, and everything inside me freezes as I wait for his reaction. He looks the same. His hair is still cut short, but maybe with a touch more gray weaving its way through the light brown hair at his temples. The lines that have etched themselves into his face from his

customary frown still work their way through his pale skin, though there are a few new ones around his mouth and eyes. Pressing his knuckles against the table, he rises from his chair. When he straightens, he can’t hide a small wince that tightens his lips. In two steps he’s standing in front of me, and I feel myself bracing for whatever he’s about to say. His arm slips around my shoulder in an awkward hug. “It’s good to see you, Haley.” Those six words make me want to bawl like a baby, but somehow I manage

to hold myself together. “It’s good to see you too, Dad.” He steps back, taking the smell of Old Spice with him. “You still follow our team?” “Never stopped.” “You should come by some time. We could watch a game together. Like old times.” His eyes study me for a second, expression softening. “Don’t be a stranger anymore.” With a curt nod in Kyle’s direction, he disappears through the doorway. As soon as he’s out of hearing range, Beth snorts. “Give me a break.”

“Elizabeth.” Mom sets a water bottle down on the table in front of her. “Mind your manners.” A spark of anger buzzes its way through me. “What is your problem?” “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I supposed to be fawning all over the person who abandoned us?” Her words hollow out my stomach as effectively as a punch. “That’s a funny way to treat someone who didn’t blink at handing over money when you really needed it,” Kyle says, his words soft but outlined in steel. Mom whips her head toward Beth.

“What money?” “Whatever.” Beth rolls her eyes. “Like she can’t afford it.” “That is not the point—” “You accepted her charity. Why can’t I?” She turns her glare in my direction. “At least then she’s good for something.” She shoves up from the table and brushes by me, the full effect of her dramatic exit only diminished by her slow gait. The screen door slams shut behind her with a snap. Mom drops her head into her hands, then smooths them over her hair. Sneakers scuff across the floor.

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” A teddy bear dangles from one hand, its feet nearly scraping the linoleum. Big blue eyes turn up in my direction, a small frown marring her delicate features. “It’s alright, Chelsea.” Mom holds out a hand toward her, and the little girl —my sister—hurries over to her and curls into her lap. “Beth’s just in one of her moods.” Chelsea giggles, showing off a smile that’s missing one front tooth. “She’s so grumpy.” Mom kisses her on the top of the head, then turns her attention toward me.

“Beth took it really hard after you left. I can’t say I really helped matters, but I think by now we both know I handled the situation pretty poorly.” A thousand questions rush to the tip of my tongue—Why did you stop cashing the checks? Why didn’t you ever call? How are you living here?— but in the end, I’m not even able to force one of them out. My mind is too busy shifting facts around, looking at things from a different point of view. From Beth’s point of view. Everything clicks into place. She thinks I abandoned her.

And I did, didn’t I? In all of the things I considered, I never really thought about how much my leaving might affect her. It must have. Her whole world would have been turned upside down and I wasn’t there for her. With a mumbled “Excuse me,” I slip past Kyle and back outside. Beth glances up from where she’s sitting at one of the empty tables. The tablecloth flaps around her legs, tugging at its bindings. “Oh good, you’re leaving.” I ignore her comment and pull out the chair next to her. “I left you behind.”

She flinches, but tries to hide it. “No kidding.” Glancing down at her nails, she almost pulls off looking bored. The clenched muscle in her jaw gives her away. “If you’re going to apologize, make it quick. I’ve got better things to do than listen to your bullshit excuses.” I’ve spent years carrying around so much guilt that the weight of it made me feel two feet shorter and fifty pounds heavier. But something Kyle said to me stands out in my thoughts, like a piercing ray of sunshine through an overcast sky. “I’m not going to make excuses, but I was just a kid, Beth. The only thing I

could think about was getting out of there and making a life for myself.” “Right, because the life you had was so sucky you couldn’t wait to escape. Your family wasn’t enough to make you stick around.” She turns away from me, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to keep it from trembling. I blow out a breath, trying to rein in my emotions. “I never thought that leaving would mean losing you. Losing everyone.” “And if you knew then what you know now, that walking out the door would mean not seeing us, not speaking

to us for years, would you still do it?” She finally turns to look at me, and I wish she hadn’t. A tear spills out of the corner of her eye, snaking down her cheek, and then dripping off her chin. My stomach twists as I consider her question. The truth is: I don’t know. She sniffs, her expression hardening. “That’s what I thought.” “Beth, that’s not fair.” I rub my hands over my face. “What would you have done in my position? Would you have stayed? Would you have given it all up? You know what it was like then.” “Yeah, I know what it was like.” She

grits her teeth. “And I know what it was like after you left, too. Things went from bad to a hell of a lot worse before they got any better.” “I wish I could have been there for you. I wish things were different. I wish … well, I wish a lot of things, but I can’t change the past. The only thing I can do is apologize and try to make things right. I’m sorry Beth. I’m really sorry.” The anger drains from her face slowly, and her gaze dips until she’s studying the grass. The blades bend against the breeze. “An apology isn’t

enough to make up for what you did.” “Well that’s … that’s up to you.” I clench my teeth together, trying to hold back the surge of emotion. “I love you and I’m here if you need me. Nothing’s going to change that.” The chair squeaks as I stand up, and when I turn around, I find Kyle watching us from just inside the door. He turns and must say something, because a few moments later the door swings open. Kyle and Mom step outside. He steps toward me first, his eyes scanning my face. Are you okay? he mouths.

I nod. Time to go, I mouth back. Mom divides a glance between me and Beth, her lips sharpening into a line. “Give her time,” she says quietly, laying her hand on my arm. That simple touch breaks me. All the heartache and tears I’ve been holding back for the past hour rush at me, overwhelming me until I can barely breathe. I don’t think about it. I just step forward and throw my arms around my mom’s neck. In the next breath, she’s clasping me back just as fiercely. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

Chapter 34

Kyle I kick my door closed behind us, shrugging out of my jacket. Haley covers a yawn with her fist, and then gives her head a small shake. “I’d say we should turn on the game so we could watch your Braves lose, but I’m only really interested in one room right now.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “Care to join me in the bedroom?”

I snort. “Is that even a real question?” I’m fully aware that Haley’s so exhausted she’s ready to collapse into bed and sleep the day off, and that’s why she’s so eager to get into my bedroom. However, there are certain parts of me that are blatantly ignoring the facts and are thoroughly excited that Haley’s on her way to my room. Who am I kidding? Even if the only thing we’re doing tonight is sleeping in the same bed, I’m all for it. Hell, I’d be more than happy to have her here every night, and every morning, for as long as

she’ll have me. The realization of how deep I’ve fallen for her stops me in my tracks, so quickly that I almost trip and land flat on my face. I may have loved Stacy in some twisted, desperate way, but it was never like this. I was never planning my future with Stacy, but with Haley I want it all. Everything. I want the stressing about bills, and the worrying about whose family we’ll be spending the holidays with. I want to clean up the dishes for her if she makes dinner and massage away her tension when she’s had a bad day. I want to breathe in her shampoo

every morning, and let her hog my bed at night. I’ve known that I’m in love with her for a while now, but I’ve been trying to keep my thoughts cemented in the present. I’m terrified to hope for something more than the here-and-now. Because there’s this funny thing about hope—it’s warm and bubbly, it gives you wings and makes you feel like you can soar. It’s exhilarating and inspiring, until it’s not, and you’re crashing back to Earth, smashing yourself into bits when you collide with the ground. Trying to shrug off my warring

emotions, I step into my bedroom and forget everything I just tried to convince myself of. Haley sits on my bed, leaning back on the comforter. She smiles when she sees me, and I’m right back to wishing things between us will never end. I might as well just give in to it, either way my heart is so screwed when it comes to her. As I step closer, she shifts onto her knees so she can slip her arms around my shoulders. “Thank you for today.” I drop my hands to her waist, and resist the urge to lean into her and feel all of her curves. She’s had a really long

day, and I’m not a big enough tool that I’d hint at sex when her eyes are still all puffy from sobbing her heart out. “Thanks for asking me to come.” “There’s no one else I would have wanted with me.” Despite my pretty noble intentions, her fingers tighten around my neck, drawing me down until her lips cover mine. Her tongue coaxes my lips apart, and her fingers creep into my hair, pulling gently. I sway forward into her, running my hands around her hips and up over her back. She kisses me lazily, like we’ve got all the time in the world. The

sparks are still there, smoldering and simmering, but unlike the last two times there’s a gentleness to her kiss that makes my bones feel like they’re disintegrating. Tracing my fingers up her jaw, I brush back her hair and she sighs against my lips. She pulls back a little and looks up at me—eyes wide and sparkling, all traces of her earlier sadness completely gone. The look she throws at me is one part excitement, one part nervousness, with a healthy dose of sexy thrown in for good measure. Shifting herself, she grabs a handful

of her dress and tugs it off over her head. She leans back a little, away from me, giving me a fantastic view of her amazing body, and the purple bra and matching panties she’s wearing. I was already hard before, but the sight of her sends another rush of blood southward. How is it possible that this girl is in my bed? I let my gaze coast over her slim thighs, across the sensuous curve of her waist, lingering for a bit on the nicest set of boobs I’ve probably ever had the pleasure of seeing. When I finally get to her face, I pick up on the fact that she’s

biting her lower lip and she’s not quite looking me in the face. Hold up. Is she seriously nervous about the way she looks? Giving her chin a gentle push, I make sure she’s looking straight at me before I say, “You are so beautiful.” Her whole body seems to relax, and a mischievous smile sweeps across her face. “Your turn.” Skimming her hands underneath my shirt, she tugs the fabric and I obligingly raise my arms and help her lift it over my head. When my polo hits the floor, I’m hit with a jolt of anxiety. Other than

that night at my parents’ house, this is the first time she’s seen me without a shirt. An image of her ex slams into my brain and I can’t unsee it. If that’s really her type, then I am the definition of inadequate. My pulse starts to behave in a ridiculous manner, and I dart a glance at the light switch. Is it too late to turn off the lights? “Hey,” she says, skimming her hand over the side of my neck. “Where’d you go?” I force myself to swallow through the nervousness that’s built a barricade in

my throat. “I’m right here.” She laughs. “I know that.” She taps the side of my head with her fingertip. “What’s going on up here? I lost you for a few seconds.” “It’s nothing.” I pinch my lips together. She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re a really bad liar.” With a fingertip, she traces a line from between my pecs all the way down to the waistband of my pants. My thoughts veer from my insecurities straight back to the situation at hand.

But her downward progress stops, her fingernail tracing the exposed skin just above my belt. “C’mon, Kyle. What is it?” “I just…” I clench my jaw, trying to fight back the blush that’s creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. “I don’t want to disappoint you.” She frowns, her eyebrows pinching together. Her fingers still against my waist. “Well, I’m not sure how you think things went the last time, but I can tell you that ‘disappointment’ wasn’t anywhere close to how I’d describe it. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite

of disappointment in every possible way.” “It’s not that.” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, trying to gather my thoughts. Screw it, the best way to say it is to come right out with it. “I don’t want you to be disappointed with me. My body. I know it’s not the ideal specimen you’re used to.” Her eyes widen and her jaw immediately clamps shut. My entire body tenses as I wait for her reaction, and I have to force my eyes to stay open. It’d be so much easier to hide behind closed eyelids, but instead I keep my

gaze focused on her, waiting for whatever she’s about to say next.

Chapter 35

Haley His words suck the breath right out of me. I’ve always known that Kyle’s a little self-conscious about his looks, but I had no idea his insecurity runs this deep. It’s not something I’d ever expect to hear coming from a guy. Especially a guy who I thought was incredibly aware of how I felt about him. Or a guy whose clothes I practically ripped off at the

office because I was so desperate to have him. I wait until his eyes have finished their detour around the bedroom before I say anything. “First, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not with Luke anymore.” I poke him in the chest. “Even if I had the choice I wouldn’t want to be with him. I chose to be with you. Do you really think taking off your shirt is going to change all that?” His eyes drift down to the floor, and I feel the last tendrils of anger drain out of me. I slip off the bed, the soft carpet brushing against the bottoms of my bare

feet. I circle around him, and he stiffens when I slip my arms around him from behind and press a kiss to the middle of his back. His skin is soft and warm underneath my lips. I’m tired of fighting the words that have been anxiously waiting to escape my mouth all day. Not saying them doesn’t make them any less true. And right now, I think he needs to hear them. I leave another kiss right below his shoulder blade. “I love how tall you are.” He inhales deeply, and I feel his stomach expand underneath my palm.

“I love how broad your shoulders are, and how they narrow all the way down to your waist.” I skim my fingers down his side as I talk and a trail of goose bumps marches behind them. I stop at the tiny indentation right above his pants. “I love this little V right above your ass. And speaking of your ass.” I cup it with both hands and give it a squeeze. “I’m quite fond of that too.” Stepping around him, I lace my fingers through his, then flip his hand over so I can trace the lines on his palm. “I love your hands. Especially when they’re touching me.” I skim my fingers

over his forearm to his biceps. “And I love this muscle right here, and the way I can see it rippling under your skin whenever you flex it.” I lean up onto my toes, and slide my hands over his chest and around his neck. “This spot on your neck, right here?” I press an openmouthed kiss to the base of his throat. A heavy breath rushes out from between his lips and caresses my face. “I’m kind of in love with that too because it tells me every time you’re feeling what I’m feeling.” Softly, I replace my lips with my fingers until I can feel his pulse pounding

beneath my fingertips. “I can see your heart racing and I know it’s not just me. “But most of all, I love your heart.” I place my palm on his chest, right at the spot where I can feel it thrumming against my hand. “The way it loves your family, how genuine and honest it is.” I sink back down onto my heels and tip my chin up. He’s watching me with this expression that’s so brimming with emotion, any moment now I think he might crumble under the weight of it. “I love you.” A tremor works its way through him at my words, and I pause to give him a second to hear it. To feel it.

To believe it. “I never, ever felt about Luke the way I feel about you. So please, don’t compare yourself to him. Because to me? There is no comparison.” “Haley.” His words are like a prayer. His eyelids flutter shut and he drops his forehead against mine. When they sweep back open again, I’m met with a look that liquefies me. His hands cup my cheeks. “I am so in love with you.” There’s less than an inch separating our mouths, and yet it seems to take hours before his lips brush against mine again. I wrap my arms around his

shoulders, wanting him closer. He presses me backward, and I land with a soft bounce on the bed. Leaning one knee onto the mattress, he crawls over me and lowers himself down until we’re skinto-skin. His mouth slips from mine—kissing its way along my jaw, down my neck, right to the edge of my bra. With a deft motion, he unhooks the clasp and then brushes the straps from my shoulders. I watch his eyes heat as they rake over me, and thank God that’s all they can do. If a look could kill, then right now his would be setting me on fire. My

back arches off the bed as he sinks his teeth into the sensitive stretch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. My mouth feels useless, restless. Propping myself up on an elbow, I run my tongue along the curve of his collarbone. When Kyle nips at the soft skin of my breast, I reciprocate, sinking my teeth into his upper arm. He groans and shoves himself back up the bed, claiming me with a kiss that makes me want to clamp my thighs shut and spread them wide at the exact same time. As our tongues tangle together, I fumble with his pants, wanting them off

faster than my fingers can figure out how to unbutton them and get the zipper down. Sensing my struggle, he bounces off the bed and pushes off his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. Not wasting any more time, he snags a condom from his nightstand, rips it open, and rolls it down himself. I let my gaze roam over him, finding brand-new things to love about him— like the way his hair is completely mussed from how I’ve been dragging my fingers through it, and how his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glowing. I

make a mental note to tell him about them later. He catches me looking at him, but this time instead of him freezing up, a smile works its way hesitantly across his face. I recognize it for what it is—he’s trusting me to love him, all of him, just the way he is. I crook a finger at him. “Come here.” “First things first.” The bed dips as he leans against it. “In the interest of fair play, these need to come off.” He slips his fingers inside my panties and drags them off, tossing them on the floor. He nips the inside of my thigh as he lowers

himself back over me. He brushes his nose against mine, his mouth close enough that I can feel his words on my lips when he speaks. “I’ve known for a long time that I’ve been falling in love with you.” He pins me with his gaze. “Thank you for catching me.” I shake my head. “We caught each other.”

Chapter 36

Kyle After having the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I figured I’d conk right out and sleep like the dead. That’s the way it always works in the movies, right? Sadly, this is another experience I can check off in the don’t trust the movies category. If I slept three hours, I’m lucky. I should probably be dragging right now, but all night I’ve felt nothing but

energized. Haley loves me. Every time the thought streaks across my brain I get another jolt of adrenaline, a spike in my blood pressure. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It makes the oxygen I’m breathing in more refreshing, the slide of my sheets across my skin more smooth, and the fact that I’m freaking exhausted a negligible factor. Haley loves me. I grin into my pillowcase, and snuggle closer against her back. Her thick brown hair fans across her pillow,

and she’s got one leg tucked between both of mine. I inch the edge of her Tshirt to the side so I can lay a soft kiss on her shoulder. She sighs, curling herself a little tighter. “It’s not morning already is it?” she mumbles, not even bothering to open her eyes. “Nope.” I flick my gaze to the betraying ray of sunshine that’s illuminating the edges of my curtains. “Go back to sleep.” Her lips curl into a smile. “Mm, I think I will.” I wait until her breathing is deep and

steady before slipping out of bed. After an entire day out in the sun yesterday and our extracurricular activities I probably smell about as good as a raccoon scavenging in a Dumpster at Joe’s Crab Shack. I lift my arm and sniff my pit. Nope, worse. I reach for my glasses so I can bring the world back into focus, and tiptoe out of the room toward the bathroom. I pause at the bedroom door and lean against the frame, taking a minute to snap a mental photograph of Haley sleeping in my bed. Officially, we haven’t been dating all

that long, and I’ve never been the kind of guy who believes in soul mates or anything like that. I mean really, the world is too massive for there to only be one perfect person to be with. Statistically, the odds of finding one person in a population that large is infinitesimal. Except, being with Haley has skewed my perception. Maybe, there’s not one perfect person out there, maybe there’s several, or a handful, I don’t know. What I do know is that nothing I feel for Haley is surface-level. If souls operate on wavelengths, then I’m a

hundred percent certain that Haley and I are on the exact same frequency. With one last glance behind me, I force myself to keep moving toward the bathroom and my much-needed shower. Things may be freaking fantastic between Haley and me, but I still don’t want to be the creeper lurking around and watching her while she’s sleeping. I shuck off my boxers, kick them over into the corner, and flip on the shower. Water blasts out of the showerhead, pelting the blue tiles. As I wait for the water to heat, I hesitantly turn toward the mirror, an object I normally avoid when

I’m in the buff. For the first time, I catch a glimpse of myself the way Haley must see me. I look past the gawky teenager who was all elbows and knees, and finally really let myself recognize the equally geeky but not all that badly put together man that stares back at me. I won’t be modeling for Sports Illustrated anytime soon, but … I think I’m okay with that. Steam clouds around the edges of the mirror, and with one last quick grin at my reflection, I hop in the shower. Water pounds down on my head, instantly soaking my hair.

Hmmm, what should I make for breakfast? My mind instantly conjures up an image of Haley, spread naked across my sheets. Maybe food can wait a little while longer.

Chapter 37

Haley The sound of the shower wakes me, and I try to close off my ears and shut out the sound. Too bad ears don’t work that way. Stretching, I curl my toes against the sheets, and my fingertips brush the headboard. Best night’s sleep ever. Rolling off the bed I cross to where I dropped my purse last night and rummage through it for my phone. I’ve

got a few missed text messages from Tara. Tara: Okay, I waited as long as I possibly could, how is the party? Are you still there? Tara: It has to be over by now. Are you too busy to answer my text messages because you’re bouncing with joy or because you can’t see through your tears? CALL ME. Tara: It’s officially late and I’m going to bed. I hate you for keeping me in suspense all day.

So, I’m pretty much the worst friend ever.

Crawling back onto the bed, I tuck my legs underneath me as I type out a response. Me: Don’t be mad. I meant to check my phone, but I was too busy having a fantastic day. Yes, there were tears, but they were minimal, and the day went so much better than I thought it would. Get this—my mom sent the invitation. She’s ready to mend fences. It’s actually Beth who’s really upset with me. Go figure. And then Kyle. Omg Kyle. I told him I love him last night and he said it back and I think my heart is going to explode from happiness.

I flop back onto the bed and sigh. The last thing I’d have thought when I walked out Luke’s door was that I’d be here—happy, in love, ecstatic with my life. I thought for sure that by losing him I was failing at the one true chance I was going to get at being happy. Thinking back on it now it seems like such a stupid thought. Glancing at my phone, I flip back to the rest of my messages. Clark’s name catches my eye and I pop over to our last conversation. I haven’t meant to ignore him, but with everything that’s been happening and how supportive Kyle’s

been, texting him has been a pretty low priority. Like I said: I’m a crappy friend. Holding the phone up above my head, I send him a quick message. Me: Hey there, stranger. How’ve you been? I miss our chats. I’ve got so much to fill you in on.

Seconds after I press Send, Kyle’s phone vibrates on the nightstand. That was … weird. I try and shake off the bad feeling that’s snaking through my veins. It’s just a strange coincidence, that’s all. My

gaze darts back to his phone, and the urge to get up and check it is almost unbearable. I force myself to lie still. Last time I went snooping on his phone, even if it was accidental, there was a huge misunderstanding. I’m not going down that road again. My phone vibrates in my hand and I’m so startled that I drop it on my face. Son of a— I shake off the brief burst of pain. As soon as I’ve got my phone back in my hands, I scan my screen, hoping that it’s an answer from Clark. It’s not. It’s an enormous message

from Tara that I’m too distracted to read right now. Pushing back up, I glare at the nightstand. I know if I don’t settle this right now it’s going to eat at me all day. Alright, there’s a simple way to resolve this. I type out another quick text to Clark. Me: You won’t believe what’s been going on with my family and Kyle.

My thumb hesitates over the Send button. I stare at the nightstand as I press it. Kyle’s phone vibrates again.

Before I can stop myself, I’m off the bed and his phone is in my hand. Or, one of his phones is in my hand? There are two of them on the nightstand. My gaze lands on the screen of his phone and the floor vanishes from beneath my feet. Or at least that’s how it feels. A sharp pain shoots through my knee, and that’s when I realize my legs gave out on me. My stomach curls in on itself like it’s trying to find someplace to hide, and it feels like someone’s forcefully ripped my heart out of my chest, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind. The tears are

there too, but I think I’m too shocked to even feel the grief that’s trying to overpower me. My finger shakes as I trace over the four letters that have completely shattered me—Lois. The phone’s locked but the name is still there. My mind flashes back to all the things I opened up to him about—my family, my confession about not being good enough for Luke, every single embarrassing, private thought I had about Kyle. My entire body flushes as I remember all the things I said to him. How could he do this to me?

The shower turning off snaps me back into the present. I have to get out of here. His phone tumbles from my hand as I leap to my feet and throw yesterday’s dress back on. I shove my phone into my purse, and curse under my breath as I try to strap on my sandals. The second they’re on, I’m sprinting through the bedroom door. My hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob and freedom is inches away when the bathroom door squeaks open. “Haley?”

Even hearing him say my name hurts. I glance back at him over my shoulder. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, and water slides from the tips of his wet hair, down his neck and across his bare chest. Whoever said there’s a thin line between love and hate couldn’t be more right. And I think I just stepped over that line. I clench my jaw and shake my head, too furious, too devastated to even try and find the words. I can’t be here another minute. I can’t look at him another second. The entire building

seems to vibrate as I open the door and slam it behind me, leaving Kyle or Clark or whoever the hell he is staring after me. In the end, he’s only one thing to me —a liar.

Chapter 38

Kyle I stare at the door, the sound of it slamming still echoing around the room. My heart rate punches it into another gear, but my feet haven’t gotten the memo yet. They’re cemented to the floor. It feels like a three-hundred-pound linebacker is sitting on my chest, and that’s when I remember—I need to breathe. I suck in a breath and finally

convince my legs to get moving. I sprint to the door and throw it open, one hand clutching the edge of my towel so I don’t flash any of my neighbors. The hall is empty, silent. I stand there for a full minute trying to process what just happened. Finally my brain comes back online—clothes, I need to put on some clothes. I’m running again, this time back to my bedroom. And that’s when I catch sight of my phone lying facedown on my carpet, and my legs quit working again. No. No. Please, no. I scoop it up and right there on the front is Lois’s name.

How could I be this stupid? I grip my phone so tightly in my hand that the case bites into my skin. I was so swept up in the moment this morning that I didn’t even think to move my phone. Hell, I almost completely forgot these texts were even still on the damn phone. Anger boils up inside me at my own idiocy, and without really thinking about it, I spin around and punch the wall. The pain radiates through my knuckles and into my wrist almost immediately. Fuck. I try to shake out the pain, wincing at how much it hurts. Well, if leaving my phone out for

Haley to find didn’t get me nominated for dumbest person on the planet, this should probably clinch it. Ignoring the incessant throbbing in my hand, I raid my dresser, yanking out whatever underwear, shirt, pants, and socks I find first. Pausing only to grab my keys off the counter, I sprint out of the building and straight to my car. Hold on—Haley rode with me. Where’d she go? Shielding my eyes, I scan the parking lot, but she’s nowhere to be found. I keep my eyes peeled the entire drive to her place, but she’s not on any of the

sidewalks either. We don’t live far from each other, maybe five minutes by car, so theoretically it’s possible she walked the entire way while I was trying to get my shit together. It’s also entirely possible that she’s somewhere else. Somewhere I can’t find her. Somewhere she doesn’t have to listen to my explanations or apologies. Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out. Hurrying up the stairs, I skid to a halt outside her door. My hand hesitates in the knock position, hovering in the air. The realization that this could be the end

of us slams into me so hard that I almost stumble backward. Please don’t let this be it.

Chapter 39

Haley I managed to get the door closed behind me before my legs gave out completely. My lungs burn from practically sprinting home, my feet ache from how relentlessly I pounded them into the sidewalks. I let my head fall back against the door, trying to keep myself together as the world crashes down around me.

Just breathe. You can do this. You’ve done it before. The door vibrates behind me as someone knocks on it. “Haley? Are you home?” Kyle shouts. I press my knuckles to my mouth, fighting back the sob that’s struggling to get out. “Please.” Something thumps against the door—his hand, his head. “If you’re there just say something.” I move my hand just far enough to let the words squeeze out. “I’m here.” “Can I come in?”

My eyes trace a path up to the doorknob, and I glare at it like it’s the enemy. I should let him in, give him a chance to explain¸ and then ask him to leave. I should. But I can’t. I can’t look at him without falling apart. I can’t be around him without wanting to be wrapped up in his arms. Even after everything, I’m afraid that I’m too weak to share the same space with him. I draw my knees up to my chest. “No.” “Please, you have to give me a chance to explain. It’s not what you … no, it’s probably exactly what you

think.” His footsteps fade away and then come right back at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to lie to you, I just didn’t know what to do.” “Were you ever planning on telling me?” He hesitates, and every second that ticks by seems like one step closer to the end. Finally, when the silence is so thick I’m almost choking on it he says, “No.” Something scrapes against the door, like he’s sliding down it. I run my tongue out over my lips. “Were you ever going to stop texting me?”

“Yes.” His response is immediate, out of his mouth almost the second I’m done asking my question. “You’d been texting so infrequently I thought it would all just stop. I was so happy, so freaking happy that I almost never thought about it.” “How long?” “Haley…” “How long have you known?” I practically spit the words out of my mouth. I can hear his sigh even from the other side of the door. “Since the night you locked your keys in the car. You

texted me to tell me how bad your date was, and then you sat in my kitchen and told me—” “The same story.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as a few warm tears manage to sneak out. My mind replays every single one of our conversations and my heart takes a step backward every time I remember all the things I shared with him without even knowing it. “You knew, at the mall, at the wedding, you knew how I felt about you the entire time.” “Yeah.” The door groans as he leans back into it. “I did.”

“Is this just some kind of sick game for you? Is that what this is?” “No!” The volume of his voice skyrockets, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s shouting or if he’s facing the door now. “This was never a game to me. The only reason I texted you back in the first place was because I was lonely, and it was nice to just talk to someone without you knowing me at all. I could just be myself. And then after I found out who you were, who I was actually texting … I only wanted to be there for you. It was never my intention to mislead you.” He sighs again, and there’s another thump.

“But then I fell in love with you and every scenario I played out in my mind where I told you the truth, they all … well they all ended something like this.” I try to see it from his point of view, but I can’t. The only thing I can think, the only thing I can hear or see or feel, is the pain of his lies. Running my hands over my thighs, I stop at my knees and squeeze. “You lied to me.” I huff out a laugh. “It’s ironic, right? How just last night I was telling you how bad a liar you are, and in reality you’ve been lying to me almost since you met me.” He tries to cut me off, but I don’t let him. “I’m so

humiliated. Embarrassed. Hurt. I told you personal things. Private things. And I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you would do that to me.” The words pour out of my mouth, slipping straight from my brain through my lips. The thought that Kyle, Kyle, would do this to me is so unexpected that the force of it is that much stronger. With Luke, even though I tried to ignore it, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel coming from miles away. Then, I just stuck my head in the sand and pretended that it wasn’t happening. But this blindsided me. Never in a million years

would I have thought that Luke and Kyle are similar, and yet here I am again. I shake my head and then drop my cheek to my knees. Hugging my arms around my legs, I try to curl myself tighter, hoping it might help me hold together the gaping hole in my chest. My tears seep out slowly from the corners of my eyes, running over the bridge of my nose and trickling down the curve of my calf. I can’t believe I’m right back where I started. “Haley?” I barely hear my name through the thickness of the door. Half of

me wonders if he’s hoping I won’t answer him at all. “Yeah?” “Is this it?” A sharp, stabbing pain slices through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep a wounded sound from escaping me. I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I can’t be with someone that I can’t trust.” Something rustles on the other side of the door, and I can tell from the way his voice drifts down to me that he’s standing up again. “Is there anything I can do to make this better?”

Right now there’s only one thing I can think of. “I want you to leave. And I don’t want you to come back.” “Alright,” he says, his voice thick with tears. “But before I go, I want you to know that these past few months have been … everything to me. If there’s one thing out of my mouth that you can believe, let it be this: I am so in love with you. It was all real for me.” Then quietly, “I’ve never felt anything more real in my life.” Listening to him break does something to me. It feels like a dam is

breaking or all my defenses are failing. Tears rush to my eyes, blurring my vision. I try to breathe through the sobs, but it seems like there’s not enough oxygen in the world to satisfy my lungs. My hands hurt from how hard I’m clenching them around my legs, and my head throbs until it feels like it might burst. I’m not sure how long I sit there, wrapped tightly around myself on the floor. All I know is that by the time I pull myself together, the hallway is empty and Kyle is gone.

Chapter 40

Kyle “Kyle!” Bang, bang, bang. I tuck my pillow tighter over my head, trying to block out the pounding my door’s getting. “KYLE!” Bang, bang, bang. Pause. Bang, bang, bang, bang.

“I swear to fucking God, man. Either you open this door in the next sixty seconds or I am going to break it down.” I shift onto my side, peeking out from underneath my pillowcase. “I’m not kidding. And hey, then you’ll have to pay for a new door, get new locks installed, replace your keys. That’s assuming I don’t seriously hurt myself trying to get through this thick-ass door.” With a growl, I roll out of bed and stomp across my apartment. “Then of course I’d probably lose my scholarship because I fucked up my

knee or something, and then I’ll have to drop out of college, and—” I unlock the door, then flop down on the couch, dropping my feet onto the coffee table. Sometimes I really wish I were an only child. This entire week has been one really long string of those sometimes. The door opens slowly, just far enough for Brian to stick his head through the crack. His eyes do a quick sweep around the place like he’s expecting to find a bomb or a rabid squirrel inside or something. Stepping inside, he shoves the door closed with

his shoulder. “Damn,” he mutters. “You look like shit. What are you even wearing? Is that a T-shirt from the high-school science fair?” I glare at him and swipe a hand through my hair, not caring that it’s probably now sticking up in a thousand directions. “What do you want?” “You don’t answer my calls or texts. You bail on family dinner, which, by the way, gave Mom another check in the Scrabble win column.” He sinks down into the leather armchair. “What the hell is going on?”

I grit my teeth together. I’ve spent all week trying to forget. To stop my brain from thinking. Except the only wall I’ve managed to build up in my mind to keep back the thoughts of Haley is made from the flimsiest cardboard, so even Brian’s semi-innocent question sends it crashing down. “We broke up.” “You and Haley? No way. Tell me you’re kidding.” “Not kidding.” “Shit.” He leans forward and pokes the pizza box that’s taking up half of the coffee table. Lifting the lid, he snags one

of the leftover slices of pepperoni. It’s already in his mouth when he asks, “This is any good?” I shrug. “Couple days old. Should be fine.” “So, what happened?” I shift my gaze over his shoulder so I can stare down the wall. “She found out. About the Clark texting thing.” “You told her?” “No, I didn’t tell her. She saw my phone.” “Are you fucking serious?” He shakes his head at me. “You just left it out for her to find?”

Leaning forward, I drop my head into my hands. “Does it look like I need a lecture right now?” He blows out a breath and it whistles as it scrapes through his teeth. Tossing the half-eaten slice of pizza back on top of the box, he stands and folds his hands behind his head. “How’d that go down at work this week? She ignore you?” “I didn’t go. I called out.” “Is that your brilliant plan?” He rolls his eyes at me. “You’re just never going to work again?” “Shut up, Brian.” I push myself up to my feet and brush by him, into the

kitchen. With a yank, I pull open the refrigerator and scan it for something to drink. My Brita is empty, the orange juice is past its expiration date, and the milk—I wrinkle my nose at the smell and slam the door shut again. Scanning the kitchen counter, my eyes snag on the bottle of cheap vodka I’ve been nursing all week. It’s ten o’clock in the morning but I really don’t care. I take a swig straight from the bottle. The alcohol singes my throat and I screw up my face as I wait for the burn to fade. God that stuff is gross. When I look up, I catch Brian

watching me with an amused expression on his face. “I’m going back to work on Monday, Mom. But it doesn’t matter because Haley won’t be there. Her contract ran out last week and according to Mr. Marchelli, she turned down the permanent position.” At first, I just wanted some time and space. I didn’t think I could show up at work on Monday, see her, and manage to keep it together. It never even crossed my mind that by being such a ridiculous coward it would mean that I’d lose my last chance to see her again. In the back

of my mind I always thought there’d be more opportunities to make it right between us. Brian snags his foot through the rung of a stool, and sits down at the counter so he’s facing me. “So, what? That’s it?” “Pretty much.” “Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.” He taps a finger against the counter. “I never knew you were such a quitter, man.” I force my lips into a grin and give him the finger. “Do you love her?” That’s it, I’m done. I don’t need to listen to this. “There’s the door. Show

yourself out.” Striding out of the kitchen, I make a beeline for my bedroom, fully intending to slam the door behind me. “Do. You. Love. Her?” I spin around, and am a little surprised to find he’s still sitting exactly where he was, his arms spread out and resting on the counter, a smile glued to his face. “Of course I love her! But it doesn’t matter. Haven’t you been listening?” “Oh, I’ve been listening. But, unlike you, I’ve also been using my brain.” He taps his forehead. “You know, that really big thing inside your skull?”

I swear to God, if he doesn’t get to the point or get the hell out in the next thirty seconds I’m going to beat the crap out of him. Or, I’m going to try. It probably won’t go well and I’ll end up with my body feeling as bruised and battered as my heart, but even if I can get in one solid punch it will be so satisfying. As if sensing my impending blowout, he shifts off the stool and heads in my direction. “What did she say, when she broke things off?” “She wanted me to leave and she asked me to never come back.” I can

still hear her voice, the way she said it —all broken and defeated like I’d completely crushed her. It makes my heart cringe and hang its head in shame. “Okay, and what about the texting really bothered her the most? What was her biggest gripe?” “What does it even matter?” “Humor me.” I scrub my hands across my face. “She said she couldn’t be with someone she couldn’t trust. And she was embarrassed that I had all these private insights into her thoughts and feelings.” “Huh.” He runs his thumb over his

lower lip. “Are we done playing twenty questions now?” “That depends.” “On?” “Whether you want to try and win her back.” He lifts an eyebrow at me. “I think I’ve got a plan.”

Chapter 41

Haley “C’mon, Hales. I made your favorite.” Tara looks meaningfully at the untouched plate of banana nut pancakes. I run my fingernail along the edge of the plate, and then push it away. “I’m not hungry.” She purses her lips and her nostrils give a brief flare. I know she wants to say something. Probably wants to yell at

me for not eating enough, or for moping, or some other thing that I’ve been doing. After breakup number two, I’ve found that I tend to deal with my heartache in particular stages. The first stage involves a lot of crying, holing up in my bedroom, barely changing out of my sweatpants, and never feeling hungry. The second stage involves binge-eating ice cream, marathoning romantic movies that make me cry, and progressing back into real pants. There are two more stages after that, but since I’ve been stuck in stage one for the past three weeks, I can’t really remember what

they are and I’m not sure I’ll ever get to them. From its spot in the middle of the table, my phone vibrates. Tara’s gaze drifts down to it and then back up to me. “Kyle again?” I shrug, trying to remind myself that I don’t care. My heart doesn’t get the message, though. I’ll never admit it out loud, but deep down I look forward to his texts every day. “Think he’s ever going to give up?” “I dunno.” “Do you want him to?” Tara narrows her eyes at me, no doubt deciphering

every subtle shift in my facial expression. I give her another shrug. She flutters her fingers at the phone. “Go ahead. Read it. I’m officially suspending my no-phone-at-the-table rule.” I lean across the table to snag my phone, then settle back into my chair. It started two weeks ago—his messages. He hasn’t apologized again or said anything to try and make me change my mind about us breaking up. He actually hasn’t mentioned getting back together at all. But every day, I get one message

with a personal factoid about Kyle. And not just any facts, but embarrassing ones. Secret ones. I know what he’s doing, and I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t working. Pulling open my messages, I check out his newest text, along with the last few that crowd the screen. Kyle: Embarrassing Fact #11: I cried like a baby the first time I watched The Notebook. Kyle: Embarrassing Fact #12: I was eighteen the first time I kissed a girl. Kyle: Embarrassing Fact #13: In high school, I used to get changed in the

locker room showers because I was so self-conscious about my body. Kyle: Embarrassing Fact #14: That night you slept over at my mom’s, I was so turned on sharing a bed with you that I woke up with the biggest boner. I was terrified you’d freak if you found out, so I crawled out of bed at five o’clock in the morning and took a ridiculously cold shower.

As always, reading it fills me with an odd combination of wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. I should ask him to stop and cut this last tie with him. I’ve tried. I’ve actually typed out the message only to delete it.

This is probably the reason I’m stuck in stage one. I sigh and set my phone on the table, facedown. “Sweetie.” Tara cocks her head at me. “I say this because I love you.” She takes a deep breath. “You really need to figure out what you want. What you’re doing right now is cruel. Not just to him, but to yourself, too. If you’re never going to be able to forgive him, if you can’t get past what he did, then you need to tell him so and cut him loose. But if you can, then you need to figure out what it’s going to take to make things right

between you. It’s the only way either of you are ever going to move on, because you know as well as I do that that boy is so crazy about you that he’d hang around as long as you’d let him.” I drop my head into my hands and stare down at the table. The swirly wood grain is a perfect reflection for my thoughts. I can’t seem to focus on anything, to make any decisions. The hurt is too fresh, the betrayal too recent to move past it. How can I ever trust him again? But on the other hand, was what he did really all that bad? Since we broke up, I’ve read through

my messages with Clark at least a hundred times, looking for the one text I can point to and say, “There! That’s where you used Clark to manipulate me into falling for you.” But there isn’t one. Not once did he ever cross that line. He barely even came close to it. The only thing he did was listen. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. My gaze searches around the apartment, but everywhere I look there’s something to remind me of Kyle. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m suffocating on memories. I push back my chair, the legs scraping against the

floor. “I have to get out of here for a while.” Tara lifts one dark eyebrow at me. “Does that mean you’re putting real pants on?” I try to fight it, but slowly, one corner of my mouth tilts up. “I guess it does.” * * * I don’t know where I’m going until I get there. Honestly, since buckling my seat belt, the rest is just a blur. My body must have been working on autopilot and it brought me to the one place I’ve always done my best thinking, the place I

admitted to Clark was my go-to spot— the beach. It’s helped me through some of my toughest decisions; I hope it’s up to the task this time, too. Closing the door closed behind me, I walk until my shoes meet the sand. I slip them off, hooking my fingers in the heels and letting them dangle. The beach grass brushes against my jeans, and thick grains of sand work their way between my toes. I walk until I’m almost at the edge of the soft, powdery sand, and then I sit down, dropping my shoes next to me. Leaning back on my hands, I take in a

deep lungful of salty, humid air, closing my eyes to savor the feeling of the heavy breeze ruffling through my hair. The sun beats down on me and the crash of the waves against the shore is like the most soothing of lullabies. For the first time since I found Clark’s messages on Kyle’s phone, my brain stops whirring. It’s like all of my questions and thoughts and worries that were swarming and colliding together in my mind have fallen asleep. Maybe it’s the rush and release of the waves that have lulled them into submission. Whatever it is, it feels amazing.

Someone clears their throat, and I snap my eyes open. Then I laugh. Because of course, of course she would be here. “Hey, Haley,” Sloane says, her fingers fiddling with the camera strap that’s looped around her neck. “What’re you doing here?” “What, you own the beach now, too?” “No,” she says, patiently. “I was just trying to be friendly.” I squint up at her. “Seriously? You are pretty much the least friendly person on the planet.”

She shrugs and then drops down onto the sand next to me. “I’m working on it.” “Why are you sitting down?” She snorts. “Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one? I’m not feeling very welcome at the moment.” What have I ever done to deserve this? All I wanted was a few hours to myself to figure out what I was feeling and what I wanted and whether I loved Kyle more than I hated him for what he did. And now I have to deal with Sloane. The sight of her makes my skin crawl, and rage sizzle through my veins. “Sorry,” I say, though it’s clear I’m

not sorry at all. “I guess I must be channeling my inner Sloane.” “Why the hell would you ever want to channel me?” She rests her chin on her shoulder so she can look at me, her eyes widening. “Oh I don’t know, Sloane. Maybe it’s because you seem to be a man magnet. Or maybe it’s because things always seem to go your way. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because all you needed to do was walk into a room, and not even a year later you’re getting married to the guy I was in love with.” I shake my head. “Clearly being myself wasn’t

enough to hang on to him.” “Wow.” Her eyes zero in on my face. “Is that what you really think?” “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” She laughs. Actually bends in half and laughs so loud that it echoes around the empty stretch of beach. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. It’s so far from the truth that I can’t believe that’s what you actually think.” I glare at her, too tired from everything with Kyle to deal with another load of lies. Catching sight of my expression, she

rolls her eyes. “Alright, sure. Men are interested in me. Sue me, I’m goodlooking. But part of that, part of what you saw back then, was just me being willing to fuck guys with no strings attached. That doesn’t mean they were interested in me, or cared about me, they were just excited they could get in my pants. Plain and simple. As for things going my way?” She digs her feet in the sand and glances away. “I’m not even going to get into that. We don’t have time to shovel through all that shit. But Luke? That’s where you’ve really got it wrong.” Her eyes move back to mine,

and she pins me down with her gaze. “Haley, I’ve been in love with Luke since I was eighteen. And to be perfectly honest with you, us getting back together had absolutely nothing to do with you. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were more like me, if you were less boring, or if you were willing to bang him in the middle of The Edge while everyone watched. In the end, you weren’t me. I get that’s probably hard to hear, but it’s the truth.” I dig my fingernails into my palms. Is she right? Was there really nothing I could have done to have held on to

Luke? I shake my head. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it, why I care. It may have taken leaving town and finding Kyle for me to realize it, but Luke wasn’t the guy for me. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad Sloane came back and broke us up. It’s completely insane, but the really logical part of me realizes that without her doing that, I never would have met Kyle. I never would have figured out just what I was missing. “So, why are you really here?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure it’s not to reminisce.”

“Do you honestly think I want to talk about it with you?” “Well, I don’t see anyone else around. Besides, I’m probably one of the few people who’d actually give you an honest opinion. It’s not like I’m all that worried about hurting your feelings.” I snort. That’s the truth. “Why do you even care?” “I don’t.” She saws at her lip with her teeth, then blows out a breath. “But, I do feel a little bad about everything that happened between us, so consider it me trying to make up for being such a bitch to you.”

When I don’t say anything, she adds on, “It’s about the guy you brought to the wedding, right?” I shift a little so I can face her. “Why would you think that?” “You guys had the look.” She flutters her eyelashes at me. “You were making goo-goo eyes at each other during the entire reception.” “Are those the same eyes you make at Luke?” “I do not make goo-goo eyes.” She narrows her eyes at me, and unless the sun’s playing tricks with me, her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “So,

what’s the deal?” Against my better instincts, I lay it out for her—every excruciating detail. I don’t know why I think it’s a good idea. I’m actually pretty sure it’s the worst idea I’ve had since taking off my sweatpants this morning. But I figure that since we’re not friends, I really don’t have anything to lose. After I finish spilling my guts to her, she takes a minute to process everything. “So, you broke up because he was texting you as this Clark guy and never told you?” “Right.”

“But he never took advantage of the situation?” “No.” She runs a hand through her hair, then quirks her head as she stares at me. “You said you love him, but are you sure about that?” I grind my teeth together and force myself not to snap at her. It’s really, really tempting, but she actually sat and listened to the whole story without comment, so I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. “I’m positive.” “No offense intended.” She holds up her hands, palms out. “I’m just trying to

wrap my head around the fact that you’re in love with this guy and you’re letting something this stupid break you up.” “He lied to me.” Sloane laughs again, and I’m this close to standing up and walking away. I don’t need her crap on top of everything else I’m dealing with. “You know what Luke did to me. So forgive me if this all seems a little ridiculous.” Alright, well from that perspective, I guess I see her point. But still. “He should have told me.” “When?” The smirk falls off her

face, so I know she’s serious. “Seriously, when should he have told you? At what point could he have told you and not damaged your relationship?” I open my mouth and immediately shut it. I thought the answer would spring to my tongue, but instead my mind fails to supply any words at all. My brain turns itself inside out trying to figure out the correct answer, but I’m not sure there is one. The truth is, if Kyle told me he was Clark, I’m not sure we’d have ever ended up where we were. It really chafes to admit that Sloane is right. “I don’t know. I think I just need

time to … process everything. To get over it.” “That’s bullshit.” Leaning over, she picks up a seashell and chucks it into the waves. “It’s such a cop-out, ‘taking time.’ You know what you want. Deep down you know how you really feel, you’re just too afraid to admit it to yourself. Too scared to put yourself out there and risk getting hurt again.” “You know that from personal experience?” “Yeah, actually, I do.” Her eyes drift shut, and the muscles in her neck flex as she swallows. “Luke and I wasted five

years trying to get our shit together. That’s five years of memories we’re never going to get back. Five years of love, and laughter, and happiness that we missed out on. There are so many things I’d go back and change if I had the chance. But I don’t. I can never fix it. So take my advice, Haley. If you love him like you say you do, don’t waste it.” Shoving up to her feet, Sloane brushes the sand from her bare legs and readjusts her camera around her neck. She glances down at me, and she actually smiles. “You know, guys do really stupid things when they’re in love.

Their brains don’t know how to handle it.” The urge to laugh surprises me, but I go with it. And when she offers me a hand, I actually take it. I’m not ready to sweep the past under the rug or call her my friend or anything, but at least the desire to rip out her hair every time I see her face has vanished. “Sloane!” We both glance up the beach, toward the shout. A middle-aged man stands some ways away, waving his hand. “Coming, Dad!” Sloane groans, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “Any

chance you’d like to save me from what should be a truly uncomfortable encounter with my parent?” I grin at her. “Not a chance.” “That’s the spirit.” She bumps me with her shoulder. “I’d say that it was nice to see you, but I think we both know it’d be a lie.” She says it with a smile, so I know she’s at least half kidding. “Ditto.” She takes three steps forward and then spins back around. “Before I forget, please call Blaire. If I have to hear one more time about should she call you, should she not call you, should she have

pushed you to be in the wedding, blah, blah, blah, I’m going to blow my brains out. She’s sorry and she feels like shit about what happened. So if you’re feeling the spirit of forgiveness, it would be nice if you added her to the list.” I shake my head. “You know, if you’re not careful, people might actually start thinking you care.” “Shhh.” She presses her finger to her lips. “You’re not going to spill my secret are you?” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chapter 42

Kyle I kick the empty soda can, and it ricochets through the blades of grass, the sinking sun reflecting off the aluminum surface. When it comes to a stop, I bend over to pick it up and then toss it in the nearest recycling bin. “Hey, we’re here to have a good time. Not clean,” Brian says, ripping off a chunk of pink, fluffy cotton candy.

Right, a good time. Like I know what that is anymore. “C’mon, man,” he whines. “Don’t make me regret passing on Scrabble night. You said you were going to try.” “I am trying.” I really am, though it probably doesn’t look like it—my shirt is wrinkled, my mouth can barely maintain a smile for more than a couple of seconds before wobbling and drooping back down. Why Brian thinks taking me to a fair is going to perk up my mood, I have no idea. Then again, after Stacy, he took me to a whole bunch of weird

places to try and get me out of my funk. I guess I should thank him and try a little harder. “Alright, so what’s the game plan?” I ask. Brian shrugs and licks his pinktinged thumb. “I dunno. Whatever you wanna do. Wanna go get your fortune read? Get something to eat? Head over to the stage and watch whatever lameass band is performing?” I wish I cared. “How about the band? I could listen to some crappy music.” I lift a hand to wipe off the sheen of perspiration that’s

breaking out across my hairline. Even with my sunscreen I’m gonna end up with a decent tan. I glance down at my Tshirt. Correction: a decent farmer’s tan. Weaving through the thick crowd of people, I take in a deep breath of some really amazing smells—hot pretzels, popcorn, cotton candy, funnel cake, and pie. If it wouldn’t make me horribly sick, I’d probably have a big plateful of each. I inhale the sweet scent of frying dough and I have to struggle not to drool. Screw it. Even with the almost definite possibility of a sugar coma and a likely date with my toilet, I’m going to do it

anyway. Why not? I nudge Brian. “I’m grabbing some funnel cake. You want anything?” Plucking his shirt off his chest, he fans himself. “It’s hot as balls out. I could do a water. Or seven.” He grins at me. “One hot coffee, coming right up.” He cuffs me in the back of the head as I walk away. “Nice one, jackass.” It happens effortlessly—the first genuine smile I’ve had since the morning I woke up with Haley in my bed, her I love you still bouncing happily around my brain. I don’t fight it. I just let it

settle on my face. Maybe if I don’t acknowledge it I won’t scare it away. After I secure my delicious treat and a giant-size bottle of water for Brian, we meander over to the performance stage and take a seat. The crowd is small and only the first few rows are full. The band onstage is some type of weird reggae, hip-hop mix. The lead singer swipes his dreadlocks over his shoulders, rap-singing the lyrics while a guitar and steel drum back him up. It’s odd, that’s for sure, but not entirely unpleasant to listen to. Settling my plate on my knee, I

unconsciously retrieve my phone from my pocket and give it a quick glance. The time projects back to me, but there aren’t any missed calls or texts. Not that I’m expecting any, just hoping. “Would you cut that shit out?” Brian kicks my foot, disrupting my precarious balancing act with my plate. I grab for it and manage to keep it from falling to the ground, but not before powdered sugar spills all over my shorts. “Thanks,” I say drily. I try to wipe up the mess but it just makes it worse. I wiggle the phone at him and stick it back in my pocket. “And relax, I was just

checking the time.” “Right. And Gina swung by my dorm every night because we both really like studying together.” He snorts. Frowning, he pulls out his own phone, types something, and then puts it back where it came from. “What was that?” He shrugs. “Just Teresa. I think she’s jealous we didn’t invite her.” The conversation stutters out on that note, and I take the silence for an opportunity to shove some funnel cake in my mouth. Damn, that is so good. My eyes sweep down over myself, and,

well, it looks like spilling all over my pants was the least of my worries. There’s now a light dusting of powdered sugar all over my fingers, down the front of my shirt, and more than likely on my face too. “You still haven’t heard anything?” Brian cuts his eyes toward mine, lifting an eyebrow. “What? You mean from Haley?” I finger the lump that is my phone in my pocket. “I thought we weren’t talking about that.” “Is that a yes or a no?” I shake my head. “Not a word.”

“And you’re still texting her?” “Fourteen days and counting.” “Geez.” He takes a sip of water and slouches a little lower in his chair. “What’re you gonna do when you run out of embarrassing things to tell her?” I roll my eyes at him and swallow down my mouthful of sugary, fried goodness. “If we ever get to that point, I’ll have to assume she’s changed her number since it’d probably take me a decade to get through everything.” “Look, I know this was my idea and all, but I kind of expected you’d hear something from her by now.” He rubs a

hand over his face. “How long are you planning to keep this up?” “As long as it takes.” Brian nods, his expression turning serious. “If she doesn’t come around on this, are you gonna be okay?” I scuff my toe against the worn patch of grass under my sneaker. “Eventually, I guess.” I’ve been purposefully not thinking about the future, because imagining it without Haley there makes me feel like someone’s scraping out my heart with a dull-edged knife. On the other hand, I’m not letting myself hope, either. The day I

sent off that initial text, I spent hours staring at my phone, waiting for a response that never came. Half of me filled with relief that she didn’t tell me to go fuck myself, but the other half was much less optimistic. Each day that passes without a response is an exquisite form of torture laced with hope and fear. From the depths of my back pocket, my phone gives out a buzz, and the vibration is a totally surprising and awkward feeling as it tickles my ass. I lean over to the side, making the wooden fold-up chair underneath me groan. What the hell does Mr. March want now?

I scan the message. My heart flails and presses the panic button. Brian watches me, quirking an eyebrow as he crowds into my space to read the message. “Who the fuck is Lois?”

Chapter 43

Haley I glance around the trunk of the tree I’m hiding behind so I can see Kyle squinting down at his phone. Brian shifts toward him, his blond head dipping toward Kyle’s much darker one. I’m not quite close enough to see, but it looks like they’re talking. I settle back against the tree, the rough bark digging between my shoulder

blades. My heart feels like someone stuck a miniature jackhammer inside my chest, and my entire body is shaking from the effect. Two hours ago I showed up on Kyle’s parents’ doorstep, ready to steal him away from his family dinner so that I could make things right between us. After my conversation with Sloane, I didn’t want to let another day pass without letting him know I forgive him. But instead of finding Kyle, I found not only Mrs. Lawson, but Mr. Lawson this time, and Teresa, too. After straightening out that confusion and fending off a

barrage of questions, I hopped back in the Camry and came straight here. Finding Kyle in this massive crowd of people was like trying to search out one missing period in a hundred-page presentation. I accidentally trampled on toes, stepped in melted ice cream, and got run down by a herd of toddlers because my eyes were paying too much attention to scoping out the area and not enough to my immediate surroundings. Finally, when I was just about ready to give up, I got a text from Teresa. And thank God I did. Without it, I might still be wandering around aimlessly.

So, with her text pointing me in the right direction, I hurried over to the performance area and there they were. Brian chugged water from his bottle like he was two steps away from dehydration, but it was Kyle’s brief glance at his phone that really drew my attention. I’d planned on just walking up to him and blurting the first thing that came to mind, but it suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. He’d been waiting for a response from me for two weeks … and now he had one. I brush a finger over the screen of my phone, rereading the text I sent Kyle a

minute ago. Me: Hey. Sorry I’ve been a little distant lately, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff. Do you remember the guy I was dating? I found out a couple weeks ago that he’d been lying to me and the breakup was pretty horrific. I’m trying really hard to forgive him, but I’m having trouble getting over it. Past experiences have made me a little gun shy when it comes to trusting people. How do you decide when enough’s enough or if someone deserves a second chance?

I peek at him again, but his shoulders

block my view. My phone jumps in my hand. Clark: I think it depends on what the person did. It sounds like the biggest issue here is trust, so I think what you need to ask yourself is: if you forgive him, would you ever be able to trust him again?

Well, if I had any doubts before, which I didn’t, I certainly wouldn’t have any now. The secret’s out of the bag, but he’s still playing the part, still toeing the line and not pushing me into any decisions. Even with his heart hanging in

the balance. Me: You know, when the truth first came out, I was devastated. On a scale of 1 to 10, if I had to rank how upset I was it would’ve been an 11. But the more I think about it, I realize he was in a really impossible situation, and though I think there might have been better answers, there was no right answer. He told me that he kept the truth from me because he was afraid of losing me, and how can I really blame him for that? As to your question—forgiveness is easy, trust is hard. But I think when you love someone, really love them, it makes everything that much easier.

I press Send and then peek back around the tree. Kyle paces up and down the aisle to the left of Brian, his hands fisted in his hair. Brian lifts the phone in the air, and Kyle leaps for it, snatching it out of his hand. This time he’s facing me, so I can watch his face as he reads it. His eyes drop shut, and he takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Then his fingers start flying over the screen of his phone. Clark: So do you? Love him?

I snort and shake my head.

Me: More than I ever thought possible. Not that long ago, I told him all the things I love about him, but I think there’s a few things I left out. I love how smart he is and the way he dominates at Scrabble. I love how his eyes light up when I look at him because he’s never trying to hide how he’s feeling. And I love that when I’m talking to him it’s like I’m the only person in the world. Even when he’s standing in the middle of a crowd completely covered in powdered sugar.

I watch him as my message zips through the airwaves, waiting for his reaction. He glances down at his shirt

and then his head jerks up, whipping from side to side. Brian cocks his head, listening, and then glances over his shoulder. Slowly, Kyle starts to turn in a circle, his eyes sorting through all the people, looking for me. I should probably be nervous or something, anxious at what’s going to happen next, but the only thing I can feel is excitement and relief. It washes over me, so that when I step out from behind the tree and lean up against it, my heart doesn’t even skip a beat. When his gaze finally lands on me, his whole body stiffens. He puts one foot

in front of the other like he’s afraid the ground is going to give way beneath him, but then starts to pick up speed. He pulls up when he gets to me, his breathing a little winded, and his eyes lock on to mine. “Hey,” he says. “Hey.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leaves a three-foot buffer between us. Even with what I just told him, he’s still not willing to make the leap that I’m ready to forgive him. He doesn’t assume, he doesn’t jump to conclusions, even if they’re right there for him to string

together like connect-the-dots. I smile up at him and link my hands behind my back. “Embarrassing Fact Number One: That night we spent at your mom’s? I had a dream about you, a very nonplatonic dream, and I was pretty disappointed when I woke up and you weren’t there.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as I take a step forward. “Embarrassing Fact Number Two: Before you, I’d never had sex anywhere other than a bed. I’d never had anyone drive me so crazy that my need for them ate me up inside.”

I watch as his eyes heat and flare, and his mouth spreads into a wide smile. I take another step closer. “Embarrassing Fact Number Three: I went back to Briscoll Bay this morning to try and sort out my thoughts and ended up running into Sloane. She was surprisingly almost nice, and helped me realize I was being dumb for not giving you another chance.” Taking a deep breath in, I take one more step. The tips of my flip-flops brush the toes of his sneakers, and I have to tip my head back to maintain eye contact.

“You’re not dumb.” He shakes his head and stares off into the distance. “I really screwed up.” “It wasn’t your finest moment, but what else could you have done? You were right when you said there was never a good time to tell me. There really wasn’t. Regardless of when you told me, it would have hurt, I would have been embarrassed, and it would have messed things up.” I sigh. “As weird as it sounds, I’m almost glad that I didn’t find out until I was already in love with you. At least by then I was too hooked to let you go.”

I reach up a hand and rest it on his chest and my entire body whispers, Finally. His hand covers mine, and the warmth of his touch soaks right into my skin. I’m not sure who moves first, but somehow his lips make their way to mine, and my fingers grab on to his shoulders, and I rock up onto my toes so I can get as close to him as I possibly can. He breaks away first, his expression tightening. “I’m so sorry, I—” I seal my thumb over his lips. I throw his own words back at him from our first fight. “I think we’re a little past that,

right?” His mouth twitches underneath my finger and I slowly lift it away. “How about ‘I love you’? Are we past that too?” “Never.” I bounce up one more time to kiss him. Just because I can.

About the Author

Jamie Howard spends her days as a legal and compliance specialist. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Art from Ramapo College. When she’s not tapping away at the keyboard, you can find her devouring books and perfecting her gaming skills. She lives with her husband, son, and three dogs in New Jersey, and is almost always awake early enough to see the sun rise, even on the weekends. You can sign up for email updates here.

Also by Jamie Howard Until We Break

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Contents Title Page Copyright Notice Acknowledgments Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35

Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 About the Author Also by Jamie Howard Copyright