Whenever the music fades out, there's a tension that replaces it that I can't quite name. Like both of us want to bring it up, but neither knows how—or if we should. I decide that the next time the song switches, I'll mention it. I'll apologize, explain—whatever comes out first.
Luckily, I know this song, and as we drive closer to my old building, I wiggle my toes in my shoes to the beat of the bass. As the last chorus ends, I prepare myself for what I'm going to say. Something like:
I'm sorry about earlier.
Do you understand why it happened?
Please keep my sweatshirt and wear it forever.
But before I can jump in after the last chord plays, another voice speaks on the other side of the radio.
"What's up, G.C. This is Jace Holloway, and you're listening to my favorite radio station—Q.A.B. 10 - The Mix."
Heat spikes underneath my ribs. All movement in the car stops except for my foot pressing too hard on the gas. Tessa stares straight ahead, her eyes wide, her lips pressed into a firm, straight line. It's the proof that I needed.
She knows exactly what happened.
Holloway's voice fills the truck—bright and confident—and a guilt floods my chest that's almost big enough to smother the irritation.
I like Jace. He's cocky and uncallused, and he wears and does shit that I could do without, but I don't have a real reason to hate the guy. If anything, he's eager—sometimes too eager. And way too worried about what comes next for me.
Still… he's taking my spot, and that leaves a taste in my mouth I can't quite swallow. And seeing his name on Tessa's back in place of mine felt like someone twisting the knife I've been trying to pretend isn't there.
Finally, we pull into the parking lot of the highrise apartment complex Drew Anderson and I both used to live in. I whip into a front spot faster than I should and tighten my jaw as I put the truck in park.
I kill the ignition, hoping the engine might not be the only thing that shuts off, and attempt to reset. But the mood shifts heavier. Tessa turnstoward me slowly and cautiously, like she isn't sure if saying something will make the moment better or completely set me off.
I swallow, my throat tight. “Ready?” I ask.
Because I am.
To get out of this car. To blow past what just happened.
To forget what happened earlier.
"Liam…" she says hesitantly. "About earlier—"
"Did Drew say if he left a key with the doorman?"
"Oh, uh…" She stutters, looking out the window toward the entrance. "I don't know. I didn't ask. Brooke was with me last time so…"
She fidgets in her seat, and I unclip my seatbelt, a new form of guilt tightening in my chest.
Tessa didn't ask for any of this. And yet, I keep blurring boundaries—or crossing them completely, then pulling back from her… again. That same push and pull she got before.
And I hate that I can't seem to stop.
If anything it's getting worse.
"Well, I know Everett," I say—my version of a peace offering. "I'll talk to him."
Tess nods roughly. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." She presses her lips together like she's holding more back.
I look at her, my eyes traveling from the braid in her hair to the N on her shoes, more worn than they were the first day I saw them.
God, she's beautiful.
I don't want to think that. I don't want any of this—the flutter I get in my stomach when I see her laughing with Ruthie or the way the moan I heard through her door loops in my mind when I'm alone at night.
