Chase leans in. “Just so you know, if Evans body-slams you, I'm not stepping in. I'm in dress shoes and have an NHL contract to fulfill.”
“You hear that? My own brother just sold me out for a quarterback.”
“Damn straight. He's heading up my fantasy football league this year. I'm not messing with that man's playing arm just so you two can have a moment.”
A moment?
I glance at Chris, throwing him a confused glare. I guess that means he didn’t tell Chase everything that happened between us. That when I told him I was leaving for a year, Chris panicked and kissed me as though it might make me stay.
He definitely doesn’t know how fast we both pulled away.
How we laughed it off. How I cried as I left anyway. Not because I wanted Chris—because I didn’t feel a thing.
Not a spark, not even a flutter—nothing but the same old guilt gnawing at the edges of my stomach.
It didn't help that the next day, when I told Zach, I ended up kissing him for the exact same reason.
Only, I felt everything then.
Behind us, someone clears their throat. “Can I have this dance?”
Zach.
His voice cuts through me, the same way it did in high school.
I take a sharp breath as Chris turns to look at the man beside us, his eyes going wide.
“That is, if your boyfriend’s okay with it.” I hear the edge in Zach’s voice without looking up.
Chris laughs and pushes the chair back, giving me more room to move. “Yeah, I'm not her boyfriend,” he says.
Traitor.
He just gave away the only defense I had tonight.
“Good,” Zach says, extending his hand toward me with his palm up. I stare at it, faced with the same dilemma as Chris. Only this time, it's not just a boy who accidentally kissed me. It's the only man I've ever loved.
Chase mutters something about bears and honey as Chris backs away.
“Honey,” Zach says quietly, leaning in. “Dance with me. Please.”
He’s pleading with me now, and I’ve only ever heard him do that one other time.
Are you really going to leave me, Honeycomb?
“O-okay,” I say, because it feels wrong to leave him like this.
The second my hand is in his, I feel every emotion come crashing back into me. Electricity sparks every nerve ending, and I'm barely able to stand, because I’ve felt more in the last five seconds than I have in the last six months.
Let’s see how this works out for me.
My knees knock, and I keep my head down as he leads me to the dance floor. I don’t need to look up to see the peoplewatching us. I can feel them. Not just Chris and Chase, but Asher, Olivia, Madison—everyone, and I don't like it.
When he finds space, he pulls me into him. His palm firmly at my waist, lining us up as he stakes his claim. My traitorous body sinks into him, remembering every inch of how right we feel pressed together.
His other hand holds mine, and that’s when the last two years of separation vanish. Suddenly, I feel like I’m eighteen again, pretending I don’t feel something when we’re supposed to be fake dating.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach.
