I told him to do this. These were my exact instructions. And yet, his arms around her have every nerve in my body on edge. My jaw hardens, and Cade’s arms start to feel more like shackles than the easy dance from moments ago.
There’s a war in my head that screams to keep going because walking away would undo everything I’ve already done, while the other side screams to take Imani’s place. It’s completely unfair and all-consuming, and the curious look on Cade’s face tells me I’m wearing every bit of my discomfort on my face.
Ineedhim to stay, though. I need to make it through this dance at least, so I shoot him a reassuring smile and tighten my arms around him. I have a hard time looking at him, though, because his face is very obviously the wrong face. Staring up at his icy blue eyes is a stark reminder that I would rather be staring at a pair of obsidian ones, and I shift my gaze to the left to avoid both pools of blue and obsidian.
And if ever there could be a claim to the biggest mistake of the night, it was looking left, because the moment I do, my eyes meet neither icy blue nor obsidian but bright blue instead.
Of all fucking people, whyhim? Why now? And why the fuck can I not come up with a better mental spiral than that whenever Kingston shows his unwelcome face?
Because I already know the answer to both of those questions.Why him? Because the universe fucking hates me. Why now? Because like an idiot, I agreed to go to a frat party with a bunch of fucking football players.
Kingston’s eyes blatantly rake across my form as though I’m not in someone else’s arms. Sure, I’m not interested in the arms that are holding me at all, but there’s no way in fuck Kingston needs to know that. And he’s got a pretty girl in his arms, too, so why is he looking at me like a prize just landed in his lap?
Fuck that shit!I may be in a mental tailspin that this asshole is back in my sphere, but it’s not because I’m burning some sort of torch for him; he’s just the physical embodiment of the very cruel mistakes I made in my younger days, and the prices paid for them. But Kingston himself no longer holds any temptation for me, unless it’s the bile-purging kind.
He pulls his partner closer to him, almost obscenely, as if he’s trying to make me jealous. The notion is so utterly ridiculous that the only solution really is to make a completely unmistakable statement, so he knows I couldn't care less about his eyes on me, or whatever the fuck he does with his dance partners.
“You wanna step outside for some fresh air, or do you want me to pull you in closer?” Cade’s voice is in my ear again while his hands pull my hips against him sensually.
I know he’s not insinuating what it sounds like he is; he’s the strictest ‘no repeats’ guy I’ve ever met. That is only solidified when I pull back enough to meet his gaze, because it’s not flirty at all. It’s full of concern.
My brain is in a tailspin. Marcus is on my right, with someone else in his arms, and the knowledge that, while it feels so wrong and it fucking aches to look at them, it’s the way thingsshouldbe. Kingston is on my left, looking at me like he thinks he has some stupid chance of me replacing whatever woman is in his arms right now. And then there’s Cade’s concern. He knows something’s wrong and is trying to figure out what it is so he can help as best he can.
An idea pops into my head. I don’t know where it came from, or even what I think it’ll accomplish. But before my rational brain can chase the errant, stupid thought away, my body follows through on it before I permit it to do so.
“Closer,” I rasp out as my weight shifts from my heels to the balls of my feet, and I raise my face until my lips meet Cade’s.
The reminder that I don’t kiss people slams into my brain just a fraction of a second too late, because it’s already happening, and if I pull back now, it’ll fail to send the message I need my two onlookers to get. Ican’tbe Marcus’s, and Iwon’tbe Kingston’s.
Cade’s eyes widen in surprise because he already knows my rules, but his arms tighten around my waist, and he follows my lead. I deepen the kiss; at this point, the show has already begun; might as well make it a good one.
Cade doesn’t disappoint, matching my enthusiasm. Doesn’t hurt that, despite the amount of chaos happening, he really is a good kisser. However, realizing that just makes the fact that I can’t seem to feel anything more beyond simply acknowledging it even more obvious as to how wholly fucked up doing this at all is.
Eventually, air becomes a thing, and Cade pulls away, effectively ending the kiss. I’m so completely wrapped up in what the kiss was supposed to accomplish that I don’t even pause a moment to look him in the eye. Instead, my eyes flick to the cold sneer I know so well on Kingston’s face before he angles away from me and focuses more onthe woman in his arms. I couldn’t really care less. I wanted him to get the message that I’m in no way pining for him, and the look on his face says the message was received loud and clear.
It’s when I look towards Marcus that the weight of my actions finally catches up to me. Imani is pulling him away from the dancefloor, and her intentions have been obvious enough not to have to guess where she’s hoping things will lead to tonight. But while he’s letting her steer him away, his eyes are still on me, and like a kick to the gut, there’s so much defeat, anger, and frustration in his face that he looks like he’s about to cry. My stomach coils up in knots, and the urge to be sick lodges itself in my throat.
My gaze is torn away from Marcus when Cade’s fingers tip my chin up in a way that is so reminiscent of how Marcus does it that it jars my system and has me pulling back instinctively because it’s the right move, myfavoritemove, but by the wrong person.
“Should we complete the show by letting me carry you upstairs, or are you just going to follow me so we can talk?” Cade says, and it takes my breath away how in the short time that’s passed between ending the kiss and now, I’d somehow already managed to forget him.
Cade’s eyebrow crooks up with a mixture of concern and amusement, but without a trace of the anger that really should be there. Just as he knows my rules, I know his. That was crossing a major boundary. He doesn’t have a no-kissing rule, but we have already been down the hook-up road, and he has a no-turning-back rule. And while it was just a kiss, it was still completely unconsented.
“I’ll follow,” I say weakly, knowing there’s no way he heard me, but he nods his head anyway.
His hand wraps around my hip while he leads me towards the stairs, leaning into me as if we’re going up there for a whole different reason other than to talk. And somehow, I don’t know where he is, but I canfeelMarcus’s eyes follow me up.
A part of me knows that the moment I go up there, it’ll be the last thing holding Marcus back from Imani. By following Cade, I’m giving him a physical permission that I’ve already given him verbally. I can still stop all of this.
My heart beats furiously in my chest, while my brain focuses on Cade’s steady hand leading me away from the room. When Cade closes his bedroom door behind us, a piece of my heart blinks out of existence as the music is muted by the soft thud.
Cade’s love of luxury and the color black are evident in every nook and cranny of his room. It would be almost oppressive if it weren’t for the strategic pops of burgundy and emerald spread throughout. Memories of the one and only other time I’ve ever been in here run through my mind, and I almost deflate.
Despite Cade being an amazing time, it was only ever supposed to be that. I was never supposed to be up here again, and even though I know we aren’t up here for that, the boundaries I just violated have my stomach in enough knots for me to feel dizzy and more than just a bit queasy.
“If you were anyone else, I would almost be doing a happy dance at the chance to fuck with you. But since it’s you, I can’t really muster up the enthusiasm for it,” Cade says conversationally.
Knowing Cade as I do has that landing pretty hard. He’s using nonchalance to mask the depth of his feelings because he’s really not the type to open up and lay himself bare in front of anyone. From him, though, that’s about as close to a confession of deep friendship as one can ever expect, and one I’d be willing to bet only a very few get it.
