Page 31

I tell myself that this is only a test, a possible solution to the madness inside of me that is Lydia Aston. This is only a cure to forget that she’s occupied my every thought since the moment she sent that first weird-ass text. If I can get her out of my system, then maybe the urges would disappear. Then maybe I could stop thinking about her long enough to try.

I reach a thumb out and brush it over her lips, allowing my finger to remain there far longer than necessary. I flex my jaw, giving one last thought to this before leaning down and pressing my mouth to hers. It takes her all of a second to react before she’s moving her lips against mine in ways that have me wishing I hadn’t played this card.

She pushes her hips up against me until she can feel how hard I am for her right now. My hand moves down to her throat, encircling her small neck with ease. I squeeze lightly, and she moans into my mouth, pressing up onto her toes to deepen the kiss. Although I fucking know I shouldn’t, I open up for her, allowing our tongues to collide in a synchronized dance that feels like we’ve been practicing for hours.

I don’t dance, but fuck, it’s even better than I—

No. What the fuck am I doing?

Pulling back, I search her eyes for answers to questions I don’t even possess. She stares up at me, lips plump and perfectly used. She reaches out and grabs a fistful of my shirt in either hand, tugging me roughly back to her. And for reasons I’m currently unable to explore, I lose the urge to resist her.

This kiss is rushed and reckless, like we might never get the chance to do it again. Before long, her legs are wrapped around me, and I’m cupping her ass in my hands while she grips my hair roughly in hers. I’m pretty sure that every passing car is getting an eyeful of us dry humping on the side of the fucking road as she grinds her hips against my cock in the most agonizing way. Whatever the fuck is happening between us right now, I never want it to stop. I want to stay here forever, with her in my arms and my mouth on hers. I want to devour every last inch of her.

Somewhere in the distance, or maybe right beside us, I hear a horn. The sound startles me, pulling me back to a time and place where inhibitions still exist.

Shit. The little siren trapped me again.

I pull back for good this time, setting her firmly on the ground before putting several feet between us. The distance isn’t nearly enough to convince me that her lips on mine weren’t the most exhilarating experience of my life. I drag a hand over the back of my neck and glance up at the worst fucking moment. Her eyes catch mine, the charge between us snapping tighter than I can stand it.

She brushes two fingers over her lips like she can’t believe the last few minutes ever took place. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and in perfect synchrony with my own. The sight of it nearly shatters my resolve. I want to drag her back against me. I want to kiss her until she can’t remember how to fucking breathe.

I need to get out of here. This was a mistake.

I shake my head as I back toward my car. Her eyes dart between mine and my driver’s door, alarm bells going off in her head as she realizes I might really make a run for it despite what I’ve done. Despite what we’ve done.

I don’t know what I was thinking. If this was a test to see if I could get her out of my system, I failed, astronomically. I grab the handle of my driver’s door and open it up, not making the mistake of looking her way again.

“Are you seriously going to just leave after that?” she asks, her words catching in her throat. I don’t have to look to know she’s pissed as hell.

“I’ll call Caleb to pick you up and have a tow bring your truck to Logan. He’ll fix it and get it back to you. Feel free to have Caleb drive you anywhere you need to go until then,” I say, pausing with my hand on the door and my back toward her. I can’t trust myself to turn around.

“I-I’m sorry, Lydia. I … shouldn’t have.”

I swallow my guilt as I climb into the car and back out before she has the chance to change my mind.

16

Lydia

Callum Thorne is a paradox wrapped in muscle and scowls.

I think about that damn kiss as I mindlessly thumb through Netflix for something to watch. As promised, Caleb and a tow truck came to my rescue shortly after Callum left me stranded on the side of the road. Okay, stranded is a bit dramatic. But how can I not be dramatic after he kissed me straight into Saturn’s rings and then said that he shouldn’t have?

Callum’s mechanic friend, Logan, brought my truck back a little while ago. Apparently, the fuel pump was bad. The specifics are lost on me. All I know is that now it’s fixed, and I am grateful to Callum for at least giving me my Junie girl back instead of junking her like he threatened to do several times. He cares, no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t.

Shutting off the TV with a huge sigh, I stand and head over to my record player. There isn’t much that great music can’t fix, and I know the exact cure for my shitty mood. Thumbing through my records, I pull out my Even in Arcadia vinyl and set it on the turntable. I can’t listen to Reverb right now, not when the drummer is currently ruining my life. Sleep Token is the next best thing, and arguably just as good. It’s eerie how similar the two bands actually are. I lift the tonearm and lower it to the record, listening as the faint crackle of static blooms into the opening notes of “Look to Windward.”

A sigh escapes me as I close my eyes, allowing the music to slip beneath my skin and rearrange all of the broken things inside of me to feel right again. Grabbing the things I need for a warm cup of lemon verbena tea, I walk over to my tea kettle set on the stove. Reaching over, I grab my favorite mug, running my thumb over the worn-down, large cup painted with tiny constellations and golden stars. The paint is faded, and there’s a small chip at the rim, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out. It’s my emotional support mug, if we’re being totally honest.

The kettle lets out a shrill scream as I pull it off the stove, pouring the hot water over the tea bag at the bottom of my mug. Steam curls and wraps around me as the golden-brown color of the tea slowly mixes with the water. I hum along to the chorus of “Emergence” while waiting, drumming my fingers against the counter.

My phone buzzes across from me, pulling my attention down to it. My mind is instantly reeling, considering who could be calling me, and wondering if it’s Callum. I frown when I spot Sloane’s name, sighing as I answer it.

“Hey, Lo,” I say, forcing my words to sound less melancholic than they feel.

“Hey, Lyd. Everything okay?”

Well, so much for that. I’ve always been shit at hiding my emotions. “Mhm,” I say. “Everything is fine. What’s up?”