AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So don’t tell him.”
“I promised him I would. And frankly, I’ve broken a lot of promises to Miguel. I don’t want to break this one.”
Tyler’s gaze was a warm weight, comforting, and I didn’t want to be comforted. Not by him. “Will you do it?” I demanded, sounding like a bully. Like my father.
Tyler sighed, looking out over The Manor, not answering.
“You want me to beg?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said, “but I don’t think I deserve to be treated this way.”
He was right, which gave me a moment of hot shame, but then I was only further pissed off. Like I needed a lesson in manners from him.
“Please,” I said. “Can you help me?”
“Of course.” He was so reasonable, calm, which made me feel even smaller and more petty. Nervous. Terrified of what would happen if I let go of all my anger, the years of cold comfort my hate had brought me.
“Thanks,” I said, sounding about as gracious as a rock. He continued to watch me, and the ghosts of the past, the pains and pleasures, suddenly haunted the air around us.
“Juliette,” he said, his voice soft and much closer than it should be.
“Don’t,” I whispered, and stepped away, sensing something awful on the tip of his tongue. Something that would change how I felt about him. How I dealt with him. “Don’t do this—”
“Juliette, I’m sorry.”
For the kiss, for making me come I thought, and I almost laughed. Almost screamed, actually, because I was a total mess and he tore down all my walls, ran through all my doors.
“I’m sorry for the way I left,” he said. “Ten years ago.”
My head went light and I was dizzy. Now he apologizes? I thought, feeling shaky and furious. My knees trembled, weakened, but I locked them. The urge to look at him, to lift my glasses and stare point-blank into his eyes and read his regret like a book, was so powerful I had to clench my hands into fists to keep myself from doing it.
Instead, I stared at a honeybee’s slow climb over a blade of grass.
“I was a kid and I was scared. I was…terrified, actually, because you were going to give up Oklahoma State, for me. For us. And I knew I wasn’t worth you doing that. I wasn’t worth any of what you gave me.”
A stinging melancholy filled me, pushing aside my anger.
“Jules,” he breathed. “Please say something.”
Finally I looked at him, my hungry eyes seeing all of his contrition and anxiety. He needed me to accept this apology, I realized, far more than I needed to hear it.
Which surprised me and made me only more sad that we were who we were to each other.
“Am I supposed to forgive you now?” I asked, my voice shaken. “You apologize, I say no problem and…what? We’re friends? Or maybe…more?”
“I have no motives, Juliette.”
“Please,” I nearly howled. “Tyler O’Neill with no motives. Who are you kidding?”
His lips were tight, white in the corners, and I relished those small signs of his distress.
“Fine.” I shrugged. What did it matter in the end—apology or not, our future was nonexistent. Putting the past to bed made no difference. “Your apology is accepted.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “You don’t forgive me at all—”
“You’re not asking for forgiveness,” I said. “But I accept your apology, because it doesn’t change anything, Tyler. Just like the kiss. Nothing is different. You’re still you.”
“Notorious O’Neill.”
“The worst of them.”
His eyes narrowed. Hardened. “And you’re still you,” he said, leaning closer, his breath fanning my face, the smell of him going right to my knees. My head. My stupid heart.
“And I’ve got your number,” he whispered. “You want to pretend that kiss meant nothing, fine. It was nothing. But I’m not the one who walked in here with a favor and mirrored sunglasses and a chip on my shoulder, so if you want to pretend that nothing’s different, feel free. But I’m not buying it, Jules. I’m on to you.”
His anger struck mine and shot sparks all over the yard. I couldn’t breathe for the tension between us. The sudden wild temptation to crush my lips to his and take out this fury on him.
“It doesn’t have to be this hard, Jules,” he said, his eyes on my lips, the pounding of my heart in my throat. “I can be your dirty little secret again.”
“If I touched you,” he whispered. “Would you be wet? If I touched you, right where you like it… would you moan for me? Would you moan my name?”
“Tyler,” I breathed.
“Just like that,” he said. “Just like that.”
He was going to touch me. I could feel it in the air. My stomach. And I had no idea what I would do when he did.
Miguel cleared the corner.
Oh, thank God.
I turned around and headed for the car, the taste of blood in my mouth from where I’d bitten my lip.
