AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re definitely a dick,” I readily agree, then sigh. “But you were right—I should be thanking you. I didn’t want to be there, anyway.”
He navigates into his mom’s driveway and cuts the engine. “Why did you say yes?”
Because I was jealous of Miranda Keller and angry at you, at myself, at the world. Because the longer you’re in town, the more insane I feel.
“I don’t know.” Then my mouth bypasses my brain and asks, “How was your date with Miranda?”
His mouth drops open, then closes. Surprise flashes in his eyes, then something dark and knowing that makes me reach for the door.
“Wait.”
I still at the urgency in his voice.
“It was a meeting. A coffee meeting. Not a date.”
I pivot to face him, frowning. “A meeting about what?”
“Lucas? Lucas dear?”
The voice turns our heads to the front of the car, where Mrs. Adler stands waving. I gape at the sight of her. I’ve never seen her less than perfectly coiffed, and she’s currently wearing a robe over clothes that sag on her frame, her hair in a messy ponytail. Her face is makeup-free and looks oddly swollen. She’s wobbling on her feet.
My heart drops.
“Shit,” mutters Lucas. “I have to go.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I understand.”
As I’m opening the door, Lucas grabs my arm, fingers searing through my thin sweater to my skin. “Meet me at the bench after dinner.”
My heart pounding, I nod.
18
My skin feels tight and prickly as I wait for Celeste on the bench in her parents’ backyard, the sky a dim, dusty blue overhead. I struggled to pay attention to my mom tonight, which I don’t feel great about. She barely ate and is currently collapsed on the couch watching a sitcom.
Tomorrow I’ll feel like a shitty son, but right now I’m still in knots over seeing Celeste sitting at a romantic little table for two with Chris freaking Walker. It had taken serious effort not to throw her over my shoulder and haul her out of there. She had no clue what nasty shit Chris and his friends used to say about her, what they’d talked about doing to her. Sure, chances are Chris isn’t the dipshit he was in high school. But I’d still wanted to smash his face in.
At least part of my reaction is rooted in the old, protective urge I’ve felt since we were kids. But I’m self-aware enough to recognize what else I’m feeling—especially since I haven’t felt it since the day I watched her marry our other best friend. It’s jealousy, plain and simple. Break-shit-while-listening-to-heavy-metal kind of jealousy. Dangerous, do-something-stupid jealousy.
I never imagined Celeste stayed celibate all these years. Far from it. In fact, the idea of her not enjoying routine physical pleasure is somehow worse than the notion of her being untouched. But I’ve also never had to confront evidence of her dating life before.
Since I was old enough to notice, I’ve been aware of Celeste’s innate sensuality, the way she moves like she’s at home in her skin. She, of course, has always been oblivious. But not me, and certainly not every straight and horny male in our high school. Her allure isn’t superficial, either. She doesn’t have to wear form-fitting clothing or makeup or even paint her damn nails. She could be wearing a trash bag and men would still flock to her because she’s magnetic. Sexy without effort.
Like magic, she appears, walking toward me on the pathway from the house, a shawl over her shoulders and her hair piled atop her head. She’s still wearing the flirty green dress from her date, bare legs on display, Converse on her feet. Utterly clueless about how beautiful she is.
I really don’t know how much longer I can pretend. Every time I see her, the urge to confess grows, the words in my heart banging on my throat: I didn’t realize it until I saw you, but I came back for you. I’ll do anything to stay by your side forever. You’re my home.
“Is there something on my face?” she asks tartly as she sits beside me.
She’s close enough for me to smell her shampoo and the delicious fragrance of her skin. My gaze falls to her lips and my mouth waters. I want to lick every inch of her, mark her with my teeth, scream at the world that she’s mine. That she’s always been mine.
My jaw clenches as my dick swells in my jeans. Floundering for control, I heave air into my lungs.
“Nope. Nothing on your face.”
Except for freckles I want to kiss. A mouth I want to devour. Eyes I want to see hazy with lust.
Unaware of the fact I want to be on my knees with my face between her legs, her eyebrows draw inward.
