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“I remember. I was counting the minutes until I saw you again.”
Tensing at his words, I don’t completely believe his account of things. How can I when everything after that proved otherwise?
“Well, Kellen found me first when the team got back. He told me he’d goofed at the party.” My nerves get the better of me, and I clamp my mouth shut to stop from spewing any more. This is harder than I thought, baring my soul, and all its scars, even after all these years.
Feeling exposed, I squirm and mentally pick through all the ways to continue this conversation, looking for the path least likely to break my heart. But it’s futile; each option makes me no less raw or vulnerable.
As if sensing this and knowing what I need, he rubs a reassuring hand along my back. “Go on.”
“He, um, said you wanted him to put you in the closet with Zoe.” Even after all these years, saying my then best friend’s name causes tears to prick at the corners of my eyes. Dammit. “Kellen said he messed up, and it should have been her and not me with you.”
When Kellen dropped that bomb, I was devastated, all hope lost. The hope that our seven minutes was the start of something more. My humiliation, the way Kellen’s dark eyes bore into mine, willing me to understand that Oliver never wanted me, still hurts to this day.
“He didn’t.” Oliver vibrates with an unnamed force, as jarring and sharp as his clipped tone. “Fuck him. Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you never showed up as planned. Why you changed afterward. I tried to tell myself you were busy with school, basketball, but when we worked together at Pop’s that summer, you were different.”
I nod and sniff, unable to form the words for fear of crying. Why is this so difficult?
Because that party changed everything. It was both the best and worst night of my young teen life, and to now hear the version I was handed wasn’t the truth…
“Yes. I put distance between us. Oliver, I don’t know if we should talk about this.” My forehead presses into the solid warmth of his chest, and I’m afraid I’m getting it all wrong. Again. And nothing’s changed.
He clasps the back of my neck, fingers sliding through my hair. “Hey, we should clear the air.”
I lift my head, and he keeps his hand where it is, cradling my skull. How do I explain that I did it out of self-preservation without putting all of me out there?
Oliver made the most of our seven minutes together—talking me through my fear, kissing me—and even after I found out he’d wanted to be with someone else, while it hurt like a son of a bitch, the truth didn’t change my heart.
The stupid organ wouldn’t move on. I still longed for him despite knowing the feelings weren’t reciprocated. Call it my competitive streak or plain old stubbornness, but I knew if I was given the chance, I might try to change his mind.
The ache was too much, and I couldn’t risk hurting like that again. There and then, I vowed I would be no one’s consolation prize. I deserved someone who wanted me.
“Okay, I’ll go first.” His curt tone sends a shiver of dread racing down my spine. “Kellen lied. He wanted you for himself.”
“What?” My heart batters against my ribs.
“I’d asked to be paired with you, not Zoe. He knew how much I liked you, and while he’d never said anything to me, I sensed he felt the same way. I figured he was being a good friend by keeping quiet. Not making a move. Until that night. There was something in his eyes.” His body stiffens, matching his brittle tone. “I had a feeling and checked the names he’d paired together. Sure enough, he’d screwed me over, so I switched his name for mine. There was no way I was letting him near you, not even for a second.”
A silly giggle bursts from me, hardly believing him but refusing to let this rush of excitement go. “Really? I wish I could see your face.”
He guides my hand to the firm line of his stubbled jaw and bids my fingers to roam freely. It’s an innocent invitation, but as I trace the ridge of his nose, the soft dip just above the center of his upper lip, and the smooth rise and fall of his mouth, this moment and these feelings are so poignant, so intimate.
Hands shaking, I cup his face and draw him nearer. His closed mouth presses into my hairline, and like a drizzle of warm honey, his lips skim over my forehead, linger at the crest of my brow, rest gently at the arch of my cheekbone, and finally press firmly against my mouth.
My breath flutters faintly in my chest like the beat of butterfly wings. He breaks our kiss but not the connection of our mouths.
“Wren, pretend we’re in that closet one more time. We’ll block out the darkness, the storm, everything.”
Chapter5
Wren
Oliver’s fingers slide deeper into my hair, massaging my scalp, and the fingers of his other hand dig into my hip. His lips are on mine, and as effortlessly and gratifying as breathing, we make out.
Forgotten are all the years since that fateful night, the lie that pulled us apart, and my misguided need to protect myself with indifference and space.
