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“Let’s just say business closed that day.” I wink. “But hey, everyone got their money’s worth.”
“Wow.” He shakes his head. “You were quite the rebel.”
“Past tense?” I feign offense. “I’m still a rebel, Xavier. Just…more law-abiding.”
“Right.” He chuckles, tilting his head. “Because you’re such a bad girl.”
“Duh.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that’s full of unspoken words and shared smiles. The laughter dwindles into a charged silence. Xavier’s eyes flicker to my lips. My breath catches. He leans in, and suddenly his lips are on mine—warm, insistent. My heart stutters. It’s unexpected, unwelcome. I jerk back, my hand flying up to my mouth.
“Whoa,” I gasp, the word barely a puff of air.
“Shit, Brielle, I’m—” Xavier’s voice cracks, his face crumpled with apology. “I thought…sorry, that was too fast.”
He runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me. His shoulders slump and he takes a step back, putting space between us. It feels like a chasm now, filled with awkwardness.
“Way off base,” he mutters to himself, a blush creeping up his neck.
I’m frozen, still processing the brush of his lips against mine, the surprise of it all. Part of me wants to comfort him, to smooth over the embarrassment.
The worst thing is that I should have enjoyed it; I should want him because Dad approves and he’s my age and sweet and charming, but the only thing I want from him is friendship.
“Xavier, it’s okay,” I finally say, though my voice doesn’t sound as convincing as I want it to be.
“Is it?” He looks up, searching my face for signs of reassurance, but finding only confusion.
We stand there, two people caught in the aftermath of misread signals, the playful air evaporated, leaving a sticky discomfort in its wake.
I take a deep breath, let it out slow. My pulse is still racing, but I force a smile.
I can’t tell him the truth.
“Really, Xavier, it’s fine.” I reach out, touch his arm. “I appreciate you—and our parents’ matchmaking attempt.”
His eyes meet mine, hold steady. There’s hope there, and something else. Vulnerability.
“Can I ask you something then?” His voice is tentative, like he’s stepping across thin ice.
“Sure,” I say, curious despite myself.
“Would you go on a date with me? A real one, I mean. Where we can talk more…get to know each other. Without surprises.” He gives a half smile, self-deprecating.
I’m taken aback. He’s sincere, and the offer is genuine. But my mind races—what about Grayson, Levi, Conrad?
“Xavier, I?—”
“Think about it?” he cuts in, saving me from having to answer right now.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I agree, because it’s true—I will think about it. And because right now, it’s the easiest thing to say.
My heart sinks. Xavier’s eyes, warm and expectant, don’t ignite a wildfire in my chest like Grayson’s smoldering gaze, or Levi’s electrifying touch, or even Conrad’s enigmatic smirk.
“Xavier, I—” I start again, but words clot in my throat, heavy, unformed.
“Hey, Brielle!” Sierra’s voice cuts through, bubbling with too much alcohol. She stumbles toward us, her laughter spilling over like a glass too full.
“Sierra,” I say, reaching out to steady her. She leans into me, all weight and dizzy delight.
