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“Oh my!” She shoves away and fans her mouth with both hands.
The laughter jars me back into the cruel world, and I blink. The patio lights are too bright. What’s with the ache in my chest? My heart must be bleeding for real.
“Give me some of that cake!” Laurel reaches for the closest plate.
Skylar tugs it out of her reach. “You earned your heat fair and square. Enjoy it. Everyone else did.”
“He had cake!” Laurel points at me, accusing.
“On his turn,” Skylar laughs.
She groans and bites her lips. “Hurry up then and move the prompts.”
He does. I don’t know what he gets—my hearing is dominated by my pulse. My eyes keep wandering over Laurel’s rosy cheeks and lips. Over the black tendrils of her hair mixing with the red. Over the curve of her chin flowing into the tender outline of her neck as she lifts her face to the sky, eyes closed, probably longing for a drink and cursing me.
“Cake,” someone says in the background, then a squishy mass lands on the back of my head.
The whole circle sucks in a surprised breath.
Slowly, I turn around. Skylar’s girlfriend mutters, “Sorry. It was meant for him.” She points at Skylar, who slides on his butt away from me.
Laurel’s ringing laughter jerks me back to her. She’s loving it, head thrown back, eyes crinkling with pure glee. She couldn’t cover me in cake, so she’ll take it however she can get it. Watching her like this erases all of my anger toward her. All her piercing comments, jabs, everything. All I want to do is see her laugh and be happy. Because every time she laughs, the iceberg in my heart melts a little more.
“Jace, don’t do it,” someone says. They must see it in my expression that even though I’m giddy and love-drunk, there’s cake on the back of my head.
“You wanted cake? Here you go.” I grab a handful of cream and crumbs and smear it over Laurel’s cheek.
“Oh, you!” The speed with which she stops laughing and snatches a piece makes my mouth drop, but I still manage to dodge it.
It sails right into Skylar’s mug. Without pausing for breath, he grabs another piece, and that’s when the game ends.
Track 25
Break Up or Make Up?
Laurel
The game ends, and the food fight starts. Within seconds, half the participants flee inside the mansion, and the rest are caked. Jace and I collect whatever clumps we can to throw at each other. I refuse to stop for one simple reason—I’ve never seen him laugh like this before, without a trace of reservation or his usual smugness. All I see is unadulterated Jace. That’s what tips the scales, and my heart surrenders. I crouch in the middle of the lawn to bawl into my hands because I’ve fallen in love with a guy who will never feel the same way about me. And I’m still mad at him, but also not, and I don’t understand how I can feel both of these things at the same time.
“Laurel.” Jace drops to his knees in front of me. “What’s wrong?” His hands hover over my shoulders, never fully touching, but also never leaving.
“What’s wrong?” I exclaim. How can he not know?
“That’s enough for you tonight.” Hal whisks me inside the house.
The few people who see me escorted upstairs make no comments or jokes. Hal hands me off to Briar, who takes me to one of the bedrooms.
“Take a shower.” She switches the lights on and guides me to a small bathroom laid out with bamboo and black tile. “Leave your clothes in the room. I’ll take care of them.”
All I can do is nod and hiccup from the abruptness of my breakdown.
“Laurel.” Briar hesitates to add whatever she’s thinking of saying next, but she gives me an apologetic smile and says it anyway. “Cut Jace some slack. A pinch. Okay? He keeps everything close to his heart and never tells anyone anything, but he’s a good one.”
No matter how much I want to brush her off, I know she’s right. The things Jace told me on the beach…
“You obviously care about him. Don’t give up on him yet.” She leaves without waiting for my answer.
I close the door and sigh. The air rushes out of my lungs, along with a new wave of tears. What have I done? Deep inside I know I’m not without blame. Jace wasn’t the only one asking uncomfortable questions or poking embers that should have been left alone. When we’re together, I can’t stay quiet or patient or nonreactive. He awakens something within me that has to snap back and retaliate and rub him against the grain. He makes me laugh, he makes me want to cry, and I want to run far away from him, but at the same time, I can’t imagine anything worse than never seeing him again.
