I wave over my shoulder as more tears prick my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm them.I can do this. I can do this. I can—
“Hayls, wait.”
I spin to find Reed jogging toward me, but before I can question him, he’s cupping my face in his hands and slamming his mouth to mine.
My lips part as I startle, but when my brain catches up, I curl my fingers into his shirt, pulling him close and holding on for dear life, meeting his fervour.
With his thumbs under my chin, Reed tilts my head to deepen the kiss, and my heart pounds as his name escapes my lips.
“Reed.”
He groans in the back of his throat, his hands sinking into my hair, his tongue seeking entry. And for the first time, I pour everything I have into the kiss, molding my mouth with his, tasting him, savouring it all as though this is the last time our lips are ever going to touch.
And maybe it is.
Reed’s hand falls to my back, and he pulls me in closer, bending slightly until we’re flush. My knees go weak and my pulse spikes, but it’s not until my entire body heats that I realise I’m screwed.
I’m not feeling this way because we’re friends. I’m falling in love with him.
In fact, I’d say I’ve been falling for a while now.
All while he’s in denial about loving somebody else.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Reed
It’s been three weeks since Hayley left, and I still can’t get our goodbye kiss out of my head. I think about it every time we speak. I think about it when I’m alone. Hell, I still think about it when I’m training with the guys.
Which is not at all convenient.
I’m consumed by her. She’s ingrained in my mind. Some might say I’m obsessed. And it’s driving me crazy.
This is supposed to be fake. We’re supposed to be friends. But there’s nothing fake or platonic about the way I feel.
Only how the hell can I tell if it’s real? I’ve once again fallen for my best friend, like it’s my fucking MO.What the hell is wrong with me?
Now I get to spend the entire weekend with my family while they undoubtedly ask me a million questions about Hayley and I work hard to pretend I’m okay.
My problems are small compared to what they’re going through—the least I can do is keep the smiles on their faces—but they’re still fucking problems.
After a long drive from the airport, I pull up in front of my parents’ modest property and stare at the yellow front door, willing it to morph into something else. Somewhere else.
I wouldn’t say I had a rough childhood. For the most part I was loved, and my parents were there cheering me on, supporting me, nurturing my potential. But it came in waves. And I haven’t completely moved on. Not that I’d ever tell them that.
Out of the corner of my eye, the old lace privacy curtain shifts and I know I have about ten seconds before my mother walks out. Nothing happens around here without her knowing about it.
Right on cue, the door swings open, and she rushes toward me, her arms wide as I jump out of my rental.
“What are you hiding away for?” she asks as I bend down, letting her wrap me in her hold, rocking me tightly until she’s gotten her fill. “I’ve missed you. It’s been months.”
“I know. I thought it was best to give you some time and—”
“He’s at a music festival out of state,” Mom cuts me off, smiling as though this is news to me.
But it’s not.
Dad mentioned the festival was this weekend, so rather than coming for their birthdays last week, I held off and wired him the money to buy Jace tickets, under the guise that he won them. Dad even told him I wasn’t coming home this year. But I have no doubt that Mom will tell him when he gets home.
