We have it. Chemistry. I can feel it now, pinging between us, singeing my skin. I feel his eyes on me, can hear him approach and now he’s standing next to me, his arms propped against the railing just like mine. He bumps his elbow into me in a friendly gesture and I shiver. The wind is like ice and it bites at my bared skin.
“You’re cold.” His low murmur ripples along my nerve endings and I want to yell at him to back off.
But I don’t.
“Sort of,” I answer.
He chuckles. “If I had a jacket, I’d make you wear it.”
I don’t want him to act like a gentleman. Or like a kind, attentive boyfriend. I don’t want any of these…lies. What I need is reality. Cold, hard facts. I need to remember the money sitting in my bank account, the fact that he’s using me to push his family away. The fact that I’m using him to ensure temporary financial stability for my pitiful little family needs to stay prominent in my mind. I can’t forget it.
“We should probably go inside,” I start to stay but he touches me, settles his big hand over mine and I shut up.
“I can’t go back in there,” he says, his voice so low, I almost don’t hear him. “I can’t face them. Not yet. Stay out here with me.”
Did something happen in there that I missed? He doesn’t seem too upset, but I don’t know him that well to tell. I don’t answer him, figure it’s best to remain quiet and try to reassure him and he doesn’t say anything either.
But he does wrap his arm around my shoulders and haul me in close to him. I try to resist at first, stiffening my body so he can’t really move me. But it’s stupid to fight this, especially with the promise that he’ll warm me up.
So I go. Let him guide me into his arms and he wraps them around me and I’m resting my hands on his hard, warm chest. His hands settle at the small of my back and I’m pressed against the railing, pressed against him. His body is hard and unyielding. He’s trapped me and I have no interest in escaping.
I’m going against everything I thought and worried over only moments ago, all because he’s touching me.
When it comes to Drew, I’m weak. So weak, it’s almost embarrassing. But he seems just as weak over me, and I find that reassuring. At least we’re in this screwed up mess together.
“Did something happen in there?” I ask, curiosity killing me. I had to know.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I risk glancing up at him and I see how tight his jaw is. “Well, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here.”
He glances down at me. There’s such despair in his eyes, my chest aches for him. This perfect, beautiful boy is not so perfect after all. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I laugh, though I’m not mocking him and I hope he gets that. “I’d understand more than you think.”
“If I told you the truth, you’d hate me.” His voice is harsh, his expression pained. “I hate me for what I’ve done.”
My stomach sinks into my toes. He sounds so lost and I realize he’s right. Maybe I don’t want to know. What he’s saying—well, not saying—fills me with uneasiness. I’m scared.
What did he do that he hates himself so much?
~* Chapter Eight *~
Day 3, 7:02 p.m.
I always want the one I can’t have. – Fable Maguire
Fable
He’s ignored me all day, which is fine. Really. I don’t mind being left alone at the guesthouse because oh my God, the last thing I want to do is hang out with that screwed up set of parents of his. Drew took off to golf with his dad early this morning and I haven’t seen him since. I have no idea if he’s even come home. For all I know, they could be making happy family time at the main house while I’m stuck here alone.
Yikes, I sound bitter even in my own head. And besides, I know he’s not home because I’ve been here all day and haven’t seen them return.
Being alone has brought me back to reality though. Again. And this is a good thing. I get too caught up with Drew when I’m with him and that’s definitely not a good thing. This way, spending time by myself at this unreal house with the unreal view, I know it’s all a fantasy.
I caught Adele snooping around the guesthouse earlier. Peeking in the windows, walking around the entire house. I watched her for a bit, hiding in corners but then I started to get mad. What was she doing? Trying to spy on me? Or was she looking for Drew?
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and threw open the door when I saw her skulking around the front. “Looking for someone?” I asked her, using the snottiest tone I could muster.
She crossed her arms in front of her, elegant as always in a pure white sweater and black leggings. I would look like a slob in a similar outfit. Of course, hers was probably designer and cost tons of money, while my sweater and leggings would come from Wal Mart or Target. “I thought you were gone,” she said.
“Hoping I was gone, I’m sure.” I don’t know where I got the balls to talk to her like that, but I’d had it. The ride home the night before had been a study in torture. No one talked and the tension had been near unbearable. A complete turnaround from the ride to the country club, when Drew and I kissed and he had his hands all over me.
She smirked. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“I figured the feeling was mutual.” I shrug, trying my best to look like I didn’t care, but inside my stomach had churned with nerves.
“You won’t last, you know. You’re not his type.”