“Oh.” I frown as I stare at the ground.
“I’m sorry for being a dick after the game,” he says quietly. “I tend to think people are conditional when it comes to me. They only care about you when you’re a winner. You aren’t like that.”
I meet his eyes. Take in the lost look on his face.
He lets out an exhale. “My life is fucked up. Peel back the layers, and there’s nothing there but rot since my brother died. When I came to Hawthorne, I got good at pushing it back, but I’m weak this year. I’m losing control. My life is spinning in a direction that scares me. Taking things out on you? That was wrong.”
I toe at a piece of gravel on the sidewalk.
“See me. Look at me.”
My eyes rise and capture his golden ones as they search my face. His gaze is subdued, almost resigned, as if he’s looking for something from me but doesn’t know what it is.
He comes down the steps and stops in front of me. “But the last few weeks, being your friend. That was real. With you, I don’t have to act. I can just be me. Because you like me for who I am. Not a single person in my life knows who I am, Julia. But I swear . . .” He rakes his hands through his hair. “You’re the closest. And I don’t—” A ragged sound comes from his throat. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my best friend. I need you. You’re the most important . . .”
“Shut up.”
“What?” He shifts from foot to foot. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry—”
I bridge the distance between us and reach up and brush my fingers over his jawline.
I hate that he’s been hurt.
He leans into the touch and dips his head. “Forgive me.”
“I forgive you.”
How can I not?
He’s bared his heart.
He’s been a friend, one I never expected to find.
He’s championed me. With Connor. With Parker.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
I push thoughts of my mom aside as I slide my hands up his chest and rise up on my tiptoes. “Will it hurt your face if we kiss?”
His mouth parts in surprise. “No. Maybe. I don’t care. Can I? Kiss you?”
I nod and meet him halfway, his mouth taking mine with excruciating gentleness.
Time pauses.
The world rights itself as his lips brush against mine like a sacred whisper.
I feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, the hardness of his shoulders under my hands.
The scent of him, masculine and virile, makes sparks zip along my skin.
For the first time in years, we’re kissing, only it isn’t like it was in prep school. Those kisses were hurried and rushed, full of angst and lust. This is different. We have a history, a backstory that craves to be rewritten, and maybe this is how we do it.
This kiss is sweet. Poignant. Tender.
His lips change direction and slant against mine as his tongue dips into my mouth.
I feel light-headed as a buzz goes through me.
This. Yes, this.
There’s true, honest emotion between us, the kind that’s layered with meaning and knowledge. It’s in the air, crackling and sizzling, yearning to be set free.
“Julia . . .” he gasps, and I melt into him.
22
Eric
I break apart from her and hold her at arm’s length. “That was, um . . .” I sigh, not having the words.
A blush rises up her cheeks, illuminated by their porch light. “I-I was at the hospital. My mom is there . . .” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I need to rest or decompress or something. Come inside and let me get that blood off you.”
We go inside and she motions to the staircase. “I have Band-Aids and antiseptic in my room. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”
“I had a shower, so yeah.” I stood under a cold one for half an hour trying to get the swelling down. I pause at the shadows in her eyes. “Do you want to talk about your mom?”
She lets out a little sigh. “Soon. Right now? I just don’t want to be alone.”
We walk in a bedroom at the top of the stairs, and she flicks on the light. It looks like somewhere she’d live. There’s butterfly wallpaper, sketches on the walls above her iron bed, books scattered around, clothes on the floor. She’s kind of a slob.
“Nice lighting,” I say, gazing up at a wonky gold light fixture with sparkly rhinestones.
“Hasn’t fallen yet. I like it. The house has character. Sit on the bed,” she says as she disappears for a minute, then comes back with a white washcloth, antiseptic, and Band-Aids.
She soaks the cloth with the liquid, then dabs it on my temple and my jaw. Her lips compress in a tight line. “Tell me about this fight.”