“Oh. Yeah. Yeah.” He’s a shit liar. It’s the assurance I need.
“I’m going to grab another beer. I’ll see you guys later.” I let a crowd suck me in, toasting and cheering with people who celebrate me on tonight’s game. Some hug me, others take pictures. A few are friends, most are strangers, several are drunk.
The energy of the party wanes, regardless of my attempts to turn off the voice in my head, reminding me to have fun and not care. I can’t stop looking for Hadley.
I spot her in the kitchen, laughing with a girl I don’t recognize. The other girl waves goodbye and takes the hand of a guy beside her. Hadley glances around the party and I can’t silence my pride as it wonders if it’s me, she’s looking for.
With tonight’s victory still hot in my veins, I start toward her. Her gaze meets mine when I’m still a dozen feet away and the edges of her lips curl with a smile.
It feels like a goddamn touchdown.
A win.
The exact excuse I was waiting for.
“How did it go?” she asks. “Did they click? Are they still hanging out?”
I soak in the hopefulness in her shocking blue eyes, and the excitement in her tone that encourages me to strive for that same note of enthusiasm from her every damn day, and take another step, so close I feel her breath against my mouth.
I lean one hand against the wall, drunk on the scent of her perfume, and the flash of heat that nearly eclipses the doubt and question in her gaze.
“Are you—”
I nod once and lean into her, brushing my lips against hers. It’s a question. A theory. A whisper.
Her eyes are open, I know because mine are too, and I don’t know why. I’ve never kissed someone with my eyes wide open. She’s probably wondering if this is a prank, whereas I’m staring because I want to see if her eyes change and will reveal that she’s turned on—that she wants me and has been thinking about me because I’ve been wanting to kiss her since she began infecting my thoughts last week. It’s only been a few days, and yet, it feels like I’ve wanted her for years.
I press my free hand against her lower back, pulling her more firmly against my chest, and close my eyes as I angle my head and kiss her more deeply. She tastes of beer and mint as I gently ply at her lips, catching her bottom lip with my teeth. I graze my teeth against the plump flesh, and her breath hitches as her hands fist at the back of my shirt. She kisses me back then, the hesitancy gone as blood surges through my body, whooshing in my ears, blocking out the sounds around us as I memorize the way her lips slide and catch on my lower lip. I place my thumb on her chin, as though directing her to open her mouth for me, and energy hits me like a spike of lust as she follows the silent instruction and I sweep my tongue in her mouth, brushing against hers.
I groan, starved to taste more of her and travel my hands around her body to explore each part of her and discover each sound and breath she makes, but then she tilts her head, a silent invitation to continue kissing her, and without missing a beat, I rise to the task, kissing her with a level of intensity and purpose like kissing her is what I spend eight hours a day preparing for. I’ve always considered kissing as an unnecessary but customary first step in foreplay, but as Hadley moans her pleasure into my mouth and I steal her gum with my tongue, I understand why so many goddamn songs are written about kissing—because now, surviving on her breaths, it feels like I’m breathing for the first time in too damn long.
“What in the actual fuck?”
The voice is a bucket of ice water that has me pulling away from Hadley, something in my chest sinking and heavy as I turn, searching through the crowds for Katie, waiting to see contempt and judgment.
I spot my little sister by the door, staring in the opposite direction of where I was just making out with her friend, staring at the party with absolute horror.
Chapter11
Hadley
Itake a step away from Nolan, grappling for breath as I work to ignore the pressure building at the apex of my thighs, the way my breasts feel heavy, and my fingers curl, missing the heat of his body in my grasp. I try to block out the objections in my brain that are demanding I duck into a dark corner or the basement door which is only a few feet away and explore more of this—demand more of this—of him. I look at where Katie is standing at the door, fuming as she searches for Nolan.
“Shit, I… Shit…” Nolan says, shaking his head.
Regret is a meteor, crashing into my reality, destroying the calm that was underlying my desire as I work to make sense of what just happened. I just made out with my roommate’s brother. I’m trying to strengthen my friendship with Katie and kissed Nolan.
I’m a terrible friend.
And I let this party happen, with little objection, and did nothing as people continued to fill the house.
And Nolan’s not just my friend’s brother, he’s my roommate. We live together, and more than that, I barely know him. Which would probably be fine under normal circumstances for normal people, but I’m not normal. I’m a sloth when it comes to relationship progression. I dated my boyfriend in high school for three years before we slept together, and I knew Ezra for three months before I kissed him—because he was too shy to make the first move.
“I have to talk to Katie,” Nolan says.
“I’ll talk to her. You should get people to leave before she calls the police.”
“She’s going to be pissed. I deserve this wrath.” His lips and the skin around his mouth are stained with my lip gloss. A wave of self-consciousness crashes over me as I question if I’m a messy kisser. A horrible, messy, amateur kisser. How did my mouth get on his chin or that high on his upper lip?