Chapter 43
D isoriented and not sure what woke me, I sit up in bed and peer into the dark. I hear it again, a rap, then my name.
“Peace. It’s me,” Bo says low. My brows shoot up in surprise and my heart starts beating rapidly. “Open the door. I need to talk to you.”
I’m up and halfway across the room before I stop and think. What the hell am I doing? I don’t make impulsive decisions anymore. Or I redetermined not to just before I went to sleep. I remind myself that the Bo outside my door isn’t the boy from four years ago. But reminding doesn’t work. Curiosity and way too much history to ignore propels me toward the door.
“Go away,” I hiss at him with my palm on the wood. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ll wake my dad.”
“Can’t go,” he says. “I have to talk to you.”
“Why? Why are you even here? How did you get in?” I fire my rapid questions at him one after another as they occur to me.
“That’s a lot of questions, PJ. Peace, I mean.” He exhales heavily. I imagine him raking a hand through all his wavy brown hair. “But here goes. I’m here because the truth is you’re still my friend, even if I’m not yours anymore. I lashed out earlier and I regret it. It was…” He trails off and my hand moves to the doorknob. “It was difficult seeing you again after all this time, especially with you making it obvious how little you think of me now. But that’s no excuse. Harmony told me I upset you, so I had to come to see if you’re okay, and to say, for what it’s worth, that I’m sorry I was a dick to you.”
My fingers wrap around the doorknob. He sounds like the boy I bonded with. But that boy is gone, if he ever even existed, and so is the trusting girl who believed he accepted her quirks and all. Bo is a man, a cocksure rock star. Too much time has passed. We’re different people now. My heartbeats slow as I reason things through. However, reason doesn’t govern my feelings. My heart is torn between the past I’ve never fully let go of and a future with me all on my own that I’m not as fully committed to as I should be.
“Peace.” He steals into my thoughts. The urgency in his voice does things to me I can’t ignore. “Please say something.” It’s his earnestness that gets to me. It’s not only my longing that sways me, or at least that’s what I tell myself as I twist the knob and open the door.
“Thank you,” he breathes out, and I’m totally unsure what I know as he rakes his gray-green gaze over me.
“I woke you up,” he concludes huskily, taking me in from my rose-colored cropped top and my matching striped boy shorts. My skin tingles, registering the rough drag of every slow inch.
“Most people are asleep at three in the morning,” I say huffily, crossing my arms over my chest. Once again, my nipples are pebbled from his perusal. “So Harmony let you in?”
He nods.
“Where is she now?” I glance past him, but the dark hallway is deserted.
“Not entirely sure,” he whispers. “But I’m certain I don’t want your dad waking up to find me standing outside your door. Can I come in?” He tilts his head. “Just for a minute?”
“Okay,” I find myself saying and step back.
“Thanks.” He comes in, the woodsy and tangy bite of his cologne washing over me. My stomach flutters and my cheeks warm as I shut and lock the door. When I turn around, his gaze finds me.
“I’ve had enough emotional upheaval tonight.” I feel like I need to explain why I locked the door. “I don’t want to have to deal with my dad.”
“I understand,” he says, but he can’t possibly. Not anymore. But as that thought passes, I notice something that distracts me from how handsome he looks, how good he smells, and how illicit it feels being alone with him inside my bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, one of his dark brows quirking.
“You have blood on your mouth.” I close the distance between us. Without thinking about it, I sweep my thumb across the red oozing from the cut on the edge of his mouth.
“What are you doing?” He inhales sharply, his gaze darkening.
“You’re hurt.” I drop my hand, my skin buzzing where I touched him. “What happened?” I swallow to moisten my suddenly dry throat, resisting the urge to bring my thumb to my mouth and suck it clean. On some base level, I want to taste him because I know I’ll never have that passionate kiss I used to dream about. “Who hurt you?”
“I intentionally allowed someone to hurt me,” he replies.
“Why?” I ask the obvious question.
“Because I deserved it.” He drops his gaze. “Because I hurt you.”
“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.” But I know he believes on some level that he does. He wears the permanent mark of his father’s disapproval and so do I. That is something we have in common. The years haven’t changed it. I’m not sure anything can. “I lashed out at you tonight, and you gave it back to me. Sound fair?”
“Yes.” His head comes up and his gaze locks on mine. “But why did you lash out at me?” he asks the question of the hour.
“You were right,” I admit. “I was acting stupid. I was uncomfortable seeing you again after the way things ended between us.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He appears genuinely contrite as he gazes at me through the thick fringe of his dark lashes. “Not tonight and not back then. I was simply trying to encourage you to find a better, healthier friendship than me, but I failed to communicate that properly.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. The hem of his cutoff tee rises, exposing a tantalizing slice of his abdomen.
“I thought that…” I shouldn’t reveal what I thought, but it’s hard to think clearly with my stomach doing somersaults.
“Thought what?” Pressing me, he steps forward. The years and the hurt seem to vanish between us as he takes a long strand of my hair and gently hooks it behind my ear.
“That you felt sorry for me.” I exhale shakily, a pleasurable shiver racing over my skin. “That you thought I was a loser like everyone else does.” I lower my gaze.
“I thought you rejected me . I was sure of it when you didn’t return any of my phone calls.” He wedges a finger under my chin and lifts my head.
“You were mistaken,” I whisper.
“I think we both were.” His gaze soft, he says in a hushed tone, “But you should have rejected me because from the moment I entered your life, I’ve caused you nothing but trouble.”
“Everything was wrong back then,” I admit in a rush, his hushed confession prompting my own. “You were the only thing that felt right.”