CHAPTER NINETEEN #16
I force my gaze to stay locked on his face. Except there's this traitor voice in my head whispering, Go on. Just a quick look. One peek won't kill you.
Stop it. Stop it. Don't you dare—
But oh, I do.
My eyes wander, slow and greedy, down the long lines of his chest. Every muscle cut and defined like he spends his nights getting sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
Lower, across the ridges of his abs—eight, not six, because of course he'd have extras, the overachiever.
His skin is golden, taut, the kind that begs to be touched, licked, anything but ignored.
And then there's the trail. That maddening, dark line running down from his navel, disappearing into the low waistband of his jeans like it knows exactly what it's doing to me.
God, it should be illegal to look that good half-dressed.
My breath hitches, heat crawling up my neck.
I snap my gaze back up so fast I'm surprised my head doesn't fly off my shoulders. For the love of God, Caroline, eyes on his face. Not his abs. Not his... everything else.
Zach's lips twitch into a smirk, his eyes flicking down just enough to let me know he caught me staring. "What are you doing outside my room?" he asks, and he's beaming like I'm the best thing that's happened to him all night.
What am I here for again? Damn it...
You're here to let him explain, genius. To finally tell you what really happened three years ago. You know, closure. —cue inner sass-monster rolling its eyes.
Right. Right. That's... right.
I open my mouth, ready to answer, but then my eyes catch movement behind him. A figure in his room.
And just like that, the haze shatters.
It’s Taylor Lewis.
The sight of her standing there beside his bed hits me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I look at her, then at him—still half-shirtless in the doorway. Back to her. Then him again.
And the realization slams in, ugly and sharp, like a knife twisting in my chest. My stomach drops. My face tightens. My eyes widen just a fraction before narrowing, lips pressing into a hard line.
Zach follows my gaze, and the smile dies on his face. "Caroline, it's... it's not what it looks like."
Of course. I almost want to laugh—because isn't that the classic line? Every guy who gets caught with a girl in his room.
I bite it back, though. I don't get to accuse him. I'm not his girlfriend. I have no claim, no right to demand an explanation.
But God, it still stings. Burns. Like someone just ripped open a wound I thought I'd stitched shut.
Fuck. I shouldn't have come. Stupid. You're so stupid, Caroline.
I take a step back, my throat tight. "I didn't mean to... interrupt anything."
Another step. My lungs lock, like I can't pull air in.
Any second now I'm going to turn and run, because the air in here feels poisonous. Suffocating.
And the worst part? My mind's already doing it—spinning out ugly pictures of the two of them tangled in his sheets.
My stomach lurches. God, I might actually throw up.
That's when she moves.
Taylor drifts closer, hips swaying like she's gliding instead of walking, and her perfectly manicured hand brushes along Zach's arm. "Is everything okay?" she asks, her red lips curving into a smile that's all teeth and confidence.
Recognition flashes in her eyes. "Oh... hey. Aren't you the one from the bar the other night?"
Her voice is honey-sweet, smooth and sultry at the same time. Up close, she's even more intimidating—effortlessly glamorous.
I don't answer. I can't. My throat's clamped shut, like words have been locked behind a door with no key.
So, I do the only thing I can—turn on my heel, ready to bolt.
But before I can take a full step, Zach's hand shoots out and clamps around my wrist. Firm. Unyielding.
I whip back to face him, eyes hard. "Zach," I grit out, keeping my voice low but sharp. "Let me go."
My gaze flicks sideways, landing on Taylor.
Weariness coils in my stomach. The last thing I want is her misreading whatever this is.
She's looking between us now, brows drawn, confusion written plain across her face.
Zach drags in a slow breath, his grip steady, eyes locked on mine. "Taylor," he says, voice even but clipped. "Can you... leave us alone, please?"
"Zach!" I whisper-yell, panic rushing through me. I glance at Taylor, heat climbing my neck. "You don't have to do that—I'll go."
His jaw ticks, muscles tight, his eyes darkening like a storm rolling in. "Taylor. Please."
Taylor blinks, startled, then lets out a small, airy laugh. "O... okay. Sure." She slips past him at the door, the brush of her perfume lingering in her wake. She glances back once, lips still painted in that perfect red curve. "See you later then."
As soon as Taylor left, Zach's grip tightens. He pulls me forward before I can blink, dragging me inside his room. The door slams behind us, and my back hits the wood with a jolt. His body cages me in, heat radiating from his bare chest pressed firm against mine.
I gasp, breath catching, my eyes flying up just as his face lowers close. Too close. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath, smell the faint trace of his cologne clinging to his skin.
The dim light paints shadows over the sharp cut of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes. His eyes pin me in place, heavy and unrelenting, swallowing me whole. My lungs forget how to work, my body trembling at the weight of him.
And I inhale sharply, because there's nowhere to run. Not anymore.
"Wha... what are you doing?" My voice trembles, betraying me, and I hate how obvious it is—how he can see every crack in my armor.
His eyes don't move from mine. Unblinking. Burning. "I'm tired of watching you run from me."
He swallows hard, gaze flicking down to my mouth and lingering there, hot and deliberate. My pulse spikes, heat rushing straight to my cheeks. My lips tingle, traitorous, like they know exactly what he's thinking.
God, don't look at me like that.
"Now," he says, voice low and rough, every syllable dragging heat across my skin, "can you tell me why you're here?"
My teeth sink into my lower lip, desperate for something to hold me steady. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat. "It was a mistake coming here," I whisper, my voice thin, trembling.
"That's not what I asked, Caroline."
"Well, what do you want me to say, Zach?"
His jaw clenches, and when he speaks again, his voice is molten—low, sinful, hot enough to set my whole body alight. "The truth. That you came because you're finally giving me another chance. That you came here because you missed me too."
A laugh bursts out, sharp and disbelieving, even though it shakes in my chest. "Don't be ridiculous, Zach. I only came here because your sister begged me to give you a chance to explain..."
I exhale hard, my chest rising and falling too fast. My heart's pounding like it's trying to break free, and God—it's because he won't stop looking at me like that. Like he could melt me down to nothing if I hold his gaze one second longer.
"But..."
"But what?"
"But I..." My throat works, my words tumbling out faster than my brain can catch them. "I changed my mind, okay? Because it doesn't matter anymore. None of it does." My hands flutter uselessly at my sides, trying to make the words stick.
I shake my head, blinking hard. "What happened three years ago... us, whatever we were—I've already forgotten it."
The lie scorches on my tongue, but I force the words out anyway—hoping maybe he'll believe me. Maybe I'll believe me.
"Because...you don't matter to me anymore, Zach."
His jaw flexes, eyes darkening, and for a split second his gaze drops—straight to my mouth.
"Is that so?" Zach leans in, close enough that his breath grazes my lips.
My heart lurches into overdrive, hammering so fast it feels like a trapped bird beating itself bloody against my ribcage. My whole body locks up, every nerve buzzing, screaming at me to move, to breathe, to do something.
Oh God, is he about to—?
Panic ricochets through my head.
My pulse trips over itself, and my stomach flips so violently I'm half-convinced I might actually faint.
"If what we had before doesn't matter," he murmurs, voice thick, "and if I don't matter to you anymore—like you claim..."
His hand lifts slowly, deliberate, fingers brushing the base of my throat. My breath stutters as his touch trails up, until he hooks his fingers at the neckline of my shirt. He tugs lightly, just enough to free the chain hiding beneath the fabric.
"...then why do you still wear this?"
The heart locket glints in the dim light as it falls into view, dangling from the chain until it pools in Zach's palm. His fingers close around it, thumb brushing over the metal—teasingly slow, like he's savoring every second of making me squirm.
When I finally dare to meet his gaze, his smirk nearly undoes me. That smirk. That stupid, lethal smirk.
"You're still such a bad liar, Sugarplum," he teases, voice low and sinfully flirty—hot enough to melt me right into the door he's got me pinned against.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CAROLINE
Iyank the chain from his palm and clutch the locket tight, my knuckles whitening around it.
"No, I'm not," I snap, even though my voice comes out way too thin to sound convincing.
My throat bobs with a hard swallow, and I can feel my pulse hammering there, loud and frantic.
Zach's gaze follows the motion, before sliding back to my face. His molten stare pins me, his lips curling in a smirk that looks way too pleased.
"Then why," he drawls, each word smooth and dangerous, "do you still wear it?"
My eyes dart anywhere but at him—floor, wall, ceiling, anywhere that isn't his face. Heat prickles my skin, making me squirm against the door.
"Because... because I like it."
His brow lifts, that smirk deepening. "You like it."
"Yes." My fingers tighten around the locket until the chain digs into my skin.
"Not because it reminds you of me?" His voice is softer now, but it slides under my skin like a slow burn.
"No," I bite out.