CHAPTER forty-three #12
Every time I kiss her, it's like my brain just... malfunctions. Full system crash. No thoughts. No logic. Just pure, stupid wanting.
Doesn't even have to be deep—just one soft brush of her lips and I'm gone. It's like she flips a switch somewhere in my spine, and suddenly my body's a live wire. My heart sprints, my lungs forget how to function, and my—well, let's just say below the belt goes rogue every single time.
Which is why I've been purposely keeping it PG lately—chaste kisses, safe distances, hands so fucking restrained they might as well have been cuffed.
But every goddamn time I see her, the thought of that kiss from two weeks ago would come roaring back, and I'd be hard as fucking steel, my cock begging for release.
It's been brutal.
My hands are this close to filing for rebellion after all the extra shifts they've been pulling lately. They're probably developed a permanent cramp from the nightly ritual of trying to take the edge off.
Nothing helps. I see her, I want her, I ache—it's become my new normal.
I shake my head fast, erasing the memory before I implode right here at the table. "Nope," I mutter. "I'll wait. I'll follow her pace."
"Even if it kills you?" Luke asks.
"Even if I die with blue balls," I say, dead serious.
They burst out laughing, pounding the table. Liam nearly chokes on his drink.
Cody wipes his eyes. "Man, that's love right there."
"Yeah," I sigh dramatically. "Love—and mild testicular trauma."
They're still cracking up when, out of nowhere, Kentaro's phone buzzes on the table.
He glances at the screen once—and his whole expression changes. Brows furrow, jaw tightens.
Without saying much, he stands. "I have to go."
"Everything good?" Elijah asks, but Kentaro's already halfway out the door.
We all watch him leave, confused, but before anyone can comment, movement catches my eye.
Caroline.
Guess she's finally decided she's tired of dancing. She's weaving through the crowd, hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed, still glowing like the goddamn sun. Her smile's so bright it should come with a warning label.
Sam's beside her, laughing as they make their way to our table. She plops down next to Elijah—right on Cody's chair, actually—while Cody grumbles and slides into the one Kentaro just vacated.
Caroline's about to take the empty chair next to me, but nope. Not happening.
I grab her wrist and gently tug her onto my lap instead.
"Hey, beautiful," I murmur, our faces close enough that I can see every fleck of green in her eyes. "You done dancing yet?"
"Yeah, for now," she says, breathless, a small laugh leaving her lips. "My feet are killing me."
I chuckle, tucking a loose strand behind her ear and nuzzling my nose against hers. "Poor thing. Guess I'll just have to keep you off your feet then."
Liam squints at me from across the table. "Dude, can you maybe tone down the sappiness a little? My eyes are starting to hurt."
His twin nods in agreement, dead serious. "Right? This isn't the same Westbrook I met freshman year—cool, cocky, too good for feelings—what the hell happened to that guy?"
I grin, sliding a hand up to cup Caroline's face. "Told you that was just an act."
Then I press a quick kiss to her lips and murmur, "This? This is the real me."
A round of groans goes up immediately.
"Oh my god," Cody mutters, dragging a hand down his face.
Liam shakes his head. "Caroline, is this really your type? You sure you don't wanna trade up? I'm way cooler than this sap."
Caroline laughs softly.
"Tempting," she says, leaning in closer to me. "But no. I like this version of him—the one who isn't afraid to be a total dork in love."
Luke points a finger at us. "Great. You've just created a monster. He's gonna be even more unbearable now."
I flip him off without looking away from her, smirking.
Caroline laughs again, presses a light kiss to my jaw, and adds, "And that right there? That's why he's perfect for me."
The guys groan in unison—half disgust, half amusement—as I can't stop grinning, arms tightening around her like I'm daring them to keep watching.
Luke stands up, muttering, "God, I can't take this anymore."
"Yeah, same," Liam adds, pushing his chair back. "Let's leave the lovebirds. They're officially a lost cause."
Cody drains the rest of his drink and stands too.
They disappear into the crowd while Caroline giggles against my shoulder, and I can't help thinking they're right—because honestly, I'm way too far gone to be saved.
Caroline shifts closer on my lap, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of my neck. I grin and lean in, brushing my lips against hers. Once. Twice. Then again—because honestly, how the hell am I supposed to stop?
We're probably making out like we're in our own world when Sam groans from across the table.
"Oh, get a room, you two."
I pull back just enough to smirk at her. "Jealous?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically.
Caroline laughs softly against my chest, and I swear my ego grows three sizes.
Sam leans forward, resting her chin on her hand and batting her lashes toward Elijah.
"Hey, you. Wanna dance with me?"
Elijah doesn't even glance her way. "No, thanks."
"Why not? It's prom! You should at least slow dance with me."
"I don't dance." Flat. Cold. Delivered with the enthusiasm of a brick.
Sam frowns. "Don't be such a bore, Eli. I know you dance. Come on—"
He finally cuts her a glare so sharp it could slice steel. "You really should learn that when a person says no, it means no."
Sam blinks, unfazed, and shrugs. "Ugh, whatever!" She snatches an unopened bottle of water off the table, twisting the cap. "Fine, I'll just sit here with you, then."
He stares straight ahead, silent.
A few moments pass, the air between us settling into an easy rhythm—Caroline tracing lazy patterns on my chest, Sam pretending to scroll on her phone beside Elijah.
Then a shadow falls across the table.
"Hi, Elijah."
We all look up. A petite girl stands there, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, cheeks already pink. Her voice is soft, almost trembling.
Elijah glances up, recognition flickering in his usually unreadable eyes.
"Oh, hey. Eunice, right? From the Sports & Performing Arts Seminar last year?"
"Yeah! Can't believe you remember me." She laughs nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
It's the kind of laugh that's equal parts shy and hopeful.
Elijah gives her a polite half-smile—tight, practiced, the one he uses when he's forcing civility. "Of course."
From the corner of my eye, I see Sam's face sour. Her smile's gone, replaced by that tight, annoyed look she gets when she's trying not to care.
"What's up?" Elijah asks, tone neutral.
The girl hesitates, "Well, I just wanted to, um... see if you'd maybe like to... dance?"
Sam smirks beside him, leaning back in her chair. I can practically hear the thought running through her head—this poor girl's about to get rejected so fast she'll evaporate.
But then Elijah says, "I would love to."
Sam's smile falters instantly.
I blink, honestly just as shocked. Elijah stands up, offering Eunice his hand. She looks like she just won the lottery as he leads her to the dance floor.
And Sam... God.
She's sitting there, perfectly still, eyes glued to them. Her lips part, but no words come out. The sparkle in her eyes—the one that's always there when she looks at him—just... dies.
Her fingers curl into a fist on the table, knuckles white. She watches as Elijah guides Eunice's hand to his shoulder, his other resting lightly at her waist. They start to sway—slow, steady, graceful.
It's like I can feel Sam's heart cracking from across the table.
"He said he doesn't dance," she whispers, barely audible. A humorless laugh slips out. "Clearly, he meant he doesn't dance... when it's with me."
Then she exhales, long and shaky, and leans back in her chair, staring at the ceiling like she's trying to blink the sting away.
Caroline and I exchange a look. She's still on my lap, but the lightness from a few minutes ago is gone.
Caroline reaches over and gently takes Sam's hand. "You okay?" she whispers.
Sam forces a small smile—too tight, too bright. "Of course."
She lets out a short laugh, the kind people make when they're pretending not to cry. But her eyes... her eyes tell the truth. They're glassy, trembling, and I can see her blinking fast, refusing to let the tears fall.
And me? I sit there, jaw clenched, every instinct screaming to punch Elijah right in the face.
Because I know him. I know he said yes just to prove a point—to push Sam away again, to make it sting enough that she'll finally give up.
I get it. I really do. She's relentless, stubborn as hell.
There were times I told her to maybe tone it down — to stop forcing herself into Elijah's orbit, to give him space — but she never listened.
Every time I asked when she was planning to stop chasing after him, she'd just smile and say, "Forever, if I have to... until Elijah loves me back."
So yeah, maybe she set herself up for this pain—but it doesn't make it any easier to watch.
Because right now, my sister looks like she's trying to smile through a heartbreak the size of a crater.
And I hate it.
I hate seeing her like this.
Caroline's eyes shift toward someone approaching the table, and I follow her gaze.
It's Adam.
Smiling.
At my girl.
Seriously, this guy. I thought we already established the score. My jaw tightens as I clench and unclench my fist under the table.
If he's here to ask her to dance, I swear I'll introduce his face to the nearest wall.
But to my surprise, he stops in front of Sam.
"Hey," he says, all easy charm and that annoyingly polite smile that makes girls melt. He extends a hand toward her. "Wanna dance?"
Sam blinks up at him, clearly caught off guard. Then her mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Yeah," she says quickly, slipping her hand into his.