Evie
Book Club Bandits
what’s everyone wearing?
CINDY
something slutty
LAYLA
speak for yourself, I’m wearing a dress
CINDY
that better be slutty
BELLA
wear whatever you want x
CINDY
no
you bitches all better dress up or I’ll cut you
BELLA
you’ve been reading far too many of Layla’s dark romance books
LAYLA
this is all Cin
CINDY
correct
EVIE
wouldn’t be a group chat if violence wasn’t involved
LAYLA
I’m scared to ask what group chats you’ve been in before
Thump, thump, thump.
My poor tortured heart hasn’t stopped beating like a hummingbird’s wings since the moment Matteo laid his large, thick, calloused hands on my hips and placed me on his lap.
I wish my lips had the same vigor as my heart; perhaps then I could come up with something to say. I’m no stranger to Matteo’s silence but this one is weighted. Full of all the unanswered questions that brew between us.
What does this mean?
Why did you nearly kiss me?
How long have you wanted to do that?
Did you do it because you were bored? Or is it possible you also harbor a love we can never feel?
Does your heart skip a beat when I enter a room like mine does with you?
Do you get excited over the smallest of contact between us?
All this time…have you felt what I have?
My head is spinning. It hasn’t stopped since the moment he begged me to say his first name and groaned as if it were the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard.
Despite how it made my stomach flip, I turned into a coward, locked myself away in the bathroom as I got ready, refusing to step out of it on my own merit.
He had to come knocking, informing me we were going to be late.
And here I am, sitting beside him in the backseat of the Uber—still a coward.
The answer why is simple.
I’m fucking petrified.
Utterly terrified to seek the answers my heart so desperately wants to know. What if I look into Matteo’s forest-green eyes and see regret? Or worse yet, what if he turns around and asks me for something casual?
I’d pass away. I would break until I was unrecognizable.
The cheating, the betrayal, the friendship loss, the trauma—all of it would be nothing in comparison to how heartbroken I’d be if Matteo Valenti, the man I have adored and loved since I was a little girl, told me he regrets trying to kiss me.
So that leaves me with one option—ignore the poor bastard.
At least until enough time has passed.
Because I don’t want to lose him—can’t lose him. Not after everything I’ve already lost.
If I no longer had him as a hiking partner, if I no longer could taste his amazing food or see his head pop into my room while he tried to entice me out of said room or enjoy another one of his latte artworks, I’d become unbearably sad.
Just the thought of it has my chest painfully constricting.
I don’t realize I’m rubbing it until Matteo speaks up, his hand on my thigh a balm and a grenade all in one, the simple touch sending me scattering into a million pieces.
“Dove, you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “Of course.”
But my pitch is too high, and I still can’t look at him.
The Uber pulls into Grayson’s driveway, the trees lining the road soothing something within my racing, anxious mind. Until Matteo removes his hand and I feel like I’m melting into a puddle of sadness.
The car has barely rolled to a stop before Matteo is flinging himself out of the car.
At first, my heart sinks, dropping like a dead weight.
Is he that desperate to get away from me?
Then, my door opens, and for the first time since he sat me on his lap, my eyes lift and gaze into the soul of the boy I have forbidden myself to love.
I lose my breath all over again.
Matteo’s smiling, one so wide and bright it’s disarming, drawing me deep into the wildness of his forest until I’m spinning around in circles, lost.
A part of me never wants to be found.
Until I realize why he’s smiling.
This fucker knows I’m a mess.
He knows and he’s smiling about it.
I can feel the spark of anger rising, but it dies a quick death because I’ve always been a sucker for the sight.
Wearing black loose jeans and a deep navy dress shirt, Matteo holds out his hand for me. The moment I slide mine into his, the tether between us pulls like never before. My body is suddenly engulfed in flames, my skin scorching.
His eyes seem to twinkle. “You look beautiful.”
He closes the car door behind me, never letting go of my hand as I whisper, “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Kieran sent a follow-up message to Valenti, informing us of the dress code.
I decided to go with the nicest dress in my closet, which there wasn’t a lot to choose from because I still haven’t unpacked, but the buttery-soft, floor-length yellow dress is to die for.
It was inspired by the iconic dress Andy wore in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
With my blonde hair twisted in a low bun, the resemblance is astounding.
It almost revived my romance-movie-loving heart—almost.
Keeping my hand in his, Matteo leads me to the open front door. The music flowing out and the cheers and laughter has anticipation humming through my veins.
We should talk. I know we should.
And despite how much I want to stay in limbo before he no doubt rips out my heart, I decide we can have this one night. This one night of what ifs, a night where I can let my imagination run rampant, allow the fantasy I’ve had since I was little to flourish in my mind once again.
The tension between us, though, is palpable, so much so you could cut it with a knife.
Cindy will sniff the tension out before I even get the chance to say hello.
Think of the charming devil and she appears.
Cindy waltzes into my line of sight.
She looks from our joined hands to our faces, back and forth like a tennis match, before a wicked smirk graces her lips.
Removing my hand from Matteo’s feels like a cardinal sin, especially as his brows drop into a frown. Giving him a small smile, I move to meet Cindy, intervening before she asks whatever is brewing in her head.
“Did you two—”
“Wow!” I quickly cut her off. “You look stunning!”
That isn’t a lie. Despite her teasing text messages, Cindy is wearing a red dress, a fitted corset on top giving way to silk at her hips, a small slit on the side. I give her a look. “This isn’t slutty, though.”
“Tell O’Connor that,” she whispers. “He took it off me before we left…twice.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “I hope one day when I meet someone they’ll love me like he does you.”
Cindy pulls back, arching a brow. “Are you blind?”
Layla steps up beside me, giving me a one-armed hug and saving me from where the conversation was about to turn. “It’s not polite to accuse people like that, Cin,” she teases. Facing me fully, she smiles. “You look stunning.”
“And so do you. Green is beautiful with your hair color.”
Layla’s cheeks flame crimson. “Thank you.”
“So, what’s the occasion? Why are we dressed up?” I ask, peering around the room. The entire team is here with their respective partners, along with a few faces I don’t recognize.
Cindy’s lips purse. “I have my theories, but no one knows.”
I snap my head her way. “No one knows?”
“I’ve tried everything to make Kieran spill.” Layla lowers her voice. “Even sexual favors.”
Cindy whistles low. “Jesus, you know it’s big when he doesn’t cave.”
“Right!”
She waves her hand before clasping both my and Layla’s wrists. “Until the big reveal, let’s drink. Mocktail for the stunning red head, of course,” she adds, winking at Layla, “but you and I are getting sloshed.” She jostles my wrist.
“Sloshed?”
“Hammered, drunk, sloshed, dirty. I don’t care what you call it but I’m ecstatic to finally have a drinking buddy.”
Layla snorts. “And I’m excited that she won’t be drinking alone anymore. It was getting sad.”
Cindy lets go of our hands as we step outside.
Grayson and Bella have propped open the patio doors, the living room blending with the back deck.
The furniture has been moved elsewhere, and in its place, a DJ is playing music in front of the fireplace while people dance where the sofa used to be.
Cindy sidles up to a bar that’s been set up on the deck, complete with a bartender.
Big reveal indeed.
Cindy frowns. “So fucking sad.” Turning to the bartender, she purrs, “Two large glasses of chardonnay, and when I say large, I mean touching the brim.”
Layla chuckles beside me, her eyes rolling.
“The decorations are amazing,” I whisper in awe, taking a look around the place. There’s a clear black-and-white theme between all the balloons, streamers, and flowers.
“All Kieran’s doing,” Layla says with pride.
“Really?” I blurt, shock evident in my voice.
Seems him falling in love isn’t the only thing that’s changed. The playboy who was all banter and jokes is now…responsible. I’m happy for him. Especially as I spot him across the deck, laughing and joking with O’Connor, his little girl Emmy on his hips looking up at him like he hung the moon.
“God, she’s adorable.”
“The cutest,” Layla sighs.
Cindy is quiet. She’s looking at Emmy and Kieran with such unending sadness I’m momentarily stunned. She blinks and the emotion disappears, but I saw it. I know I did. And something tells me I wasn’t supposed to.
Handing me a glass of wine, she goes on, chatting away with Layla like nothing’s wrong.
Cindy is the girl that walks into a room and lights it up.
She’s bubbly, vivacious, and has such sass that you know you’re always going to be in for a night of entertainment, but I’ve never seen such despair before.
The saying, the ones who smile the most are the ones who hide their feelings, rings through my mind. But what could have made her that sad?
Cindy’s eyes widen, her free hand snapping out to grip Layla’s wrist. “Oh my fucking god, please tell me you finished the book.”
And that’s my cue to tune them out.