Chapter 2 – Skylar
SKYLAR
Two years later
“What the hell?” I cry at the ominous crunch from beneath my platformed heel and feel the buckle of cardboard beneath my weight.
I step back, nearly dropping my cute clutch purse when I see what it is.
A warm and anxious flutter rolls through me because there’s a giant red heart-shaped box—now partially crushed on one end—and a huge ultra-soft-looking teddy bear with a card perched in its arms right in front of my door. “Oh my god.”
Crouching down, I set my purse on the top step and snatch the card. Nerves shake me. Both the good and the bad kind. The good, because hello, chocolate, and a teddy bear. The bad because I have no idea who sent me these, but I worry it’s the last person I ever want sending me anything.
I glance up and down the sidewalk but don’t see anyone I know. Not that I expected to see Josh lurking. He’s more subtle than that. Still, a girl can never be too careful. I open the envelope with a shaky hand and pull out the pink heart-shaped card.
Hope you enjoy these. We’re so proud of you and love you so much. Happy Valentine’s Day. Love, Mom and Dad.
A warm, gooey sensation fills my insides. I’m proud of myself, too. And I’m relieved. Not that I expected Josh to send me anything, but I’m grateful he didn’t. I’d hate to throw out all this chocolate and cut up the bear. What a waste that would have been.
With a sigh, I push the bear and card back inside, lock up, awkwardly pick up the large box of chocolates and my purse, and get my ass going, already late to meet my friends.
I had a six-year-old with pneumonia who took a turn for the worse, and I wouldn’t leave until she was stable.
Then I had to run home, shower, and change my clothes.
A few blocks up, I turn the corner and spot my friend Roman’s restaurant, Roundhouse, overflowing with people waiting in the cold February night for a table. I quicken my pace just as the phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and am not shocked to see it’s Braelyn.
Braelyn: Where are you?
Me: About to walk in.
I tuck my phone back in my purse, zip it up, and swing it behind me so I can slip it back onto my shoulder when the heavy leather connects with something—someone—and a sharp intake of breath is followed by a string of profanities.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I spin around to find a tall man doubled over, one hand on his knee, the other on his lower abdomen. “I didn’t see you. Where are you—oh.” A small laugh escapes my lips. His hand is actually covering his groin. “Wow. I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah,” he manages, his voice tight. “You sound like it.”
“No, really. I am. I didn’t mean to hit you.
Especially not… there. I sometimes have strange reactions to things at inappropriate times.
That had to hurt. My purse is heavy.” Another laugh that I poorly attempt to disguise as a cough, and he looks up at me through watering, pain-etched eyes, sending a jolt of recognition through me.
His blond hair is longer now, styled differently, but his sharp-as-cut-glass blue eyes are unmistakable.
“Aston?” His name escapes my lips before I can think better of it.
Aston Hughes, my brother’s best friend, squints through his pain. “Skylar?” His voice holds the same low timbre I remember from two years ago on this exact night, though currently strained an octave higher. “Did you assault me on purpose, or is this how you greet all your brother’s friends?”
“Just the ones I don’t like,” I quip, only to slap a hand over my mouth.
I really need to grow a filter. At least he didn’t say all men you make out with in the dark.
Heat climbs up my neck. “It was an accident.” Though part of me isn’t entirely sorry, and I can’t even explain why that is.
I never really liked Aston. He was always a little too arrogant and asshole-ish for me.
His appalled look when he realized he had been kissing me didn’t help that.
Nor the fact that immediately after, he called me a mistake and said it never should have happened.
“Some accident,” he mutters, finally straightening to his full height. Damn. I forgot how tall and broad he is. “You always did have impeccable aim.”
I threw up on him at one of my college parties that Micha dragged him to. Yep. Lovely reminder.
I roll my eyes at him. “And you always did have a flair for dramatic reactions.” I adjust my purse strap, distancing the weapon from potential repeat offenses. “What are you doing back in town? Are you visiting your parents or simply stalking me down for another kiss?”
My eyes close, and I blow out a slow breath. I didn’t want to mention that night to him but seeing him has me frazzled for some reason. He chuckles lightly, and my eyes slowly peel open, mortification crawling up my face, making my skin itchy and hot.
“No. Sorry to disappoint you on that. I just moved back.”
“Oh.” I do some sort of owl blink. “I hadn’t heard.”
The streetlight catches in his hair, turning it the color of wheat fields in late summer, and his square jawline has the type of stubble I imagine would tickle my hand and feel deliciously scandalous against my inner thighs.
Not that I’d ever know, and I certainly won’t be finding out.
Unfortunately, he’s ridiculously gorgeous and wears it with the confidence and arrogance of a man who knows it.
“It was a quick decision. You look…” He trails off, his gaze taking me in fully for the first time.
“Amazing,” I finish for him.
“Different is what I was going to say.”
I frown before I can stop it, and I hate that’s my first reaction. This is why I left Josh. This is why I’m working on myself and rewiring my brain.
“Different is not a compliment, and you’re staring,” I point out, one eyebrow arched.
His hand rubs the back of his head, and a slow smirk curls up his lips. “I’m shocked to see you, I guess. And I’m not going to compliment you.”
I bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re Micha’s sister. Whatever I want to say, I shouldn’t. I’m trying to reconcile the girl who kissed the hell out of me with the woman standing before me, and I’m struggling a bit with that.” He gestures vaguely at me.
“Hey! You kissed me first, and I didn’t kiss the hell out of you.”
His smirk grows into a devilishly seductive smile, and he runs his thumb along his bottom lip in a bastardly distracting way. “I beg to differ.”
My jaw drops. “Are you intentionally trying to be a jerk and embarrass me?”
“Are you actually this immature and easy to rile? It was a simple, drunk kiss. A mistake. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I hate all of that for far too many reasons, and it naturally raises my hackles.
“Just a mental note for your future. Women don’t generally love it when you call us immature and a mistake.
It makes you sound not only like a condescending dick but also a total asshole.
Besides, you just said I kissed the hell out of you. Which is it?”
“Both. You kissed the hell out of me, and it was a mistake.”
I cross my arms, holding the box of chocolates closer.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m going to go.
I’m twenty-five minutes late.” Except I don’t move, and I don’t know why.
I kind of want to kick him in the shins for what he said to me, yet there’s a part of me that wants to see what he’ll say next.
“Yes. I should, too. I’m meeting some people in there as well.” He doesn’t move to leave either.
“Small circles in our world. Anyone I know?” Micha is in Sudan, so I know it’s not him.
His lips twitch. “My brother and a few other guys. Yeah, you know them. A couple are your cousins.”
“That’s who I’m meeting up with too. Though likely different people from you because I’m not meeting up with Alden.”
“He’s too old for you anyway.”
I laugh lightly. “So are you.”
His eyes round as if he’s now realizing our age difference. “Very true. But you’re not so young anymore, despite how Micha still speaks about you.” He clears his throat and notes the candy in my arms. “That’s a lot of chocolate. From your boyfriend?”
For some reason, I don’t want to answer him.
Micha knows I broke up with Josh recently, as I moved into his house after I moved out of Josh’s apartment.
But the last thing I want to talk about with Aston Hughes is my ex-boyfriend or the fact that my parents sent me a Valentine’s Day present because of him.
“Can I have one? I think you owe me for the nut shot.”
With a sigh, I shift the box, and he opens the lid. “All dark chocolate.”
“My favorite.”
“These look expensive. This guy must like you.”
I try not to frown. I really, seriously do. He picks up one that I’m positive is chocolate-covered caramel—my freaking favorite—and pops it in his mouth, and for a moment, I watch him chew before I force myself away.
I cover the box and bring it back into my chest. “I’m gonna head in. It was good to see you, Aston.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“It’s what people say, though you didn’t say it.”
He holds up a hand as he licks a bit of chocolate and caramel from his lips. “But I was thinking it. I promise.”
I roll my eyes at his charming smile just as I feel another buzz in my purse. “My friends are wondering where I am.”
“Mine too, likely.”
“I’ll see you around.”
“As long as you don’t run into me.”
I wince. “Sorry again about that.”
“No, you’re not.”
A slow smile spreads across my face, and I wink at him. “Not entirely. Welcome back to Boston. Try not to kiss any random women in the middle of a blackout tonight. You never know who they might turn out to be.”
Now it’s his turn to frown. “My kissing random women days are behind me.”
“Somehow I doubt it.” His phone rings in his pocket. “I’ll let you get that.”
“Yeah. You should go, and so should I.”
There’s something in the way he says that. Something that catches and sticks. Something that makes me think he almost doesn’t want me to go. Except I know that can’t be the case. Not with Aston Hughes.