Chapter 15
CADEN
I deserved a medal for my show of restraint. Then another one for winning Dumbest Guy On The East Coast. I’d had her. Right on the edge, a single push—biting her bottom lip, my hand on her thigh, trailing my fingers across her soft skin again—and I would’ve fucked Valentina in that car.
But I’d shown restraint, which earned me that second medal.
Clearly, because I was still thinking about it now.
Surrounded by three of her friends, one of mine, and Valentina herself.
Sitting around a bonfire on the beach behind Alfie’s house, I was straining against my boxers because I couldn’t stop thinking about What Could’ve Been.
Pathetic. But when wasn’t I, when it came to that girl?
Are you feeling alright? Alfie asked against the sound of the waves, which meant he was basically yelling at Valentina. That’s still your first glass of wine. We’re on our second bottle. Each, by the way.
Valentina laughed. The sound probably didn’t travel all the way to Alfie on the other side of the fire, but I heard it loud and clear. I was sitting right next to her, after all, and I wasn’t quite sure how that had happened; Annika had scooted over when I’d joined last, I think.
That’s not how it works, she snickered, then took a sip as if to emphasize that she was, in fact, not sick. How relieving. If I was feeling bad, I wouldn’t drink at all.
He shrugged, and Iris—whose head had been resting on his shoulder, and who’d been suspiciously quiet for at least fifteen minutes now—complained with a very loud groan.
She muttered something to Alfie, then presumably repeated it out loud.
Bed, she groaned. Dragged it out, like a zombie who’d acquired a taste for naps, not human flesh. Beeeeeed.
I think, Alfie began with a laugh. He got up and dragged Iris off the sand with him. I should put this one to bed. And I think I’m so drunk, once I’m up there, I will not find my way back down.
They gave their goodnights—Alfie a little more coherently than Iris, but honestly not by much—and staggered back up to the house.
Its lights shone in the distance, an orange hue against the dark backdrop of the night. The sky was as beautiful as it had been the last time I joined Valentina outside. I’d looked up five times so far.
When Annika and Mike got up five minutes later, I wasn’t surprised. They’d checked out of the group setting an hour ago, giggling and whispering and kissing like they were teenagers, and the only ones here.
Mike as captain meant that so much as thinking about having alcohol was a federal offense; so I fiddled with my water bottle, dragging it across the sand.
Usually, this would be where I’d excuse myself as well.
For a week now, I’d done all I could not to be alone with Valentina, simply because I didn’t trust myself around her.
She’d set clear boundaries, and the last thing I’d wanted was to accidentally break those.
This morning, though, she’d broken them herself.
She’d kissed me. She’d shown me that she’d wanted more.
Right there, on that cliff. Then again, in the car.
I couldn’t figure her out, but I’d be damned if I robbed myself of another opportunity to try.
So, I stayed put. For ten minutes, the only sounds were the waves breaching against the beach, and the fire crackling in front of us, slowly dying out.
Valentina cleared her throat. Can you spot the dippers now? she asked quietly from beside me. Like conversing with me was bad, but the uncomfortable silence somehow worse.
I looked up again. Yeah. And then, maybe because her conversation-starter felt like an olive branch of some kind, I surprised myself when I said, My sister showed them to me once.
Valentina huffed beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her looking at the sky as well, arms wrapped around her drawn up legs. I’ve tried to show mine. So far, she’s told me to piss off seven times, and threatened to tell Mom about the time I snuck out twice. Not that she’d care.
I didn’t know she had a sister. Then again, I hadn’t known much beside her name a week ago. How old is she?
Eighteen next week. She sighed. That formative time where they blame you for everything that’s ever happened to them—or hasn’t happened to them. Been there yet?
The question felt like a blow to the gut. She couldn’t have known how sore a subject this was, couldn’t possibly begin to understand the gravity of her words, so I didn’t blame her.
I took a deep breath. She’d be around the same age, I pondered. I guess I’d know how you feel, if she hadn’t died seven years ago.
Beside me, Valentina froze. The finger that had been drawing stars into the sand stilled.
Fuck, she began. I knew what would come next. Caden, I’m so sorry—
A single shake of my head cut her off, that’s how aware of my reaction she was.
Don’t be. You didn’t kill her, did you? I tried to laugh, and usually I managed to bury my grief below a layer of sarcasm.
This time, though, it fell flat. Maybe because the way Valentina looked at me was scarily disarming, like she could’ve seen straight through it, anyway.
Seriously. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Her brows drew together in concern, and her eyes seemed to get bigger, somehow. Were those the puppy eyes Iris had been talking about? I would’ve never—
Valentina. Our eyes met, and her mouth shut. It’s fine, really. You didn’t know. But guilt was still written all over her face—in her frown, the knitted brows, those God damn eyes looking up at me. I kept talking, simply with the hope something I’d say would ease her guilty conscience.
She’s still with me. I tapped the spot above my heart, and the beginning of a smile—although sad and pitiful—lifted the corners of her lips. Every time I look up at the sky. Or kick a ball—and I do that a lot.
This time, I managed to deliver the humor in my tone better. She huffed, and something in the air shifted. Like she was just as glad to leave the ugly topic behind. Eager to move further away from the death-portion of the conversation, she asked, Did she play?
I shook my head. No, but she loved watching me play. Her first word was Caden, her second ball. I don’t know if I’d still be playing if it wasn’t for her.
But Ali had wanted me to go pro so badly, not pursuing it had felt like a betrayal in and of itself.
So I’d applied for a soccer scholarship at HBU when I could’ve probably covered most of the tuition with all the money I’d earned and saved, working multiple jobs to be able to afford her cancer treatment.
That first year, winning the NCAA championship had been more important to me than passing my courses, and we hadn’t even won.
There was a reason I’d signed up for a graduate degree—and it wasn’t because my bachelor in Computer Engineering wouldn’t leave me with enough options.
The opposite, really. Most of the people I’d studied with had above-average paying entry jobs lined up for September.
I’d been through a few rounds of interviews myself, just to see.
I was going back to HBU to play soccer, though. The way Alison would have wanted. I’d known that from the very beginning.
Valentina nodded in understanding. She’d be proud of you, then, she thought out loud, and the words did something to me. I mean, her big brother: almost captain of the current NCAA champion. That’s something, right?
Sounds like you’ve done your research on me, Rhodes. The smile on her face grew, and it felt safe to say we were out of guilt-territory. Good.
She snickered, attention back on the dying flames in front of us. Their light danced across her face, tinting her features in a soft orange. Making her look more beautiful than she already was.
Mike told me, she said in defense. Her hand began drawing in the sand again, and she buried her toes in it, too. He’s been talking an awful lot about you, actually. And it sounded like she’d just noticed.
I did not put him up to it, if that’s what you’re getting at.
She laughed, and what a sound that was. Still too foreign for my liking. I’m not sure if I can believe that. It seems like he’s caught a bad case of wingman-itis.
I raised an eyebrow, and our eyes met. Be honest, I tutted. Do I seem like the type of guy who needs his friends to put in a good word for him?
Her lips twitched, but I wasn’t awarded with another laugh. Maybe, she said, for the sake of it. We both knew it wasn’t true.
I tilted my head. When you kissed me this morning, was it because of what Mike said about me? Never mind that I had no clue what he had said. Or why.
Valentina stayed very quiet, and very still. But her gaze was still locked with mine. And when you let me touch you earlier, I reminded her. Was that because of what he said?
Her breath hitched, and it should’ve been answer enough. But she doubled down, and I wasn’t surprised at all. Maybe hearing about how great of a midfielder you are all week just really put me in the mood.
I snorted a laugh, and shouldn’t have expected Mike to talk about anything other than soccer. The guy had two brain cells. One for the sport, the other for Annika Schmidt.
I am a great midfielder, but I have a feeling that’s not what did it for you.
No? Her words were barely a whisper at this point. Breathed against my lips, that’s how close we were. I wasn’t sure which one of us had closed the distance between us so drastically. Probably me.
And it felt like second nature to follow when she slowly leaned back, onto her arms in the sand. Tomorrow, I don’t think I would recall how we’d gotten to this point. Some deep conversation turned flirty banter turned me, on top of her. It sounded like the stuff dreams were made of.
No. I echoed her words. I think it’s simply because you like this, and you like what I could do to you.
I placed a single, tender kiss on her neck, and she shuddered underneath the touch.
I briefly wondered if she was this sensitive with every guy—then quickly banished any thoughts of Valentina with other men from my mind.
Forever, preferably. But for some reason, I went on.
Placed another kiss against her skin. You’re not letting it happen. Why is that, sweetheart?
One of my hands disappeared in her hair, and I could tell, right then, I had her again. Her eyes closed, and her head fell back with a soundless sigh. Because, she said, then stopped. My face moved back in front of hers, only inches separating us.
Because? I asked against her lips, voice low.
Because I’m not supposed to—You’re— She cut herself off, tried again. My friends can’t know. And I’m not great at lying to them.
It was quite possibly the last thing I’d expected to hear from her.
Many more reasonable explanations had crossed my mind since her first rejection: wanting more than casual sex and knowing I couldn’t give that to her, for example.
I thought maybe she was seeing someone back home, or had just met a guy who’d demanded she stay loyal despite his continuous fucking around.
I didn’t think…
I moved back to look at her, the confusion probably written all over my face. Your friends said they don’t want you to hook up with me?
Valentina shook her head. No. No, that’s not— She cut herself off with a groan, and whatever tension there’d been between us was dwindling by the second.
Right now, though, I was far more interested in the explanation I felt coming. They don’t know about us. And they can’t know about us. I don’t want them to—
You’re embarrassed by me? I’d never had anyone—
No! she half-shrieked. God, no. Fuck, Caden. It’s got little to do with you, and a lot to do with me. Alright?
That brought a smirk to my lips. The corners of my lips lifted in amusement, and some relief. Aw, Valentina, I cooed. Are you saying it’s not me, it’s you? How original.
Technically, yes.
Saying I wasn’t dying to dig deeper would be a lie. But it didn’t seem like I’d get much more out of her than the vaguest of vague answers. It’s not you, it’s me. Like I hadn’t figured as much already.
By now, the fire had gone out, the coal was only glimmering lowly in the sand, one by one dying out.
My body physically repelled the thought of moving off of Valentina.
Of letting more than a few inches get between us, and of not feeling her heat below me anymore.
But it seemed like the reasonable thing to do.
It was cold, suddenly. The fire out, Valentina gone. She must’ve noticed at the same time. I think I’m going to sleep.
Getting up, she tried her best to dust off the sand stuck to her bare legs and the fabric of her black sundress.
She failed, of course, but what had almost happened between us—again— seemed too recent to offer my help in the matter.
Any physical contact would probably lead us right back into the sand.
So all I did was wish her goodnight before watching her make her way back to the house. It seemed like she needed that time alone, and I gave her ten minutes before I followed into our room.