Chapter Twenty-two Vaughn
Chapter Twenty-two
Vaughn
I fucked up.
That’s been my only thought for the past two days. Ever since Lacey ran away from me at Bobby Boone’s party. I didn’t hear from her yesterday, not that I expected to, and today we’ve somehow managed not to run into each other all day.
Okay, not somehow. I’ve been avoiding her. I don’t know if I can face her yet. I took a big risk, and it didn’t turn out how I expected.
I’m hoping that by the time I see her, I’ll have accepted it and be ready to salvage a friendship if possible. I don’t want to go back to before when we barely spoke and never hung out. But I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be to see her and not want to kiss her again.
“So…” Rowan steps up to me as we’re walking to lunch. “I’m guessing by the fact you’ve been lying low today that things with Lacey didn’t go as you hoped Saturday.”
“Not exactly.”
“Sorry, man. I really thought she was into you.” His brows pinch together in the center.
“It’s not your fault.” It’s mine. I jumped her without giving her any warning. What the hell was I thinking? A few weeks ago, she couldn’t stand me and now I think she wants to make out with me? Stupid. Stupid.
“You want to hang out later? Nothing mends a broken heart like a friendly hang with a bunch of hot chicks. The soccer girls are having a small thing at Amanda’s house tonight.” Rowan looks to me hopefully.
“No,” I say immediately. The last thing I want is to spend the evening pretending to have fun and being friendly.
“Live a little, Cap.”
The thing is, I’m sure Rowan thinks this is the perfect solution. And maybe it would be for him. But not for me.
“I appreciate you trying to help, but I’m not in the mood to socialize tonight.”
“Don’t say no yet. Think about it. I’ll ask again after practice.”
I nod, already knowing my answer will be the same then.
Rowan moves ahead of me when we enter the lunchroom, heading to our usual table. I pause, gaze going straight to where Lacey sits. I can’t help but want to find her, even if I’m not ready to see her.
She’s sitting with her profile to me, and her shoulders shake with laughter at something Claire says. My gut tightens and I turn, walking away from the cafeteria.
I go to the gym instead. Dad is in his office when I pass through the locker room. He looks up from his laptop and arches a brow.
“I’m going to get in some extra practice,” I say without stopping to offer more of an explanation. It’s not exactly out of character for me to get in additional workouts, though I rarely skip lunch.
After I’ve changed into shorts and a T-shirt, I grab a ball and head outside to the soccer field. The burn of my muscles and the chill of the air helps me forget, at least temporarily, about everything else.
I love a lot of things about playing soccer, but the ability to tune out everything else has served me well in tough times.
I move up and down the field practicing my drag and step over, then switch to fake cutbacks.
It feels good to push away all the noise and just focus on this one thing I can control.
I like that about soccer too: it’s a demanding sport and you can spend an infinite amount of time working to get better—always striving for more. I like losing myself in the more.
When the bell rings, I’m shocked that so much time has passed. Though I’m breathless and sweaty. I’m wiping my forehead with the back of my hand when I spot someone else walking out to the field.
My feet falter.
Lacey.
I can’t read her expression, but she looks stunning. Her long brown hair is down, and the confident way she struts toward me has her hair whipping around her head like someone’s aimed a fan from the perfect angle. My chest feels funny, and my mouth goes dry.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask as she comes to a stop in front of me. Her brown eyes are lit up with some fiery emotion. Anger? Possibly, though she doesn’t look mad exactly.
“Looking for you, dummy.”
I open my mouth to reply, but wait, did she just call me a dummy? Fair, I guess, but ouch.
“I’m sorry about Saturday night.” I go straight for the apology. This is all my fault. I take full responsibility.
Did I say she didn’t look mad? Because she does now.
“You’re sorry?”
Am I not supposed to be sorry? I shift my weight around while I think how to respond. She ran off mid–make out, so I obviously did something wrong.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asks.
I already told her I’d been thinking about it for a while, so I can’t exactly lie and say it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
“I wanted to.”
“You wanted to,” she parrots back.
“Yeah, but listen, I know I should have talked to you about it first. If I made you uncomfortable or took advantage in any way, I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.” I hold out a hand for her to shake. Instantly it feels like the wrong move, but I keep it there anyway. A truce.
“Oh my god, stop talking.” She steps forward and before I know what’s happening, her right hand reaches up and pulls my head down to hers, and then she’s kissing me.
I have about a million questions running through my mind, but I’m smart enough not to ask any of them right now.
My arms circle her waist, and I pull her in closer so I can kiss her better. Lacey’s fingers slide into my hair. Just like Saturday night’s kiss, this one is rough and fumbling. Our mouths move, pressing hard into each other, tongues tangling like we’re fighting for control.
It’s like every thought or feeling between us can only be communicated without speaking. I’m much better at kissing than talking, so that makes sense.
I don’t want to stop, but one burning thought won’t leave me alone. Pulling back, I meet her gaze.
“You ran off the other night. I thought…” I trail off as she shakes her head.
“I panicked. You and Claire have history, and even if you didn’t, this whole thing between us took me by surprise.”
It surprised me too, but her pointing it out doesn’t exactly have me feeling great about the prospect of doing this again, but then she says, “None of that seems to matter, though, because I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Me either.”
I drop my lips to hers again, softer this time, taking my time to explore the soft, supple way her mouth molds against mine and the sweet taste of spearmint as my tongue sweeps against hers.
My head swims in the pleasure of it. She’s a good kisser, or I am, or maybe it’s just the chemistry between us.
I don’t know how long we kiss before someone clears their throat behind me. No, not someone. My dad. Warmth spreads up the back of my neck as I school my expression to something more appropriate for the glower he has aimed at me. Lacey yelps in surprise, scrambling away from me.
His stern gaze takes in the situation, including my rumpled shirt and Lacey’s messy hair that my fingers were just in. I have an uneasy feeling the second bell rang and neither of us heard it.
“You’re both late to fifth period,” Dad says, confirming my suspicions.
When neither of us moves or says anything, his jaw tightens, and he flicks his head to the door. “Get to class.”
Lacey and I rush to go. Dad’s disappointed gaze follows me until I’m past him. I bypass the locker room, not bothering to change. It’s only a few hours until practice anyway. We stop as soon as we get inside the school and turn down the first hallway out of view.
We’re both panting, and I glance back to see if Dad is following us, grateful that he’s not.
“Oh my gosh.” She presses her back to the wall and erupts into a fit of laughter.
A smile loosens my lips despite the earful I know I’ll get later from my dad. Her stare drops to my mouth and lifts slowly like she’s thinking about kissing me again but isn’t sure.
I brush my lips against hers quickly and then tug her with me toward our next classes. I don’t know what this is between us, but for as long as I can, I plan to kiss her as often as possible.