Chapter 19
NINETEEN
DALLAS
By the time I make it back to Haven’s room, it’s one in the morning and I know I’m pretty much fucked in the sleep department at this point. Because tonight, I found out that the sick fuck really did have explicit pictures of Haven after all, and I was really hoping he was bluffing.
Lilly proved to have some serious hacking skills though, and she was able to infiltrate Tabor’s shit, find a handful of pictures, and delete all of them.
So, since sleep isn’t going to be happening anyway, when I walk in and see her still passed out on that damn air mattress, I know I’m not going to let her stay there all night.
She has practice tomorrow and a scrimmage against NEU’s rival school, Casco Bay, this weekend.
So, at the end of the day, the girl should be in her own bed.
I lift her from where she’s lying and place her on her bed, and as I pull my hands away, she stops me by reaching for my shirt.
“Why did you put me back in this bed?” she whispers, her eyes slowly fluttering open as she gazes up at me. “You’re the one with the big game tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, Short,” I utter, trying to stop my heart from racing, but with her hand grabbing a fistful of my shirt, it’s not easy. I hover over her, swallowing thickly. “Sleep tight.”
I expect her to let go, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she just stares up at me with her big green eyes, giving me that fucking look I dread because it turns me powerless.
I may be called one of the calmest quarterbacks in college football right now.
And it’s true that I don’t break under pressure—if anything, that’s what I was built for. And yet …
Here I am, falling apart at the mercy of Haven King.
And the thing is, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me right now. There’s no way in hell she doesn’t. She’s too smart for that.
I wish she’d pull her eyes away from me, and then I could go to my stupid air mattress in peace. Anytime she’s ever looked at me this way, I’ve tried my best to get the fuck away from her as quickly as possible. But right now, my body is forgetting how to move.
“Stay with me,” she whispers. “Please.”
I suck in a breath, my head feeling dizzy, and suddenly, I’m not tired at all.
“I am staying,” I murmur. “I told you I was.”
Her lips part as she inhales and she pulls me a bit closer to her, or tries, but I stand my ground with my feet firmly planted.
“Stay with me, D,” she rasps. “In the same bed.”
Fuck my cock for twitching. And my pulse for quickening. Fuck my head for feeling dizzy and my eyes for staring at her lips, wishing I could do all sorts of things to them.
But most of all, fuck my heart for wanting her in a way that makes it impossible to tell her no.
She’s not just asking me to stay in bed with her. That much, I know.
HAVEN
I’ve wanted him for as long as I can remember.
Ached for him in ways that, as a lovestruck teenager, were infuriating because I knew he didn’t feel the same.
Our hands would brush when he passed—totally by mistake—a hug at a birthday party, or a game of chicken in the pool.
All of those times damn near killed me because he was so close yet still so far.
Right now, anything seems possible. Right now, he’s looking down at me just how I’ve always wished he would.
Like the way he looked at me when he kissed me all those years ago. I finally felt like maybe, he saw me how I’ve always seen him. And in this moment, my chest warms because that’s how it feels right now again.
I’m not asking him to get in this bed and fall asleep, and I think he knows it too.
Releasing my hold on his shirt, I slide my hand under the fabric, skimming his abdomen. He sucks in a breath, swallowing sharply.
“Dallas,” I utter, my voice raspy, but not because I’m sick anymore. Nope, this is … pure desperation.
Desperate because I’m so close to getting everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m scared that if I don’t act now, I’ll lose this chance forever.
“I need you here,” I whisper, keeping my palm on his bare skin and eating up the tortured expression cascading down his face. “I need you right now.”
As if the rubber band inside snaps, he slowly leans forward, crawling over me.
His mouth gets closer and closer to mine, and my eyes flutter closed as I eagerly wait to relive the moment from when I was seventeen.
Only, this time, it’ll mean even more. This time, we’ve built something deeper than before. We trust each other now.
He’s so close that his minty breath hits my nostrils and I try not to pant in need, but the second that I know it’s going to happen … the sound of someone’s door slamming in the hallway startles us.
My eyes fly open to find him frozen, looking down at me. I know that look from the night he kissed me. He wants to run—to bolt and get the hell away from me as quickly as he can.
“Just say it,” I mutter, tears stinging the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill out. “Just say that we can’t—make up some stupid excuse as to why and then pretend like this didn’t happen.”
Though I sound angry, I think I’m more pissed at myself than I am at him. I’m the one throwing myself at him like an asshole. I know he doesn’t want me, yet I can’t help myself because when it comes to Dallas, apparently, I don’t know enough to give the hell up.
“Let’s just go to sleep,” he mumbles, still hovering over me but seeming further away with each passing second.
“Sounds good.” I say the words with no emotion, but inside, my throat is burning, and my eyes are stinging. I’m on the verge of falling apart, and still, I’ll keep lying to him, pretending I’m fine.
When he starts to stand up, I sigh. “Just stay in the bed. We can put a pillow between us,” I whisper, rolling to my side. “Night.”
Though my eyes are closed, I can feel him standing over me for a moment or two.
Finally, I hear his footsteps before the other side of the bed shifts with his weight.
He doesn’t put a pillow between us, but he doesn’t come closer to me either.
I hate more than anything that he probably doesn’t feel this ache inside like I do. He’s fine, I’m sure.
It hurts to fight my emotions, but I do. And I wait for him to fall asleep, because I can’t cry until he does.