Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mark
Ten Years Earlier
I asked Lanie to prom because I wanted to.
Because I had wanted to for a long time.
I told Julian it was because she was my best friend, and I was sparing her the hassle of going with some guy who wouldn’t appreciate her. I said I didn’t want to go with Kristen or any of the girls who made everything feel like a performance.
But deep down, I knew the truth. Lanie had always been different. Everything was better when we were together.
Lanie didn’t think I was serious when I asked. She still didn’t. She joked, gave me a hard time, rattled off prom night pregnancy statistics—like she always did when she got nervous.
But she said yes.
Graduation was right around the corner and I had opportunities waiting for me out there in the world. Could I convince Lanie to come with me? Why did we have to remain only friends?
What was stopping us from being together?
That question had changed everything and had become all I could think about.
Now, at prom, we were dancing like idiots, and I was falling hard for her.
She was laughing, twirling, her green dress catching the light enough to make her glow.
The whole night, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
It wasn’t just that she was beautiful.
This was Lanie.
My Lanie.
“I need air,” she said breathlessly. “Before I pass out and you have to carry me out of here.”
“I’d carry you,” I said automatically.
Anywhere. Any distance.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the hotel patio doors. Outside, the night air was crisp, a relief from the heat of the crowded ballroom. The garden was lit with twinkling fairy lights, the scent of flowers hanging in the air.
It felt intimate and oh so right.
Lanie let out a long sigh. “That’s better.”
She leaned backward against the railing, tilting her head to look at the sky. Never had she looked better—or happier. “What a fantastic night. The decorations turned out perfect. The music playlist is amazing. I don’t even like to dance, but tonight it was fun.”
“Could be the company you’re keeping,” I joked.
With most girls, I could tell how they felt about me, but Lanie and I had a long history of caring about each other. If one of us received good or bad news, we called the other first. But did she feel anything deeper for me?
My teenage heart was convinced she did.
She turned to face me, her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.
I stood too close.
She didn’t move away.
Her gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest second and that was all the permission I needed.
I leaned in. She met me halfway. The kiss was everything I knew it would be—explosively hot.
The world tilted and everything we were to each other shifted. Never again would I see her as a buddy. She was mine.
My hands slid to her waist, my fingers spreading against the silky fabric of her dress, desperate to hold her closer. Hers curled into my jacket, gripping it like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull me in or steady herself.
She tasted like innocence and fantasy, friend and vixen, a mix of past and present. Instantly addictive. Her lips were soft but urgent, like she had been waiting as long as I had for this first kiss.
The slow burn of it ignited into something more when she pressed against me, her body molding to mine, her warmth sinking into my skin.
Her hands slid up my chest, her fingertips grazing my neck before tangling in my hair. I felt the hunger in her body, the way she leaned into me like she never wanted to let go.
I wasn’t thinking.
I was feeling.
One hundred percent need.
Young and impulsive, our hands boldly explored each other, and had we been anywhere else, I doubted our clothing would have stayed on. She let out a small, breathy sound against my lips, and I could have died right then—knowing she wanted this too.
She was all I ever wanted, all I could imagine ever wanting. I was drowning in her, imagining the two of us tangled up and naked... now, later... forever.
Voices.
Laughter.
“Holy shit,” the quarterback of our school’s football team said loud enough that it was obvious he wanted to draw the attention of others.
Lanie tensed.
I turned just as the quarterback and two of his teammates stepped into the garden.
They were grinning, eyes flicking between Lanie and me, and I knew—before they even spoke—trouble was on the horizon. I stepped in front of Lanie, sheltering her from them.
“So that’s why Mark brought her,” one of them sneered, the smirk in his voice making my stomach turn.
“The ugly ones always put out,” another said.
Lanie sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers gripped one of my arms, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I didn’t think. I couldn’t—all I had was blind fury.
There are parts of that fight I never did remember. Julian said he arrived on the scene in time to see me launch myself at the player who’d insulted Lanie. I didn’t just punch him, I took him down.
And I didn’t stop. His friends jumped in and the fight was on.
Poor Julian had never thrown a punch, but he held his own against one of them, which allowed me to do some real damage to the other two. If those apes thought a soccer player and a musician would be easy targets, we taught them differently that night.
Any triumph we felt was short lived. We were both tossed out of the dance. The police were called. And by the time my parents allowed me out of the house again, Lanie’s mother had told them to keep me away from her daughter.