Chapter 6
KENDALL
Patterson Cross is staring at me from across the bar like I ruined his night.
Good.
I hold his gaze and bite the inside of my cheek. What are the fucking odds of this? Even in the low light of Diamond, I see the tension in his shoulders beneath that dark shirt that fits him too well.
The universe has a really sick sense of humor.
His eyes are locked on mine, blue-green and furious. I twist the thin gold bracelet on my wrist—an anxious habit I’ve never broken, which is why I rarely wear jewelry. A moment later, he glances away to say something to Callan.
The bass pulses through the marble bar top and into my fingertips. Crystal chandeliers scatter light across black walls, and the air smells like expensive perfume and bad decisions. Everyone in here is dressed to the nines, and I’m in a black dress, trying to blend in.
“Kendall.” Addison snaps her fingers in my face. “You completely checked out on me.”
“Sorry. Got distracted.”
She follows my gaze and sighs. “Oh. Wonderful. I swear I didn’t know they’d be here.”
“Whatever bad I did in a past life, I’m positive your brother is my karma,” I say.
Addison flags down the bartender. “Two shots of tequila, salt, and lime, please.”
The liquor is set in front of us. We pick them up and slam them down. It burns, and I set the empty glass on the bar a little too hard. The tequila joins the cosmos already swimming through my bloodstream, and the room begins to wobble.
“Don’t let him ruin your night,” Addison says. “I can see it on your face.”
“I can’t relax around him. I’m always playing defense. It’s exhausting.”
“Pretend he doesn’t exist,” she says.
“You’re right.” I breathe out. “Tell me more about that guy at the bakery.”
She launches back into her story about the cutie who wrote his number on a croissant bag. I listen, but after another cosmo, movement from across the room catches my eye.
A younger blonde woman approaches the VIP booth, and I assume she’s barely old enough to drink. She has long legs and a dress that barely covers her perfect body. Smiley gets up and allows her to sit next to Patterson. His arm slides around her, and he shoots her a grin.
What the fuck?
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“God, no. He hasn’t committed to anyone in …” She thinks about it. “A long time.”
The woman is exactly the type I’ve seen in his tabloid photos. Confident and naturally beautiful in an effortless way that makes everyone else in the room feel inadequate. I’ve watched him cycle through models and actresses while telling myself I didn’t care.
I don’t.
Patterson leans in to whisper something, and she laughs, tipping her head back. His mouth hovers near her ear, and I’m shocked by the jealousy burning through me.
I order another drink because I can’t watch this. The bartender slides a fresh cosmo across the marble, and I take a long sip. Seconds later, they leave the booth together and head toward the back of the bar. As they walk, Patterson’s hand finds the small of her back.
I set my glass down. “I’ll be right back.”
“Kendall.”
“What? I have to pee.”
Addison’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t stop me. When I stand, the room tilts more than it should. I’m drunker than I realized. I weave through the crowd, telling myself I need the restroom.
The music fades as I turn into the hallway.
Dim sconces line the walls, and shadows pool in the corners.
The air is cooler back here, and it’s a relief against my flushed skin.
I round the corner, and they’re near the end of the hall.
It’s almost intimate, but his posture is too rigid.
His free hand hangs at his side instead of touching her.
The blonde trails her fingers up his chest, and he gently catches her wrist. He leans in and says something I can’t hear. Her expression shifts from flirty to confused to pissed. She pushes off the wall and smooths her dress before stalking toward me in stilettos.
I don’t glance at her as she passes.
Patterson leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes. I should return to Addison and pretend I never saw this, but the alcohol is making me too brave.
Patterson doesn’t deserve any kindness. He wouldn’t do it for me.
My heels click against the marble as I walk toward him.
His eyes open, and his jaw immediately locks. “Great. This night keeps getting worse.”
“I was thinking the same.”
He pushes off the wall and crosses his arms. “Following me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I needed the ladies’ room.”
He nods toward the door. “Don’t let me stop you.”
I don’t move. “What happened to the blonde? Did she figure out you’re not worth the effort?”
His laugh is harsh. “Jealous?”
I shake my head. “Should congratulate her on escaping your wrath.”
“And yet”—he takes a step toward me—“here you are. Standing in a dark hallway with me instead of running back to my sister.”
“I told you, I needed—”
“You’re a terrible fucking liar.” Another step forward. “You’ve been watching me since I arrived.”
“Whatever.”
“I saw you.” His voice drops. “Also, when she touched me, you looked like you wanted to put your fist through the bar. Why is that, Ken Doll? Still fantasizing about me?”
“Please.”
He moves close enough that I can smell the whiskey on his breath and the fresh soap on his skin. My breath grows ragged.
“You were jealous. Admit it.” His voice is a growl. “Your body gives you away.”
“Your ego is unbelievable.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not my ego that’s ruining everything. It’s you. You’re the issue.”
“Then stay away from me.”
“Says the woman who followed me to this hallway.” Something shifts in his expression.
I twist my bracelet hard enough to hurt. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Oh, it absolutely is.” He laughs, but there’s nothing behind it. “You’re poison in my blood.”
“Stop talking dirty to me.” I say it steadier than I feel.
We’re inches apart, and I don’t remember moving. His breath is warm on my face, and his eyes are dark, the blue swallowed by green.
“You should walk away,” he warns.
“No.”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
“Patterson, I—”
His hands are on my face, and his mouth crashes into mine.
The kiss is a weapon, one that destroys me.
I should shove him away, but instead, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him closer. He tastes like whiskey and bad decisions and six years of wanting something I can’t have. I bite his bottom lip because I need to hurt him, need him to feel this.
A rough sound escapes him, and he presses me against the wall. One of his hands fists in my hair and tugs my head back while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise.
My nails dig into his shoulders, and I arch into him. His thigh presses between mine, and a sound that I’ll hate myself for later releases from my throat. I’m coming unglued for him. And I want to.
As if he can read my mind, he tears his mouth away from mine. The loss is immediate. We stay there, breathless, his forehead nearly touching mine before he steps away.
“Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair. There’s a red mark on his bottom lip where I bit him.
I shove off the wall and straighten my dress, trying to rebuild every wall he tore down. My legs are wobbly beneath me, and my mind is spinning.
“That can never happen again,” I say, pressing my fingers against my swollen lips.
We stare at each other, both wrecked and unable to admit it. I can still taste him, and I hate how much I want to cross the distance and do it again.
“You’re damn right about that. Stay away from me,” he demands.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Leave me the fuck alone, Kendall.” He shakes his head, then walks away.
I stumble into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, pressing my back against the door. The room tilts, and I close my eyes until it settles. My lips are still tingling from his mouth on mine.
What the hell is wrong with me?
After a few deep breaths, I step out and face the mirror. My lipstick is smeared, and my hair is a mess. I clean myself up as best I can, running my fingers through the tangles and wiping the color from beneath my bottom lip.
When I walk back to the bar, Addison is chatting with Callan. He looks at me, and his brow creases.
“There you are,” Addison says. “Long line?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nervous laugh.
Callan sips his whiskey and says nothing.
“It’s getting late. I think I’m ready to call it a night,” I tell her. “I’m exhausted.”
“Good idea.” She grabs her clutch and slides off the stool. “Night, Cap.”
“Ladies.”
I make it three steps before I glance back at the VIP section.
Patterson is sprawled in the booth with a fresh drink, laughing at something Hunter said. His body is loose and relaxed, his smile easy, like the last ten minutes never happened. Like he didn’t kiss me in that hallway.
He looks completely unbothered.
Maybe he really does want me to leave him alone. Maybe that kiss was just anger and alcohol and nothing more. But I felt the way his hands shook when he touched my face. I heard the deep moans from his throat. That wasn’t nothing.
Or was it?
“You okay?” Addison asks.
I force a smile. “I will be when I can put on my pajamas.”
We step outside, and I suck in a deep breath. Addison’s driver pulls up, and we slide into the back seat.
She studies me in the dim light. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“I ran into your brother in the hallway. We exchanged insults. The usual.”
“Is that why your lips are swollen?”
I turn toward the window. Of course, she noticed that. “We were arguing, and then he kissed me. Or I kissed him. I don’t know what happened. But he told me to leave him the fuck alone.”
“I don’t understand,” she says.
“I don’t either,” I admit. “I’m really confused.”
“Talk about mixed signals.”
And just like that, she’s explained my and Patterson’s entire relationship.
Eventually, her driver slows outside my apartment, and I turn to her. “There really isn’t anything going on.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But you know how I get when Kandy comes out.”
This makes her laugh. While I was in art school, Addison and I would party on the weekends. Kandy was the name she gave drunk me. We both know that version doesn’t have any fear.
“Oh, Kandy arrived tonight? Shit. No explanation needed. Drunk you makes the worst decisions.” She sucks air through her teeth. “But you know he won’t ever let you live this down.”
“I have zero doubts about that. Thanks for a fun night. Can we hang out again soon?”
“You know it,” she says. “Totally happening.”
We exchange a hug. Once I’m inside, I lock the door and let out a long sigh.
Patterson kissed me like he’d been holding back for years. And then he walked away and laughed with his teammates like it meant nothing.
I truly don’t understand him. I don’t understand any of this.
However, I have a feeling this is why he hates me so much. Because whatever spark we used to have is still there, and he can’t stand it.
It’s why I hate him too.
I strip off my clothes on the way to the bathroom and turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face.
That line can never, ever be crossed again. No matter what.
I crawl under the covers and stare at the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come for hours. I count sheep, the days until the end of the season, and the number of things on my to-do list.
When I drift off, I dream of whiskey and blue-green eyes and a kiss that tasted like the end of everything.