Chapter 9 #2
She steps back a few paces, walking in reverse but still facing me.
The streetlight catches the curve of that reckless, drunken half-smile.
“Oh, relax, Rhett. You’re acting like I was about to marry him.
I just wanted to forget for a while.” Her fingers wave vaguely, then drop. “I wanted someone to want me.”
“Sean didn’t want you,” I say. “He wanted an easy target.”
She tilts her head, smirking. “Maybe I saw him as the easy target. Maybe I’m the bad guy here, Rhett. Did you even consider that? I wanted to use him.”
The image hits me so hard, I have to grind my teeth to keep from reacting. I need to reroute my thoughts before I lose control.
“Sean couldn’t give you anything you actually crave,” I say, voice low.
She steps closer, and I register the heat of her body brushing mine. The smell of tequila clings to her breath, and the familiar scent of her shampoo digs its claws into me. Her pupils are blown, her balance a little unsteady, but her focus is razor-sharp on me.
“And what is it you think I want, Rhett?”
My throat goes dry. She shouldn’t be asking me this. She knows what she is doing, the line she’s toying with. She has to. Just as I’m questioning it, her eyes drop to my mouth for a fraction of a second, and I’ve never felt closer to death.
“I think you want someone who can make you feel good. Someone who makes you feel something real.”
“Real,” she repeats softly, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.
Every muscle in my body tenses. I want to say it.
I want to tell her I think about her at night.
That I’ve imagined tracing her skin, knowing exactly where I’d touch her if she asked me to.
How I would make her shiver, and help her forget everything else if she wanted me to.
She deserves someone who won’t fumble, someone who would take his time with her until she has everything she wants.
And I’d be first in line if she’d let me.
But she has been drinking. She is Josh’s little sister, and every step she takes closer makes this a game I shouldn’t be playing.
“Sunny,” I exhale, trying to remain in control. “You’re drunk enough to start a fire without a match. You should be careful.”
Her smirk is teasing, and a tremor stirs beneath my ribs.
“I am a bit cold,” she murmurs. “A fire sounds nice, Rhett.”
Christ. I drag a hand over my jaw. Josh is going to kill me.
“Trust me,” I say quietly. “A guy like Sean would be a waste of your time. He couldn’t give you the thing you want even if you showed him how to step by step.”
She inhales sharply. Her eyes widen just slightly, and I don’t think she was expecting me to go that far.
But then she does the unthinkable. She steps even closer to me. She is so close now that I can feel her breath on my chest.
“Then who do you think could?” she whispers.
My pulse hammers so hard I’m sure she can hear it.
My hands curl into fists—some last ditch, desperate effort, to contain the impulse that rises in me whenever she’s this near.
If I reached out, if I allowed myself even the smallest movement, my fingers would find the curve of her arm without hesitation.
The thought alone sends heat rushing through me.
I swallow, forcing my eyes away from her mouth. That’s the problem—her mouth. Her mouth is the danger. Soft and parted slightly, basically begging me to put mine on top of it. The faintest sheen catches the low light and reflects of her lips. It would be so easy. One step. One touch.
And it would be over.
“You said you wanted to be noticed,” I say, voice rough from everything I’m holding back. I take a step back from her. “You are. They just aren’t worthy of your attention.”
For one terrifying, exquisite heartbeat, I swear she knows exactly what I mean. She sees how close I am to losing it.
But the first time I kiss Rachel can’t be like this.
It can’t be done with the faint smell of alcohol on her breath. Or with her swaying just slightly closer than she normally would. I don’t want to kiss her when my head is spinning because I want her so badly I can barely think straight.
The worst part is, I know exactly what the kiss would feel like.
I’ve imagined it too many times. My hand sliding up to cup her jaw, the way she’d probably look surprised for half a heartbeat before melting into it, the warmth of her lips against mine.
But Rachel deserves more than a moment I steal because neither of us are thinking clearly.
Where I’m not wondering tomorrow if she remembers it the same way I do.
I take a step forward, beginning to walk towards her dorm. I let the spell break. She starts walking again beside me.
The line wasn’t crossed. But God, it felt like we were teetering on it. If I'm going to cross that line with her, I have to do it right. I have to talk with Josh. I've got to be honest with him.
We move down the quiet street, her steps becoming less uneven with each block that passes. The night air is sharp against her flushed skin.
After a while, her voice cuts through the soft hum of the neighborhood.
“Hey, Rhett?” I can hear the hesitancy in her voice.
“Hmm?” I tilt my head toward her, my eyes meeting hers in the dark.
“How come you never talk about your parents?”
The question catches me off guard. I blink once and glance away. My shoulders tense before I can stop them. I can feel her looking at me, waiting for me to answer.
“There isn’t much to talk about,” I say, hoping she’ll drop it.
“What do you mean?” Her tone is soft, curious. “Like, what are they up to? What do they do for a living? We spend a lot of time together, and you know practically everyone in my family; it only seems fair I know something about yours.”
I huff out a short breath. There’s something almost innocent in the way she says it. She can’t picture a world where parents wouldn’t be there for their child. However, I know better.
“My dad’s an engineer,” I start. “Back home. He works long hours. He kinda always has. I can’t even be mad at him since it’s mostly to pay for my education, although I’ve told him a hundred times I can figure it out myself.”
She is quiet beside me.
“He’s a good guy,” I add. “We talk every other Sunday.”
“What about your mom?” she asks, careful, but not letting it go.
I shift my weight and put my hand into my pockets. The muscle in my jaw works. I don’t ever talk about my mom. There hasn’t been a reason to. But something in me knows I’m safe with Sunny.
“Don’t have one,” I mutter.
She goes still.
I sigh, not wanting her to be uncomfortable with my baggage, I correct myself. “I mean, I guess I technically do. Had to, you know… to be born and all.”
The silence between us stretches.
“But she left,” I continue, because now that the words are starting, I might as well tell her the whole truth.
I clear my throat. “When I was twelve, she walked out. She didn’t leave a note or an explanation. She was just… gone.” I let out a sad laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her face that I remember the way her perfume smelled more than I remember what she actually looked like.”
“Rhett,” Rachel whispers, and places her hand on my arm.
I can’t look at her. I keep my eyes fixed on the lights ahead of me, on the shape of our shadows stretched over the cement, on anything but what her eyes look like right now.
“It’s not something I talk about,” I say quietly. “Josh is the only one who really knows. He found out freshman year after I drank too much and threw up on his Xbox. Guess the trade-off for the mess was confessing the tragic backstory behind the drinking.”
That earns a faint laugh from her. I glance sideways and catch her watching me, her eyes glinting in the dim light.
She shifts closer, almost tucking herself against me, and I feel the subtle weight of her settling there, claiming a little space without a word.
She wraps her hand around my arm, and I tell myself it’s okay because it will help her not stumble.
“My dad never really talked about her either. One day, she was there. Next, he was figuring out how to pack a lunch, how to get me to basketball practice, and how fake a Halloween costume with duct tape and a shoebox. The man stepped up. Didn’t complain once.”
I rub a hand across my jaw, the rough stubble catching against my palm. “He worked his ass off. He still does. I think part of him always hoped she’d come back. But I stopped hoping a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, Rhett,” she says, “I’m so sorry she couldn’t see what a wonderful human she would miss out on.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Thanks, Sunny. I try not to resent her for it because it’s life, you know. I learned to adjust. Plus, I got lucky with my dad. And Josh… he kinda filled in the cracks.”
“Well, now you have me.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” she repeats, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
We walk in that stillness for a while. She doesn’t press me for more, doesn’t flood the silence with questions. She keeps walking right next to me. And I think she belongs here.
When I finally glance at her again, she’s looking up at the stars, her profile soft in the dim light. I can’t help but wonder if she knows what she’s doing to me. If she has any idea that tonight, this conversation, it’s all getting under my skin.
And damn it, Rachel is starting to matter more than she supposed to.
I don’t know if Rachel would ever see me the way I see her. But I know I’d stay sober and walk her home from a million parties, regardless of the time or weather, if it meant getting to be beside her like this.
She sighs, pulling the hood up and over her head. The sight of her in something that is mine makes me possessive.
Friend. Friend. Friend.
The word repeats, but it starts to sound less like a boundary and more like a warning.
“Do you think you’re gonna feel left out now that Josh is going to be with Margo all the time?” she asks, glancing at me briefly before looking ahead. Her tone is casual, but there’s a trace of hesitation.
Before I can answer, she keeps talking. She does that when she is nervous, though I’m not sure why she would be nervous right now.
“You’ll probably get a girlfriend so you can all hang out together.”
I laugh. “Why would I do that?” I keep my eyes forward, but I see her shift slightly in my peripheral vision.
“Aren’t you going to want someone to hang out with when you hang out with them?” she asks, a small crease forming between her brows.
“No. I’m good. I’ve already got my plan.”
She blinks. “Oh.”
“I don’t need anyone to fill a space. I’ll just hang with you,” I add.
She looks at me, trying to tell if I’m serious. “You wouldn’t get bored with that?”
“Not in a million years, Sunny.”
Her mouth lifts slightly, almost to a smile.
We turn the last corner, and her dorm building comes into view. Rachel slows her steps a little, and I match her pace.
When we reach the steps, she stops and looks up at the building. Her hands are still tucked in the front pocket of my hoodie. She turns towards me, swaying just a little on her feet.
“This is me,” she says, nodding toward the door.
“I know,” I admit, trying not to show how much I don’t want to leave yet.
She pulls her hands out and starts lifting the hoodie.
“Here,” she says, reaching for the hem.
I shake my head once, firmly. “Keep it.”
“Rhett—”
“I’m not gonna argue with you again tonight. I’m tired, Sunny. Please just keep it.” I step back a little so she can’t hand it to me.
She holds it by the sleeve for a second, then gives up and lets it fall back down around her.
“Fine,” she mumbles. Her fingers twist the edge of the sleeve.
I can’t tell if that means she’s mad, nervous or just tired.
She shifts her weight to the other foot, hesitating, maybe waiting for me to say something else. I force myself to speak before I do something stupid like follow her to her room and show her how badly I don’t want to be her friend.
“Get inside safe, alright?”
She nods. “Thanks for walking me, Rhett.”
I give her a short nod back, then turn to leave. I wait until I hear the door open and close behind me before I walk off the steps and head toward the road. My hands make their way back in my pockets, skin still cold from giving her the hoodie.
I was reckless with her tonight.
Reckless in the way I looked at her. I stood too close, knowing how that effects me.
I let my guard slip open just long enough for her to see inside.
I told her something I don’t tell people.
Something only Josh ever knew. And the way she looked at me, like I could be something worth loving, almost made me forget why I keep that part locked up.
And God help me, I wanted to be the one who noticed her tonight.
Not Sean. Not any of those guys who kept looking at her like she was something they could take.
Me.
I wanted her eyes on me, her attention on me, her wanting pointed in my direction.
I wanted to give her exactly what she was aching for, to show her she never needed to chase it from men who didn’t even see her.
And the worst part is simple and brutal: if she had asked, really asked, I would have said yes.
My hands would have found her body without a second thought, like they had been waiting for the invitation all along.
But wanting her is the one thing I can’t act on.