13. I Like You
13
I Like You
“Where are you taking me?” I ask for the third time. Haze keeps his eyes glued to the road. He’s a stubborn one, I admit. But what he doesn’t know is—I’m worse.
“Earth to Haze?”
Still no answer.
“I love this song.” He turns up the radio to spite me.
I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Haze’s subject-changing skills will never cease to amaze me.
“Can you stop changing the subject?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Can you stop being curious?”
“We’ve been driving for an hour and a half. Can you blame me for wanting to know?”
“We’re going somewhere really nice, I promise,” he says, rolling the window down to let the night breeze into the car.
“Last time you said that, we ended up trespassing on the roof of an abandoned building.”
“The view was worth it, wasn’t it?” He carelessly runs a hand through his hair.
Oh for fuck’s sake. Does he do attractive things on purpose, or is he just naturally irresistible?
Yep. Same old question.
“Why was it so important that I came with you?”
“Do you ever stop asking questions, Kingston?” A hint of exasperation can be seen in his features.
“Do you ever stop avoiding them, Adams?”
“Nope.”
“Jerk.”
“Prude.”
I can’t help but smile. I look at him from the corner of my eyes to see his lips twitching into a smile, as well.
“We’re here.”
He exits the highway and takes an unexpected turn onto a gravel road. I try to see—key word: try—but can’t discern anything except for the vague shapes illuminated by the headlights of the car. A sign that reads “cul-de-sac” quickly passes on my left.
“Because that’s not creepy at all.”
His smile only grows wider.
Haze finally parks the car, pushes the gear into park, and kills the engine. He then turns off the headlights. We both get out of the vehicle, and what I see immediately takes my breath away.
We’re on a beach. An enormous one. There’s a complete absence of light, which reveals the most beautiful view I have ever seen. It’s an endless sea of stars.
I can’t remember the last time I saw so many.
“It’s insane,” I say quietly, almost to myself as he walks toward the back of the car to open the trunk.
“How’d you find out about this place?”
“Happy accident.”
“You said you wanted to show me something that only happens tonight?”
“Yes, there’s a meteor shower later. You’re going to be glad I blackmailed you, you’ll see.”
My eyes widen tremendously as my lips part in shock. Is he serious? He gave up on annoying the living hell out of Kendrick for a meteor shower date on an empty beach?
He comes back to the front of the car, one of his hands full and the other checking the time on his phone.
“We have two hours to kill.”
I look down at what he’s holding. Blankets.
“How sweet. You got us blankets?” I tease. “Where’s the picnic?”
He scoffs. “Oh no, these are for me. I only share my blankets with people who give me thank-you kisses.”
I flush.
“You still haven’t let that go, huh?”
“Nah.”
He knew it was two hours away and that we’d have plenty of time together.
It doesn’t take long for us to find the perfect spot to lie down. The silence that follows is thick but comfortable. It’s peaceful. Light. Haze is lying on his back with one of his arms under his head and the other alongside his body.
I do the same, tossing my hair to the front and wondering how I could live without these little wonders for so long. The artificial city lights take away the gifts Mother Nature gave us. They’re always there. But the fake replaces the real.
Kind of like falling for someone. You might not see the feelings, but they’re there. Always. Just because they’re buried deep under denial and repression doesn’t mean that they don’t infiltrate your every thought and intoxicate every heartbeat. Just because something is bad for you doesn’t mean you don’t crave it with every fiber of your being.
That’s what makes love the most dangerous feeling of all.
“Where were you?” I regret saying the words as soon as they come out.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
He lets out a long breath. “I was around.”
“Seriously? That’s all I get?”
Irritation spreads across his face.
“What else do you want me to say, Winter? I don’t owe you an explanation for everything I do. I’m not your boyfriend.”
Harsh.
“Right.” I sit up, staring at the ocean in the distance.
As soon as he says it, he seems to feel guilty. He sits up as well and mumbles incomprehensible words, blathering a confusing apology.
“No, it’s fine. You’re right. You’re not my boyfriend. But I thought we were friends. My mistake.”
He remains quiet, fighting a war within himself.
“I’ve been in and out of town,” he finally whispers.
“Would it be too far to ask why?”
“I can’t tell you anything else. You already know too much.”
“I know too much? Are you serious? I know nothing about you except that you have a psycho brother and that you hate spiders.”
He exhales. “I’m sorry.”
I lower my head. “Me too.”
Again, to push the irony even further, he has a hard time finding an answer good enough to give me.
“I’m hungry,” he says.
“Seriously? Way to ruin a dramatic moment.” I struggle to hold on to the anger that quickly spills out of me. I’m supposed to be mad at him.
“What? You’re the one who mentioned a picnic.”
“You should’ve thought about that before driving almost two hours out of town.”
We laugh quietly.
“I wanted to say sorry,” he concedes.
“For what?”
“The lies Bianca’s been spreading about you.”
So he did hear.
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. She’s… something, that one.”
“Something doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he says. “You remember that time at the diner? Bianca sent Natasha to try and crash the date. Something about Natasha texting her that I was there with a girl. So, of course, as any sane person would do, Bianca took it upon herself to intervene.”
It all makes sense now.
I thought it was quite strange that Natasha would do that to her friend when she knows Bianca has feelings for Haze. Turns out she actually is a good friend in her own weird way. Bianca, on the other hand, not so much. Asking one of your girls to try and seduce a guy you’re interested in because you’re afraid he might hook up with another girl? That’s not okay.
“I kind of get it though,” I breathe. “Having feelings for someone can make you do crazy things.”
His gaze shifts to me. He doesn’t speak for several seconds.
“Tell me about it.”
I try to convince myself that it’s just words. Letters put together to form sentences. That they don’t mean anything. But the butterflies in my stomach say otherwise.
They mean everything.
I change the topic. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Adams. Beach date and all.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not what?”
“A romantic.”
I hold back a laugh. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you know a side of me that no one else sees.”
His words resonate in my brain. He’s right.
He acts differently with me, and I can’t decide if I should be happy, because it means that I bring the good out of him… or if I should be sad, because he’s hiding the bad.
It’s been exactly two hours since we arrived to the beach. We’ve been talking about our beliefs, our dreams, the places we always wanted to visit, and the things we wish we’d never done.
No, I’m just kidding .
That would require Haze opening up.
We’ve been staring at the stars and trying to find constellations in the moonlit sky.
“This one looks like a purse.”
“What? How is that a purse?” He cracks up, squinting.
“You don’t see it? There, on the left.” I point to the bundle of stars.
An alarm goes off on Haze’s phone, interrupting my ridiculous attempt at giving him an astronomy class.
“It’s almost time,” he whispers.
We open our eyes widely, lying down on the blanket that now has sand scattered over it.
Then, we wait. For something, anything to happen.
When the distant and passing lights spread across the luminous sky, I realize that so many of us spend our entire lives collecting “beautiful things” when the really beautiful things are those we cannot possess.
Now that I’m watching something that’s literally out of this world, the words Haze said to me on the rooftop haunt my thoughts. He’s right. The house you live in, the car you drive, and the clothes you wear do not fill you with peace when you’re lying in a hospital bed.
Little moments like this do.
I’m ripped away from my thoughts when I feel a warm hand on mine.
Haze’s hand.
I know I should move away, tell him to stop, do something. But I can’t. And I won’t. I turn my head instinctively. He’s staring at me. He rolls over to his side to face me. He should be looking at the meteor shower.
“You’re missing the best part,” I murmur.
He smiles, as well, and slowly leans in. My heart jolts against my rib cage. He’s close. Too close.
His gaze lands on my lips, and just like it was in the bathroom a week ago, the tension in the air’s so thick that I could cut it with a knife. Barely an inch separates us at this point.
“That’s not the best part, Kingston.”
He lays a hand on my cheek and slowly brushes my lower lip with his thumb. A million shivers scamper down my body as I close my eyes at the touch, my instincts taking over.
Then, he whispers something that makes my thoughts spiral out of control.
“This is.”
Our lips collide and the oxygen runs away from my lungs. His kisses are gentle at first, like he’s giving me a chance to reject him or push him away. But I don’t. I can feel that he’s holding back as he slowly caresses my lips with his. It’s driving me insane, and before I know it, I’m kissing him back. Right away, I feel him smiling. He buries his fingers in my hair and deepens the kiss. I’ve never known anything like this. I’ve never known anything like him . It’s like we both refuse to let go because if we do, we’ll be brought back to reality. Back to this world where we know we don’t stand a chance.
That’s when the truth catches up to us.
His phone rings.
When he pulls away, the castle bursts into flames, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin, and the glass slipper breaks into a million pieces.
The fairy tale crashes, and my heart does, too.
He looks at me regretfully, curses under his breath, and picks up the phone. I sit up straight and stare at the sea with empty eyes. I just kissed my cousin’s enemy. The ultimate player. Technically, he kissed me. But I kissed him back. It’s obvious now that I’ve been lying to myself. There is no going back.
I like Haze Adams.
“Yeah, I get that. I heard you the first time.” Haze sighs, the irritation in his tone growing.
I’m not sure who he’s talking to, but my guess is his brother. The argument only serves as an open door for numerous unpleasant memories to come bursting back into my mind. Might as well put up a sign that says “Room available for guilt, second thoughts, and doubts in Winter’s head. Limited time only.”
I kissed a guy whose brother violently attacked me.
“I said I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hangs up, letting his phone hit the ground. The bulging vein in his neck catches my eyes, making me wonder how he manages to look this good even when he’s angry.
I don’t know what to say. Or how to act. Do we just carry on like nothing happened? Or do we acknowledge that we just kissed?
A lot?
All I know is it can’t happen again. No matter how much of a good kisser he is. I lower my gaze to his lips and ignore the desire bursting in a deep, unexplored place in my belly.
Winter, stop it .
“Sorry. Family drama.”
I was right. He was talking to Tanner.
“Don’t worry about it.”
His eyes say it all. He’s wondering how to act, too.
“It’s getting late. We should get going,” I say, getting up before he can get a word in.
I hear him sigh behind me.
“Sure.”
I pick up the blanket and shake it to get rid of the sand clinging to it. We’re halfway to the car when a drop of water hits my hand. I look up at the sky that’s now fogged and cloudy. Great. Rain. Just what I need right now.
As we walk side by side, the weather goes from let’s annoy them to let’s drown them in a matter of seconds. The rain comes pouring down on us. We’re already soaking wet by the time we reach the car and take cover inside. We have a two-hour ride ahead of us, and the rain is so bad, I’m afraid we won’t have a choice but to wait it out.
“Shit,” Haze mutters to himself. He’s staring at his phone.
“What is it?”
“It’s supposed to last all night.”
“Damn it. What are we going to do?”
“The only thing we can do—be careful on the road. We can’t stay here forever, can we?” He turns the engine on.
I have no choice but to agree with him… and pray that we’ll make it back home alive.
When the fourth kissing-related song in a row comes on the radio, the only thought consuming my mind is “ I sure hope you’re enjoying this, Universe .” We’ve been driving for an hour. There are only fifty minutes left before I can collapse onto my bed and forget this ever happened. The rain hasn’t stopped. In fact, it’s only gotten worse.
The song on the radio contains the lyrics “Kiss me before it’s too late. Kiss me, that’s all it takes.”
Oh, the irony.
I look to my left and see Haze smirking.
Smirking .
As in, he thinks the unbearably heavy tension in the air is funny. Well, excuse me, bad boy, but I’m dying over here.
When we slow down and find ourselves stuck behind an endless line of cars, Haze frowns and stretches his neck to see what the reason is for the blocked road. Then, cars begin to turn around and cross to the opposite lane, going back to where they came from.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
That’s when we see the ambulance and flickering police lights from afar. It’s quite clear that there’s been an accident, and considering the terrible weather, I’m not surprised.
The access to the bridge is completely blocked. I hope everyone’s okay. Next thing I know, a police officer comes knocking on the window, probably to tell us exactly what he’s been telling everyone else. Haze rolls down the tinted glass.
“There’s been an accident. Two cars went off the bridge into the lake. You have to find another way,” the poor man struggles to say through the pouring rain
That’s awful.
Haze thanks him and does a U-turn, watching the scene become more and more distant in the rearview mirror.
“Is there another way home?”
“Not that I know of. And even if there was, I’m not risking it.” He points out to the windshield. “I saw a motel a few miles back.”
His tone makes it clear he’s not asking. Part of me is screaming because I have to share a room with him. But the other feels relieved because I won’t have to face Kendrick’s wrath just yet. He’s been texting me all night, asking for an explanation that I can’t bring myself to give him.
What could I say? Hey, Kendrick, I just wanted to let you know that I did exactly what you told me not to do and caught feelings for your enemy. What’s for dinner?
We drive in silence. I don’t dare say a word, afraid that I’ll distract him. This kind of weather requires his undivided attention. When we see the motel in the distance and the numerous cars in the parking lot, we know that a lot of people had the same idea as we did.
We get out of the vehicle and run toward the entrance as fast as the wind and violent rain allow us to. The area around the front desk is crawling with people who are just as eager to escape the rain as we are. When our turn finally comes, Haze asks for a room with two beds. The employee tells him that they only have a room with one bed available due to the large number of unexpected arrivals.
Haze gives me a look that says, “Is that okay?” I shrug as an answer. What else can I do? Sleep in the car?
“It’s fine,” he tells the guy.
He completely ignores me when I try and pay for half of the room and hands the employee his card.
One night stuck in a motel room with Haze Adams?
Sure, why not?
When Haze steps into the room and drops clothes on the bed, I’m not sure if I should thank him or be upset. As soon as we settled into the room—not that we really needed settling because we have no luggage—Haze said he had some dry clothes for me in the car. Something about always bringing some of his clothes in his trunk to be prepared.
And by prepared he probably means for when he needs to change after sneaking out of his one-night stand’s bed.
The thought stings although I’ll never admit it.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, and when he smirks, I know the awkward moment has passed and the Haze I know is back.
“A shower, huh?”
“Don’t even think about it, Adams.” I push the door open.
He grins. “I didn’t say anything.”
The last thing I see before entering the bathroom is Haze kicking off his shoes and throwing himself onto the bed. My shower is short and cold. When I step out of it, I happily put on Haze’s dry sweatpants and hoodie. I’d hoped that they’d stop the shivers running down my spine, but they don’t. I’m afraid I’m going to catch a cold. As soon as I exit the bathroom, he complains about the fact that the TV only has two channels: the news and a channel that merely plays old black-and-white movies. He rolls to his side, looking at me, and smiles. Silent, he carefully analyzes my clothes—or should I say his clothes .
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He smiles. “Because you’re adorable.”
My cheeks heat up.
“Straight to the point, aren’t we?”
“No time to beat around the bush anymore.”
He’s right. I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t run from the truth any longer: the fight’s the day after tomorrow, and I have to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for what I’m about to see. Haze and Kendrick fighting. Violently.
If Haze wins, I’ll have to spend a month with him.
If he loses, I can never see or talk to him ever again.
And… I’m not sure which one is worse.
I lie down on the bed next to him and glance at the clock on the nightstand. 3:03 a.m.
I yawn. “I’m exhausted.”
“Me too.”
I slide under the covers as Haze turns off the TV. I shiver, tangled up in the cold sheets that haven’t known human warmth in a while.
“Are you cold?” he asks, joining me.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply, sitting up straight in the bed and removing his shirt before throwing it across the room. I’d usually check him out, but all I can think about in that moment is the heat radiating off his bare chest. He’s hot—in every way possible.
“Come here.” His voice is low, demanding.
When he opens his arms, offering me a spot on his chest, I refuse to fight myself. I’m too exhausted. I rest my head on his torso and sigh in relief when his burning skin meets mine. This is the first real physical contact between Haze and me, but it isn’t weird or stressful. It’s surprisingly easy. Natural . He circles my waist with his arm and holds me tight. I listen to the sound of his heart beating and, eventually, his breathing becomes regular.
I’ve never understood the people who say that home isn’t a place. But now that I’m lying here with him, I know…
If home is a feeling, that’s what it feels like.