Chapter Fifteen
Gemma
Kissing Two Sheridan feels good. Really good. I’m not sure how we got to this point, but I’m not hating it one bit. Neither is he, no matter how much he wants to.
We have chemistry.
There’s no denying that.
My face feels raw from his scruff and my eyes burn from my tears. There’s no stopping this kiss, though. I ache for him to slip his hand under my hoodie again. This time, I won’t stop him.
He pulls away almost angrily, a growl rumbling from him. “We have to stop.”
I lean toward him, silently begging for another kiss. “Why?”
“Because if I keep kissing you like this, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” He steals another quick kiss. “I want things I don’t have any business wanting.”
I groan, tugging at his hoodie to pull him nearer. “I want it too.”
My heart races inside my chest. Do I? I’ve never had sex before. Do I really want my first time to be with Two? A guy who hated me until now?
Yes.
“I’m serious,” Two says, voice firm. “I need time to think about this. So do you. Can we just work on our project for a bit?”
Rejection washes over me. He’s right, though. I know he’s right. In this moment, kissing him feels right. But how will I feel later when I’m alone. Will I regret this moment?
It’s definitely possible.
After what he told me about Mom and the adoption stuff, my mind is a mess.
Two reaches up and cups my cheek, his gray eyes searching mine. “I like kissing you, Golden.”
I can’t help but grin at his words. He doesn’t give me time to preen at them because he’s already breaking away. As he suggested, he begins unloading our boxes we filled from Hemingford Hall onto one of the tables, getting straight to work.
The kiss is soon pushed aside as we distract ourselves with our project. While Two assembles the supplies, I work on taking pictures from my phone of the different pictures we brought with us. One picture is of Alexander Heming and Edgar Ford looking dapper in their fancy old-timey suits, both of them grinning with mischief.
They were definitely a couple.
I can tell by their clear affection for each other in the picture.
Our plan is to use the pictures for our model, scaling them way down and printing them for miniature picture frames we’ll be making. Two made a list of all the tasks for our model and is starting on that while I work on some of the other aspects of our project. We spend hours making progress, neither of us letting our buzzing phones distract us.
It’s just me and Two and all things Hemingford Hall.
Headlights flicker through the window, jolting Two. He jerks his head up, glances down at his watch, and then curses.
“What?” I ask with a yawn. “Who is it?”
“Probably Dad.” He strides over to the window and peers out. “As soon as he goes into the house, we have to leave.”
I frown at him. “Why?”
“Because,” he hisses, gesturing at me. “He can’t see you.”
Reality seeps its way back into my brain. It makes sense now why he didn’t want me meeting them in the first place. Two is protecting his dads from the hurt my name and face will bring. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.
“Fuck, someone’s coming.”
“I’ll hide,” I tell him, ready to crawl under one of the tables.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll deal with him.”
He steps outside and then I hear his voice along with another, though I can’t make out what they’re saying. I check my messages to find that I’ve missed a lot of them.
Tate: Coffee date with me and Willa?
Tate: We had to go without you because you never answered.
Willa: I miss you. Come see me and Bane soon!
Dempsey: Want to go to Seattle with me next month for an art thing? Sloane has to work.
Spencer: Rex learned how to say shit. Dad’s not happy.
Mom: You’re working really hard lately. I’m proud of you but you need to take some time for yourself. Spa day soon, sweetie?
Dad: Bring your project partner in the house next time so we can meet her. Your mom says you’re spending a lot of time with her.
Mom: Packages arrived for you today from Sephora and a couple of other places. Let me know if you want me to open them for you.
Jude: Dad wants me to vet out your friend. What’s her first and last name?
Dempsey: Beauty shit on the couch! How do you get shit out of fabric? Ask Mom! Hurry, I have to get this shit cleaned up before Sloane sees!
Dempsey: Never mind. Mom’s coming over to help me. Thanks for all your help, womb mate.
I don’t even know where to start on responding to them all. If my text messages are this out of hand, I can’t begin to imagine what’s going on with my socials. Knowing I’ll need to get on tonight and do a live at the very least feels exhausting.
The door to the workshop reopens and Two steps back inside.
“That was too close. I got Dad off my back, but we need to leave.” Two starts gathering his backpack, frantically throwing stuff into it. “Come on, Golden, we don’t have all day.”
I bristle at his grumpiness but know he’s just stressing out. My presence won’t be received well by his parents. Just thinking about bringing them pain too has my stomach knotting.
Two is so focused on practically dragging me to his car that he doesn’t notice the note taped to my window. As soon as he leaves me to go to his side, I snatch it off and shove it into my pocket. It’s cold in his car and I shiver while he tries to get it started. After the fourth attempt, it fires to life. Two rummages around in his console, eventually retrieving a couple of butterscotch candies. He offers me one and I accept.
As soon as the candy hits my tongue, I’m reminded again of our kiss. He tasted buttery and rich, just like the candy. He loudly clacks his candy around in his mouth as he drives. I think it must be a nervous habit or something. Neither of us speaks while he drives in the dark back to my house.
When we arrive, Two is stiff and won’t look at me. I’d hoped for another kiss, but it’s clear he’s on edge. I reach over and give his arm a squeeze.
“I had fun today with you.”
He grunts. “Same.”
“Can I call you later?”
“Not sure I’ll answer. I’m behind on Cedarwood Mansion.”
“Oh.” Deflated, I grab my things and fling open the door. “I’ll see you in class on Monday then.”
He reaches across and takes hold of my hand before I can escape. “I’ll answer.”
“Okay.” I give him a quick smile before tugging from his hold.
I’ve barely made it to the door before he takes off down the road. Being alone outside creeps me out, so I rush into the house. My parents are curled up on the couch, watching a movie together.
“Hey,” I say, waving at them as I pass.
“Where are you off to in a hurry?” Dad asks. “We’ve barely seen you in days.”
“Busy with school stuff,” I mutter. “I’m tired.”
He starts to say something else, but Mom tugs on his shoulder. “Good night, Gem.”
“Night.”
I flee the living room before they can interrogate me more. Once I’m safe in my room, I strip out of my clothes and start my shower. It’s not until I’m about to get under the hot spray that I remember the note. Without a stitch of clothing on, I tiptoe back into my room and dig around in my hoodie until I find the paper.
He likes you, but no one will ever cherish you as much as I do. He’s a boy. I’m a man. There’s a difference you’ll one day understand, my sweet, innocent angel. Don’t have sex with him. You’ll be disappointed. I’ll be disappointed too. When the time is right, I’ll make you mine.
A shudder ripples through me, making my teeth chatter. This guy is insane. Two’s right. I do need to tell someone. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Sloane about it. Maybe even Jude. This is getting way too creepy.
After a long, hot shower where I attempt to chase the chill of my stalker away, I get into my coziest pajamas. I make a couple of posts using content I’d pre-recorded and saved in my drafts. I’ll do a live another day. Once work is done, I crawl into bed, mind still racing.
Mom considered adoption. I know she was a young mother and was dealing with the stress of secretly being with Dad even though her boyfriend was Callum at the time. Did she feel overwhelmed like I do half the time? Like she wanted to give up and quit?
I want to talk to her about it, but I’m afraid it’ll open a can of worms I’m not ready to deal with. Plus, she and Dad may forbid me from seeing Two or going to his house. The thought of suddenly being denied his presence is gutting.
I like him.
He’s annoying and weird and sloppy and the total opposite of me, but I like him.
It’s crazy, but I already miss him.
I dial his number and wait for him to answer. He said he would even after he said he wouldn’t. On the second ring, his deep voice fills the line.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I parrot back. “You answered.”
“I told you I would.”
“No Cedarwood?”
“Figured you needed me more.”
A thrill shoots through me and I’m unable to suppress a grin. “I did.”
He covers the phone for a second, his voice muffled, and then I hear a door close. “Dad’s being nosy tonight.”
“Mine too.”
We both chuckle quietly.
“Our little secret, huh?” I murmur, letting my eyes fall closed as I listen to his breathing.
“Yeah. Our secret.”
“Like Alexander and Edgar?”
He snorts. “Except we’re the opposite sex.”
“But we’re totally like them, right? Hiding our feelings from those around us.”
“Yup.”
“I know you want to hate me, Two, but I’m glad you can’t.”
His breath rattles through the phone. “Me too, Golden. Me too.”
“Tell me a story about you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know more about you.”
“I annoy most girls.”
“You annoy me,” I remind him with a smile. “But I keep sticking around for some reason. You’ve grown on me. Like a fungus. Now tell me a story.”
“Perfect little Gemma Park is tainted by Two.”
“Story time.”
He grunts at my persistence but then proceeds to tell me a dramatic tale about how one time he and Dax nearly drowned in the creek behind his house when they tried to ice skate on it. I listen with rapt attention, enjoying the animated way he tells how they were able to escape the chilly waters. When he finishes, the air between us feels lighter.
“Your turn. Tell me about your brothers. I always wanted a brother. Dax is the closest thing to one I have.”
We spend the next several hours on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. With each passing moment, I fall deeper and deeper into the abyss that is Two Sheridan. Learning silly things like his favorite song or foods he can’t stand intrigues me. Sharing real details about myself with him is something rare for me to do. It’s refreshing. Needless to say, I’m enjoying the man whose guts I hated a week ago.
“The sun’s coming up,” Two says with a yawn.
“Guess we better go to sleep.” I pause and then ask, “I’ll see you Monday in class?”
“Nah, Golden,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”
My heart does a somersault.
Keeping Two a secret is going to be really, really hard.