Chapter 5 #2
I’m thinking about Will’s voice. And I’m wondering why he just left his post behind the bar, looking madder than shit.
I pull back with a soft smile. “Hey, do you mind if I hit the restroom real quick?”
Trey blinks, caught off guard, but nods. “Yeah, of course.”
I slip out of my chair before I can talk myself out of it and wind my way toward the bar but I don’t stop there. I move past it, through the swinging half-door near the back, down the hallway lined with old rodeo photos and cracked paint.
I find Will in the storeroom, counting bottles, like he didn’t hear me coming.
“You send drinks to all the girls on first dates?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
Will glances up, slow and unreadable. “Only the ones who make it hard to look away.”
My heart stutters.
“I wasn’t going to let him kiss me,” I say, quieter now. “If you’re wondering.”
He sets the bottle down. “Wasn’t wondering.”
“Liar.”
Will closes the distance between us in three long strides, stopping just inches from me. His jaw is tight. His eyes flick to my lips, then back to my eyes.
“I saw you walk in,” he says, voice low and rough. “In that outfit. With him. And I’ve been trying to be good. I’ve been trying to stay out of your way.”
He reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair back from my face. His fingers trail behind my ear, soft but electric.
“But seeing you with him? Laughing. Letting him touch you?” His voice drops lower. “Well, I can’t stand to see that.”
My breath catches. “Then why didn’t you say something?”
He leans in, mouth barely a whisper from mine.
“Because you’re not mine to want.”
My fingers tighten in the edge of his shirt. “What if I am?”
Will doesn’t ask again.
He just kisses me.
And this isn’t soft or tentative or safe. It’s hungry. Hot. Messy with years of things unsaid. His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I melt, kissing him back like I’ve waited my whole damn life.
Outside, the bar buzzes on. But in here, it’s just us and the storm we’ve been circling for years.
And if he thinks I’m awkward or inexperienced, he doesn’t let it show.
There’s no pause, no hesitation. Just the steady pressure of his body guiding mine, step by step, until my back meets the wall with a soft thud.
The cool surface is a jolt against my spine, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rolling off him.
His hands are everywhere. One braced beside my head, the other skimming down my side, like he’s trying to memorize the way I feel under his fingertips. I gasp when his lips find the curve of my jaw, and he groans softly, like the sound undoes him.
“Phern,” he murmurs, his voice rough and close, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
I do.
Because I’ve wanted it too.
Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when I told myself I was over him. That I deserved someone uncomplicated. Someone safe.
But nothing about this feels safe. It feels like standing on the edge of something wild, heart pounding, breath short.
“Will,” I whisper, and his name on my lips makes him shudder.
His mouth captures mine again. Deeper this time, slower, like he’s trying to tell me everything he hasn’t said over the years. And I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, clumsy in some places, greedy in others, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on.
He presses closer, thigh sliding between mine, his body solid and insistent, like he’s anchoring me to this moment. His hand slips beneath the hem of my lace skirt, fingers brushing bare skin, and I gasp again.
Not because I’m scared.
Because I want this. I want him.
But even as the heat coils tighter, something sharp wedges itself into my chest.
“Wait,” I breathe, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “We shouldn’t. Trey is out there…”
Will stills.
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me. His pupils are blown wide, breath shallow, lips parted like he’s still tasting me. And then I watch it. The shift. The wall slamming back into place. The shame hardening his features.
“Fuck,” he mutters, stepping back like I burned him. “Kiddo, I’m sorry. I crossed a fucking line.”
Kiddo.
It punches through me harder than I expect.
Like he’s trying to shove me back into the box I never fit in—too young, too inexperienced, too off limits.
He runs a hand through his hair and takes another step away, putting space between us that wasn’t there seconds ago.
And all I can do is stand there, heartbeat thrashing against my ribs, trying to hold in the sob clawing up my throat.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, voice shaky. “It’s my fault.”
It’s not. We both know it’s not. But it’s easier to take the blame than to hear him regret it out loud.
I push off the wall, straightening my skirt with trembling fingers. “Forget it even happened.”
Will’s jaw clenches. “Phern—”
“No.” I cut him off, forcing a smile. “I should get back. Trey’s probably wondering where I went.”
And just like that, I turn and walk away, even though every step feels like it’s tearing something out of me. The burn of his touch still lingers on my skin, but it’s the echo of what he didn’t say that hurts the most.
When I make it back to the table, Trey’s halfway through his beer, looking relaxed, like nothing in the world could possibly be complicated.
I stop in front of him, my heart still pounding for all the wrong reasons.
“Will you kiss me now?” I ask, my voice lighter than I feel, teetering on the edge of reckless.
His eyes widen, caught off guard but not enough to hesitate. He stands and pulls me into his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s been waiting for permission.
Our lips meet, and it’s… fine.
Soft. Polite. The kind of kiss I imagine you’d give someone on a third date when you’re still deciding if there's potential. But it’s nothing like the one I just had in the storeroom. It doesn't steal my breath or tilt the world sideways.
Still, someone whistles. A group near the jukebox lets out a rowdy cheer. Someone else hollers. I smile against Trey’s mouth, pretending it doesn’t ache. Pretending I don’t still taste Will.
When we break apart, Trey’s grinning, his hands still resting on my waist. “Wow,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me neither,” I lie, settling back into my chair and taking a long sip of my beer.
Across the bar, I don’t have to look to know Will’s watching.
I can feel it like a live wire under my skin.
And maybe that’s why I did it.
Maybe I needed him to see that I don’t wait around for someone who calls me kiddo and walks away.
Or maybe I just needed to prove that I can move on. Even if every part of me is still facing the wrong direction.