Chapter 2
Two
Blair
The dim light in Kinsley’s room casts long shadows, creating a cocoon of warmth that I desperately wish to sink into, but beneath the surface, my thoughts are anything but calm.
My hands still burn from Kane’s chest. I scrubbed them twice in Kinsley’s bathroom sink, thirty seconds each time, humming the same four bars under my breath, but the heat won’t leave. Like he branded me just by touching me.
I never would’ve used his bathroom if I’d known he was home. If I’d known he’d be standing there, shirtless, looking at me like I was something he wanted to ruin.
Kinsley flops onto the bed beside me, a whirlwind of glitter and chaos. “What’s up with you?” she asks, her voice cutting through the silence.
I smooth the blanket over my lap, making sure the edge lines up perfectly with the seam of the mattress before I answer. “Huh? Nothing, just tired, I guess.”
She stretches like a cat, her excitement buzzing through the room. “Tomorrow starts the next chapter of our lives, Blair!”
I nod, even though my cheeks feel impossibly warm. Flashes of that encounter replay in my mind: his green eyes, the way he pressed me against the wall, the heat radiating from his skin. He’s not small. Anywhere.
And then it hits me again, like a punch to the gut.
Anger.
I’ve had a stupid crush on Kane Fischer since I was twelve.
He never acknowledged me, just Kinsley’s weird little friend with braces and OCD.
The girl who counted her steps to the dinner table.
Who had to tap the banister three times before going upstairs.
Who lined her pencils in perfect order before she could start her homework.
He didn’t even recognize me.
Not until I was pretty enough to matter.
Not until I became someone he could want.
He dared to flirt with me in his own house. Like I’m just another girl in a tight shirt. Like he didn’t spend years ignoring me while I watched him from the sidelines, wishing he’d look my way.
I pull the blanket tighter, smoothing it again when the fold isn’t perfect. Trying to shield myself from the wildfire he lit with one look.
“I’m setting my alarm for eight AM so we can get on the road early. Sound good?” Kinsley asks, flipping off the light.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice swallowed by the dark.
I squeeze my eyes shut and start counting backward from one hundred—my go-to when my thoughts spiral. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. But Kane’s voice cuts through the numbers, low and possessive. What’s your name, sunflower?
I shift in the bed, listening to Kinsley’s breathing settle beside me. The ache between my thighs is a cruel reminder that my body betrayed me. That I melted into him like I was made for it.
I hate that I reacted.
I hate that I wanted more.
I start the count again. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. But his eyes keep bleeding through the cracks. Dark green. Hungry. Haunting.
And I hate that I wish he would look at me like that again.
I wake to Kinsley arguing with someone right outside her door.
“What the hell, Kane?” she snaps. “Blair isn’t riding with you. She’s already got her stuff packed in my car.”
“She doesn’t have to move her stuff, but I have more room in my truck.
Your tiny two-seater Audi TT isn’t built for long road trips.
Mine’s more comfortable.” His voice is calm, but there’s that undercurrent, smooth, coaxing, dangerous.
The kind of tone that’s probably talked more than a few girls out of their clothes.
Why the hell would he want me to ride with him?
The thought alone knots my stomach with an unsettling mix of excitement and dread.
Five hours alone in his truck? I can already feel my carefully stacked mental blocks wobbling.
“Why would you care if she’s comfortable?” Kinsley fires back. I picture her with her hands on her hips, chin tilted up like she’s ready to take on a linebacker. The image makes me smirk into my pillow.
“Geez, Kins, I was just trying to be a nice brother. If you want her to suffer the whole way, then that’s on you.” Oh, that’s a low blow.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll ask her when she gets up, but she’s going to say no,” she argues insistently.
“We’ll see.” There’s a confident cockiness in his tone that makes it impossible for me to ignore.
“You’re such a prick, know that?” she scoffs. His laugh slides under my skin like a hot wire. What the fuck?
I roll out of bed, my feet automatically finding the rug’s edge, three steps to the dresser, two to the closet.
I count them without thinking. The numbers keep me steady.
Stretching my arms overhead, I try to shake off the sleep, but my phone cord catches my ankle.
I trip, and the phone slingshots across the room with a sickening crack.
“Blair?” Kinsley exclaims, immediately rushing to my side, her brow furrowed with concern.
“I’m fine. Just tripped,” I say, forcing a laugh. My cheeks burn, not from the fall, but from the way my morning’s already out of order. I should’ve unplugged the cord first. I always unplug the cord first.
She bursts into laughter, the kind that feels like sunshine breaking through a murky sky. “You’re so clumsy, B,” she giggles, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.
When I look up, Kane’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, grin sharp enough to cut. He looks like trouble dressed in black and muscle. He looks like some sort of dark prince, and I, his unwilling yet enraptured subject.
“Look who came home last night,” Kinsley announces, her irritation evident. She throws her hands in Kane’s direction, as if introducing a star. He pulls an even more wicked grin across his face, and I know without a doubt he’s thinking about last night.
“Yeah, I see. Good to see you, Kane,” I manage to get out.
“It’s great seeing you, Blair,“ he emphasizes, his tone dripping with intention. My insides twist. It feels like a game, a wicked flirting masquerade, one I believe I wasn’t even invited to.
“So, Kane apparently thinks you’d rather hitch a ride with him to campus than ride with me.” She rolls her eyes, glancing between us in disbelief.
“Oh, thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with Kins.
We already have our playlists prepared anyway,” I answer, trying to come off with a cool indifference, but I’m sure it doesn’t translate that way.
Kane has always had this ability to make me flustered and tongue-tied in front of him, and I absolutely hate it.
Kane takes a step back, his expression far too cocky for my comfort. He winks when Kinsley isn’t looking and then turns to jog down the stairs.
“Sorry, he’s an asshole,” she huffs, inadvertently echoing my earlier thoughts.
“I’m going to go get dressed and brush my teeth, then we can be on the way.
” Kinsley grabs a stack of clothes and then heads into the bathroom, but I’m left on my own, trying to comprehend the rapid-fire emotions swirling inside me.
Unfortunately, my brain can’t handle bullshit this early without coffee.
I dress quickly, folding each item I’m not wearing into my bag in the same order I packed it last night. Socks, then tops, then jeans. I pull the zipper all the way to the left. My breathing evens out with each completed step.
By the time I get to the kitchen, Kane’s planted himself in front of the coffee maker like he owns it. He leans lazily against the counter, a coffee mug in hand, sporting that smug smile of his.
“Want a cup?” he taunts, eyes glinting.
“I do,” I murmur, maneuvering around the counter, but of course, he stands firmly in place.
“Whoa, slow down there, sunflower.” He laughs, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. Why does he have to be so attractive? It really makes it difficult to hate him. Which I definitely should. I mean, I do, right?
“Can you scoot over so I can get some?” I ask, raising my eyebrow and trying fruitlessly to ignore how my heart races.
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” he replies, amusement clear in his eyes.
“Coming between me and coffee is going to get you hurt,” I warn, but my voice is softer than I want it to be.
“Damn, you got sassy. However, I’d rather come on you,” he smirks, leaning just a bit, forcing our bodies to press together.
I can feel his warmth radiating from him, sending all the wrong signals.
My breath hitches, and I drag my gaze away, focusing on filling my cup.
He’s so hard. No, I mean it’s hard, his body.
Fuck, Blair, get a grip on yourself. He’s just playing with you.
Once we all get to campus, you’ll probably never see him.
I focus on the coffee pot, on the ritual, mug, pour, two sugars, stir clockwise exactly six times. But his presence scrambles the count, and I have to start over.
“Well, people tend to change when you don’t see them for years.
It’s called aging,” I shoot back, clinging to the words like they’re armor.
“Is there something I can help you with, Kane?” I surprise myself with that question, knowing well it will only stoke the flames of his bravado.
As if testing the waters, he places his mug down beside us and leans in slightly, letting the tantalizing scent of coffee and him wash over me.
“Mmm, I love hearing my name fall from those pouty lips,” he whispers close to my ear, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps over my skin.
I can’t tell if my body responds out of reluctance or desire.
I choose reluctance because I don’t want anything to do with this playboy, all-star, football god standing beside me.
I step back, reclaiming my space just as Kinsley breezes in and shoves him aside.
“Get out of the way, Kane!” she says, practically bouncing towards the coffee maker.
I take a breath, relishing the shift, the disruption of the tension that was just coiled around me. As Kins pours herself a cup, I gulp my coffee, too hot, burning my tongue, but the pain is grounding.