Chapter 6
Nikolai
To my credit, I don’t punch the guy pawing at Isabelle. I don’t react when he tries to punch me , either, curses falling from his mouth like confetti. I do turn when he calls her a bitch, and my glare is enough to make
him melt into the crowd. Drunken asshole.
I grip her hand in mine as I lead her away from the dance floor, through the house, and finally to the backyard. When I feel
the hazy night air, I take a full breath for the first time since I realized I wasn’t imagining her.
She jerks her hand away. “Nik?”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, studying her. I didn’t come to the party to find her—I just wanted to blow
off some steam before I meet my new coach tomorrow—but she was impossible to ignore, dancing in the middle of the crowd. At
first, I told myself I’d finish my beer and leave before she noticed me, but then she started dancing with that asshole, and
something about the way she stiffened in his arms set off my alarm bells. I know I don’t have any more of a right to her than
him, but fuck if I don’t feel that way. She was mine for three months and she’s still mine, never mind the weeks of silence.
How the hell could I have thought this would fade the moment she wasn’t in my mother’s office every day? That I’d be able
to stay away?
“It’s really you,” she breathes. “How—”
“Do you know that guy?”
“What?”
“He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”
She flushes deeply enough, I can see it in the moonlight. “No. He’s just some guy.”
“He was getting pretty familiar.” I work my jaw. “You seemed uncomfortable.”
“I had it handled.”
“Did you?”
She just narrows her eyes. “What are you even doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”
It doesn’t surprise me that we crossed paths so soon. We’ve been magnetic since our very first kiss, shared in the back of
the car on the way to my place after I took her to dinner at Per Se. Her strawberry lip gloss, the mischievous tilt of her
smile, the way she moaned when I pressed her against the wall of the elevator with my hand up her skirt—I couldn’t forget
it if I tried.
Right now, she’s in a tight yellow dress with tiny straps, her tan legs accentuated by heels. Her hair is in a smooth, high
ponytail, but a couple loose pieces frame her face artfully. Glitter sparkles on her cheeks and across her collarbone.
If I leaned in for a kiss, would she push me away, or pull me closer?
“Remember the wedding in the Hamptons? Sagaponack?” I take a step in her direction, backing her against the nearest tree.
She swipes her tongue over her lips. The glitter on her cheeks sparkles like stardust. “We split that bottle of Dom rosé.”
A tiny, surprised smile melts away some of the wariness in her expression. I’m still a live wire, but that smile relaxes me.
After weeks of missing her, I’m hungry for every detail. I’ve been telling myself that the distance will help, but it hasn’t,
and now there’s no distance at all. I drink in the ocean of her eyes, resisting the impulse to press my body against her warmth.
It should feel wrong. It’s not summer anymore, and anyone from the party could see us. But I don’t want to move away, and she must not either, because she doesn’t even twitch.
In the heels she’s wearing, she’s almost as tall as I am. It would be so easy to kiss her. I’d lick the gloss away, and she’d
give me a delighted smile before nuzzling closer, the way she did all summer.
“I remember,” she says. Her eyes search mine. “We went skinny-dipping.”
“It was freezing.”
Her smile widens. “You mean invigorating.”
“I wouldn’t have gone in, except I was afraid you were going to drown.” I return her grin. “Would have been an inconvenience
to the wedding guests.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she says with a snort.
I can’t help myself; I cup her chin, tilting her face up. She’s so pretty, I can’t stand it. All summer long, I kept coming
back to her. I’d promise myself that I’d break things off, but then I’d think about the prospect of never holding her again,
never kissing her, never tasting her, and my reservations went straight out the window.
“You danced for me, before that. On the sand, with your hair loose. Do you remember that, too?”
Her breath catches. “Of course. You thought it was silly.”
I shake my head. “No way.”
“You totally did.”
“You’re remembering it wrong.”
“Oh, am I?” She crosses her arms over her chest, which pushes together her small, perfect tits to the point of distraction.
“You’re the one who just showed up on my campus out of the blue, and now you’re calling me a liar? Wow.”
“Our campus.”
“What?”
“I thought for sure your brother would be going around telling everyone he knows.” I nearly tug on her ponytail, but stop myself at the last moment. “Interesting.”
“Telling everyone what?”
“UMass kicked me out.” I keep my eyes trained on hers as the back of my neck heats up. It’s one thing for my family to find
out—you can’t lose approval you never had in the first place—but admitting this to her is embarrassing. I don’t regret what
I did, even as the reality of it sinks in, but that doesn’t mean I feel good talking about it. “I just transferred here.”
“Oh, Nik,” she says, voice soft. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Even though I spent the summer with her, I’m surprised by her immediate empathy. She’s sweeter than anyone deserves, me especially.
“I’m fine.”
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “But you loved it there. You told me.”
“Yeah. I did.” I swallow, glancing at our interlocked fingers.
She presses her lips together, but instead of asking about the details, she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“What?”
“Why here?” She pokes me in the ribs, hard, as she pulls away. “You can’t just show up here, talking about the Hamptons. Acting
like—”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she says, a flinty note in her voice. “A family like yours, and you couldn’t wrangle a spot at one of a dozen
other fantastic hockey schools. You had to come here and make it that much harder for me to move on.”
“You don’t know the situation. My grandfather—”
“You can’t leave and then show up and ask if I miss you,” she snaps. She swipes at her cheeks, messing up her glitter. “That’s
not fair.”
“Izzy?” someone calls. “Where’d you go?”
“Here!” Her voice is perfectly cheerful, as if she didn’t just spear me through the chest.
The moment my feet hit the sidewalk outside her building, I regretted it. But I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye, and
part of me thought it would be better for both of us if we didn’t have a chance for emotions. Yet it hurt her. I hurt her. I can see it in her eyes.
A girl with pin-straight black hair walks over, a frown on her glitter-covered face. Her dress is a similar style to Isabelle’s,
tight and bright, but green instead of yellow.
“Um, what’s going on?” She looks at me, then Isabelle. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Isabelle says. She links arms with her friend. “Let’s just go, we have early practice tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that him?” her friend says in a stage whisper. “You know?”
Isabelle just starts walking. “Come on, Torie. Let’s go.”
Before they get too far, I call her name. She turns, biting her lip.
I should have kissed her when I had the chance.
“We should talk.”
“I don’t know.” Something flickers in her gaze, too quickly for me to catch. “You’re the one who left without a word.”