19. Hadley
Chapter nineteen
Hadley
I am so screwed. So very very screwed. This was one hundred percent a bad idea because now I know what it’s like to not only go out on a date with Weston Reynolds, but also to kiss him.
The date I could handle, but the kiss I’m not sure I’ll ever get over.
Because it felt like coming home. As cliché as it sounds.
As much as I want to roll my eyes at myself. That’s how it felt.
And that scares the shit out of me.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been kissed the way he kissed me.
Like I was the air he needed to breathe.
Like I was his lifeline.
But what do I do now? What should I say? Where does this leave us?
He stares at me, his expression filled with lust. I avert my gaze because it feels as though he sees through me, sees through the way I’m trying to act unbothered by him, by the kiss, by these fucking feelings I’m fighting.
I am, in fact, two seconds away from throwing myself into his arms, kissing him again, and asking him to touch me, to dull the ache between my thighs.
Telling him I changed my mind about the no sex part of our agreement. But I can’t. Because this is fake.
“Hadley, look at me.” His voice is low but commanding, and I do as he asks, shifting a half step away from him.
“Weston. I—that was …”
He reaches for me, and I take another step back, even though my body screams at me to let him touch me. But I can’t. I swallow, trying to compose myself.
“That was good, err, practice. I had fun on our date, but I’m going to bed.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder before spinning on my heel. “See you around,” I call behind me as I all but sprint to my room, closing the door and locking it behind me for good measure.
“See you around,” I mutter to myself, cringing as I pace the room.
What the hell am I doing? Better yet, what the hell was that kiss? I touch my lips.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and throw myself onto the bed. I check the time and decide it’s not too late in Colorado to call Callie.
“Hey, girl, hey,” she says when she answers the phone.
“We went out on a date, and then I kissed him,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“I know,” I whine, covering my face with my hand.
“Breathe, Hads.” I do as she says, feeling a little better with each inhale and exhale. “Now tell me what happened.”
So I do. I tell her everything that’s been going on for the past few weeks, including our date tonight.
“And we kissed. It was supposed to be practice so we don’t give ourselves away at the photo shoot thing. But …”
“It didn’t feel like practice.”
“Exactly. I want to do it again. And more.” I cringe.
“So why don’t you?”
“Because he’s Holt’s best friend, and this is fake.”
“So? Maybe it could be real.”
“It would be awkward. He’s Holt’s best friend. He’d still be around. In my life. Plus, I’m afraid …”
“Ding. Ding. Ding. Hate to break it to you, but that’s the real reason. You’re afraid.”
“I was going to say I’m afraid of how I’ll feel once we end and I see him with his future wife. Because we both know that’s what always happens. This time it won’t be like seeing Henry with his fiancée or finding out any of my other exes are engaged or married to the woman they dated after me.”
“Why?”
I’m silent for a few beats, trying to find the courage to say the words out loud. Admit how I really feel.
“Because breaking up with him would break my heart.”
“Shit, Hadley,” Callie whispers.
“I know.” I blink away tears. “If I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t really see a future with any of the other guys I dated. Sure, I liked them, and it was fun being with them. But this, he, feels different. I think I could …”
“You could fall in love with him?”
I let out a watery laugh. “Bingo.” I run a hand over my face, wiping the tears away.
“Why do you think it wouldn’t work out?”
“Because relationships never work out for me.” I pull the blanket I keep folded at the end of the bed over me, even though I’m still fully clothed.
“But you just said—”
“Plus, I don’t even know if he likes me …”
“Huh?”
“I don’t know if he likes me or if he got backed into a corner and got stuck with me and now he’s too nice to tell me otherwise and the kiss and his body’s reaction was just that, a reaction, because he hasn’t had sex in however long because we’re fake engaged,” I ramble.
“I’m going to stop you right now. You’re assuming things. You need to talk to the man. Put your big girl pants on, and ask him.”
“I can’t.”
“Hadley Jane Abbott.” Callie puts on her stern voice, the one I imagine she uses with the baseball players she works with. “Maybe he’s the one you’re meant to be with …”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Now you sound like him.”
“What?”
“I’ve heard him tell the other guys, and my brother, that they’re dating the one, and he’s been right.” I sigh. “That’s the other problem. He’s romantic, and I’m not.” I crinkle my nose. “Anniversaries and all that corny shit make me itchy.” Callie laughs. The bitch laughs at me. “What?”
“I love you. Remember that after what I’m about to say.”
“Oh-kay.”
“I think you’ve convinced yourself you don’t like romance and romantic gestures to protect yourself from being disappointed by all the assholes you’ve dated in the past. I know you, Hadley Jane. I remember when we used to sit in your backyard and plan our weddings.”
“We were ten. We didn’t know any better. Of course we were going to do that. Now that I’m a grown-up, I know all that romance shit isn’t real.”
“But maybe it is. Maybe you haven’t been with the right guy yet. Don’t write it off, Hads. Please. But for the love of carbs, please talk to the man.”
I huff out a breath, rolling her words over in my head for a few seconds.
“Fine. I will. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes.”
“How are things with you?”
Callie spends the next few minutes telling me about her job and one of the players who has been a nightmare to work with because of how grumpy and stubborn he is, and how she secretly enjoys riling him up.
“How’s the job search going?” she asks after she’s finished her story.
I groan. “I applied for a few more, one I’m super excited about, but I don’t know …”
“What don’t you know?”
I peek over at my camera case sitting on top of the dresser.
“I haven’t touched my camera since I got back to Florida.” I clear my throat, averting my gaze, feeling as though my camera is somehow judging me. “I think if I get rejected for all these jobs, it’s time to figure out a different career path.”
“Or maybe you just need to find what inspires you again. You’re talented. I wish my team needed another photographer because I’d refer you so fast. Don’t give up.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “I feel so lost. I want to take pictures. I do. But I don’t know if I can …”
“Maybe find a park to wander around. Or a new place to explore. I think you’re in a rut with everything else going on, and you need to ride the wave. Or fill up your creative well.”
“I need to have something filled up, that’s for sure.”
“You did not just say that.” A beep sounds in the background. “Shit, I gotta go. The timer for my dinner just went off, and I need to take the pan out of the oven.”
“Okay. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”
“Anytime.”
“Love you. Talk soon.”
“Love you.” She hangs up, and I drop my phone onto the bed next to me, thinking about her words and her advice.
I know I should talk to Weston.
Tell him how I feel.
After the photo shoot.
The last thing I want to do is make things awkward between us when we have to act as a couple in front of the cameras in a few days.