14. Bottled Feelings
Chapter fourteen
Bottled Feelings
Brody
" Peak Fest ." With a name like that, I’m not shocked by what greets me when I step into Bluepeak’s town square tonight. Food stalls and craft markets line the perimeter, with a makeshift stage set up for live music at one end.
Without effort, my eyes land on Chloe standing off to the side of the stage, chatting animatedly with their community planner.
It’s a warm summer night, and she’s wearing light, flowy pants, paired with a fitted pink camisole.
A chunky necklace of roughly cut gemstones sits around her neck, her hair falling loose over her bare shoulders.
I lick my lips, remembering how her skin tasted that night.
Eli must've said something hilarious, because Chloe bursts out laughing, her eyes lighting up. Even from across the square, it damn near floors me.
I’m fucked. I want her.
“Put yourself out of your misery and go over there,” Mason’s voice snaps me out of my daze. I turn my back on Chloe to face him. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
That hasn’t exactly been the case this week. I haven’t seen her at all, and yet she’s been all I think about. Day and night. Especially at night. My jaw tightens as flashes of fantasies creep in, fantasies that forced me to take care of things alone.
“No misery here, my friend. Not anymore.” I make sure to hide everything I’m feeling. “Chloe Adams is a one and done. As it should be.”
Mason doesn’t need to know how empty my bed feels, especially after I get off thinking about her. The way her breasts pressed against me. Or how tight her pussy felt, right before she came. My mouth waters, my jaw aching for a taste of her. I shake my head, snapping myself out of it.
“What?” I ask, pretending I didn’t hear. “I can’t hear you over this lame band’s warm-up.”
Mason frowns, a bemused expression creeping across his face. “I didn’t say anything, man. And I think they’re good. The guitarist is kinda hot.”
“She’s out of your league.” I scoff, starting toward the Ted’s food stall. If there’s one thing I need, it’s a drink, and Ted’s has both greasy snacks and questionable beer to get me through this.
Mason’s eyes are glued to the guitarist, walking backward next to me to keep it that way. His face lights up, and his mouth drops open.
Paulie from the lodge greets us, and I order two beers before turning back to Mason.
"I’m starting to realize this town’s full of people who want you to believe they’re one thing, but really aren’t.”
He shakes his head, leaning back against the stall with his elbows as he scans the scene before us. The sun is setting, and the square’s filling up with families and their pets, the usual routine.
"Still no text from her, huh? ”
I grab the beers and hand one to Mason, needing some space between myself and Chloe, who’s clearly enjoying herself. It makes me want to punch something. In the face. With a chair.
“Why would she?” I counter, taking a long swig of my drink.
The beer’s full-bodied but bitter as fuck, and I wince down the swallow.
“She probably regrets going there in the first place. What with her reputation and being Bluepeak’s savior and all.
Probably wants to pretend it never happened and squash my project. ”
The words burn my throat, just like the beer, but they make the truth sting less. Chloe has no reason to think about me. Why the hell would she?
Poison. That’s what this is. Chloe’s infected my mind and body, and I’m slowly succumbing to it. If I don’t snap out of it soon, I’ll waste away into nothing but a shell of a man, my last great act being pining for a woman I can never have.
"Well, if that’s what she wants, we’ll be ready for her,” Mason says, shrugging. He’s almost done with his beer, while I’ve hardly touched mine. “Let her bring it. We’ve got the mayor on our side, and you know what that means.”
I look around and realize, in my dazed state trying to escape, we’ve circled the square. Now Chloe’s a few feet away. Still talking to Eli, a couple of others have joined them.
“You’re right,” I say, eyes locked on her. In my head, I’m willing her to look over. Just once. I want to see her face when she sees me. That’s how I’ll know.
But I might as well be a fucking lamppost. She’s wrapped up in her group, smiling, laughing, not a clue that I’m unraveling a few feet away.
“I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not allowed to make it weird.” I finally drag my gaze off her and pin Mason with a look. He holds up two fingers in a Scout’s salute and zips his lips like a cartoon.
“When we were fighting all the time, pretty much biting each other’s heads off, it was something. Now? It’s like I don’t exist. And yeah… it’s fucking unsettling.”
I hate letting my guard down. Especially with Mason.
He turns everything into a punchline, and right now, I can see him biting one back.
His lips are pressed tight, eyes flickering with amusement.
He pulls in a sharp breath through his nose, then lets it out slow, like it’ll keep the grin from escaping.
“Okay,” he says once he finally pulls it together. “That’s a lot, and I’m not making it weird. Maybe it’ll be easier to get shit done now. Don’t you think?”
I nod and take another long sip of my beer, hiding behind the glass like it's a shield. Nothing about this feels easy. Chloe hasn’t glanced in my direction. Not once.
“I want to hear you say it.” Mason narrows his eyes and places one hand on his hip.
I’m about to give him what he wants just to shut him up when I catch a flash of movement, Eli’s hand on Chloe’s shoulder. A white-hot surge of jealousy rips through me, lighting up every nerve ending in my body.
“Are they together?” My focus shifts hard.
Mason groans and smacks a hand to his forehead. “We talked about letting this go. ”
“Look at him. Look at the way he’s touching her. They seem close, right? You don’t think they’re…” I trail off because finishing that sentence might end me. The idea of her in someone else’s arms makes my stomach turn.
The band kicks into a 70s classic rock hit. Cheers erupt. The crowd's full of elated screams, applause, whistles. Noise that makes my head ring louder than it already was.
She’s dancing now. Caught up in a group of people, all laughing and swaying in front of the stage. Her arms are up, hair flying, her mouth wide with joy. She looks alive. And she still hasn’t looked at me once.
That’s it. I’ve had enough.
I shove my beer into Mason’s hand and head off, slipping into the crowd.
I duck behind clusters of people, weaving between lawn chairs and strollers until I’m nearly at the stage.
The closer I get, the louder the music blares through the speakers, rattling through my chest. My hand shoots out, wrapping around Chloe’s arm.
She whips around, eyes going wide when she sees that it’s me.
“Come with me,” I mouth. There’s no way she can hear me over the music. She starts to resist, tugging back, but I hold steady, locking eyes with her and waiting her out. She knows this tug-of-war. So do I, and I’m not letting her slip away this time.
“Brody, what are you doing?” Her voice laced with annoyance as she tries to keep up with my quick pace.
I don’t answer, partly because I don’t have a solid plan beyond getting her alone, and partly because the words buzzing in my head aren’t fit for public consumption.
“Brody,” she says again, more insistent now.
We reach a small grove of trees near the edge of the square, tucked beyond the crowd. A white gazebo sits in the middle of it, with decorative railings and fairy lights, the whole thing trying way too hard to be whimsical. I pull her inside, the wooden slats under our feet creaking with every step.
“What game do you think we’re playing?” The words tear out of my mouth faster than I can stop them. “I don’t do games, Chloe. If you have something to say, say it.”
“I’m not playing anything.” She yanks her arm out of my grip, rubbing the spot like I’ve scalded her. The image makes me sick. “You made it pretty damn clear what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” My brow tightens. We haven’t spoken since the night at the lodge. No texts. No calls. Only silence. “When exactly did I make that clear? Because from where I’m standing, we haven’t said a damn word to each other.”
“That’s what makes it clear, Brody.” Her voice rises, frustration sharpening with every syllable. “You ghosted me. Vanished. Now you’re mad I didn’t come running? Is this some kind of twisted reverse psychology?”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Shit. She’s right. And the worst part is, I didn’t realize how badly I’d messed this up until she laid it out for me.
She crosses her arms over her chest, the defensive stance clashing with the vulnerable look flickering across her face. I notice the hard peaks of her nipples through her camisole, her skin flushed, breath still heavy. I’m supposed to be arguing with her, but my body has other plans.
It’s distracting, not gonna lie. Here we are, having this argument, and all I can think about is how perfect her tits look, how I want to kiss her, how her whole damn body is sending signals I can’t ignore.
“Damn you.” She huffs, her voice wavering enough to betray her tough exterior.
There it is. The crack. That edge I’ve been hunting for. Something real.
“You’re so used to having everything your way,” she says, gathering herself again. “Getting what you want, when you want it…”
“Then why don’t I have you?” The words tear from me, louder than I meant, but not any less true. It’s not a question. It’s an accusation. A confession I didn’t plan on making. I reach out and pull her to me.
The breath leaves her body in a rush, and her eyes widen, but she doesn’t resist. Not this time.
“If I get everything I want…” I lower my voice, so close now I can feel her chest rising fast and hard, and I swear her pulse is echoing mine. “…then why don’t I have you?”