Chapter 18
eighteen
Reese
The sharp ding of my phone pierced the quiet as I sat on the boat, taking in my favorite view. This was my favorite place to be when I needed to clear my mind. With a long sigh, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see messages coming through from the group chat.
Bailey
One last end of summer celebration?
Crew
I call the twins
Parker
Once again, no one wants that freak show.
Crew
As long as you know that freak show is all mine
Bailey
What kind of celebration are you guys talking about? A fucking orgy? I just want to drink together. You know, hang out, maybe.
Me
Like you’d ever say no to an orgy
Bailey
Can one of you idiots just answer my question?
Me
Where at?
Parker
Let’s do it at Willow’s.
Bailey
Bet
A few hours later, I pulled up to the party, and Bailey was waiting by his truck for me.
"Went on a date with Bakergirl last week. She's actually hilarious, man," Bailey said, grinning like an idiot as I shut my truck door.
We strolled toward the entrance. "Is that so?"
"Swear, bro. It's not often I'm around someone who's funny like I am." He laughed.
"Glad things are going so smoothly for you,” Crew added as he slid up next to me. "Sam wants to make things exclusive, which means I'd have to cut off the twins." He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips.
I couldn't help but snicker. "You? Exclusive?" I arched an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. Crew with only one girl—that was something I had never seen. "Do you even do that?"
Crew rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, that's a great question," he mused. "I always thought I’d never be a one-woman type of guy," he continued, his gaze drifting across the party. "I just have so much love to give... but maybe I should give the girlfriend thing a try?"
"Finally growing up, huh?" Parker asked as he clapped us both on the shoulder. "I'm so proud of you assholes."
"Cheers to that," I said, my voice a low drawl, not entirely sure if I was toasting to the sentiment or the notion that maybe we were all actually growing this summer.
"Didn't you and Willow just happen like ten minutes ago?" Bailey asked Parker, giving him shit.
"This coffee has been brewing for a while, my man," he replied, his grin flashing. It was obvious the entire summer that those two were into each other.
Boston turned to me after grabbing a beer from the cooler. "Hey man," he said.
"Hey," I nodded back. The simplicity of the greeting was a lot for us. We shook up, a casual collision of hands that we didn’t often do.
"I'm glad you've been spending some time with Mom," he added.
"Taking it slow with her, but things are okay."
"I get it," he replied, nodding. "I also never got a chance to tell you—thank you."
"For what?"
"For stepping aside when it came to Chandler," he said, and though the words were simple, they were heavy. "You could've made things a lot more difficult for us. I know you have your own history."
"Nah," I murmured. "I should've never stepped in the way to begin with. But I'm happy for you two."
He gave me a nod, and it almost felt like the grudges between us were beginning to dissolve. I reached out and clapped him on the back as we navigated through the bodies.
My attention skimmed over all the faces. Then, Caroline.
I watched as she mingled, her blonde hair bouncing as she was in motion. The tank top and shorts she was wearing hugged her in all the right places. Had she always been this beautiful? Or was I just seeing her differently lately?
I leaned against the wall, taking a sip of my drink, my gaze tethered to her every move as she laughed with her friends—and that's when it happened. Some guy slid up beside her. His hand found her waist—an annoying gesture that almost broke my composure. He whispered something in her ear, and she pulled away slightly, looking uncomfortable. Something inside me twisted. He didn’t move, didn’t take the hint.
Pushing off from the wall, I set my glass down on the table, harder than intended.
"Be right back," I told the guys. They barely glanced up from their conversation. With an eerie calmness, I approached Caroline, determined to cut in before I came to my senses.
"Leave." My voice was low and lethal as I closed the distance between us. The guy still had his hands on Caroline, but the moment he heard me, he stiffened. His steps faltered, eyes going wide as recognition dawned.
"Shit—Reese, man, I-I’m so sorry," he stammered, hands flying up in surrender. He backed away fast, like my words had shoved him straight into whatever hole he’d crawled out of.
"What the hell are you doing?" Caroline angrily whispered.
"What’s it look like?" I shot back, barely sparing her a glance.
She folded her arms, eyes blazing. "Like you still don’t get that I can take care of myself."
I exhaled, leveling her with a look. "I’m not half-assing this, Caroline. If I’m playing the role of your fake boyfriend, I’m doing it my way—take it or leave it. I told you before, when I do something, I go all in."
"Come with me," Caroline demanded, her fingers latching onto mine. She tugged me away from the party, away from prying eyes. Her friends watched us leave, their expressions full of surprise and speculation. Their stares clung to me, but I couldn’t care less.
She pulled me into a secluded bedroom. The door clicked shut behind us, shutting out everyone else. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
"Reese, you can't do that," she breathed heavily. "What if our friends saw that?"
I didn’t hesitate. "I don’t care."
I stepped closer, closing the space between us. Her scent wrapped around me—something soft, like daisies or wildflowers. But there was nothing soft about the way my pulse pounded.
"I only care what you think," I said honestly, my voice low, steady.
She turned, her eyes wide and incredulous. "Why? We hate each other?"
"Do we?"
"Obviously," she said, her voice a whisper. Her hand felt small and defiant in mine as I drew her closer to me.
"You sure about that?" My voice came out raw, edged with vulnerability I hadn’t meant to show. I searched her face for signs, reading the flicker of doubt in those icy blue eyes that were becoming my undoing. “Because I don’t hate you.”
I knew what was happening with me. The more I was around her, the more I wanted her.
Every glance, each intentional touch under false pretenses, had built up something undeniable—something I couldn’t ignore anymore.
Caroline liked to pretend she was unreadable, but she wasn’t as untouchable as she thought.
Beneath that cool indifference, I caught glimpses of something real—something waiting to break through.
"Reese," she started, lips parted slightly, a silent struggle written all over her face. “If you know something I don’t, then please, enlighten me."
Her grip on my hand tightened, like she was cracking ever so slightly.
"Caroline," I murmured, leaning in so close that our foreheads nearly touched. I could feel her uneven breaths against my skin, see the flicker of conflict. "I think deep down, you know exactly what’s happening."
"Reese," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I don't..."
"Shh," I soothed, placing a finger gently over her lips. "Don’t try to deny it. The way you look at me when you think I'm not watching, your laugh when it's real and unhinged, the heat in your cheeks right now. You want me. And I'm fighting it just as hard because I want you, too."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning, and all that existed was the two of us. No raging party just on the other side of the door.
"Even if that were true," Caroline said softly, "this can't go anywhere. Are you tempting at times? Maybe… but that changes nothing." She paused, her breath hitching slightly as if admitting this was the last thing she wanted.
"Tell me," I murmured, my tone low and dangerous, "how tempting am I?"
She hesitated for a second—maybe two. Then her lips parted into a small smile.
"Not that tempting," she breathed, a lie so blatant it was almost endearing.
"Just sort of." Her teeth caught her lower lip, holding it prisoner for a brief, heart-stopping moment before releasing it. "It doesn’t mean I hate you any less."
My fingers brushed through her hair as I firmly pulled it away to expose her neck.
"Chaos," I whispered against the warmth of her collarbone, pressing a kiss there, feeling her pulse race under the pressure of my mouth. "We both know you don’t hate me."
A shiver ran through her, either from my words or the touch of my lips, I couldn't tell. And then she looked up at me, her eyes two blue flames flickering with the small sliver of defiance she had left.
"Then you don't know me," she said with a shaky breath.
But oh, how little she understood. I was beginning to read her like my favorite book. Each breath she took was a sentence; every glance told me exactly what I needed to know.
"Are you wet for me right now?" I drew out the question, the words covered in an intimacy that neither of us could deny. “Are you fucking soaking?”
She drew in a breath, steady and controlled, but I could see the faint tremble in her posture.
"Not at all," she said, lip caught between her teeth.
I let out a low chuckle, pushing this just enough to shove her over the edge. "Why is it so damn hard for you to admit the truth? Just tell me the truth. If you want me to walk away, if you really feel nothing… then say it. End this."
She took a step back. The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, but I didn’t back down.
I searched her eyes, daring her, my voice rough with something real.
"I can take it. I’m a big fucking boy." Yes, I was challenging her, begging her at this point—hell, maybe both. Because I might be wrong about everything, but I’d been as clear as I could be with her. “Maybe I’ll even just do the wedding—”
I didn’t get the chance to finish.
Because Caroline snapped.
One second she was standing there, rigid, battling whatever war raged inside her. The next, she was gone—no, not gone—moving, colliding, breaking. She launched herself at me, her hands fisting into my shirt, her lips crashing into mine like she was done fighting, done pretending, done holding back.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, locking behind my back with sudden, uncontrollable force.
My arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding her tight as our mouths collided in an explosive kiss that was both electric and intoxicating.
My hands gripped her tight ass, feeling the soft flesh give beneath my fingers.
She tasted so sweet, like candy. And fuck, she was needy.
I could feel it in every inch of her body as she grinded herself against me.
It was a collision of everything we’d been holding back, this long-awaited release that had been building between us for what felt like fucking eternity.
Her heart pounded against my chest as I pushed her against the wall and used one hand to support us both.
A picture frame rattled next to us before it crashed to the floor.
Her high heels followed, slipping from her feet and thudding onto the carpet.
Each movement between us was more desperate than the last, like we were both drowning and only the other could offer the air to breathe.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, legs tightened around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper.
I obliged without hesitation, my hands roaming across her back, tracing those curves that had taunted me for far too long.
Then, as abruptly as it began, she paused with a sudden release of my lips. Our foreheads remained together.
"I shouldn't have done that," she breathed. I released her and she turned and walked into the connected bathroom.
"Caroline," I called softly, following her into the dimly lit area. "Why are you fighting this so badly?"
She stood with her back to me in front of the mirror. Her hands moved to her hair, fingers combing through the blonde strands, trying to smooth out the evidence of what just happened.
I edged closer, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath she took. I reached out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before my hand found the bend of her elbow.
"Let me in," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
She didn’t turn, but her reflection met mine in the mirror. Those striking blue eyes, now stormy, were filled with thoughts she wasn't ready to voice. I could feel the heat radiating from where my fingers grazed her skin.
Then in a raw, almost wounded whisper she asked, "How can I trust you, Reese?"
I could have laughed—should have, maybe—at the irony. Trust was something I didn’t have much of myself, and here she was, demanding it from me. Her gaze didn't waver in the mirror, challenging, expectant, maybe almost lost.
"Because," I started, "I know you feel what I feel.
" I stepped closer. I let my lips graze her exposed shoulder, tender and possessive all at once. She leaned into me then, the last of her resistance melting away. Our eyes met—heavy, unguarded, filled with everything we weren’t saying. That look said it all.
I had my answer. And hopefully she had hers too.
"Trust this," I whispered against her skin.
"This is so wrong," she exhaled, spinning around.
I reached out, fingers gentle but insistent, tilting her chin upward. "How can it be wrong when it feels so good?"
I wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her into me, while the other slid up the smooth expanse of her back under her shirt. A soft moan escaped her as my fingers traced the contours of her back, the sound reverberating through me like the sweetest music.
Any remaining resistance evaporated like mist in the heat of our embrace, and I felt her fingers slide under my shirt, tracing the lines of my abs.
In that small, secluded room, nothing else mattered.
There was an undeniable rightness in the wrong we were committing, and I lost myself in the taste of her lips and the feel of her against me.
And then, as if reality had decided to crash through the walls we'd just built around ourselves, the bathroom door swung open with a resounding thud. Time stopped as Caroline and I turned in unison toward the intrusion.
Boston stood there, his eyes wide, mirroring the shock that rippled through us. Beside him, Chandler's gaze darted between us in disbelief.