Chapter 22
Lainey
We landed in Naples hours ago, and as I sit on my hotel bed, all I can think about is Holland’s hands on my body. How his lips tasted like mint and a little salty from sweat. How his strong chest felt against mine.
I keep finding myself tracing my lips, remembering the way his felt as he kissed me so deeply, so needy. It’s like he’s been wanting to do that forever.
I was only trying to distract him from his panic attack, but it felt like a lot more than that if I’m being completely honest. It felt like an explosion.
Not in a destructive kind of way, but in a ‘holy shit, this is really happening and it’s freaking amazing’ kind of way. You know what I mean?
The kiss was hot, it was passionate, it was sexy, and it was only supposed to be a quick distraction. It turned into so much more so quickly and I didn’t have the will to stop it. In fact, I would’ve probably gone further if Mason didn’t interrupt.
In hindsight, it’s probably best that nothing else happened. I already feel guilty about kissing my best friend’s brother. I can’t go and fuck him too, even though after that kiss, I can tell he’s really good in bed.
Stop it, Lainey. That’s Holland. Ellie’s twin brother, your best friend’s twin brother. The boy that used to tug on your pigtails and throw dirt at you. The kid who once tripped you in front of a whole group of majorly hot guys at a party, on purpose.
He’s also the guy that sat there with me on my porch on my twelfth birthday while I cried for an hour about my parents canceling their trip home.
The guy who punched some rando at a party for trying to touch me after I told him no.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Holland Monroe would kick anyone’s ass for hurting me.
That’s something I really respect about him. He’s loyal and protective of everyone that’s close to him. He’d never let anyone hurt his circle. Even though he annoys the shit out of me ninety nine percent of the time, I know he’d never let anything happen to me.
Groaning, I fall backward and spread out on the queen-sized bed. The white sheets are soft, and they smell like lavender. The hotel Gwen and Ryker booked for the wedding party is absolutely beautiful. The view from my room is something out of a freaking fairytale.
The grand hotel overlooks the crystal blue water of the Bay of Naples, its pale limestone facade glowing gold in the late afternoon sun.
The terraces are draped in ivy and pink wild bougainvillea.
It looks unreal, like it’s a painting, and I can completely understand why Gwen and Ryker chose this as their wedding destination.
Inside, the lobby boasts high ceilings, beautiful old paintings and pictures on the walls. The marble floors are so clean, they reflect the light from the glass chandeliers.
The reception desk, which looks like it’s carved from dark oak, stands beneath a massive oil painting of the Amalfi coast, the vibrant colors sticking out in the almost stark white interior.
From the outside, each room seems to have floor-to-ceiling windows that open onto private balconies.
It would be an amazing palace to sip a coffee in the morning and read a book while overlooking the bay. God, what I’d do to stay here forever.
I haven’t been up to the rooftop yet, but according to what Gwen shared with us about the hotel, there’s an infinity pool that looks as if it’s a part of the sea, bordered by cream-colored loungers and shaded pergolas.
There are apparently some wild parties that happen up there at night, and I’d hate to know what’s happened on the loungers and in the pool. God only knows the kind of shit that’s gone down.
Needless to say, this place is incredible, and I almost wish we were staying for more than a week.
There’s so much to do and see, there’s no way we’ll be able to get it all done in seven days.
I guess I’ll just have to use mom and dad’s credit card to come back.
Not like they’ll notice, or care anyways.
Deciding I need to move instead of lounging inside my hotel room, I jump out of bed and walk out onto the balcony. The sound of the water crashing below and the birds flying above is so serene. Things like this make me forget all about the fact that I’m all alone.
I know I have friends and people that care about me, but I don’t have my own family and that’s kind of shitty.
I swear I’m not depressed or anything like that. I can have fun and party. I’m not always thinking about my parents or how much I wish they were in my life. How much I want to feel wanted by them.
I’m the fun friend. The one that makes everyone laugh and cheers everyone on. I’m the one who keeps the party going and makes sure everyone is having a good time. I always have a smile on my face and I’m always up for a little adventure.
But sometimes it gets a little tiring always being the one that has to be strong. I know my friends would be there for me; they always are. I just don’t like looking weak. When people know you have a weakness, they can exploit it.
They’ll use that weakness to tear you down. They’ll use it against you. I don’t need anyone seeing that I’m not as tough as I make myself seem. It’s my little secret, and I’ll keep it hidden as long as I can.
Obviously, my closest friends like Ellie, Gwen, and Haley know about my past with my parents. They know when I’m feeling down about it, too. But I don’t ever let myself cry about it.
I doubt my mother or father give a second thought about me except when they send the rare text asking how I am or if I’m still at school. They don’t call or facetime, they send a text.
How pathetic is that? Poor little Lainey, her own parents don’t even want her. God, I’m such a loser.
Letting my head fall forward, I close my eyes and listen to the noises and smell the scents wafting around me. The sun is warm on my skin and the light breeze feels amazing.
Fuck, Lainey. Get out of your damn head. You’re in fucking Italy right now for your best friend’s wedding.
The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, and the wedding is Saturday. It’s going to be beautiful and you’re going to have a blast. You’re going to--
My thoughts are interrupted with a loud knock on my door. Twirling around, I head for the door and look through the peephole to make sure it’s not a stranger.
When I see its Gwen, I open the door and she barrels into the room, squeezing me so tight I lose the air in my lungs.
“Oh my god, you’re here! I’m so excited!” Gwen squeals, pulling back to look at me. She’s glowing, as always. Her brown hair is curled, and her skin looks sun kissed causing her blue eyes to pop.
She’s grinning from ear to ear, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. Gwen was a bit of cynic, not as bad as I am, but she didn’t totally believe in happily ever after, as much as she wanted to. I’m really happy she found hers, even if I am a little jealous.
The thought of attaching myself to someone forever scares the shit out of me, and the thought they could leave you at any moment scares me even more. I’ve been perfectly happy with my casual hookups and one-night stands. That is, until recently.
I’ve been feeling a bit lonely, and I don’t normally feel that way, so this is new to me. Is that why I’m feeling this emotional attachment to Holland all of a sudden?
Am I so desperate and alone that I’ve gained an attraction to one of the most annoying men on the face of the planet? Although, seeing him so vulnerable on the plane made me feel a different type of way.
I wanted to help him. I felt this nagging feeling in my gut that made me feel like I had to make sure he was okay. I’ve never been that way, not even with Gwen or Ellie.
I’m the kind of friend they make memes about. The one where the friend is standing super far away and patting their friend on the back with a broom. That’s me.
Comforting people isn’t really my forte. Never really has been.
Speaking of Holland, the thought of him sends a shiver down my spine and Gwen obviously notices because the grin on her face slowly fades away, replaced with a look of concern.
Her head tilts in confusion and I know she’s going to ask a million questions, but I don’t want to talk about what I’m feeling or what happened on the plane. I know she’d keep it to herself, I just don’t even know how I truly feel about the whole thing.
She wouldn’t judge me, she never has. I just, I don’t know. This is all so complicated and the look Gwen is giving me right now is making me want to curl up in a ball and hide.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asks. Turning on my heel, I walk toward the bed and plop down.
“Yes, I’m great. We’re in Italy and you’re getting married and-”
Gwen cuts me off before I can continue rambling.
“You’re full of shit. What happened?”
“Nothing happened, I’m okay!” I chuckle softly at the worried expression on her face. I swear she’s like a mother, always worrying about everyone else and their feelings.
She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Lainey Barkley, you tell me what the hell is wrong with you or so help me, I will uninvite you from my wedding,” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she attempts to look threatening. I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re going to uninvite your maid of honor a day before the wedding?” I challenge, knowing she is absolutely not going to do that. Her lip juts out in a pout.
Falling onto the bed next to me, she places her hands on my legs, her tan skin making me look like a ghost.
“Please, just tell me. I can tell something is bothering you, and I’m only trying to-”
“Holland and I kissed,” I blurt out, not even sure if I meant to say it or if it just forced itself out.
Gwen’s eyes go wide, and she freezes. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. She doesn’t need to deal with this a day before she gets married. Damnit, I’m a horrible friend.
“Holland, Holland? Like, Ellie’s brother Holland?” she asks, her eyes still wide, but she doesn’t look like she’s judging me.
I nod.
“You let him kiss you? Like on the lips?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, it was kind of like a mutual thing at the time but, yeah...” I say, cringing at the awkward feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Gwen squeals before jumping off the bed and dancing in her spot. “I knew it! I freaking knew it! I told Ryker something was going on between you two! The tension was so obvious,” she exclaims. Okay, so this wasn’t exactly the reaction I thought I’d be getting.
“What do you mean it was obvious? There was no tension, and there’s nothing going on between Holland and I,” I try to explain, but she’s still jumping around like a lunatic.
“Bullshit. There is so something happening between the two of you. You like him, don’t you? You think he’s sexy,” she drags out the end of the word sexy.
Rolling my eyes, I stand from my spot on the bed and begin to pace back and forth, hoping that will help the headache that is now building inside me.
“I do not. He was having some sort of panic attack, and I was just trying to distract him, and I didn’t know how else to do it,” I clarify. She can’t honestly believe that I of all people would have a thing for Holland Monroe.
Except, do I have a thing for him? Do I think he’s sexy? Do I want to see how good he is in bed? Yes, yes, I do. Fuck, I do have a thing for him. I am so screwed.