Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
AVA
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Liam’s mouth on mine.
The way he kissed me, warm and steady and too much like something real.
I’ve never been kissed like that before.
A kiss has never felt that good. And then Derek’s voice slips in, smug and smooth, reminding me of all the ways I’ve been wrong before.
By morning, I’m knotted so tight I don’t know which way is up.
After the tree lighting ceremony last night, Liam had pulled me straight back here to his house and refused to let the night end heavy.
I can still hear his laugh, low and unguarded, as we sprawled on the rug playing a board game like we were ten again.
I can still feel the brush of his knee against mine, the way his fingers lingered when he passed me a mug of wine.
He’d been working at it, I realized. Working to make me laugh, to remind me why we’ve always gotten along so well. Like he knew I needed to relax, to shake off Derek and all the noise, and he was determined to be the one to give me that.
And it worked. I’d smiled until my cheeks hurt, and somewhere between the spilled cards and the firelight, the air had shifted into something charged and breathless. My chest tightens now just remembering it because he’s right, and that scares me more than Derek’s sudden reappearance ever could.
After brushing my teeth and throwing a hoodie on over my t-shirt, I make my way down the hall.
Liam makes coffee in the kitchen like nothing’s changed, humming under his breath, hair sticking up in every direction.
He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray joggers slung low on his hips, the waistband clinging to the cut of his body.
My gaze snags where it shouldn’t—on the defined slope of his pecs, the ridges of his abs, the sharp V cutting down into those joggers.
There’s a faint trail of hair leading from his navel that disappears below the waistband, and the glimpse of it has heat crawling up my neck.
His body rivals any professional athlete. He’s gorgeous and makes everything he does looks so…easy and comfortable. Watching him move around the kitchen makes me feel like this could be normal. Like I could actually belong here with him.
Which is exactly what terrifies me.
“Morning,” he says when he notices me taking a seat at the table. He slides a mug toward me, catching me staring. His smile is soft and hesitant, like he’s waiting for a cue.
“Morning,” I say as I take the coffee cup, wrapping both hands around it, avoiding his eyes.
We sit in silence longer than we ever have. The air between us, once so easy, now feels fragile. I sip, stare out the frosted window, and finally mutter, “About last night…”
Liam stills, mug halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
“It was the contest. That’s all.” I keep my gaze on the snow outside, because if I look at him, I’ll see the lie reflected back at me.
For a long beat, he doesn’t say anything. Just sets his mug down gently, the ceramic clink loud in the quiet.
“Right,” he says finally. “The contest.”
The way he says it, so flat and careful, cuts more than if he’d argued. I push to my feet too quickly needing to walk away from him before he can see the hurt in my eyes. “I should—uh—check on my parent’s cabin. See if the heat’s working yet. Make sure the place is still standing.”
“Ava—” his voice is low, rough around the edges. “It wasn’t—"
I interrupt him, grabbing my coat. “It’s fine, Liam. Really.”
But it’s not fine. Not even close. I don’t know what I want him to say or what I want to happen between us. Apart of me thinks I’ve always loved Liam; the other part worries we would ruin a lifelong friendship.
I leave the table and walk straight to his bedroom where my clothes are like I’m running from something, but I don’t stop. I get dressed, order a car from a ride app, then before he can follow, I leave with my chest aching, boots crunching across the snow.
I don’t know what scares me more. Leaving Vermont without seeing where things could go between Liam and me, or giving it a shot with my childhood best friend.