Chapter 19
19
I do not want to talk about that kiss. No clue what Devlin was going to say—probably something like, It was the worst kiss ever. I can’t believe that I pressed my lips to yours. Thanks but no thanks. I’m not interested in hearing that.
As far as I’m concerned, the kiss did not happen. It will go down in history as the Kiss That Never Was.
Exactly. It didn’t happen.
And the look on his face when I started talking about Storm. I know that look. That’s Devlin’s angry look. His super angry look.
“Why don’t you like Storm?” I ask when we’re back at the house. I’ve changed into my pajamas, which tonight is a sleeping T-shirt that stops at my ankles and has a picture of a sparkling waffle on it. I think it’s supposed to be magical or something. Oh well, nothing says sexy like a waffle. Sexy sleepwear at its finest.
If I’d let Nana pack my bag, she probably would’ve put in crotchless panties and a negligee.
Good thing I packed this bad boy myself.
Devlin throws a mountain of pillows onto the floor. I assume he’s going to be bedding down in his equivalent of Mt. Everest, My Pillow style.
“Why do I hate Storm?” he repeats, hooking his hands behind his neck and pulling his T-shirt off to reveal rippling muscles that are screaming to be oiled down by me.
What?
No. Nope. I will not be doing any rubbing of oil on Devlin’s body. But that doesn’t mean that someone shouldn’t. Seriously. His body is begging to be shiny and slick.
He drops his knees onto his pillows, and now I have to perch on the edge of the bed to see him better. So I scoot to the end as he lays on his mountain, arms tucked neatly behind his head, wavy dark blond hair smoothed away from his forehead.
“Why don’t you ask me something else?”
“Because I asked you that.”
He sighs, which of course means he doesn’t want to tell me, and which also means that I must know. Now.
He leans over on his side and tucks a hand under his head, supporting it. “Do you like him?”
Do I? Do I think the sun sets with him? Does he give me butterflies in my stomach? No. But that could come in time.
“I might be heading that way.” It’s not exactly lying and not exactly telling the truth, either. “As long as he doesn’t spread nasty rumors about me, then he’ll be better than some people.”
It’s a low blow, I admit, but it’ll keep Devlin from talking about that kiss. Bonus, it has the added effect of reminding us exactly what we are to one another—nothing. Just two people who need our powers back. Mine for the safety of all Castleview and Devlin’s because, well, because he needs it to help humanity.
A noble cause, even I’ll say that.
He frowns. “What do you mean, spreading nasty rumors?”
I roll my eyes and grab a billowy pillow, tucking it under my chest. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Come on, Devlin.”
Concern fills his hazel eyes, which look black in the low light. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please enlighten me. You’re already making me sleep clothed; you can at least share your secret.”
I fluff the pillow beneath me and settle back onto it. “Do I really have to remind you of what you did?”
“Yes, you really do.”
This is the part that was the hardest to get over, and he doesn’t even remember it. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this,” I mutter. “But all right. Since you can’t remember.” I put can’t remember in air quotes, really layering on the sarcasm. I hope he can feel it like an anvil falling from a three-story window onto his head.
I take a deep breath and relax the muscles tightening in my chest. These are words that I’ve never spoken out loud. It’s like holding on to a secret that is so humiliating you’re terrified to say it because doing so will speak it into life.
“You really don’t remember telling the entire school that I influenced you into dating me?”
There. I’ve said it. I’ve never confronted him with this, because it was the most painful aspect of what he did to me. Kissing Basheen was one thing. A big thing. A huge thing. But when I told him my secret, it wasn’t even on the horizon that he’d use it against me.
He sits up quickly, his sandy hair falling in his eyes. “What?”
I groan and drop my head onto the pillow. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Blair, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never did that.”
My head pops up. “What do you mean, you didn’t do that? Of course you did. Everyone told me.”
He rises onto his knees and plants himself directly in front of me, putting his abs at eye level. They should still be oiled, I randomly think, forgetting momentarily to be infuriated that he’s lying.
I pull back and laugh. Maniacally. I sound kind of deranged, actually, so I stop. “Of course you did that. Everyone told me that they heard you say that I influenced you to like me, and that once you found out, you ended it. You were so mad that you kissed another girl.”
He slowly shakes his head, regret filling his eyes. “Blair, I never would’ve told anyone that. I made you a promise that I wouldn’t.”
Why is my heart doing somersaults? “But they said?—”
“They lied,” he growls. Growls .
“But…”
“There are no buts. I didn’t do it. I never spread a rumor about you.”
He rests his hand on my arm and rubs it. I stare at it for a moment, not wanting to look into his eyes.
With his other hand, Devlin hooks his finger under my chin, which I really should’ve planted in my pillow better, and lifts my head until our gazes latch.
Then he says slowly, so that every word sinks in, “I never did that. I never would have betrayed you like that.”
“Oh, you just betrayed me the other way,” I spit out.
His eyes harden. “There are some things that have to be lost so that other things might be saved.”
What does that mean?
He’s looking at me as if there’s some hidden message there, something he wants me to know. “Oh, I get it. You had to lose me in order to gain all the other women in your life, the revolving door of twinsets.”
He sighs and drops his hand from my chin. “I know you won’t believe this, but I’ve never really dated anyone since you.”
My heart stops beating. He’s right; I don’t believe it. I laugh a little too loudly and hug the pillow tighter for protection. Whatever mean words he’s going to say are not getting through this down or fabricated material and hit my heart. No way.
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Come on, Devlin. I’ve seen you with lots of girls over the years—usually two at a time. You’re the envy of every man on earth.”
His eyebrow curls. “Am I? Must be nice for them to think that I’ve slept with all those women.”
Why am I even asking this? “You don’t?”
“Would you believe it if I said that I’m not really a man whore?”
“No.”
He laughs and pushes back before rising and sitting beside me. The bed dips dramatically, and it takes some serious core strength for me not to fall onto his hulking frame.
He rubs his thumb across his forehead. “I don’t sleep with most of them, Blair. Those women are just for show.”
Not only does my jaw drop, but my entire body becomes one big blob of putty. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen you with them.”
“You’ve been staring into my windows at night?” he jokes.
“No, of course not.” I whack him gently on the arm. “I’m not a peeping Tom. But—wait—I don’t understand.”
He turns and faces me, resting one hand on the bed. My bed. His bicep pops as it strains to hold him and all his muscles up.
It’s times like these that I wish I had a cleaning cloth and a bottle of Pledge in my hands. There’s nothing more distracting than cleaning when you’re about to dive into a hard conversation.
“I only take those women out with me to events. I don’t date them. I haven’t seriously dated anyone since high school. I’ll say it a third time if you need me to,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.
“But I don’t understand.” Wait. He said something earlier about there only being one woman that he ever wanted. Does he mean…? Nope. Not gonna even entertain the thought.
His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “I suppose that I’m just not good at dating. You ruined me for it.”
I frown. “That’s not true. If anything, you ruined me. ”
“Oh? You haven’t dated much?”
“Devlin, no one here wants to date me because they all think that I’ll influence them into loving me.”
His expression falls as if he really, for once, feels pity for me. Well if we’re being all in our feelings here, I feel pity for me, too. Not enough to throw a pity party, but some.
“I’m sorry, Blair,” he whispers. “I never wanted that to happen to you.”
“That rumor?—”
“I didn’t start it,” he says harshly. “I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me. I can promise you that.”
I search his eyes, looking for any hint that he’s lying, and I don’t see it. I’ve been so hard on Devlin, so terribly hard. Well, not really. I thought that he’d told the school about my curse—I mean gift . But he hadn’t, and looking at him now, with his big hazel eyes lined with those thick, dark lashes, all I want to do is kiss him again. I want to run my fingers through his silky hair and wind the strands around my fingers.
But I want more than that. I want him.
Wait. What? Where did that come from?
Do I need to remind myself that this man is dangerous? Yes, I do. He crushed my heart once. He’ll do it again if given the chance. I know he will.
So I don’t give him my heart, maybe. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends.
Friends . The seven-letter word that all people hate when they’re attracted to someone. No one wants to be just friends. But sometimes it’s better to be friends than it is to be enemies. And I’ve spent a long time being hateful and angry with Devlin, and apparently blaming him for something that he didn’t do.
Oh, he’d kissed another girl, all right. But that was back in high school, and people make stupid mistakes.
What I’d really blamed him for was humiliating me—something that he hadn’t even done.
Maybe it’s time that I bury the hatchet, and not in Devlin’s back like I would’ve done a couple of days ago, but bury it in the ground and forget all about it.
“I believe that you didn’t start the rumor,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he asks, rubbing that delicious mouth of his. “I’d hate to think that I’ve been forgiven for something when I really haven’t.”
“You have been. Let’s shake on it. To being friends.”
I extend my hand, and he stares at it for a beat too long. Oh gods, I’ve completely misunderstood this whole thing. He doesn’t want to be my friend. Maybe he’d rather go back to what we were—enemies with crackling sexual tension that will never, and I mean never, get resolved.
My cheeks are burning with humiliation. “If you don’t want to be friends, I understand.”
I start to draw my hand away, but he grabs it, surprising me and stealing my breath. My gaze cuts to his eyes, and Devlin’s watching me intently. He does not have the look of a man who wants to be friends with me on his face. I can’t pinpoint what the look means, but it doesn’t signify friendship.
I swallow down a knot in my throat as he says, “Friends.”
But why don’t I believe him?