SEVENTEEN #2
He leans in, barely any space between us at all now. ‘Another lie.’
‘You think you’re so noble. So tragic.’
‘You’re a terrible person.’
‘Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about—’
And he kisses me.
Hot. Hard. Punishment and confession rolled into one.
But then, just as suddenly, he pulls back. As if he too, is as stunned by his actions as I am. His eyes are wide, breath ragged. ‘Shit,’ he mutters. ‘I shouldn’t have—’
I don’t let him finish, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him back in, abandoning all rationality, crashing my mouth against his.
He freezes for a moment, body taut with indecision. Then all at once, he comes undone.
His hands are on me, bracing either side of my hips, pinning me back against the fridge like he doesn’t trust himself to let go once he starts. His mouth is on mine like he’s been starving. As if he’s angry about wanting it – about wanting me.
I moan against his lips, anchoring myself to him as he settles between my thighs. It’s not a kiss – it’s an argument. A reckoning. A ‘What the hell are we doing?’ disguised as tongue and teeth and heat.
His hips press into mine, rolling against me in a slow, agonising grind that makes my whole body melt. Just a single, deliberate motion. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He wants me to feel every second of what we both pretend isn’t still between us.
A sound escapes me before I can catch it – an involuntary moan ripped from my throat and handed to him on a silver platter.
Luke exhales hard against my mouth, his hands tightening on my waist.
‘Stop lying to yourself,’ he says against my lips, voice ragged.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I want to kiss him harder. Deeper. I want to let go of everything – my lies, my rules, Dylan – and burn.
And then—
‘Jamie?’ The voice is soft. Broken. Not Luke’s.
I freeze.
Luke goes still too, breath heavy against my cheek. We turn. And there, standing in the dim light of the kitchen, is Dylan.
The room tilts. My stomach turns. My heart forgets what rhythm is. Because this moment is the exact kind of thing I can’t lie my way through.
Dylan stares at us for a second longer, then he walks away, a plate of food in one hand.
‘Shit,’ I mutter, pushing Luke away.
He lets me go, face unreadable. I don’t look back. I bolt after Dylan, sandals slapping against stone as I catch up to him.
‘Dylan, wait.’
He doesn’t slow. Not even a little as he marches towards our cabin.
‘Dylan, please. Just wait.’
He stops, but only because I step in front of him. He blinks at me, disbelief etched into every line of his face.
‘It – it wasn’t what it looked like.’
He laughs. It’s bitter and bites hard. ‘Jamie, come on. It’s exactly what it looked like.’
‘No. It wasn’t – it was nothing,’ I say, words tripping over each other. ‘Luke means nothing.’
Over my shoulder, something shifts. Dylan’s eyes flick past me, and I know before I turn what I’ll see. Luke, shaking his head at my lies and walking away.
Again.
God, I hate myself. I truly hate myself. But at this point, lying is muscle memory. It’s hardwired in me, completely ingrained. It’s the autopilot setting I’ve been running on since as long as I can remember.
I follow Dylan into our cabin. He whirls around to face me the second the door clicks shut. ‘Tell me the truth.’
‘About what?’
‘Don’t play dumb, Jamie. About you and Luke. About everything.’
I cross my arms. ‘He kissed me. It didn’t mean anything.’
He laughs again, angrier this time. ‘You’re unbelievable.’
‘I’m telling you the truth.’
‘No, you’re telling me your truth. The one where none of this is your fault. Where everyone else is confused and you’re – what?’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘What’s not fair is flying all this way with me when you’re in love with someone else.’
‘I’m not in love—’
‘Why were you in the kitchen?’
Shit. ‘I was hungry.’ Dylan drags a hand over his face. I try again. ‘You’re real. We fit together. You’re everything I’m supposed to want.’
‘Supposed to,’ he echoes, quiet now. ‘But not what you do want.’
‘I can – look, I can fix this.’ I take a step forward, leaning in and kissing him. He doesn’t kiss me back. Instead, he steps away like I’ve burned him.
‘I need to go for a walk,’ he says, and then he’s gone.
I sink onto the edge of the bed. The air is thick with shame and self-loathing. Eventually, I step outside, barefoot and tired, in search of anything that feels less hollow than my own ego.
The stars are starting to peek through the dusk, and as I glimpse the first star in the sky, I can’t help but think of it as Luke’s mum.
‘There you are.’
Ella’s walking over, one hand on her bump, the other on her lower back as if she’s holding herself together with nothing but sheer willpower and prenatal vitamins.
I manage a smile. ‘It was a great party.’
Ella sinks down beside me on the steps with a soft grunt. ‘I reckon it’ll be a boy.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
She shrugs. ‘Just a feeling.’
We fall into a quiet lull. The air buzzes with crickets and distant laughter. Then, softly, Ella says, ‘Luke left.’
I pick at the edge of my sleeve. ‘Figures.’
Ella turns to look at me. ‘What’s going on with you two?’
‘Nothing,’ I say too quickly.
The distant glimmer of a satellite passes overhead. Then, carefully, she says, ‘You know I love you.’
I smile faintly. ‘I feel like there’s a but coming.’
‘And I’ll always have your back. You know that. But if you break Luke’s heart, I won’t be happy.’
I bark a laugh and give her a half-hearted salute. ‘Yes, Mum.’
‘I’m serious,’ she says, facing me now. ‘He’s a good guy.’
‘Well, rest assured. He’ll never see me again.’
She studies my face, as if trying to decide if I mean it. Then she asks, ‘Where’s Dylan?’
‘He needed to clear his head.’
Ella sighs. ‘Maybe you should go for a walk too. Clear yours.’
I nudge her shoulder gently. ‘You’re going to be a great mum.’
Her face softens. ‘I hope so.’
She groans a little as she stands, then holds out a hand. ‘Come on. There’s cake that needs eating.’