3. Nash #2
He stares at me, and I can tell he's just drunk enough to consider trying to fight me. So I step between him and Eve, shoulder-checking hard enough to send him stumbling backward.
"Get. Away."
Todd's eyes narrow, but he just scoffs and shakes his head. Then he turns and heads toward the group, probably to find another poor girl to prey on.
"Nash!" Eve's voice cracks like a whip, sharp with shock and something that might be anger. "What is wrong with you?"
I should back down. Should apologize, make some excuse about the beer or the cold or anything that would explain away what just happened. Instead, I round on her, all that careful control I've been maintaining for years finally snapping clean in half.
"What's wrong with me?" The laugh that comes out sounds bitter even to my own ears.
"What's wrong is watching you fall for the same bullshit line every other girl in this godforsaken town falls for.
Todd Brennan doesn't want to talk to you, sweetheart.
He wants to get you alone and drunk and see how far he can get before you come to your senses. "
Her body trembles but it's not from the cold.
She looks furious. I've never seen Eve Turner truly angry before, and the sight of it does something to my chest that I don't want to examine.
Her eyes flash with heat that has nothing to do with the fire, and when she steps closer to me, I can smell her shampoo—something clean and sweet that makes my head spin.
"How dare you." Her voice is low, controlled, but I can hear the rage simmering underneath.
"How dare you assume you know what I want or what I'm thinking.
And how dare you act like you have any right to interfere in my life when you've spent the last seven years treating me like I'm gum on the bottom of the shoe you want to be rid of. "
I grit my teeth as I take the verbal blows.
Because she's right. I have treated her like she doesn't exist, like I don't want her around, told myself it was for her own good while watching her from a distance like some kind of stalker.
But hearing her say it, seeing the hurt flash across her features before the anger takes over—it makes something crack open inside my chest.
"Good girls like you shouldn't be out in the woods with guys like him," I bite out, because it's easier than admitting she's right. Easier than acknowledging the truth behind her words.
The fury in her eyes blazes hotter. "Good girls like me?
You mean girls who volunteer at church and get decent grades and don't spend their time getting drunk and picking fights?
" She steps even closer, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, the way her chest rises and falls with quick, angry breaths.
"What makes you think you know anything about what kind of girl I am, Nash Callahan? "
Something snaps. Maybe it's the way she says my name, like it tastes dangerous on her tongue.
Maybe it's the fire in her eyes, or the way she's standing up to me when she's never stood up to anyone in her life.
Maybe it's just seven years of wanting something I can't have finally reaching a breaking point.
Whatever it is, I move without thinking. My hands come up to frame her face, fingers tangling in those soft curls I've been watching all night, and I crush my mouth to hers.
For a split second, she freezes. Her hands come up between us like she's going to push me away, and I brace myself for the inevitable rejection. But then something shifts. Her fingers curl into the front of my jacket instead of pushing, and she kisses me back with a desperation that matches my own.
Her mouth is soft and warm and tastes faintly of the hot chocolate someone spiked earlier. She makes this small sound in the back of her throat that goes straight to my gut, and I press closer, backing her up against one of the trees that ring the clearing.
The bark scrapes against my knuckles where my hands brace on either side of her head, but I barely feel it.
All I can focus on is the way she feels against me, the way she tilts her head to give me better access, the way her tongue touches mine with shy curiosity that makes my entire body go tight with need.
This is everything I've been denying myself for years. Everything I've told myself I can't have, shouldn't want. She's fourteen and sweet and innocent, and I'm corrupting her just by touching her. But God help me, I can't make myself stop. Can't make myself be the better person she deserves.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her eyes wide and dazed. I want to push her further, to mess her up more, to make her look like she's mine, and the knowledge of how wrong this is only makes me want her more.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. The party continues around us, but it feels like we're in our own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world. I can see my own confusion reflected in her eyes, the same desperate want that's been eating me alive for longer than I want to admit.
Then reality crashes back in. What the hell am I doing? She's fourteen. I'm supposed to be protecting girls like her from guys like me, not becoming exactly the kind of threat I just ran Todd off for being.
I drop my hands like she's burned me and step back, putting distance between us that feels both necessary and devastating. The careful mask I've spent years perfecting slides back into place, even though it feels like it might shatter at any moment.
"Well," I drawl, forcing that familiar smirk onto my face like armor. "That was nice. Finally found a way to keep you quiet for more than five seconds, sweetheart."
The words are designed to hurt. To put her back in her place and remind both of us exactly what this is—what I am. A mistake. A moment of weakness. Nothing more.
The hurt that flashes across her face nearly breaks me. But then her chin lifts, and I catch a glimpse of steel underneath all that sweetness that makes my chest tight with something I refuse to name.
"Go to hell, Nash."
Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd around the fire like she was never there at all. Leaving me alone with the taste of her on my lips and the knowledge that I just ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me.
I turn and walk into the woods, hating myself more than I ever thought possible.