CHAPTER 19
The soft rustle of the trees and the distant lapping of the lake against the shore wrap around us in an almost serene silence—a stark contrast to the roaring engine that brought us here.
The ride was mostly quiet. Just the wind, the vibration of the bike beneath us, the way his body moved in perfect control as we took each curve. No words. No space to think.
Now, sitting at the edge of the lake, there’s nowhere left to hide from the thoughts I’ve been shoving down.
My knees are drawn up, our legs brushing every now and then. Each accidental touch sends a jolt straight through me, sharp and unwelcome. The air smells like pine and damp earth—clean, sharp, grounding. It should calm me.
It doesn’t.
Instead, everything about this place makes the tension worse.
I sneak a glance at him, catching the way the moonlight cuts across his face—his jaw sharp, relaxed, and that stupid smirk tugging at his lips like he knows something I don’t. He looks calm. Too calm. Like this doesn’t affect him at all.
It pisses me off.
“How’d you find this place?” I ask, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
Hayes turns toward me, expression unreadable. “Came here to think,” he says after a beat. “Away from everything.” His voice lowers. “Helps clear my head.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
I force my gaze back to the water, the dark surface swallowing the reflection of the trees. “Didn’t think you were the type to need space.”
He shrugs, a faint tease in his voice. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
A shiver crawls down my spine, and I hate that too.
The air between us feels heavier now, charged. I shift slightly, trying to shake it off, but somehow it only makes him feel closer. Like gravity’s pulling us together whether I want it to or not.
“Do you come here often?” I ask quietly.
For a second, I think he didn’t hear me.
“Whenever I wanna get away,” he finally says.
“And how often is that?” I glance at him briefly before forcing myself to look away again.
“Not enough,” he admits, eyes fixed on the lake.
“Is it safe to say this place is your safe haven?”
“Yeah,” Hayes says, rubbing the back of his neck, his teeth catching his bottom lip.
I pause. “I guess you don’t bring people here often.”
He lets out a short breath. “I’ve never brought anyone here.”
I turn fully toward him now. “Not even Shay?”
His gaze flickers—just once—but it’s enough.
“Not even Shay.”
My stomach flips hard, heat rushing up my neck, settling in my cheeks before I can stop it.
So I’m the first.
That thought sits heavy between us, dangerous and intimate all at once.
This is weird.
Too personal. Too close. Too much.
And somehow… I don’t move away.
As the last rays of light fade, I lean back on my hands, looking up at the stars beginning to twinkle above us. I want to reach for him, to close that space between us, but I hold back, afraid of what that would mean.
“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice low and genuine.
“Yeah, just… thinking,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
“About what?”
I sigh, turning to look at the boy sitting next to me, close but not close enough. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, his familiar scent, and slowly realization dawns on me, reminding me how real this is.
“Nothing,” I reply, even though it’s not nothing.
It’s everything. How we tend to fight, argue, bash each other, hate each other, and now we’re sitting here in this serene environment pretending like we’re friends.
By the dawn of tomorrow, everything’s going to go back to normal, and we’re going to pretend like we didn’t share this moment together.
We’re going to pretend as if none of this happened, and the thought alone makes my chest tighten, because part of me doesn’t want to go back—part of me wonders if he feels the same.
“Just to be clear, I didn’t want to come with my family. Seeing you at school was enough, I couldn’t handle eating dinner with you like we’re friends or some shit like that.”
Hayes chuckles lightly. “Yeah, I was surprised to see you honestly.”
“Yeah. That was the weirdest dinner I’d ever had to endure.”
“Yeah, me too.”
We fall into a comfortable silence again as I pick up a rock and toss it into the water, the sound echoing through the quiet.
“You ever stop pretending?” I blurt out, not even sure what I’m asking. I just need to say something, anything to break this weird tension. “All that cocky attitude—it’s all an act, right?”
Hayes doesn’t flinch, but his smirk fades. For a second, I think I’ve got him. Then he surprises me again. “Maybe it is,” he says, voice steady. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get through this the same way you are.”
I don’t know what to do with that. My heart kicks up a notch, and I feel like the ground’s slipping from under me. He’s being too real, too open, and it’s messing with my head.
“Tell me about New York,” Hayes blurts out at once, pulling me out of my head as I turn to stare at him.
“You’ve been to New York and even half the world.”
Hayes chuckles, not staring at me as he glances at the calm, still water, a stark contrast to the thoughts in my head. “Yeah, well, I want you to tell me about New York. Did you like it?”
I sigh, not sure of what to say as I pick another rock and toss it into the water. “Yeah, I did. It was great.”
“Do you miss your friends?”
“Yeah.”
“They must mean a lot to you then,” Hayes says. I can feel his gaze on me even though I’m not looking at him. Slowly, I turn my head, hesitate, then nod, offering him a small smile instead of an answer.
The silence stretches.
“Why did you cut your hair?”
The question catches me off guard. His voice is softer now—curious, almost careful—and it breaks something open in the quiet between us.
I shift, fingers brushing the shorter strands at the back of my neck. “I don’t know,” I mumble with a shrug. “Just needed a change, I guess.”
It’s a half-truth.
I liked my longer hair. I just hated what it reminded me of. Sometimes I’d look in the mirror and feel like I was staring at a ghost—the fourteen-year-old version of myself who couldn’t stand up for himself, who learned that staying quiet felt safer than fighting back.
Hayes studies me, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “I liked it longer,” he says finally, so quietly I almost think I imagined it.
My heart stutters.
I look away, swallowing hard. “Guess it’s not really your business,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.
He lets out a short laugh—not mocking, not cruel. Almost… relieved. “I suppose not.”
But he still doesn’t look away. His gaze lingers, heavier than usual, like he’s trying to see past whatever mask I’m wearing.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Hayes adds. “This look suits you.” A pause. Then, with that familiar cocky edge slipping back in, “Makes you look hotter, actually.”
My pulse spikes.
Is he flirting with me?
And why the fuck does my heart feel like it’s trying to escape my chest?
Heat creeps up my neck, my palms damp, my stomach doing something stupid and traitorous. This isn’t supposed to be happening. He’s messing with me—he always does.
And yet… part of me wonders if this time it’s real.
I scoff, hoping it covers how rattled I am. “Didn’t realize you cared so much about my looks, Griffin.”
Hayes smirks and shifts closer, his presence suddenly impossible to ignore. “Just calling it like I see it,” he says, voice low, challenging. “You come back all different and expect no one to notice?”
My heart pounds harder. His words sink under my skin, settling somewhere deep and dangerous. Every nerve in my body reacts to the attention, and I hate how easily I’m falling for it.
Fuck.
It pisses me off how much power he has over me. How easily he makes me feel things I shouldn’t.
“Notice all you want,” I say evenly. “Doesn’t mean I did it for you.”
His eyes flash with something that sends a shiver straight through me. “Maybe not,” he murmurs, gaze lingering just a second too long. “Doesn’t mean I won’t notice anyway.”
Get a grip, Dakota.
You should not be falling for a manipulative asshole who’s already proven he can hurt you.
And yet… here I am.
Hayes has always been good with words, knowing exactly what to say to make my heart beat ten times faster and twist my thoughts into knots.
He’s dangerous that way—one second, he’s pushing every button he can to get a rise out of me, and the next, he’s looking at me with that damn smirk, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.
But I can’t let myself get swept up in this, in him. I’ve been burned before, and I know better than to fall for a few well-placed words and stolen glances. Hayes might be trying to charm his way past my defenses, but I refuse to be just another game he’s playing.
But yet, I can’t ignore the way his gaze lingers on me, the hint of something I can’t quite read in his eyes. There’s an intensity there, one I’m not used to from him, and it leaves me feeling unsteady, like I’m walking on thin ice.
I swallow, trying to shake off the rush of emotions stirring inside me. This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s just messing with me, like he always does. And yet… part of me can’t help wondering if there’s something real beneath that smirk.
“God, you’re such a fucking dick,”
“What?” Hayes asks, genuinely confused by my words as he stares at me. His smirk falters for a second but there’s a small smug smile on his lips.
“Don’t play coy, Hayes. Saying shit like that doesn’t mean the slate is suddenly clean.
I still fucking hate you,” I say, trying to sound defensive and pissed, but my voice doesn’t resemble anything close to the anger I’m aiming for.
Instead, it comes out quieter, almost shaky, betraying me in the worst way.
Hayes notices, of course. His smirk grows, but there’s something softer in his eyes, like he’s seeing straight through the wall I’m trying to put up. “Funny,” he murmurs, shifting a fraction closer. “You don’t sound like you hate me.”