Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
R ose slurps an alarmingly bright green liquor through a bendy straw, sighing in satisfaction.
I eye her with my own respectable Cosmopolitan in hand, preparing to speed dial 911 with the other. “What did you even order?” I ask dubiously.
She plucks out a maraschino cherry, waving it in front of my face. “You’ve never had a Fish Bowl? C’mon, Al, you’ve really got to live a little.”
I shake my head. “I’m just fine, thanks.”
Rose’s eyes light up and she takes a moment to rifle through her purse. She withdraws something square-shaped and wrapped in aluminum foil a moment later. “A brownie, perhaps?” she asks in a low voice. “I’ll be your DD tonight, baby.”
My mouth drops open. “Put that away,” I hiss, shoving the brownie back into her purse. “I have to go home and work. I’m not going to taste test one of your special recipes.”
Rose looks put out. “Why not? You used to eat them all the time!”
I blink. “No, you used to eat them all the time. You brought them in to snack on during homeroom.”
She waves me away. “Nuh-uh, doesn’t count. My recipes never worked in high school. I didn’t have the right ingredients until Sophomore year of college.”
Right. The year she failed her social history lecture. Twice.
I laugh. “No, thank you. I’m going to need a clear head tonight.”
My best friend leans in, pushing her gigantic drink out of the way to wiggle her brows at me. “Because of your manuscript…or because of your boy?”
Even the insinuation of Taylor being mine causes my face to heat. I hide my embarrassment behind a long sip of my drink. “I haven’t been able to write. The words aren’t coming to me like they used to.”
I think Rose can hear the quake in my voice. It’s why she lets the change of subject slide. “Everyone gets writer’s block once in a while. That’s totally normal, Al.”
But I shake my head. “I used to dream about making movies.” I literally couldn’t wait to write down the stories that would play on a loop inside my head. Now, I hope I don’t dream at all. All I want is to sleep in without interruption before the Havens attempt to ruin my day.
Rose reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “Oh, honey. It’s okay to have new dreams. If writing isn’t coming naturally right now, don’t force it. Your words will come back to you when you have the right story to tell.”
I down what’s left of my drink. My voice is small when I say, “But I don’t want my dreams to change. I love words. I just want them to come as easily as they used to.”
Rose cocks her head, a mischievous smile gracing her lips. “Well, you know what artists use when they’re stuck, right?” She waves her brownie in the air, cackling at my expression.
I give in, letting Rose distract me with her smiles and jokes. My best friend has a supernatural ability to make me feel better.
“Thank you for taking me out tonight,” I say when she pulls up outside the Havens’ mansion. “I really missed you.”
“I missed you too, sweet cheeks,” Rose coos, gathering me into a tight hug. When I start to pull away, her arms suddenly stiffen. “Holy hunk,” she murmurs into my hair.
“What?” I lean back, frowning when I find her wide-eyed gaze frozen over my shoulder. I follow her eye-line, nearly jumping out of my seat when I see a shirtless Taylor striding down the driveway.
His hair is slicked back, abs still glistening from a workout. He has a bag of trash slung over one shoulder and headphones in his ears.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Rose says through a slack jaw. “I think I finally get your obsession.”
“You have a girlfriend!”
She shrugs, eyes still glued to Taylor’s shirtless form. “Sharing is caring, Al. Sharing is— mmmff! ”
I cut Rose off by throwing a hand over her mouth. Taylor has spotted us. He’s staring directly into my window, his brows arched with obvious interest. I make a shooing gesture, praying he won’t come over.
He comes over.
Rose rolls down the window, flashing Taylor her most demonic smile. He sidles up to the car, returning my best friend’s grin.
“Hello, Ayla’s roommate,” Rose drawls in a strange southern accent.
Taylor lifts his brows. “Hello, Ayla’s friend. Hold on…” He narrows his eyes, studying her. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
I flash Rose a look that she ignores.
“Moi? Oh, that’s probably because Ayla used to drag me to all of yo—”
“Well, this has been fun!” I interrupt, pushing the door open so suddenly it knocks Taylor back a step. “Rose, get gone.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes at Taylor like they already share an inside joke.
“What happened to your shirt?” I grumble, trying to resist the urge to follow the shadow of his happy trail.
Taylor crosses his arms. “What happened to yours?”
I’m wearing a tube top with sheer paneling in the stomach. It was a birthday gift from Rose…which is the only reason I threw it on tonight. But I’m glad I did, considering Taylor seems to be having a hard time dragging his gaze back to my face.
I lick my lips, finally allowing myself to glance at his chest. And what a chest it is. I swallow a groan, trying not to stare at the definition in his abs. He’s thick where I want a man to be, with cut lines leading down from his hips. I want to drag my fingers through the ridges on his stomach, memorize them the way I couldn’t do in the dark…
Rose lays on her horn, tearing my gaze from Taylor. He blinks dazedly, like his mind had wandered, too.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, then clears his throat. “I know how you can pay me back.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Pay her back for what?” Rose calls out.
We both ignore her. Taylor slides a hand behind his neck, causing his bicep to flex. “I think I better tell you inside,” he says in a low voice.
“How ‘bout you tell her with your tongue, lover boy!”
I spin around, slamming the car door shut. Rose cackles as she peels out of the driveway. I hold my breath until she disappears from sight. When I turn back to Taylor, he’s already smiling at me.
“C’mon.”
I trail him into the house, pulse racing as he leads us to the kitchen. We settle into our usual spots on either side of the dining room table, sizing the other up.
“Well?” I prompt. “Weren’t you about to proposition me?”
He chuckles, withdrawing a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket. He pushes it across the table. “This is how you make it up to me.”
I open the note, recoiling when I read the title of the invitation. “No. No way.”
Taylor smirks. “Come to my high school reunion with me, Ayla.”
“That’s not a favor. That’s martyrdom.”
He narrows his eyes. “You said you’d do anything to make it up to me.”
“You’re crazy,” I half-laugh. “Why would you want me to come, anyway? You barely like me.”
Hurt flashes through his eyes before he covers it with a shit-eating grin. “I care too much about what people think. You don’t care enough. Maybe we’ll even each other out.”
“We’re oil and water, Hedlund,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s a bad combination.”
He carries on like he hasn’t heard me. “It’ll be fun. Besides, my ex already thinks we’re together. It would be weird if you didn’t show.”
My eyes bug out. “You want us to fake date? ”
He shifts on his feet, suddenly preoccupied with a loose string on his shorts. But he can feel me staring. I do it so long that he starts to blush.
When Taylor’s gaze wanders back to my face, there’s a softness in his expression. “Just…don’t make any rash decisions. Think about it, okay?”
And I don’t know what possesses me, but I say: “Okay.”