Chapter 25
Hazel
My mom used to say, “When you encounter a feeling stronger than life itself, first, you breathe. Breathe in, breathe out, and decide what you want to do.” But yesterday, I couldn’t tell what mattered more—breathing or letting Luke keep kissing me.
I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling for at least ten minutes. Once again, I had been returned to the soft sheets without my knowledge at some point during the night. The last thing I remembered was slowly drifting away in Luke’s arms.
His touch on my thigh invaded my thoughts.
I closed my eyes, fingertips grazing my lips, remembering him.
If my birthday had a ringtone, it would be Luke saying my name and dragging his lips down my neck.
My thighs pressed together involuntarily, and a dirty thought of making this morning more pleasurable for myself flickered in my mind. After all, it was my birthday.
No!
It was bad enough that yesterday even happened. No good could come from this. There was no future for me in his life. And there was no false hope in mine.
I groaned, rubbing my eyes, trying to erase his seductive gaze and strong grip from my mind. Only happy thoughts today.
Horny thoughts are happy thoughts.
HAZEL! I scolded myself. I needed a shower.
Slipping out of bed, I cracked the door open, checking if Luke was up, only to be left dumbfounded by the view in front of me.
A massive sage-green and gold balloon arch, at least seven feet tall, stood before me.
A BALLOON ARCH! What is this? A wedding party?!
Under it sat a chair, a stunning blue summer dress, heels, and a note with my name. Already grinning, I opened it.
“Put this on. And be warned—you’ll probably remember today for a while.”
My grin widened, and I jumped into the shower.
Shockingly, I was ready in just fifteen minutes.
The dress, with its built-in corset, fit me perfectly, and the fluttering fabric cascading down my legs felt lighter than air.
I looked into a mirror, and even I had to admit I looked damn pretty. My tanned skin made it even better.
Stepping downstairs, I was met with a chorus of “Happy Birthday!” Ava was the first to pull me in a tight hug, followed by everyone else, offering well-wishes.
The back of my head started to hurt from smiling so much.
Alex, Logan, Ethan, and Luke all handed me sunflowers, each pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“Thank you guys so much,” I beamed, admiring the bouquet.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Norah gushed, gazing at my outfit.
“Thank you. And thank you for the dress, it’s perfect,” I said, running my hands over my waist. My eyes accidentally landed on Luke. He silently mouthed So pretty and I felt it like a touch. Like a hand sliding under fabric. Like warm rain on bare skin.
His eyes dropped to my hands, tracing the soft fabric over my waist, the lines of my tattoo that the dress spectacularly hid, allowing traces of it to appear only when I moved.
Luke’s jaw clenched, and the thought of the possibilities alone made me melt inside.
I didn’t need any makeup, my flushed cheeks were doing all the work, which was, in fact, even more evident by the blue tone of my dress.
I looked like a patriotically dressed French pantomime.
Ava presented a breakfast masterpiece on my plate, as everyone else around the table passionately debated their favorite jams. I must’ve missed the start of this conversation.
I’d managed to put a piece of fruit in my mouth when Luke, sitting next to me, leaned in slightly.
I met his gaze, and he flashed that devastating smile, lingering on the spot on my neck he had spent some extra time yesterday. “Blue suits you.”
I shoved more food into my mouth, trying to fight a grin that would probably last all day if I didn’t stop it early.
I allowed my gaze to slide over his broad shoulders, though.
Those massive, beautifully carved, overachieving shoulders.
God probably created those shoulders himself.
You know—a little Sunday side project. Luke’s lips pulled into a knowing smile, fully aware of his effect on me.
“So, I guess there’s some kind of plan today, correct?” I asked too loudly, desperate to change the subject so he couldn’t flirt with me.
“Oh, there is,” Luke said, winking at me, thus destroying my intentions to get through this breakfast not pining over him, “but you’ll have to trust us.”
I looked into his big brown eyes that were steadying me and bringing me on an adventure before we’d even taken a single step, all at the same time, twinkling with mischief and warmth. It reminded me of my mom.
I breathed in, breathed out, and smiled.
“Okay.”
* * *
We traveled along the coast for quite a while.
The sun was warming my cheeks as the breeze played with my hair.
Luke was driving, and I was seated next to him, a decision made after a ridiculous game of Not it, which was essentially the opposite of Shotgun.
That instantly put me in the mandatory position of a DJ.
Luke made it clear that today I was solely responsible for the music.
However, that was a responsibility I didn’t want to take on.
How was I supposed to know what kind of music everyone would like?
I glanced at the other passengers and scrolled through the available options.
The moment I pressed play, Luke shot me a look.
“What?” I asked. I should’ve known better by now.
“Oh, you like Kanye and his ‘Gold Digger’?”
My smirk betrayed me. “Nice try, Ridley. C’mon.” He cocked his head to the side. It was frustrating but kind of nice. How much he actually was getting to know me.
I grabbed the phone and switched to some classic Sheryl Crow. I closed my eyes, letting her convince me that if it makes me happy, it truly can’t be that bad. The words flew through me like good music usually did.
“Good girl,” Luke murmured, low enough for me to hear, and the words sank into places they shouldn’t, swallowing the desperate thought of hearing those two simple words in another context.
We drove for half the morning, anticipation making me restless. The only thing I was told after begging them for any information was that there would be three stops and it would take all day. Which calmed me in no way, shape, or form.
Finally, we parked in the middle of the woods. I realized this was the first stop when Luke handed me white sneakers to replace my heels. We were in Bucaco National Forest, one of the most breathtaking places I’d ever seen. Towering trees stretched overhead, nearly blocking out the sky.
“My mom used to bring me to the forest,” I said, taking in all the beauty around me.
“I know. I remember,” Luke replied with a reassuring smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a forest,” he added, surprising me.
“What? How can it be that you’ve never been to a forest?”
“I was academically raised. My parents didn’t think much could be gained from spending time in nature.
I was mostly surrounded by charity events, opera openings, and books.
A lot of books,” he said, reminiscing about his childhood, a hint of sadness in his voice.
That ache was familiar. I wanted to give him some space to talk.
“That’s why I love these trips. So many places I’ve never seen. So many sights I’ve never... enjoyed.”
He glanced at me, and we shared a smile.
“It’s a shame it took you so long to get here,” I said, brushing my fingers over the tree bark. “But the good news is, you haven’t missed anything. The trees are still here. Just look at this. It’s magical.”
The leaves rustled above us, dancing in the wind. Others had moved ahead, leaving Luke and me trailing behind. We followed them lazily until I decided to get my beautiful white sneakers dirty and veer off the path.
“Did you know trees can talk to each other?” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Luke, who stood about twenty feet away.
“They have this fungal network in their roots that connects them. If a tree is attacked, or experiences drought or disease, it can warn its neighbors so others can change their behavior.”
Luke tilted his head, something unreadable in his eyes.
“What?” I asked, but he just kept staring into my eyes from afar.
“They’re a different color now,” he murmured. “Green.”
I frowned, not quite following.
“How are they...” he trailed off, still watching me, gaze steady. Almost too steady. And then something shifted. Uncertainty hardening into focus, like a line had been quietly drawn, and he was on the edge of a choice. A decision to be made.
Before I could ask, he moved toward me, excruciatingly slow. I’ve seen this look before.
“I don’t think you should do what I think you’re doing,” I said quietly. He kept coming my way, his shoes dipping into the green moss.
“Why?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face, as if he knew I wanted him to do exactly what he was doing.
“Because I don’t want you like that,” I lied. Oh my God, so obvious. He saw right through me, his smile so wide now Joker could be jealous. “Because you’re not my type,” I tried again.
“Hmm, well, maybe I can do something about that,” Luke said, closing in on me. The air between us grew thick.
“Because I’m not your type either,” I grasped at the last straw once more. This time, he heard me. This time, he stopped.
“And what’s my type, Hazel?” His voice sweet as velvet, both hands in his pockets. He looked so carefree. Like we were discussing different types of fish.
“Mostly brunettes, long legs, big boobs, confident one-night-stands.” My voice got a little shaky.
“Hmm... try again.” He stepped closer.
“Extremely beautiful, hot, flirty girls who exude sex appeal and only eat salad for lunch,” I whispered as he finally approached, his calm, intoxicating presence wrapping around me like a vine before he even touched me.
“And why exactly aren’t you all those things?”