Chapter Five
Hattie
Ispend half the performance with my eyes glued to the stage…and the other half with them glued to Sidney, trying to remind myself that he isn't my type.
Except…
He glances over at me, his expression soft, and my stomach turns a somersault.
I think I'm in trouble.
This wasn't supposed to happen!
Wait. What is happening?
I'm not entirely sure. My brain is scrambled from the way he made me come all over his fingers. It's been almost two hours, and my body is still riding the high, doing its own ballet.
I want to do it again.
Maybe that's the solution. We just do this…
pretend to date. Have sex. No biggie. It doesn't have to mean anything.
We can just be two people, getting each other off.
And then, when the wedding is over, we go back to our lives and…
and what? High five? Shake hands? Pretend it never happened? Never speak to one another again?
I don't know!
Yesterday, I was convinced that Sidney wasn't my type.
How can he be when I fit into his world like a square peg in a round hole?
He's football royalty. I'm the girl everyone looks at like a science experiment gone wrong.
Just look at what happened tonight. As soon as someone beautiful saw me on his arm, they thought it was some big, cosmic joke.
I don't want that to be the rest of my life, not when it's been my entire life to date. Despite my brothers trying to carve out a space for me—and God, they've tried—I already know how it feels to be brushed off, ignored, laughed at, and looked down on in their world.
I've lived that experience since I was a kid. My brothers have fought so hard to protect me, but the woman who should have fought for me? The one who should have given me confidence and courage? She's the one who told me that I'm not worthy, that I don't belong, that I'm just not pretty enough.
I've survived by hanging on the fringes, by not getting too deep into my brothers' world, by staying in the stands and on the sidelines. I support them in the shadows because the shadows are less painful.
But actually dating Sidney is an entirely different thing. There are no fringes then, no hiding in the library or going home to my normal, boring life after the game ends. There's no being invisible.
Being seen long enough to get my mother off my back? Easy. It's not like being the joke is anything new to me. But being the joke forever feels soul-crushing, especially if Sidney has to endure the humiliation alongside me.
I don't want the whole world to look at the two of us and think it's just some joke, or that he is. I actually like him as a person, enough to want to shield him from what people will have to say. And they'll say plenty. They probably already are.
I already feel bad enough, asking him to tolerate it until after the wedding.
"Are you ready to go, butterfly?"
I blink, glancing at him and then at the stage.
"It's over?"
"Yeah," he says, his voice soft. His worried gaze lingers on my face. "You were lost in your own head for the last half hour."
Crap.
"I'm sorry."
"You okay?"
"Fine," I say, a little too quickly. "Um, I'm fine. I was just thinking."
He jerks his chin in a nod before rising to his feet and holding his hand out to me. "Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you out of here."
I allow him to pull me to my feet and wrap an arm around my waist. If anyone stares at us on the way out, I don't really notice, not when his thumb is right above my ass, rubbing maddening circles.
Neither of us says anything until we're in the truck with the doors closed, and then he turns to me, his face obscured in shadow.
"Did you have fun tonight?"
"I did," I whisper. "Your sister is a beautiful dancer." I never even imagined that there were professional, plus-size ballerinas, but his sister made dancing look effortless. She lives her life in a way I never have—completely unafraid. "I think she's my new hero."
I sense more than see his smile. "I definitely won't be telling her that. She's already a pain in my ass."
"You love her."
"Yeah, I do. Doesn't change the fact that she's a pain in the ass."
"I bet my brothers say the same thing about me."
"Have you ever hit your dance partner on stage?"
"What?" I gape at him. "Your sister did that?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"The prick deserved it," he growls. He doesn't seem very happy about whatever happened.
"Wow," I whisper. "Your sister is a badass."
"Wait until you meet her," he chuckles. "You might change your mind."
"You want me to meet her?" I gape at him, my heart pounding.
"She'll be at Tye's wedding."
"Oh." I swallow. "I didn't know that." I have to meet members of his family? I have to pretend to date him while meeting members of his family? Gulp. "You can tell her the truth about us if you want."
"And what truth is that, butterfly?" he asks.
"Um, that we're just…faking it?" I squeak.
"Ah. Is that what you were doing in the box tonight? Faking it?"
"What? No!"
"If I hauled you into the backseat right now and ate you, would you be faking that, Hattie baby?"
"N-no," I stutter. "It's just…"
I can see myself falling for you if I'm not careful, and that can't happen.
"I'm not your type," he growls with this tone that says he doesn't like that one bit.
"Right," I say weakly. "And I'm probably not yours. I mean, obviously, I'm not yours. What happened tonight was just—"
"Because I've thought about nothing else since you moved back."
"Exactly!" I cry, relieved he understands. And then my mind catches up to what he just said. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me."
"No, I'm pretty sure I didn't."
He reaches across the console, planting his hands around my waist. Before I can blink, he's hauling me onto his lap. The steering wheel is pressed against my back, trapping me in place. My heart beats like a freaking drum. But…I'm also not so sure I want to escape.
"You drive me fucking crazy," he growls. "You have for months."
"But…you don't even like me?"
"What gave you that idea?"
"You don't like anyone!"
"You're not just anyone."
"Did you have vodka tonight?" It's the only logical explanation for this conversation. Sidney Hawkes is not sitting here right now, telling me that he's wanted me for months. Not unless he's drunk.
"No. I had you coming all over my fingers." His lips drift down the side of my face, his breath hot and a little wild. "I want more of it, Hattie."
"Oh. Oh," I say, relieved. That's what this is. Sex. Yes, of course. "I never said we couldn't do that, Sidney. Just…no feelings."
"No feelings," he repeats.
"Exactly. That way, it doesn't get complicated or messy or—"
"Yeah, fuck that, butterfly," he growls, his hands locked around my waist. "I'm not interested in being your fuck boy or booty call or dick appointment or whatever the fuck it's called."
"Oh." I feel like we're having two entirely different conversations here, and I'm not sure what that means.
"I don't intend on being someone you're able to forget," he breathes against my skin. "By the time the wedding is over, you're going to be addicted to me."
"What?"
"I didn't stutter, baby." He nips my skin. "This isn't pretend. It isn't fake. You and I are happening, and it's not going to be temporary. It's not going to be whatever you spent half the night trying to convince yourself it would be, either."
"But…"
"No," he growls, sinking a hand into my hair to crane my head back. "This is happening, Hattie."
I clock the look in his eyes, and my heart stutters to a stop before racing away. He means it. He really means it.
"We don't fit," I whisper.
"Says who? Your mom? Random strangers?"
"For starters."
"Fuck all of them," he snarls, his eyes locked on mine.
"You think I live my life giving a shit what anyone thinks about me or my decisions?
Hell no. And I'm not going to let you do it, either.
I think you've already spent far too long living under the weight of everyone else's expectations. You're done with that."
"But—"
"No," he says again, like it's the simplest thing in the world.
"Thursday, you're coming to my game. On Friday, we're going on Tye and Vanessa's ski trip.
And then, next weekend, we're doing the rehearsal and the wedding.
And you aren't going to worry what your mother has to say about a damn thing you do.
You aren't going to stress about what the world has to say about us or if you're meeting some impossible expectation.
You're just going to be you and have fun. Nothing else matters."
He's wrong about that. Because this right now? Him fighting for me? That matters. It matters so damn much. I want what he's offering. I want it so badly I can taste it.
The only thing stopping me from reaching for it…is me. It's my own mind and the insecurities that have been drilled into me.
I'm tired of carrying them. I'm so damn tired.
On his lap, with his hand in my hair, his breath on my skin, and his impossible eyes locked on mine, I make a decision. I'm not doing it anymore.
Maybe it'll end in disaster, and I'll spend a lifetime nursing a broken heart, regretting my decision. But I think I'd rather know than spend a lifetime regretting that I didn't take a chance on this giant grump because I let fear win.
He wants me, despite what the world might have to say about it. I'm not going to make the choice for him or tell him that he shouldn't. I'm just going to hold on for as long as he'll let me. That's what I want. Not to fit or belong or be accepted. I just want to be his.
"I'd like to amend your plan slightly," I whisper, looping my arms around his shoulders.
"What do you want? Name it," he growls, as if he's willing to give me anything.
"I'm going to be me, have fun, and have lots of orgasms," I say.
"You doubted it?" he asks, one hand already crawling up my thigh. "Oh, butterfly. I have some things to teach you…"