by Lindsey Hart
“We have a deal then?”
Syd stared at his hand for a moment longer before she took a step forward, spat in her palm, and waited. God, it was so like the old days, the days of them being grubby kids that ran wild through town, made up games in the mud in her mom’s garden, played dangerous games on his trampoline, pranked their friends and his know it all older brother, kids who didn’t listen to a word that anyone told them, who set their own schedule, who built forts and played outside from dawn until dusk, who got eaten alive by bugs, who rode their bikes terrorizing the neighborhood with hockey cards and clothes pins in the spokes, that for a minute it winded him.
Forced the air right out of his lungs. She gutted him with that palm outstretched, spit glistening in the center.
He brought his hand to his mouth, spat on it, and slapped it to hers just like he’d done a million times before.
It didn’t matter that ten years had passed.
It felt like they were right back to being where they’d started. Or at least, in a spot where he had his confidant, his friend, his partner in crime, his buddy, his crush, his entire world back. Syd was just back and that was all that mattered.
This time, he was going to do everything in his power to stop her from leaving.
CHAPTER 10
Sydney
She couldn’t think straight hungover, tired, her brain aching along with the rest of her body. She felt grimy and sweaty from the long, impossibly crazy day, and worse, she’d just dug herself into an even deeper hole.
All she could think to do was ask for a shower.
Jesse granted it, and even promised her a fresh change of clothes after.
Sydney took her time in the shower. It was of course, ultra-luxurious, part of a huge bathroom that was bigger than her whole apartment. The entire thing was tiled from top to bottom with beige colored stone, but the shower had some kind of pebbly looking rock that while rough and natural looking, probably cost a fortune. The sinks were copper, all three of them, set into a vanity of amber hued granite that had streaks of white, brown, and gold cutting through it. Even the toilet looked fancy, some low riding, water saving device.
The shower was basically enclosed into two tiled columns, strangely open, but the floor swirled downwards in the middle, and she realized, when she cranked the spray on at one side, then the other, just because she’d never been in a shower with dual showerheads before, she realized that the spray never reached the outer edges of the shower, to wet the rest of the bathroom.
It was amazing what money could buy.
It was also amazing what it couldn’t. And what time couldn’t change.
No matter how hot she made the shower, she couldn’t burn out the images of that night. She’d tried. She’d tried for ten years, and still, they came back to her with surprising clarity. The sensations. The feelings.
Fuck.
She grabbed the bottle of shampoo that was in the shower and soaped up her hair so roughly that her scalp stung. She did it again, rougher yet, as though she could wash or beat the images out of her brain.
Too bad that all the sensation was encased in her heart.
She’d kept it a secret, locked in the darkest recesses of her soul. For as long as she could remember ever caring about boys, she’d noticed Jesse. Even when he was geeky and kind of nerdy and didn’t like sports. He had a tender soul. They’d once found a baby bird who’d fallen out of the nest. The poor, tiny little thing didn’t have any feathers. Its skin was a blue hue, the veins apparent. Jesse had picked it up, tears glistening in his eyes. They were thirteen, so too old to really cry about the cruelties of life, but it didn’t matter to him. That little bird who never had a chance- it mattered. He’d taken the bird, wrapped it up in a white washcloth, and buried it under the biggest tree in his back yard, all without saying a word. She’d watched him do it, stood there in silent support, amazed at his capacity to feel for the world around him when most people their age- any age- didn’t give a shit.
He was like that now. Cared about helping the world. Cared about making a difference.
Yeah. Seeing him again pretty much skewered her right in the same place it always had. Straight in her heart. Because since she was sixteen, she remembered the exact day it happened- on their joint sixteenth birthday party that Jesse’s mom planned for them- she’d known she was in love with her best friend.
Jesse hadn’t done anything different. It was her. She’d changed. She’d woken the hell up and realized that her best friend had sprouted broad shoulders and gotten tall, that his voice changed and that he was stronger than her, but that his heart would always be that tender, kind heart that was so rare in the world.
So yeah. That night, when they’d had too much to drink and honestly, when she’d given in to what she wanted but had always denied herself, because she’d rather break her own heart than lose Jesse, it scared the shit out of her.
She didn’t know what to do after. How to stick around and try and pick up the pieces of everything that shattered. Nothing was the same. Nothing could ever have been the same. Leaving seemed like the best option.
She thought Jesse would get on with his life. Find someone that could make him happy. Find a pretty woman who had a heart of light and hair the color of sunshine. She figured he’d have a family with her, forget all about his childhood best friend the same way she’d never forget a single detail of that night no matter how many times she tried to erase it from her mind.
He hadn’t.
He hadn’t moved on.
Neither had she.
And now she was there, trapped in his house with him for two more days just so she could go back to living a life that was ultimately empty. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t just admit to herself that she loved him? Admit it to him and go from there?
The old fear came back, nearly choking her as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. It had started to run down her face and was burning her eyes. Or maybe that was just the harsh prick of the tears gathering there, sliding down her face, the moisture indistinguishable from the shower’s spray.
She couldn’t stay. She’d have to be strong. Stay strong, like she’d always managed to do, minus that one terrible, horrible, blissful night that was going to haunt her forever. The truth was, she’d always known that Jesse deserved someone better. Somehow who saw the world the way he did. Someone who wanted to make a difference. She sat in an office every single day and answered phones. Scheduled board meetings and booked flights. She did absolutely nothing for the world. She had nothing to contribute. She’d always wondered, even when they were younger, why Jesse chose her as his best friend. Sure, he was nerdy, a little dorky, but his light and his energy were attractive enough that he made friends wherever he went. He never cared about that though. He’d stuck with her.
It didn’t make sense. Even when it was obvious that maybe he was into her, it still didn’t make sense. She always knew how the relationship would end up. Jesse would get older, find a million things that he was passionate about, and outgrow her. He’d leave her behind, break it to her gently, let her down as easy as he could. He’d tell her it was him, not her, but she’d always know the truth.
They were destined to fail because they were two different people. They made good friends. God, they even made good lovers, but that was a one night, too many drinks, lowered inhibitions kind of a deal. They would never make a good couple.
So yeah.
Sydney stepped out of the shower. She grabbed one of the huge, fluffy white towels off the rack and wrapped it around herself. She swiped at her eyes, angry and annoyed at herself for crying.
She padded, her wet hair dripping down the towel, her feet leaving little dark impressions on the tiled floor, over to the huge mirror that stood over the sink. There was a fan going overhead that had turned on the second she’d hit the shower’s spray- which was pretty dang impressive. It sucked the moisture out of the air, making sure that the mirror hadn’t fogged up at all.
<
br /> She studied herself there, the features that she knew so well. The wide, cerulean blue eyes. The honeyed, brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, a darker color when it was wet. Thick eyelashes, full lips, high cheekbones.
Her mom once told her, when she was fourteen, that she’d never make a good wife. That she was wild and flighty and couldn’t settle down into anything. That she was just like her.
She’d taken it to heart, even though it was said as a joke, a compliment even. Her mom wanted her to realize that being a strong, independent woman was okay. Fast forward nearly two decades and the joke wasn’t funny at all. She’d stayed at a job she hated for the past ten years, just to prove she could. She didn’t bother with advancing up the corporate ladder, because she didn’t really give a shit about it. And now her mom, her mom, was overjoyed at the prospect of her getting engaged and producing grandbabies, of being less independent.
Sydney gave her head a shake. “Not going to happen,” she muttered under her breath. “Stay strong, Syd. It’s only three days.”
Three days of hell.
Three more days to haunt her for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER 11
Jesse
“How was your shower?” he couldn’t resist asking, even though judging by Syd’s flushed cheeks and her sparkling eyes, she felt a lot better.
“Good.” She cocked a brow as she strode into the kitchen. “But then again, you should know. You probably have cameras set up in there, watching me like a perv.”
“Cameras?” He laughed. “No way. That’s a lot of trouble to go to when it’s not anything I haven’t seen before.”
He watched the burn creep up her neck and flood her cheeks with more than a little satisfaction. Two could play at being an asshole, that was for sure.
Never one to admit defeat, Sydney swallowed hard. “It was just a shower. Why so fancy? Who needs more than one showerhead? And three sinks. That’s just excessive.”
He shrugged, expecting her to find fault with as much as possible. “Maybe. My parents picked it out. I wanted to buy them a new house, now that I have the money to do it, but they flat out refused. They’re still living in the same house we grew up in. I made them a deal. Told them since they’re retired now, that they can live in their house until I’m done with this one and then they can have it. I plan to have it good and broke in by then so that they don’t feel bad about taking me up on my offer.”
Syd swallowed hard and glanced around the kitchen. “All of it’s a bit much for someone who wants to save the world. Why didn’t you just choose something normal and donate the rest of the money that you obviously spent on this place to charity, if you care so much.”
Jesse didn’t miss a beat. He went right on putting the finishing touches on their dinner, pretty much the only thing he could make- chicken alfredo with steamed green beans. His hands flew over the plates, sprinkling lemon pepper seasoning onto the beans and grating cheese onto the pasta.
He was well aware that Syd’s eyes were burning into him, watching every single movement. She wouldn’t be watching if she didn’t give a shit, he reasoned. That line creasing her brow and the slight pout at her lips wasn’t just because she said she didn’t want to be there. She cared. He knew she did. He just had to wear away at the walls she’d built up around herself, find a chink in her armor.
“I thought about it,” he confessed. “It was a good investment. I can make more money in equity than I could just by donating it straight off. I’m trying to make a difference in other ways. If my parents don’t want the house in a few years, I’ll sell it and donate the equity.”
“Jesus,” Syd grumbled as she pulled out a bar stool at the massive island. He’d set the table in the open dining area beside that, with massive windows overlooking a huge yard and a manmade lake beyond that, with place settings, but she pointedly ignored it. He’d even lit a candle. Yeah. Wishful thinking. “Is there a single part of you that isn’t ridiculously good?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He tried very hard not to look at her wearing his t-shirt and sweats, or how they were way too big on her. How the shirt sucked in when she sat down, tugged tight across her beautiful, perky breasts. He concentrated instead, on how her hair was frizzy at the top, but even that was cute.
Damn it! A grown man thinking frizz is cute? Get a grip here.
He had it bad and he knew it. Unlike her, he wasn’t above admitting it.
When he set her plate in front of her, she started at the food like there was a good chance he’d poisoned it. Her stomach growled, loudly, betraying her. She picked up the fork he set in front of her and toyed with it as he took a seat a few feet away from her, far enough to give her space, but not quite far enough that she was comfortable with it.
“You probably had this delivered. It looks too good to be anything you made. You were always a terrible cook. You just about burned your parent’s house down twice making macaroni. The second time it was eggs. Easy things that no one should ever, ever, light on fire.”
“I might not have cameras in the bathrooms, but I do have security footage outside. I swear, I made it. You can review the tapes if you like.”
Sydney’s nose wrinkled adorably when she frowned. It was so like the old Syd, to literally turn her nose up at him, that he nearly laughed. Instead, he picked up his fork and dug into his food.
“You probably had your Jeeves butler dude fly it in on your private jet, land on the roof, and lower it down on ropes into the kitchen, spy style, just to evade any and all cameras you might have at ground level.”
He couldn’t hold back his laugh. “That’s a lot of work to go to. And I don’t have a landing pad. Not one you could put a jet on. Not even a helicopter.”
“How disappointing. You should have got it included with the house.”
“I don’t know how nice you think this is, but I can promise you, this isn’t the neighborhood where people are in the market for that kind of luxury.”
“Still. Should have got it thrown in. Or built it. The house looks brand new.”
“Someone built it and decided to sell. My parents picked it, like I said. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Eat your food. I can tell you’re starving, now that the shower washed away your hangover and the last of your bad intentions.”
“B-bad intentions?” she spluttered.
“Yeah. You obviously didn’t have good intentions in mind, drunk or not, when you put that message out there. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Just eat before all my effort to impress you goes to waste.”
“Impress me?”
“Of course. I’m going to pull out all the stops over the next couple of days.”
“I said we couldn’t go out. Maybe I should have said you couldn’t have anything snuck in either.”
“I don’t need anything snuck in. I have all the skills I need right here.” He waved his hands in the air and grinned.
Syd took that how she took it and ducked her head quickly, her cheeks painted scarlet. She began to literally shovel food into her mouth, like if she ate everything in two and a half seconds flat, it would somehow miraculously save her from his obvious nefarious intentions.
“Did you think about me when you were showering?”
Sydney’s fork clattered to her plate. She turned to him, wide eyed, horrified. “What?” she gasped. “Did I- think of you? In what way?”
“No way in particular. Just that I thought you might have done some thinking about what we’re going to do trapped in here for the next few days. How it could be… fun.”
“No. No, it’s not going to be fun.” She shook her head madly, but he didn’t miss the way her eyes shadowed, and her eyelids dipped just a little. Or the way she bit down on her bottom lip and her breathing changed cadence, coming harder, faster.
He was right. A thrill of triumphant elation shot through him. She was definitely into it. Some part of her remembered that night. Some part of her ran because she was scared that she’d enjoyed it, and so
me part of her meant it when she’d put that message out there for him. Just how much of her wanted it, wanted him, he wasn’t sure.
He finally shut his mouth and Sydney devoured her food. Judging by the look of elation on her face, he hadn’t messed up, even with the sauce. He thought that he might have added a little too much butter, maybe too much cream, that it was too rich, so he’d tried to balance it out with pepper and then he was worried that it would be too spicy, but Sydney seemed to think it was just right. Or maybe she was just starved. Period.
Either way, she sat back with a sigh when she was finished. He’d beat her in the eating race, so he cleared away their dishes, placing them in the sink.
“Do you still like your pie with whipped cream?”
Syd’s eyes went wide. Her top teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip and he could tell she was debating about whether she wanted to answer him or not, like it was some kind of trick question.
“Y-you made pie too?” she stammered, disbelief edging her tone. “Seriously. You? The guy who burns macaroni so badly that it catches on fire?”
“First of all, to be completely fair here, you were distracting me. We were playing poker, if I remember correctly, or at least you thought you knew how and you were trying to teach me. I was trying really hard to figure out what in the actual hell you were talking about, because I was pretty sure poker wasn’t supposed to be played that way and then, we started smelling this smell. I didn’t realize that the macaroni had boiled dry and I just thought that maybe some water splashed out on the burner, and it was like two point five seconds after that when you got up and ran into the kitchen and said the pot was on fire.”
“Good thing one of us had a brain.”
