Bryony rolls her eyes. “That could take years.”
And then she’s gone.
Maybe I’m being immature, but I’m still livid about last night.
He had no right to kiss me.
No right.
The last couple of months, he’s become one of my closest friends and confidants and a permanent fixture around the Devereaux house. My parents love him to pieces. He’s like the son they never had, the brother I always wanted. He fits in around here with his stupid jokes and his constant insisting on helping Mom in the kitchen and Dad with the yardwork.
Bet they’d stop adoring him if they knew what he did last night.
I finish drying my hair and take my sweet time sweeping it into a messy bun before heading downstairs. The sound of Mom laughing coupled with the clinking of silverware tells me she’s already invited him to stay for breakfast.
“Yardley,” he says, expression fading when he sees me. Griff clears his throat and rises from the island bar stool he was occupying.
Crossing my arms and tilting my head, I keep my distance.
“Can we talk for a sec?” he asks.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I ask. His gaze flicks toward my mom, who’s mindlessly flipping pancakes over a hot griddle.
He strides across the kitchen, looping his hand in the bend of my elbow and leading me to my father’s study in the front of the house. He has a lot of audacity—too much really—and last night solidified that.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his eye contact unwavering.
“Good. You should be.” My arms tighten across my chest.
“I know you’re not supposed to give excuses when you apologize to someone, but I have to explain what I was thinking at the time. I figured I at least owe you that.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know how some people are allergic to cats or rag weed or pollen?” he asks in typical Griff fashion. “Well, I’m allergic to regrets.”
“Please. That’s not even an—”
His hand lifts. “Let me finish.”
“Fine.”
“Life is short,” he says. “And I don’t want to be that guy that never takes chances, the one that lets opportunities pass him by. I don’t want to be that guy that walked that pretty girl to her door and didn’t kiss her. I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t like it, but part of me thought that maybe … maybe you would? I’m sorry, Yardley, but I couldn’t spend the rest of my life not knowing.”
“But you didn’t just do it once. You did it twice,” I say, my tone halfway between a yell and a whisper. “The second time you tried to stick your tongue down my throat!”
“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Guess I wasn’t thinking. I just saw you and I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you and I went for it, knowing the odds weren’t in my favor. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel, Yardley. And for that, I’m truly sorry. It was a dick move. I take full responsibility.”
I swallow the knot in my throat and glance at the rug beneath my feet. I still haven’t told Nev, and I have no clue how he’s going to react. My only hope is that he doesn’t come back here and murder Griffin.
“Thanks for apologizing,” I say.
“Can you forgive me?” Griff places his hands on my arms. “I just want things to go back to how they were before I messed this up. I want to make fun of your lame comebacks and I want you to make fun of my extremely impressive and well curated Star Wars figurine collection.”
I bite the smirk off my lips.
It’s hard to stay mad at him.
“Promise me something,” I say.
“Anything.”
“Promise you’ll never try to kiss me again, so long as you live.” I lift my brows, waiting.
He hesitates. “I promise.”
Chapter Fourteen
And Now I Have To Kill Him
Nevada
I’m sprinting the track at the rec center, replaying the conversation I just had with Yardley for the millionth time in my mind.
He kissed her. That pencil-dicked ass wipe kissed her.
And now I have an overwhelming urge to murder the fucker, only I can’t because I’m on the other side of the goddamned country.
My skin is on fire and beads of sweat trickle down my brow, stinging my eyes, but I run. I run like hell because it’s all I can do from punching the next douchebag I see that reminds me of Griff. I’ve only seen him in photos Yardley has sent me, but his image is burned into my memory. Long face. Heavy brow. Average build if not a bit on the scrawny side. Permanent smirk on his mouth to match the permanent Sooner’s hat attached to his stupid head.
Slowing down after my eleventh lap, I trot to the nearest drinking fountain and stop to catch my breath for a minute.
Yardley knew I was pissed after she told me what happened. I tried to hide it, but I couldn’t. She heard it in my voice, my short responses. I know what happened isn’t her fault, but it doesn’t make me any less upset about it.
“Nev.” I glance up to find Grove State star forward, Evan Nielsen, standing to my left. “Thought that was you.”
“Hey, man.” I stand tall, chest heaving and hands on my hips.
“There’s a party tonight. My place. Most of the team is going to be there. The dancers too.” He winks. “Can you make it? Jamiel’s picking up the kegs right now. It’s gonna be hot.”
I bite my lip. If I go tonight and get hammered, it’s only going to intensify the way I’m feeling, and no good can come of that.
“It’s all right,” I say. “Thanks though. Maybe next time?”
Evan points at me. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve still got that little high school girlfriend back home. I heard all about that. Cute, man. Real cute.”
He laughs.
My jaw flexes. Most of these assholes could never understand what we have, what Yardley means to me.
“Lame.” Evan shakes his head. “You’re missing out on so much. You have no idea.”
Lucky for me, I couldn’t give two fucks what any of them think, and I couldn’t give two shits about the things I’m missing out on. Getting shitfaced every weekend means having to work that much harder at pre-season practice, and those are already kicking my ass.
Not to mention, the last thing I need are some drunk dancers showing me their tits and trying to drag me into someone’s bedroom.
“Fine,” Evan says. “You stay in your little dorm room playing video games tonight. I’m going to get my dick sucked.”
“Good for you, man.” I pat his back and walk off.
Chapter Fifteen
It’s Called Improvising
Yardley
Two Weeks Later
“What happened to the Willy Wonka costume?” I ask Griff as he stands at my front door dressed like a magician when he knew damn well I was going as a bunny.
“My dog ate my purple top hat,” he says. “Found this tux at a secondhand store, and I stole the wand from my little brother’s magic set.”
I sigh, taking in the insanity standing before me.
“What? It’s called improvising,” he says, smoothing his hands along his lapels as if he’s proud of this genius idea of his.
“If people were speculating about whether or not we’re together before, they’re definitely going to think we are now.” Showing up at Stacia Klingerman’s Halloween party together, dressed like a magician and his white rabbit, isn’t going to do anything to quell the rumors that we’re secretly together.
The whole school knows I’m still with Nev, but they see me with Griff day in and day out and people like to talk. Especially girls that used to have a thing for my boyfriend and hate me for being ‘the chosen one.’
“Life’s too short to give a rat’s ass about what other people think.” He adjusts his Sooners hat, and I bite my tongue to keep from telling him it looks ridiculous with his tuxedo and kind of ruins the whole costume. In the two months th
at I’ve known him, I’ve never once seen him without it. Anytime I ask him to take it off, he acts like I’m asking him to saw off his right hand or something. Honestly, I still don’t even know what color his hair is.
“Easy for you to say,” I tell him, scratching the cheap pink paint on my nose.
Griff steps toward me, placing his hands on my arms. “I know, I know. You don’t want your perfect little boyfriend to think you’ve found someone new. But I’m not going to stop being friends with you because you’re afraid of people talking. If you want, I’ll call him right now and let him know that our costumes are coordinated and it was entirely my idea and it means nothing.”
I shake my head. That’d be weird. And it would only make Nevada worry even more.
“I want you to meet him,” I say. I think if Nev could look past the whole kissing incident, they’d actually hit it off. They both like the same music, they both drive old trucks, and they both like Star Wars. It’s a start. “When he comes home for Christmas.”
“Why, so he can see that I’m not a threat?” Griff asks, a huff in his voice. “That he’s got nothing to worry about?”
“Stop.”
His expression fades. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”
My breath catches before I can respond.
Ever since the night he tried to shove his tongue down my throat, he’s been a little more brazen, dropping hints and clues here and there that he likes me. And I should’ve known. We have chemistry. We make each other laugh, we’re constantly hanging out, and we’re getting to know each other on a deeper level.
I tell him everything.
He’s not so candid with me … but that’s a guy for you.
At least he listens.
And that’s why he’s my best friend—and only my best friend.
“Maybe in another lifetime,” I say with a kind smile, hoping to let him down gently. “In this one, my heart belongs to Nevada.”
Griff releases a hard breath, resting his hands on his hips. “Fine. I’ll meet him. But only so I can shake his hand and tell him how lucky he is to have the second thing I want most in this world.”
“Stop being weird.” I roll my eyes, though curious. “And what’s the first?”
His smile fades. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Together Again
Yardley
Two Months Later
“You look different.” I brush a lock of dark hair out of his forehead. How someone can look so much older over the span of four months is beyond me, but here he is, in the flesh, looking like he’s all grown up. We’re only a year apart, but I feel that much younger now. He’s out there living in the real world and I’m still stuck under my parents’ roof never yet knowing what it’s like to pay a cell phone bill or car insurance premium.
For the tiniest second, it feels like there’s an ocean between us and the current is pulling us apart, but I force that sensation away the second he kisses me.
I swear my feet leave the ground for a moment, my body melting against his as I taste his cinnamon tongue and peppermint mouth and breathe in his familiar drugstore cologne.
“Promise you’ll spend every waking minute of every single day of Christmas break with me,” I say, lifting on my tiptoes and kissing him back. My arms hook around his neck. I love how tall he is. “And by Christmas break, I mean the five measly days they give you.”
Being on the basketball team, Nev doesn’t get the standard three or four weeks off between semesters. As soon as Christmas is over, he has to head back for practices and games and team meetings.
“Do you even have to ask me that?” He cocks a crooked smile, his hands resting on my hips. Just like the first time we met, he can’t stop staring. “I’ve missed you, Dove.”
I kiss him again, lips curling into a cheesy grin. “I can’t believe you’re here. Feels like a dream.”
Nevada runs his fingers through my hair. Everybody’s in the next room, but standing here in the foyer, it’s just the two of us.
“Mom’s making your favorite,” I say. “Pan seared steak with chimichurri sauce.”
“She didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But you’re kind of a big deal and it’s kind of a big deal that you’re home,” I say, speaking through the side of my mouth before nudging his chest.
An eruption of laughter echoes from the kitchen along with the sound of Griff’s voice. I wasn’t planning on having Griff over. He just showed up, as he often does, and before I could remind him that I was spending the evening with Nevada, my dad had already invited Griff to stay for dinner.
“Come say hi.” I study his eyes, the hint of a flex in his jaw, his tight shoulders, and then I slip my hand into his, pulling him into the next room.
His gaze immediately lands on the boy in the Sooners hat wearing the red buffalo check apron and standing next to my mother.
“Griff, this is Nevada,” I say.
Griff turns around, wiping his hands on a nearby dish towel, and then strides across our kitchen like he owns the place. Extending his hand, he says, “So you’re the famous Nevada she never shuts up about.”
Nev exhales and meets his handshake. I’m inclined to think he’s already made up his mind that he’s not going to like Griff, but I hope he’ll at least give him a chance. If they could find a little common ground and a little mutual respect, I think everyone would be that much happier.
“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.” My mother intervenes, slipping between the two of them and wrapping her arms around Nev’s taut and toned body. His arms seem bigger than I remember. His shoulders broader. My heartbeat intensifies for a moment when I think about getting him alone.
“Nev, glad you could make it.” My father rests his hands on his hips, standing on the other side of the island. He isn’t a hand-shaking or hugging kind of guy. He’s more of a shoulder squeeze and nod man. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” Nevada says.
“Why don’t you all have a seat in the dining room?” Mom asks. “Griff, would you mind helping me carry some of this in?”
“Not at all.” Griff turns away from us, slipping his hands into a couple of green oven mitts and grabbing a hot dish off a metal trivet.
Nevada’s sharp gaze lingers on him. I think he resents how well Griff fits into our family, like an honorary Devereaux. Granted, my family has always loved Nev, but it was different. He was a suitor under scrutiny. Griff just waltzed in here saying all the right things and doing all the right things and my parents lapped it up like kittens to milk.
“Nev,” I say, nudging him. But he’s staring at Griff.
Here I thought he’d be happy to see me, but it seems he can’t stop fixating on my best friend’s presence.
Leading him into the dining room, we take our favorite spots by the window and I slip my hand back into his beneath the tablecloth.
Glancing up at him, I smile. I’m just thrilled he’s finally here, beside me, where I can touch him and smell him and wrap myself in his arms again—the only place I truly belong.
We just have to get through dinner, then we can sneak off somewhere and be alone.
I’m dying to be alone with him.
Griff and Mom situate the food on the table, and Bryony emerges out of nowhere, grabbing her spot across from Dad.
“So, Nev,” Griff says, taking a seat and scooting in. “You play basketball for Grove State?”
“Uh, huh,” Nev says, jaw tight.
“What position?” Griff grabs a roll from a basket in the center of the table.
“Center.” Nev sits up straighter.
“Nice.” Griff nods.
It’s quiet, save for the clink of forks and knives against china and quiet whispers as we pass the food around.
“Think you’ll get much playtime this year?” Griff asks.
I almost choke on my steak.
“I mean, since you’re a freshman and all,”
Griffin winks at me. I know what he’s doing and he needs to stop.
“Nev is really good,” I answer for him. “He was a high school all-star. I’m sure they’ll play him quite a bit.”
Nevada doesn’t say anything, and I reach my hand under the table, squeezing his knee. I hate that he’s so tense, and this is so not like him, but a half hour from now we can bounce and he’ll have ample opportunity to … relax.
“Yardley and I were going to see that new Spiderman movie tomorrow if you want to join us,” Griff says, pointing his fork at Nevada, who turns toward me.
Shit.
I told Nev I’d see the movie with him … but I figured we could all see it together, which is why I also said yes to Griff.
Reaching for my ice water, I take a sip and cool my burning throat, though my face is on fire. It’s like I’m melting under a spotlight here, both of them staring at me while having their little pissing contest.
“We can all go together,” I say, forcing a smile. “It’ll be fun.”
Nev saws into his steak.
Dad tells us we’re supposed to get four inches of snow Sunday.
Mom reminds him to gas up the snow blower.
Bryony says she needs new winter boots. Uggs. Gray ones because everyone else has black or tan.
When dinner’s over, I tell everyone Nev and I are going to leave for a bit. Griff dabs his mouth with his napkin before standing and offering to help clean up.
“That won’t be necessary, sweetheart, but thank you,” Mom tells him.
Griffin stands there, gaze darting between the two of us, and it’s like he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight. I know he likes me, but he has to accept that I’m taken and that we’re only ever going to be friends.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell him.
His lips press together. He doesn’t look at me. I don’t know what he expected … if he just thought he could show up here tonight and we’d hang out, the three of us? He knew how much I’d been looking forward to seeing Nev. Hell, he made fun of the countdown I had going on my Lady Gaga calendar.
The Rebound Page 6
