by Leisa Rayven
“Well, that’s one theory.”
“What the other one?” he asks.
“That he wants to tear off your head, poke out your eyeballs, and use your skull as a bowling ball.”
“Oh, he bowls?” he deadpans.
“Occasionally. On disco night.”
He smiles—one of those beautiful, lights-up-his-whole-face smiles. When he notices me staring, his smile fades into a more wistful expression.
“Man, I’ve missed this. I never realized how much it hurt to not be with you until I saw you again, and the pain went away.”
My smile falters. The wine is making his tongue loose and his eyes intense, and I’m not drunk enough to hear him say stuff like that.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, almost whispering.
“Ethan …”
“Not the bastard me,” he says. “The me who was good to you. Made you laugh. Who … loved you.”
“Unfortunately, he was locked inside the bastard you,” I say, glancing up at him. “I could never have one without the other.”
“You can,” he says. “I promise, you can.”
“It’s going to take me a while to believe it.”
“I get that. I never thought making things right with you would be easy, but I know it will be worth it.”
“What if it’s not?” I say, unable to bear him thinking we’re just going to walk off into the sunset. “What if, after all of this time, you’re just fooling yourself into thinking we can rekindle something that’s been over for a long time?”
His eyes cloud over, and the familiar pull I feel for him thickens the air between us.
“Cassie,” he whispers as he leans forward, so close I can smell the sweet scent of wine on his breath. “We’ve never been over. You know it as well as I do. Even when I was halfway around the world and you hated my guts, we weren’t over. You can feel it between us now. And the closer we are, the stronger it gets. And that’s what scares you.”
He looks at my lips, and it takes every ounce of my dwindling self- preservation to turn away.
“If you can tell me you don’t feel it,” he says quietly, “then I’ll back off. But I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, can you?”
I only hesitate for a moment before saying, “I don’t feel it.” The line falls flat.
He touches my fingers, grazing warm fingertips over the back of my hand until he reaches my wrist. He wraps his hand around the thin bones and squeezes gently.
“You can say what you like, but your pulse doesn’t lie. It’s pounding. I’m doing that to you.”
“How do you know it’s attraction and not fear?”
“I’m certain it’s a bit of both. But the attraction is definitely there.”
I pull my hand away and drain the rest of my glass. I’ve drunk too much. So has he. Lack of inhibition isn’t going to help anything at this point.
I yawn, and stand. “Well, it’s getting late.”
He nods and smiles. He can read me like a book. “Yeah, I’d better get going.”
When we reach the door, he turns to me, one hand on the handle.
“Cassie,” he says hesitantly as he leans on the doorframe. “Before I go, I just need to know one thing.”
“What?”
He leans forward, his voice low. “You and Tristan weren’t exactly whispering in the kitchen. I heard him say you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I asked you to sleep with me. Is that true?”
I take in his tall frame filling my doorway, the long line of his throat leading up to his remarkable, emotional face. I remember how his body feels under my hands, the noises he makes when I touch him. The incredible look he got on his face every time his body was joined with mine.
“Ethan …”
“Wait,” he says and shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. Because if you told me that you wanted me … well …” He looks down at me, and I can tell how much he wants to touch me; how his fingers flex and clench at his sides, how his breathing gets a little rough. “There wouldn’t be enough self-restraint in the world.”
Thankfully, before either of us does anything stupid, he takes a step back. “Good night, Cassie. For both our sakes, shut the door. Now.”
I close the door in his face.
Even through the wood, I can hear his sigh of relief.
Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
Romeo and Juliet Opening Night Party
The music is too loud. It vibrates through my skull and makes my eyeballs hurt.
The living room is packed with people swaying and laughing. Some of them are actually attempting to talk to each other over the noise that’s trying to pass itself off as music.
On the couch next to me, Lucas is smoking a joint. He offers it to me, and when I refuse he passes it along to Jack, who’s so glassy-eyed he could be labeled Glassy McStaresalot in Madame Tussauds.
I’m a little freaked out that someone is smoking illicit drugs so close to me. I keep expecting my father to burst through the door and go ballistic, but of course, he’s on the other side of the country, and even with his finely tuned dad nose, he couldn’t smell it from over there.
I’m pretty sure he couldn’t, anyway.
“Cassie!”
I look over at Ruby, and she mimes the “drink up” gesture. I sigh and down the shot of tequila I’ve been holding. She jabs a wedge of lemon at me and gives me a thumbs-up. I shove the lemon in my mouth, and she smiles broadly.
After putting the lemon and shot glass on the coffee table, I slump back onto the couch and sigh. For the millionth time in the last two hours, I look around, hoping that Holt’s decided to make an appearance.
Of course, he hasn’t.
“I’m going to get some air,” I yell as I stand and move past Ruby. She nods and pours herself another shot.
When I reach the front of the house, Elissa is sitting on the stairs, sipping something from a large cup.
I flop down next to her. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Sure,” she says. “I love getting ruptured eardrums every time Jack has a party. Just because he’s half deaf, he’s determined to drag us all down with him. His neighbors must hate his guts.”
“His dad owns all of the neighboring houses. That’s the only reason he gets away with it.”
She offers me her drink as she gazes out into the street.
“Waiting for Ethan?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Think he’ll show?”
She shakes her head. “Every run-in with Dad turns Ethan into a ball of rage. I’ve tried to tell him to just let it go, but he won’t listen.”
“Has their relationship always been so … complicated?”
“Yes.” She laughs. “It’s like Dad just doesn’t know how to deal with him. He’s fine with me because I’m a girl, but with Ethan? I don’t think he knows how to communicate with him on an emotional level. My theory is it’s because our grandfather didn’t believe men should be openly affectionate with each other because it made them soft, or whatever. So now, whenever Ethan challenges Dad, they fight instead of talking things through.”
“That must be tough.”
“It is. And it got worse a few years ago. I blame Vanessa, the bitch- whore.”
My ears prick up. “Oh, so it wasn’t Olivia?”
“No,” she says, and sighs. “Vanessa was patient zero for all his issues. She’s the reason it went south with Olivia.”
“What happened between them? Ethan and Vanessa, I mean.”
She looks down and runs her finger around the edge of her cup. “You should talk to him about it.”
“Elissa, please. I’ve tried asking him, but he clams up.”
“Yeah, but he’d kill me for telling you.”
“I get that, but if it makes you feel any better, he read my diary, so he knows a whole stack of personal stuff about me I’d rather he didn’t.”
Her mouth drops open. “He read your diary?”
“Yeah. A few weeks ago. I might have written something about how much I wanted to touch his … uh … penis.”
“Oh my God.”
“And I kind of implied his dick could win awards.”
“Oh … whoa.”
“I know.”
“Plus … ew. That’s my brother.”
“I know. But in my defense, your brother’s extremely hot.”
She looks at me doubtfully. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Elissa sighs. “Well, as gross as it is to me, I’m kind of glad you feel that way, because you’re the only girl I could see him getting serious with since the whole thing with Vanessa played out. I can understand why he’s hesitant, but still …”
“Please tell me that statement is going to segue into the full story.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes.
She gives me an eye roll before saying, “Vanessa was Ethan’s high school sweetheart. They started dating in sophomore year.”
I nod and try to hide the vicious jealousy that flares inside me. It’s stupid to be jealous of a girl I’ve never met, right?
“At school, Ethan and Vanessa were like the golden couple. But behind the scenes, they argued a lot. Vanessa liked pushing his buttons. If she thought he wasn’t giving her enough attention, she’d flirt with other guys. She thrived on making him jealous. I totally think she was a sociopath. She even used to flirt with Ethan’s best friend from grade school, Matt. She used jealousy to keep Ethan in line.”
“Why didn’t he just dump her?”
“I don’t know. It was like she had him under her thumb. She could manipulate him into anything. Used his insecurities against him.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, one night during senior year, after Ethan had finally told Dad he wasn’t going to medical school and would be applying to The Grove instead, they had a really bad fight. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but the next thing I know, Mom’s crying and Dad’s yelling at Ethan to get out. After that, he went to Vanessa’s place, but she wasn’t there, so he headed over to Matt’s. When he got there, he walked in to find Matt and Vanessa. In bed.”
“Oh, God.”
“Ethan was devastated. I would have expected something like that from Vanessa, but not from Matt. He and Ethan were like brothers. The next day at school, Matt tried to smooth things over and apologize, but … Ethan was just so angry. He snapped and beat the hell out of Matt. Ended up breaking his nose and getting suspended for two weeks. Vanessa thought the two of them fighting over her was awesome. I’m sure she was playing them both for fools.”
“What a bitch,” I say, feeling violent hatred toward her. I expel a long breath. I can’t even wrap my head around how traumatic it must have been to be betrayed by your closest friends. No wonder Holt had intimacy issues.
“That’s when he really shut down,” Elissa says. “Getting rejected by The Grove didn’t help. He stopped communicating with me and Mom and became even more distanced from Dad. Threw himself into his theater work. Drank too much. Got into fights. Slept with every woman who came across his path, then never called them again. It was hideous to watch.”
My face must give away how much I hate thinking about him with other women, because she quickly adds, “There wasn’t ever anything serious.”
“Not even Olivia?” I ask.
Elissa scrunches up her face. “Yeah, they had a thing. But honestly, Ethan treated her so badly it was doomed from the start. And she was a nice girl, too. Nothing like Vanessa. I never thought my brother could be cruel, until I saw him with Olivia. She would have done anything for him, and he destroyed her. He hasn’t dated since.”
I think about all the cruel things he’s said or done since I’ve known him, and I feel sorry for his previous Juliet.
“So that’s the story,” Elissa says as she stands and pulls me to my feet. “Now, can we please stop talking about my deadbeat brother and start having a good time? I doubt he’ll show tonight. He’s probably in a bar somewhere, scowling at the wall and causing paint to blister.”
We head back inside, and half an hour and two tequila shots later, Elissa and Ruby have convinced me to dance. I twirl and sway with them, but I can’t help thinking about Holt and what he’s been through.
When I hear a huge round of applause at the front of the room, I turn around to see Holt there, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his outstretched arms as he yells, “Wassup, fellow thespians?! Romeo’s in da house! Let’s party!”
The whole room roars its approval, and beside me I hear Elissa say, “Oh, God. What the hell is he doing?”
I watch in disbelief as Holt hugs and high-fives everyone around him while making his way through the throng like a rock star with his fans.
When he reaches us he smiles sloppily and says, “Hello, ladies,” in a voice I’m guessing is supposed to be sexy.
“Ruby,” he says as he pulls her in for a hug. “You hate me, don’t you? A lot of people hate me. Even my own father. Don’t worry. I don’t hold it against you.”
Then he turns to his sister and wraps his arms around her. “Oh, Elissa. Sweet, ball-breaking Elissa. Why do you put up with me? I don’t understand. But I love you. I really, really do.”
“Uh … Ethan?” she says, wincing as he squeezes her. “Did you happen take a whole bunch of Ecstasy tonight?”
He kisses her cheek before turning to me. His smile immediately falters, but he takes another swig of liquor and then steps forward as he reaches out to cup my face.
“And Cassie. Beautiful, beautiful Cassie. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“I’m great! I don’t even care about what happened tonight with my father. And you wanna know why? Because I’ve decided not to care about anything. It’s such a simple concept, I don’t know why I didn’t come up with it years ago. Look at how happy I am!”
He throws his head back and laughs. It’s the saddest sight I’ve ever seen.
“Holt …” I begin, but he puts his fingers on my lips.
“No, don’t ‘Holt’ me.” He puts down his bottle. “It’s a party, and I want to dance. See ya.”
He pushes into the crowd, and they whoop around him as he starts to move, energetic and ungainly.
“Wow,” Elissa says. “I’ve never seen my brother dance before.
There’s … God … there’s too much wrong for me to comprehend.”
“He’s a truly terrible dancer,” Ruby says. “It looks like he’s having a vertical seizure.”
He’s the life of the party. He talks to everyone—is polite to everyone. Heck, he even laughs at Jack’s jokes and doesn’t sneer when Zoe flirts with him.
He probably feels like raging and punching people in the face, but instead he’s being the Holt he thinks everyone wants him to be.
I grind my teeth in frustration.
I know Holt can be an ass, because he’s been one to me on more than one occasion, but at least he was being real. This new Holt? He’s as fake as Zoe’s boobs.
Now I know how he felt watching me be a people pleaser. It’s aggravating as hell.
When I can’t take anymore, I push through the crowd to get to him. He’s talking to Zoe, smiling and laughing. She’s making sexy eyes at him, and I have an urge to smash her face into the bowl of Doritos on the table beside her.
Holt looks up as I approach, and once again his smile falters for a second before it slams firmly back into place.
“Taylor!” he says warmly. “What’s up? Zoe here was just telling me that if she’d been my Juliet instead of you, she wouldn’t have been faking the sex scene. Isn’t that hilarious?”
“Totally hilarious,” I say with zero enthusiasm. “Zoe?” I pick up the bowl of Doritos. “Want some chips?”
Pow. Right in the kisser.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right, Cassie. As if I’m going to eat carbs.”
I exhale and plaster a nonviolent expression on my face. “Holt, can I ta
lk to you for a second?”
“Actually,” Zoe says as she links her arm through his possessively, “he’s talking to me right now. Maybe you could come back later.”
Woman, you ‘d best get your hands off him before I give you a hydrolyzed- cheese-starch facial.
I slam the chip bowl down on the table and force myself to smile. “I won’t keep him long. I’m sure he’ll be back listening to your amusing pornographic hypotheticals before you know it.”
I grab Holt’s arm and tug, and thankfully, he follows me to the kitchen.
I spin around to face him. “What are you doing?”
He shrugs. “Having a good time?”
“Really? Is that what you call it? Talking to Slut Girl. Pretending you like her.”
“‘Slut Girl’ is a very unkind nickname,” he says, his words slurred. “And maybe I actually enjoy her company.”
“Oh, what a crock.”
“You jealous, Taylor?”
“Yes. Very. Now would you please drop this stupid act and kiss me?”
That stops him dead in his tracks. He blinks three times. I don’t even flinch. Guess I’m getting pretty good at saying what I really think.
Jack walks in and heads to the keg in the corner, ignoring the staring match going on as he fills several cups with beer. “Hey, Holt, buddy. You’re not slowing down, are you? Come on, have one of these.”
Holt turns around just as Jack holds out one of the cups, and the entire beer splashes down the front of Ethan’s shirt.
“Shit!” Jack gasps. “Sorry, man. Total accident.”
Jack grabs a dishtowel and tries to dry Holt’s shirt as he mumbles more apologies.
“It’s fine,” Holt says and forces a smile. “I really don’t care. Got a spare T-shirt I could borrow?”
Jack nods. “Yeah, upstairs in my closet. Wear anything you like.”
Holt slaps him on the shoulder a little too hard as he passes and mutters, “Thanks, buddy.”
He pushes through the crowd and strides up the stairs, and it’s all I can do not to follow him.
“You know,” Jack says. “I’ve never seen anyone be a happy-angry drunk before, but Holt somehow pulls it off.”
I nod. “It’s a rare and special gift.”
He picks a beer up off the counter and sips it thoughtfully. “I should jump online and see if there are any reviews of tonight’s performance out yet. I heard the reviewer from Online Stage Diary was there. I wonder if he had anything nice to say.”
