by Lexi Ryan
Sebastian’s bed.
Oh hell, this is bad.
Swallowing hard, I scan the room and see the blankets on the couch, still rumpled. Of course he didn’t sleep with me. “Last night…” I begin. I’m so embarrassed that I’m not sure what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t…” My words are stolen from me by the memory of his hand in my hair and the way he slanted his mouth over mine, the way his hand gripped my hip. If it was a pity kiss, it certainly didn’t feel like one.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he says. He goes to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, then walks toward me. He’s all bare skin and tattoos, coming my way. He has a sexy morning voice that’s still laced with sleep and makes me imagine being tangled in his sheets, his thick arms holding me close as he whispers dirty words to wake me up.
He hands me the glass of water, and I take it, but dear God, I’m struggling to get my eyes off his body. It’s not that I haven’t seen his bare chest before, but somehow it feels more intimate this morning. The memory of his kiss swirls around my brain the way the scent of his cologne stays in the room after he leaves.
“You can’t do that,” he says.
“Sorry?” I lift my eyes to his. He grabs a shirt off the back of the couch and tugs it on over his head. It’s both a relief and a tragedy, to be honest. I mean, all that gorgeous muscle was making it pretty hard to focus on a conversation, so it’s best that he covered it up. On the other hand, how often do I get to be that close to him half naked? He kissed me last night. “Do what?”
“You can’t go to a party alone and drink like that. Christ, Alex, don’t you watch the news? Drunk girls get taken advantage of at parties. And worse.” He heads back to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee, and my head reels. He kissed me, but he wants to talk about how guys could have taken advantage of me? I comb through my mind, looking for the rest of last night—what happened after the kiss? How did we get back here? Did he say anything about the kiss? Was he taking advantage of a drunk girl?
“Thank God Chris texted me and told me where you were.” He shakes his head. “Jesus. You were literally dancing on the table when I got there.”
“You kissed me,” I blurt, and he freezes with his mug halfway to his lips.
He swallows hard and slowly sets it on the counter. “Yeah.”
I stare at him, waiting for more—an apology, an explanation, a heartbreaking chuckle, anything—but he just studies his coffee and avoids my eyes. I wish he’d look at me, because every second he doesn’t, I feel smaller and dumber. “Yeah? I was drunk, and you kissed me, and all you can say about it is yeah?”
Lifting his chin, he meets my eyes. His jaw is hard, as if he’s pissed that we’re having this conversation. “What do you want me to say, Alex?”
I gape at him. “Anything. I want you to say anything. But don’t just stand there and give me a lecture about the buddy system and pretend you didn’t stick your tongue down my throat.”
His nostrils flare and somehow his jaw goes harder. “Do you want me to explain that I’m no better than the rest of the assholes at that party? Or maybe I need to confess that I’m worse? Because, fuck, I thought you already knew that. Do you want me to apologize? I’m sorry. It was a shitty decision and shittier timing. Do you want me to tell you I won’t do it again? That I won’t touch you again? You have my word.”
It’s like he carved out my insides and now he’s staring at me, wondering why I’m not thanking him for freeing me of the burden of those pesky organs. “I have your word?”
“I like you. I… Fuck.” He turns away and drags a hand through his hair. He looks out the window over the kitchen sink as he speaks. “You work for my dad, and your brother is my friend, and I kissed you, but it was a mistake because I don’t want to screw up our friendship.” He turns around slowly and meets my eyes. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
I don’t want anything to do with that promise, but I’m not given a choice. “I’ll get out of here. Thanks for taking care of me last night.” I find my purse on the floor in his bedroom and sling it over my shoulder as I head out the door.
“Alex,” Sebastian calls after me. “Shit. Can we talk about this?”
“You said your piece.” I pull the door open. “And I don’t have anything to say.”
He swallows. “Let me drive you home?”
I pause and take a slow, deliberate breath. He couldn’t possibly know that his kiss was something I’ve dreamed about for five long years. He couldn’t know that his apology and his promise to never do it again are the last things I wanted to hear this morning. “I need the walk to clear my head, but thanks for the offer.”
I leave the apartment and close the door behind me. I don’t stop walking until I get back to Mr. Patterson’s house, where I sink onto the porch and fish Logan’s card from my purse. I stare at it. He’s so damn nice and good-looking. If Sebastian weren’t in the picture, I probably would have called Logan the day I met him at the shop.
Sebastian isn’t in the picture, idiot. He just made that painfully clear.
I take a deep breath and grab my phone from my purse. I decide against a call and go for a text message. I type, This is Alexandra DeLuca. It was good to see you at the game yesterday. Maybe we should go out for a drink sometime so we can really talk.
My thumb hovers over the “send” key as my mind plays Sebastian’s kiss on repeat in my head.
“Do you want me to tell you I won’t do it again? That I won’t touch you again? You have my word.”
I have to figure out a way to let go of Sebastian, no matter how hard it is.
* * *
Martina’s Journal
O.M.G. I am dying.
Crowe, the boy I partied with last weekend? He’s no college boy at all. In fact, he goes to my high school. And his first name isn’t Crowe, it’s Sebastian. He definitely looks older than he is, so I guess we have that in common, but here’s what’s hilarious: My twin sister has a crush on him.
This is one for the history books for sure. Alex and I have never liked the same guys, and she’s certainly never gone for the bad boys. Apparently, she has no clue who he really is. Sebastian sits next to Alex in English and is her fucking lab partner in chemistry. What are the chances? I wish he sat next to me in class. Those big tables in chemistry? He could totally slide his hand up my skirt, and no one would ever know. Unfortunately, Alex gets all the luck, which is sad in this case because she wouldn’t even appreciate the beauty of getting off in the middle of class.
Back to Alexandra’s crush. I don’t have the heart to tell her that he parties. She’d want to know how I know and has no tolerance for my recreational choices. If she knew just how much I indulge, she’d probably have Mom and Dad institutionalize me. So I didn’t tell her the truth about Sebastian. I didn’t even tell her that I know him. I let her go on a little about her new crush and his dreamy brown eyes and adorable grin. I’m not worried she’ll get anywhere with him. Alexandra is painfully shy. It’s like by the time God got done making me, there wasn’t room for any more outgoing in Mom’s womb.
After I learned about Alex’s little crush, I promptly tracked down “Sebastian” (way less of a badass name than Crowe, but whatever). I cornered him in the boys’ restroom after school and told him to stay away from her. You should have seen his face when I told him we were twins. Really, two girls couldn’t be any more different. We were born on the same day, and we have the same parents, but that’s where our similarities end. Alexandra’s so quiet, and I’m loud. She’s the good girl, the well-behaved one. And we don’t look anything alike, either. She has brown hair and blue eyes, and my hair is a lighter brown that I keep highlighted enough that I can almost pass for blond, and my eyes are as dark as her hair.
He likes her. I could tell by the look in his eyes. But I could also tell that he’s smart enough to know when he needs to stay away. Look how much convincing it took him to hang with me—and I’m not the inn
ocent my sister is. Yeah, under that bad-boy persona is a guy who wants to do the right thing. It’s kind of adorable, actually.
Then, after explaining that he needs to keep his distance from her, I unbuttoned his jeans, dropped to my knees, and went down on him. I know people think I’m a slut, but life’s too short to be bored, and there’s nothing boring about knowing that at any minute, someone might walk in and catch you.
After, I made him promise he wouldn’t tell my sister we were fucking.
“Why would I tell her that when we haven’t fucked?” he asked.
I laughed and pressed my index finger to his lips. “Yet.”
I think maybe he’s not sure what to make of me. He should join the club. He wouldn’t be alone.
Chapter Fifteen
Sebastian
My chest aches as I watch Alex walk away. I totally fucked this up. Last night. This morning. All of it.
Sometimes I like to torture myself by imagining what my life would be like if I’d met Alex before Martina. I imagine it would have gone something like this: I’d have walked into English class and sat next to the brunette with the sweet smile and blue eyes. When I felt that first tug toward her, that need to know more, maybe that was when I’d have cleaned up my life—turned it around for her.
I’d have told her that I was a screw-up and had done things I wasn’t proud of, but that I really fucking wanted to be with her. To be worthy of her. Maybe she’d have laughed in my face, but I like to imagine she’d have given me a chance.
Over time, she’d have helped me forgive myself for my mistakes, and we’d have done normal teenager things—gone to movies, made out in the back seat of my car, held hands while we walked through the county fair. I’d have bought her flowers. Maybe we’d have gone to prom together.
I wasn’t the type to go to prom, but when I’m feeling a little masochistic, I like to imagine Alex in a red dress—something modest, because that was who she was even before the fire. I’d have held her in my arms while the other kids from our high school surrounded us. I’d have taken her somewhere after, somewhere we could be alone so I could show her just how beautiful she is to me in the best way I know how.
We’d have both gone to BHU from the start to stay close to our families, and we’d become one of those obnoxious young couples who, at twenty-one, has already been together for five years and has their whole future planned.
Fuck, but I was drawn to Alex from that first day, to her sweet smile and her kindness, to her quirky sense of humor. I knew instinctively that I needed to keep my distance, but I didn’t want to. Because suddenly there was someone who interested me more than my next high, someone who gave me a bigger thrill, and she smelled like vanilla and sat next to me in English. She was my partner in chem lab.
Could it have changed everything? Alex made me want to be better, but by the time I met her I’d been partying with her twin, and Martina’s biggest worry was that I might tell Alex about our extracurricular activities.
“She’s innocent,” Martina said to me about her sister. “Like a legit sweet girl who wouldn’t understand that I’m just trying to let loose.”
I’ve never stopped regretting what I did with Martina, and if I could go back in time, I’d undo it. I’d ignore her bold advances and tell her to go home. Because the night I put that X on Martina’s tongue was the beginning of a domino effect I didn’t have the power to stop.
I go to my new bedroom and squat beside a box of books. I run my hands along the old textbooks and stop on the well-worn spine of the old journal. She left it at my house before she died, and when I texted her about it, she said she’d get it from me next week.
Next week never came—not for Martina. And I’ve spent four years holding on to a dead girl’s journal. Too afraid of my past to read what’s inside. Too protective of my future to give it back to her family. And yet last night, when I tucked Alex into bed beside the box with Martina’s journal, I imagined her waking up and finding it. I imagined with equal parts relief and terror what would happen if she knew I had the journal and then read it. Part of me wishes I could just tell her everything, but I would be breaking a promise to my father. Besides, a confession won’t change the past.
If I’d met Alex first, neither sister would have had to endure the horror of that fire. Alex wouldn’t have a third of her body covered in scars. And Martina would still be alive.
* * *
Alexandra
“Oh, I don’t know about this.” I stare into the giant mirror over Mr. Patterson’s bathroom vanity and frown at my reflection. I’m wearing Bailey’s little black dress, emphasis on little, and I’m getting ready to go meet Logan for dinner. It’s Friday, and it’s been almost a week since Sebastian kissed me. Six days, to be exact. Five days since he told me what a big mistake it was. So tonight I’m going out with Logan.
Bailey rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Why are you so nervous?”
I shrug. “I don’t really know him. He seems like a nice guy.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Have you never dated before?”
“I’ve been on a date!” Sort of. Kind of. I had a boyfriend my sophomore year of high school. We met through the academic honors society. He was sweet, and I really liked him—enough to stay with him for seven months and give him my virginity—but he never made my heart race or my stomach dance just because he walked in the room. By the end of the year, I decided I wanted more.
My senior year, I went to prom with a boy from my calculus class. His hands shook so hard that dancing with him was beyond awkward. I never figured out if he was nervous because he liked me or nervous because the girls mocked him for asking “Freddy Krueger.” We danced a couple of times at the beginning of prom, but then he ditched me and I spent the rest of the night wishing I hadn’t gone.
Then there was the date the summer before I left for Colorado. The guy took me to a frat party that was so wild and loud that I ended up leaving without him after half an hour.
“I don’t have much experience,” I tell Bailey. “I just don’t want to look like an idiot.”
She smirks and gives me a once-over. “All you have to do is show up. You’re gorgeous.”
I huff. “Yeah, right.”
She cocks a brow. “You think those old burns mean that boys don’t drool when you walk into the room?” She chuckles. “Oh, girl, you’re precious. Even Sebastian can’t keep his eyes off you, and you know his whole ‘sisters’ rule.”
“Sebastian?” I ask, and my voice pitches on his name, but I think Bailey misses it, luckily. “What’s Sebastian’s sisters rule?”
“A friend’s sister is off-limits as far as Sebastian’s concerned. I mean, he ranted about it like crazy when Olivia got pregnant.” Bailey takes a long lock of my hair and wraps it around her curling iron. “I can only assume that’s why he’s steering clear of you when he likes you so much.”
“He kissed me last weekend.”
She releases the curling iron, and my hair bounces into a ringlet. She sets the iron on the counter. “I’m sorry. Say that again?” She already knows that I got drunk at Trent’s after the game and that Sebastian brought me back to her place to sleep it off.
“Saturday night, Sebastian kissed me.”
“Was that before or after he tucked you into his bed?”
“Before, but then the next morning he told me it was a mistake and he wouldn’t do it again.”
She leans back on the counter and studies me. “And how are you feeling about all this?”
I bite my lip, probably messing up the pretty red lipstick Bailey convinced me to wear. “I don’t know how I feel. Kind of rejected, honestly.” I shake my head. “I just want to give Logan a chance and stop trying to figure out Sebastian.”
She takes a deep breath and picks up the curling iron. “Let’s do it, then.”
I watch her in the mirror as she curls the rest of my hair. “You’re really nice.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she s
ays. “You’ll ruin my street cred.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m heading into the Cavern to meet my date. On Bailey’s recommendation, I drive myself rather than letting him pick me up.
“I can vouch for Logan,” she said. “He’d get you home safely and all that, but driving yourself is a power move. You can leave any time you want.”
I spot Logan as soon as I walk in the door. He greets me with a wide grin and stands as I approach the booth. He’s wearing a black polo shirt and tailored dress pants, and looks absolutely delicious.
“You look amazing.” His gaze skims over the simple black dress I’m wearing. He gets bonus points for not lingering too long on my exposed collarbone. If I give this a chance, will I ever get the same thrill from his eyes on me as when Sebastian looks at me?
Stop thinking about Sebastian.
I take my seat. “Thank you. So do you.”
“I was really glad to get your text.” He props his forearms on the table and leans forward. “You made my day.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I say. “I might just be in this for the hot car.”
He laughs. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
When the waitress comes to our table, we order food and drinks—a pilsner for him and a glass of the house white wine for me—and while we wait for our meals, he tells me about getting ready for the grand opening of his new bar.
I manage to make it through dinner without spilling food on myself or saying something embarrassing. After the server clears our plates, I excuse myself to the restroom, where I hide in the stall and get my phone. There’s a text waiting from Bailey.
Bailey: So, how’s it going?
Me: Good. I don’t think I’ve made a fool of myself yet.
Her response comes immediately.
Bailey: What do you think of Logan?
Me: He’s sweet. I think I like him.
Bailey: Perfect. You can let him kiss you. On the lips if you want, but no tongue.
