by Anna Katmore
“Of course I did,” I murmur, looking down at the red bandana. “Could hardly wrap Julie’s Girl Scout socks around it to stop the bleeding, could I?”
With daft fingers, he unties the bandana and puts it aside. The blood has dried, the wound no longer oozing, but it doesn’t look nice. If Brinna saw this, she’d talk the hind leg off a donkey to make me go to the hospital for stitches. But with Justin so eager to play doctor, I better not even think the word stitches too loudly.
Because the wheeled stool is slightly lower than the bed—and my leg is posed so blatantly right in front of his nose—he gets a perfect view of the wound as he starts to clean it with a cotton ball dipped in disinfectant.
At the first burning touch, a hiss escapes through my clenched teeth. I jerk my leg aside, but he slips his fingers under my knee and holds it firmly in place, rolling the cotton ball back and forth with great care. “Aw, does that hurt, soccer player?” he teases, ridiculing my claims of being tough.
It’s not as bad as it was at first, but it’s still pretty uncomfortable. My face scrunches from the pain. “Well… Yeah.”
Moments later, his taunting look softens and fills with sympathy instead. Perhaps because he just remembered whose fault it is that I’m in this situation anyway. He throws the cotton ball away then holds my thigh with both hands. His eyes becoming a deeper shade of toffee, he slowly leans forward, never breaking eye contact. What in the world— I swallow hard, my leg starting to shake just a little under his touch. Spellbound by his gaze, I sit frozen and watch as he gently blows on my cut. Shivers of all inappropriate kinds of pleasure unfurl from that spot and center in my gut, the pain totally forgotten.
“Is that better?” he whispers, his lips mere inches away from my skin.
My mouth is dry as the desert. I don’t think my numb tongue can even manage a single-syllable word like yes. So with my eyes narrowed to slits, I give him one slow nod.
Justin cracks a tiny smile. “Good.” He straightens and picks a big waterproof bandage from the items he got out, tearing off the foil and pressing it down on my cut. With both thumbs, he smoothes out the strip from the middle to the edges. His hands rest in places where they shouldn’t be. Not. At. All! But they feel so terribly right where they are.
Sitting rigid, my own palms braced behind me on the cot, I struggle to keep my breathing even. It’s gone erratic over the past half-minute.
“You good up there?” he asks softly. As if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to me. And why won’t he release my leg, for Chrissake? His thumbs keep brushing over the sensitive inside of my thigh. Only they aren’t smoothing the Band-Aid any longer but stroking my bare skin.
I clear my throat more aggressively than I intended and croak out a hoarse “Yeah.”
Justin licks a slow trail over his bottom lip, the spark in his eyes daring me to make him stop touching me in those intimate places. I can’t. My jaw is wired shut, my heart beating frantically. Probably playing for exactly that kind of reaction, one side of his mouth twitches into a smirk. The next instant, he lifts my foot off his thigh, claps a casual hand on my knee, and pushes up from the doc-mobile. “Okay then…”
Okay then…what? I feel like I’ve been tossed in cold water, the tingling shivers of two seconds ago radically wiped out. Open-mouthed and panting, I watch him put everything away and toss the bandana into the trash, not sparing me a single glance.
This was the second time today he played me. Screw his stupid little games. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose, to make me painfully aware of what we lost…that one summer.
Then again, it’s too damn easy to be smitten by his charms when he does things like this, tending to my injury. In over four years, he hasn’t become less of a temptation than he was the very first day we met.
Only, ignoring those feeling has become easier.
I thought I had it under control. And I sure as hell did in high school. Dammit, this can’t really be happening now. I’m not falling for Justin Andrews. Again.
Raking my hands through my hair, I slide off the cot and head outside, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves. He’s behind me moments later and locks the door, then places the key back on top of the doorframe.
“The bandage is good for forty-eight hours,” he tells me. “Let me know if you need help changing—” He breaks off, and we both turn toward a sound close by.
One of the girls has slipped out of her cabin and is sneaking down the path in the direction of the lake. Obviously, she didn’t notice us. Seems like there’s something else on her mind. I start forward and suck in a breath to shout after her—it looks like Pixie-cut—but Justin claps his hand over my mouth and swirls me aside at the same instant. With my back flush against a tree off the path, I gape into his intense eyes, only inches from mine.
“Shh,” he whispers. “Let her go.”
I reach up and angrily pull his hand off my mouth. “It’s after eleven. They’re supposed to stay in their cabins at night.”
“Relax. And grant them some fun, tiger.” His voice is low and persuasive. I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. Instead, his body presses a little harder against mine, his palm shaping against my cheek. “Don’t you remember what we did?” he whispers in my ear. “After dark…”
Oh, he had to mention that, didn’t he? Memories of a tender night down by the lake force a sigh out of me. Shivers trail from my neck down to my toes as he places his other hand on the bare strip of skin between my top and skirt. “That’s not the same thing,” I argue.
“No? Why is it different?” When he nuzzles the spot behind my ear, I can barely think of an answer.
“Because we were older,” I moan, all of a sudden sounding like someone has sandpapered my throat. “And because those are the rules.”
He hesitates a second, leaning mere inches back and staring into my eyes. “Some rules are meant to be broken.”
“Justin, what are we doing here?” I breathe. This isn’t about us. It’s about Pixie-cut sneaking off probably to meet a boy. Yet I’m all too aware that she’s long gone and that we’re the only ones back here in the asylum of the trees. And that I just can’t bring myself to walk away.
“I don’t know,” he answers quietly. “It’s just that every time I touched you today…” His voice trails off, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“You have to stop this. I don’t feel like rehashing the past.”
His hand slips down from my cheek to the crook of my neck, his thumb skimming over my collarbone. “Tell me you’ve not been thinking about it every single day this past week.”
My inhales are shallow, my voice flat. “I haven’t been thinking—”
“Really?” he cuts me short, eyes narrowed to slits, and presses his palm a little harder to my sternum. “Then why is your heart beating so fast, Chloe?”
If I could slow my heartbeat, I would. But the truth is, as long as he’s holding me so tenderly, there’s not a chance for me to calm down. And my thoughts of the past week? Well, they were probably hot enough to melt the polar ice caps.
Justin touches his brow to mine, and I can feel his breath on my face. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head just that tiny bit so my cheek caresses his. The strength drains from my push against his chest, and my fingers are now digging into the T-shirt under his hoodie. “You and I…is such a bad idea,” I groan.
“Right.” His lips brush against the corner of my mouth. My bottom lip gets caught between his as he drawls, “That’s why I’m not going to kiss you.” The tip of his tongue slides across my lip, slow and languorous, and I swallow hard. “Unless you beg me to.” With those last words, he straightens.
My eyes fly open, my breathing so quick that my chest heaves from it. I stare at his grim face. When he takes a step back and releases me from the prison he built over me, my hands drop from his chest.
Justin has barely given me a moment to grasp what had just happened when he says in the softest voice, “Sleep tight, tiger,” and
walks away.
Rooted to the spot, I reach behind me to find some hold on the tree and watch him go. My heart aches, just like it did four years ago in a very similar situation. Except, his words back then hadn’t been “sleep tight,” but instead, “I hope one day you get what you deserve for this.”
Maybe that day has finally come.
In the past twenty months, I’ve had to cope with so much shit, it’s hard to believe anything could top it. Yet, here I stand, unable to stop this lonely tear from trailing down my cheek.
I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve lost. And I know that I can never make it up to Justin. But tonight, for the first time in my life, I wonder if choosing Lesley Caruthers over him was a mistake.
Chapter 12
Justin
My mind careens completely out of control. What the hell have I done? Seducing Chloe Summers? Obviously, I forgot to take my smart pills today.
Rubbing my temples, I head down to the lake—just to get far, far away from the hellion with the angel face. Why is it that I can’t keep my testosterone in check whenever she’s within a two-foot radius?
Probably because she smells of summer nights and dewdrops in the morning. A combination that took my first time with a girl and made it linger in my thoughts. Even though I have every reason to regret it…I just can’t. Two short-term girlfriends and a handful of one-nighters later, and she’s still the one firmly entrenched in my mind.
It would take a surgical intervention to get her out of my head. If there was a chance to undergo that one, I damn well would. Because she’s not only a temptation, she’s pure torture. What she said earlier made perfect sense. Her and me, it’s such a bad, bad idea. We tried once. And we failed.
I was left heartbroken.
But not her.
Chloe happily moved on, without one glance back. I never questioned her clean cut. Not until this week, anyway. Three times. It was three fucking times that she let me touch and almost kiss her today, and she didn’t pull away. Her heart beat so fast beneath my palm five minutes ago, her breathing heated. The little shivers when I slid my hand behind her back— What was that all about? Evoked by mere memories? Or by what she wants now? The fire in her eyes said I am a possibility in her book.
But for how long? Tonight? Tomorrow? And then she’ll move on to the next guy who catches her fancy? If I learned one thing from my period of one-night stands, it’s that I really detest them. It’s always awkward when you meet those girls somewhere later and have to act as if you don’t know them in the most intimate way. At least it is for me. And seeing Chloe every day for the remaining four weeks, knowing that she just gave in to passion for one moment but it wasn’t with her heart, well, that would make my summer hell. It would make me feel exactly the kind of desperate and pathetic she tried to make me look those four years ago.
This mustn’t happen. Seriously, it can’t.
Low voices by the lake throw me from my train of thought and halt me in my tracks. Across the water, two kids are sitting side by side on the dock, their feet dangling off the end. They aren’t making out or anything, just talking. But remembering how this kind of adventure haunted me for years, I let the frustration of tonight take over and put two fingers in my mouth, whistling sharply. “Collin!”
The teens jerk apart, their heads snapping in my direction. “Uh, y-yeah?” Grey’s little brother croaks loud enough to carry over the lake.
“Walk your friend to her campsite and then move your butt to the Raccoon cabin. I’m checking on you in fifteen minutes. If I don’t find you snoring in your bed by then, you’ll be on kitchen duty for the rest of the summer.”
Their faces shadowed by the night, it’s impossible to make out their expressions. But from their unmoving forms, I believe I just shocked them speechless.
“Fourteen minutes and fifty seconds,” I bark.
In a hustle, both kids jump up and hurry off the dock. I don’t intend to watch them go, so I turn around and head back to the boys’ campsite myself.
Stones fly as I kick them out of my way. Anger rides me hard, yet I’m not exactly sure where it’s even coming from. I’m over her, dammit. It took a while after she sent me to hell, but I managed. Keeping out of her way and avoiding any chance for conversations helped with that. And after graduation, I really thought I’d never have to see her again. But now we’re stuck together at camp for five torturous weeks, 24/7.
I could have so easily resisted her—ignored her, even—if only I hadn’t started spying on her lessons. It’s certainly not the arrogant, cold side of her that draws me in. Not the snappy girl who can barely bring herself to greet somebody in the dining hall. It’s those moments when she’s completely absorbed in things that bring out all that she is. Acting, for instance. While the soccer field was her home in high school, the theater group was definitely her family. She’d already been a tremendous talent back then. Watching her teach the kids and get absorbed into the task rather than bitching around, I can’t help but notice bits of her loveable personality that I believed long lost breaking to the surface again.
And today…? Today was a damn throwback. It’s been four years since I last held this girl in my arms. But it felt every bit the same as that night so long ago. And she looked at me like she cared.
Blowing out a frustrated breath through my nostrils, I stomp up the stairs to our cabin, but instead of walking inside, I wait on the porch and watch the path leading to the lake. Collin is fast. Four minutes, and he’s rolling in like an express train. Arms folded as I stand by the banister, I growl, “Good night, little Monroe.”
Startled, he skitters to a halt on the gravel, swirling around to me. “I-I’m sorry, Justin.”
“Go to bed.”
“Yeah, of course.” He lowers his head. “Good night.”
After he disappears into the Raccoon cabin, I pivot and trudge inside, too. Grey lounges on his bed, shoving a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and scrutinizes me with curiosity. “Hey, man. Where’ve you been so long?”
“Helped Chloe get her cut fixed,” I grumble, slumping on my bed. “Then took a walk around the lake.” He doesn’t have to know about his brother sneaking away at night, so I leave that part out.
“You look miserable. What’s gnawing at you?”
Lips pressed into a tight line, I shift up, lean my shoulders against the wall, and start picking at my nails. Not bothering to take off my shoes, I place my feet on the mattress.
“Does it have to do with Chloe? Ever since dinner, you’ve been acting weird,” he digs deeper.
I tilt my head, sending him a scowl.
“Ooh, girl trouble…” He snickers. “Couldn’t heed your own warning, could you?”
Irritation making my face burn, I suck on my teeth behind closed lips, raise my eyebrows to a painful height, and blink a couple of times at him.
“Okay, I get it. No talking about the girls.” The amusement in his voice fuels my annoyance. He leans forward to fetch another pack of sweets from his nightstand drawer. Holding it out to me, he offers, “Candy cane?”
As if that’s the cure.
I roll my eyes but reach into the pack anyway and draw out one red and white striped stick that smells of cotton candy. As I bite off the tip of the cane, the crunch reverberates inside my skull. The small piece rolls along my teeth. And my anger starts decreasing. Maybe candy is the cure after all.
“Now spit it out, or it’ll give you one hell of a sleepless night,” Greyson prompts me, munching his own candy cane like his mouth’s a vegetable chopper.
His attempt at making me feel better is certainly well-intentioned—but little appreciated. I’d rather mull in the dark than play twenty questions with my roomie. Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, though. “What’s bothering you?” he insists.
Heck, do I even know the answer? A sigh escapes me before my next bite. “My lack of control,” I mumble eventually. I’m starting to believe that it’s not the situation I have a problem
with. It’s simply the fact that I can’t get my head and my heart to work together. The realization manifests itself like a cement ball in my gut. I know Chloe Summers is trouble. That she’s not what I should want in my life. But there’s this extremely frustrating part of me that constantly screams: To hell with it, she’s always been the one you want! And it’s my inability to ignore the screaming that is slowly driving me insane. “I really don’t want to fall for the wrong kind of girl again.”
“And Chloe is the wrong kind?”
“Mm-hm.” I keep my gaze fixed on the door, crunching more apple candy between my molars. “I wish I could just stay away from her. But today proved I can’t.”
Greyson is silent for a couple of minutes. Hopefully he’s given up on grilling me.
No such luck. “What is it about her that turns you on?” he demands as he rips open another pack of candy. This time, it’s Skittles. As he offers me some, I hold up my half-eaten candy cane to assure him I’m still set.
Lowering my gaze to my angled knee, I push out a breath with a small smile. “She’s got fire.”
“Oh yeah, I can see that.” He laughs with a Skittle-filled mouth. “Full of spirit, that girl. If she gets over herself and lets it show, anyway. Sometimes it seems like she just needs a soft push in the right direction.”
“Actually, there was a time when she didn’t need that push,” I confess, rolling my head to the side to throw him a meaningful glance. “The laughing fit at dinner today? And her enthusiasm about the acting lessons? She used to be like that all the time. When she giggled, she sounded like a kitten, and she giggled a lot.”
Greyson’s jaw drops, giving me an exclusive view of the Skittles mash, then he snaps his mouth shut and starts to smirk. “Shit! How long were you two together?”
Thrown for a curve by that question, I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“C’mon, man. You’re still into her, more so than you want to let on. You definitely weren’t just random classmates.”
