“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “I got it.”
She sighs and leans against the doorframe while I grab it and swipe us in.
“You can come up, but just to the door. No assholes allowed inside,” she says over her shoulder as we walk back to the elevators.
Ignoring the insult, I follow her in and punch six for her floor. She slouches against the far wall of the elevator and watches me warily. Her eye makeup is a little smudged, but it makes her look kind of sultry. I shift uncomfortably. Every time I look at her, I find something else I can’t stop staring at.
“Do you have aspirin?” I ask.
“What?”
“Aspirin. You should take some and drink all the water you can manage.”
The elevator doors ding open, and she forges ahead into the hallway. “Why?”
“It’ll help with your hangover tomorrow.”
She snorts and punches in the code to unlock the door to her room. “I won’t be hungover.”
“That stuff was mostly vodka. You’ll be hungover.”
“Fine.” She pushes the door open and walks into her dark room. The overhead lights are off, but the twinkle lights strung up over her bed are on. “I’ll take my aspirin and drink my water.” Not two steps in, the semi-darkness swallows her, and she trips over something.
“Hannah—” I’m inside before I know it and, somehow, manage to catch her before she hits the ground.
As soon as she’s back on her feet, she swats my hands away. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She spins around and pokes me in the chest. “So the babysitting is done now.” I can barely make out her features in the low light, but her choked voice is impossible to miss. She sniffles, and my stomach sinks— Is she crying?
I gently hold her upper arms. “Hannah…”
“No!” This time there’s no mistaking the way her voice cracks. “Why are you even here? You’re not interested in me, remember? You want Alex. Quit fussing over me like you’re my big brother.”
I wince. “I’m not your brother.” She scoffs and starts to step back, but I pull her closer.
“No, you’re not,” she whispers. She’s so close.
“Hannah—”
She leans in, and her warm breath on my neck sends a chill racing up my spine, across my scalp. “And I’m not a little girl.”
“I know you’re not.” Jesus, do I know it.
What the fuck am I doing? What are we doing? It’s dark, I’m holding on to her, and she’s leaning into me. Our hot, whispered words fall into this tiny, electrified space between us. She looks up at me, and my gaze catches on her mouth. Her full upper lip is like sin. I’ve been trying so hard to be polite, to be a gentleman, but God, I want to know how her mouth feels and how she’d look if I pulled that tight shirt off her. I want to touch her smooth skin and wrap her silky hair around my fingers.
But I can’t. She’s drunk and pissed, and this is such a bad idea. I should go before I do something stupid. I shouldn’t be—
And then her mouth is on mine, and she is kissing me, and all thinking stops, like a bomb just went off in my brain. My mouth moves over hers. Her lips part and her tongue brushes my bottom lip, urging me to meet her halfway. I can’t help it. I touch her tongue with mine, shuddering when she gasps into my mouth. Her hands fist into my shirt, then slide up, her nails scraping my neck. Her fingers slide into my hair, and I moan— It feels so good.
I move one hand up to her neck, and her long, glossy hair falls over my fingers. I grip the back of her neck as we kiss—deeper, harder, more. My other hand slips down to her ass and grips her tightly. Her hips press into me— Jesus, I’m so hard.
She stumbles backward, pulling me with her. It isn’t far; just a few steps and her legs hit the edge of her bed. We tumble down until she’s on her back, and I’m lying over her.
In the dreamlike near-dark, I get lost in her mouth, the feel of her lips and tongue, the scrape of her teeth on my lip. God, she feels incredible under me. My head spins as I find her breast. It fills my palm perfectly. I stroke my thumb across her nipple, and her back arches up off the bed, pressing into me, so I do it again. I slide my hand up under her shirt, touching her smooth, warm skin, cupping her again with just the lace of her bra between us.
She grinds against me, and my dick presses between her legs. She wraps her legs around my hips— Her calves hook on to my thighs as we press against each other.
“Ben,” she whispers, fisting her hands into my hair.
My hips flex in response and I groan. My fingers find the button of her jeans, fumbling between our bodies. I don’t want clothes. I don’t want anything between us. My heart races, and her skin under my fingers is so hot. I pull down the zipper on her jeans and—
Crap.
I yanked her out of that party to get her away from the creepy date-rape dude, and here I am about to cross a serious line with Hannah. Hell, we’ve already crossed a line. Four or five of them. They’re about a mile back, scorched and smoking. It’d be so easy to take this the whole way.
Being with her feels so wonderful, so right, but I don’t want it to happen like this, both of us drunk, Hannah still angry.
Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I pull back. When I stand up, I stagger— Right, I’m a little drunk, and Hannah is a lot drunk. This is wrong on so many levels.
“Ben, what—”
“Sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m really sorry. That was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She sits up. In the dim light, I can just make out her hair, a tangled mess from my hands, and her shirt, pushed up and askew. “It’s okay. I wanted you to.”
“And I want to. But not like this.”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course not. God forbid you do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Of course she’s misinterpreting me. Why shouldn’t she? I’ve got some serious making up to do. I sit next to her and cup her cheek with my palm, then turn her face to mine. Her eyes can barely focus— Sleeping together tonight would’ve been a seriously bad decision.
“No, I don’t want it to be something you regret. I’d like you to remember it, and right now, I’m pretty sure you won’t. Maybe we’d better try this again when we’re both sober.”
She scowls adorably. “You mean you’re not sorry?”
I chuckle and run my thumb over her cheekbone. “No, I’m not sorry.”
“Wow,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Jasmine was right.”
“Jasmine?”
“She said I should make the first move because you never would.”
“Yeah, I definitely needed a kick upside the head about this.” I brush some hair off her face and hook it behind her ear. “Look, sleep it off tonight, and we’ll talk tomorrow before we leave for the weekend, okay? I’m going to get you some water.” I press a kiss to her forehead, and she nods wearily.
I get up, find their mini dorm fridge in the dark, and grab a bottle of water, but when I turn back to the bed, Hannah’s toppled to her side and she’s sound asleep.
With a sigh, I set the water on the nightstand where she can find it later, take off her shoes, and pull the quilt over her. She’ll be in a world of hurt tomorrow, but hopefully after that, we can make everything better.
Just as I leave her dorm and close the door, my cell buzzes in my pocket. Who would message me this late at night?
Dad. Of course. Not who I want to talk to. But even he can’t tarnish how wonderful tonight was. I swipe my finger across the phone and open his text.
Chapter Thirteen
Hannah
The sunlight pouring through the windows is absolutely blinding when Jasmine shuts the door behind her, waking me up. I groan and close my eyes, smothering my face with the pillow. My mouth feels full of cotton.
Jasmine drops her bag onto her bed. “What happened to you last night?”
“I texted you about going home.”
“Yeah, but why? When I went to
get a drink, you were dancing in the living room with Mr. Alpha Sigma Frat Boy. You looked like you were having fun. Or relaxing, at least.”
“He was kind of gross,” I mutter. The preppy boy with those stupid plaid shorts and the drunken leer swims through my foggy mind. I think he kissed me. I’m pretty sure it was wet and unpleasant.
“So you ran out of there?”
“No, I ran into Ben.” And just like that, the rest of the night floods back in. Arguing with Ben at the party, arguing with Ben as he marched me home, arguing with Ben as he insisted on taking me straight to the door. Then a dark room, and his hands, and kissing, and the bed, and Ben on top of me in the dark—
“Oh, God.” I slap my hands over my face.
“Uh-oh.” Jasmine crosses to my bed and perches on the edge. “What happened?”
“He walked me home.”
“And?”
“And… I’m not sure what happened. Jesus, I was so drunk.” Ugh, Ben was right— I was way too drunk to make any decisions last night. Thank God he got me away from that creepy guy, too.
“So…” Jasmine prompts. “You were drunk. And something happened.”
“We kissed.”
Her eyes go wide. “Ohhh-kay. You weren’t kidding. How did that happen? Who kissed who? Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?”
“I’m not sure. One minute we weren’t and the next minute we were.” My face flames— Did I initiate it? Did I just throw myself at him? Oh, God. “I was so mad at him, and he was being so bossy, still treating me like his kid sister. And then…”
“You don’t kiss your kid sister.”
“You don’t do the other stuff, either.”
Jasmine gasps. “Hannah. Did you…?”
“No. Not that. But we did more than kiss.” Ben’s hands on my body, under my shirt, unzipping my jeans—
My face burns, and I groan into my hands. I can’t believe I did that.
“Shit,” she says.
“Yeah, shit. Especially since I’m pretty sure I passed out in the middle of it. God, I practically mauled him.”
“Oh, no! Hannah…” Jasmine reaches for me, but I wave her hands away, too humiliated for consolation just yet. I just want to melt into the blankets, never to be heard of again. Hannah Gregory? Yeah, she used to go here until she literally died of embarrassment.
I bury my face in my pillow. “I should move somewhere,” I say. “An island. Far away. Where no one can find me.”
Jasmine laughs, which gets me giggling a little, too.
“What happened?” she says.
I start to respond, but then my phone rings. Jasmine grabs it off my nightstand, and when she looks at the face, her eyes light up.
“It’s him.”
“Oh, God, no.”
As if I wasn’t humiliated enough. The only thing worse than what I did last night is having to talk about it the next day.
“Do you want me to answer?” Jasmine asks, finger poised over the screen. “I’m really good at ripping guys a new one. I’ll do it for you if you want.”
She actually looks like she’s relishing the possibility, but that wouldn’t be right. I got myself into this mess; I have to dig myself out.
“No, I’ll talk to him.”
Reluctantly, she turns over the phone. “I’ll go get us some coffee. I’m guessing you could really use it.”
“Thanks.”
As the door shuts behind her, I swipe my finger across the screen to answer Ben’s call. “Hey.”
But instead of Ben’s voice, there’s a loud crackle of what sounds like wind.
“Ben? Are you there?”
The wind gets fainter, then cuts off. “Sorry, had the window down.”
“The window? Are you driving?”
He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry. My dad sent me a text last night and said I have to come home a day early for Thanksgiving. Apparently, he has great news that can’t wait.”
I sit onto my bed. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”
“Oh, I’m excited. Super. Excited.” He laughs at his humorless joke, and I laugh with him. We’ve got the ability to joke about our misery, at least. “Seriously, though, my dad has a terrible idea of what constitutes good news. Nothing good will come of this weekend.”
“You’ll be okay,” I say.
“Yeah. But listen. That’s not why I called. I needed you to know…”
I lean back onto the bed, and a flash of last night pops into my mind. His hands on me, under my shirt, going higher— I groan. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Let me down easy or whatever. It’s really fine. I’m fine.” My face is on fire. If I have to sit here and listen to him explain that he likes me as a friend but he just doesn’t see me that way, I swear I won’t survive it.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Because you were right. I was really drunk and had no idea what I was doing, so we can just move on and forget it ever happened—”
“I don’t want to forget it. Not what happened at the café. And definitely not what happened last night.”
My heart leaps. “You don’t?”
“I told you so last night, but apparently you lost that one to the vodka.”
I can barely breathe. I thought Ben was calling to brush me off politely and awkwardly, but that’s not what he’s saying. I swallow thickly, scrambling for something to say, but it’s like he opened a dam, and the words keep spilling out of him.
“Last night I’d already had this…epiphany, I guess, and then you were there, and everything went crazy, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“What about Alex?”
“That was the epiphany. She’s not the one I want.”
Everything in me goes still, except for my heart, which is trying to pound its way right out of my chest. “And… I am?”
“Yeah—” He says something else, but his voice cuts in and out.
“Ben? Can you still hear me?”
His voice comes back into focus. “…don’t want to forget last night. How do you feel about that?”
“Umm…”
I’m dying here. Why did his dad have to tell him to come home a day early? Why did Ben have to go? If we were standing in front of each other, this would be so much easier. No stupid broken phone signal to cut off half of what he’s saying, and no distance between us to keep me from shutting him up and kissing him again.
“Is that a good ‘umm’ or a bad ‘umm’?” he asks.
“It’s good.” My face warms. “It’s really good.”
“I think it’s good, too.” God, we sound like a couple of idiots, speaking in sounds and sighs and dopey half-sentences. But I don’t care. Ben and I might be on the way to something, and I can’t wait to see him again and find out what it is.
Jasmine knocks on the door and pokes her head in. She sees me on the phone and mouths, “Oops.”
I shake my head and gesture for her to come back inside.
“I should let you go,” I say.
“Yeah, I should get off the phone and focus on the road. But I had to call you.”
There’s a long pause, and I frown— Did the phone call cut off completely? But then he speaks again.
“Hannah, listen. I know things are weird between us right now. Just… Don’t disappear on me. I want to see you after break and figure this out.”
My heart melts. There’s a lot left for us to figure out. I don’t know exactly where we stand or where we’re going, but at least we’re going to try.
“I’d like that.” It’s a stupendous understatement. I’m so giddy right now, I feel like I could fly straight through the roof.
We say good-bye and hang up. Jasmine stares at me, clutching two coffee cups so hard she’s about to crush them. She sets them carefully onto the nightstand and plants her hands onto her hips.
“That didn’t sound like a brush off,” she says.
“It wasn
’t.” I can’t keep the ridiculous grin off my face. “Not at all.”
She claps her hands together. “Oh, I’m going to need all the details about that conversation. Pull yourself together, Vodka Girl. We’re going to have full-on boy crazy girl talk right now over breakfast.”
“No, please.”
“Are you hungover?”
“Horribly.” Damn it, Ben was right about that, too. This would be so much easier if I could lord just one thing over him.
“So we’re going to get you loaded up on caffeine and greasy food. You’ll feel much better. Trust me.”
“I’m not sure I want to feel better,” I moan pathetically. Isn’t that terrible? But it’s true. Last night was wonderful. Yeah, my head hurts like hell, but the pain is a kind of reminder of last night. It was real. It happened, and now every little twitch makes me think of Ben and his lips and his hands and his—
“Girl, you have got it bad.” Jasmine grabs my hands and hauls me upright. “Come on. Your dad is getting here tonight, so you have to shake off this hangover.” Her gaze rakes over me. “And frankly, you look pretty rough.”
I take a deep breath, stand, and brace myself as the room tilts slightly. “Okay,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Breakfast. Let’s do it.”
“That’s my girl. Let’s go show the world that they haven’t seen the best of Hannah Gregory yet.”
My head is spinning as I pull myself together, and not just from the hangover. So much is happening. I’m facing a long holiday weekend with my dad when I’m keeping so many things from him. Ben’s also facing a long weekend that’ll be difficult for him in a totally different way. And then there’s “us,” or what might become “us,” once we see each other again. The rest is unpleasant, but that? I can hardly wait.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben
I’ve been home for one day, and I’m already ready to kill someone, starting with my dad and followed shortly thereafter by my brother. I should be with Hannah, trying to figure out what’s going on between us. Instead, I’m spending the stupid holiday at my family’s place so Dad can share his “great news.” Somehow, I get the feeling he’s the only one who will have something to be thrilled about.
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