“How many times are we going to go through this?” I whisper. How many times am I going to let you break my heart?
“Just give me one date,” he says just as low, moving his face so that our noses brush.
“Just one date, and then what? You leave the next day?” I say, stepping away.
“Give me time to figure that part out,” he says, his eyes pleading with mine. I shake my head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because last time we did this, you left me!” I say a little louder than I intend. He flinches. “We had that night, and you freaking left me! I woke up the next day and you were gone. All of your shit was gone! You didn’t even leave a note, just a ‘Bean left to Berkeley today, he says he’ll catch you next time’ from Victor who thought we hadn’t even seen each other at the party. Do you know how bad that hurt?”
He looks away. “I thought we established that I’m fucked up.”
“Yeah, well, stop fucking us all up along with you!”
His eyes flash to mine. “You got engaged a year later!”
“Oh, was I supposed to wait for you? Did I miss the memo where you told me you would come back, and we could actually have a chance at something? I’m so sorry, King Oliver. I must have missed that one, along with the apology for leaving me and then making me miserable at my own—”
His lips smash into mine before I can finish the sentence, and I back him into the wall behind him. He moans when I press my body flush against his and dip my tongue into his mouth. My head clouds with his scent, his taste, and the hint of iron in our mouths that our nipping teeth have made. We kiss like we’re hungry . . . starving . . . for each other. Through the haze inside my head, I hear our names being called out, but I don’t process it until I hear the voice getting louder, closer, and our phones start to vibrate (his in his pocket, mine in the wristlet I have on).
“Elle?”
“Bean?”
Jenson’s voice cuts through us, and Oliver gasps against my mouth and pulls away, or pushes me away. It feels about the same. The vibrating of our phones grows frantic. I look down, taking it out, and see Vic’s name on the screen. My eyes flicker to Oliver, who says Jenson is calling him. We nod at each other and answer our phones at the same time.
“Yeah, she’s with me. We’re outside,” Oliver says into his phone.
“I’m outside,” I say to Vic.
“Oh. Is Jenson there with you? He went out for a smoke.”
“No. I haven’t seen him.”
“Are you coming back with us? I didn’t get to hang out with you inside.”
“You were a little occupied inside,” I say and open my mouth to agree, when he cuts me off.
“Okay, well we’ll see each other at home. Tell Bean the girls we were talking to are coming over,” Victor says, and my stomach turns.
“Sure. I’ll tell him,” I say, looking at Oliver, who’s watching me intently.
As soon as I hang up and put my phone back in my purse, Oliver reaches for me, but I put my hands up to stop him.
“Don’t bother. Victor says you have company tonight. He wants you to know the girls are coming over,” I say, sauntering out of the alley and to the front of club. I catch Jenson standing, gaping at us with his mouth hanging open and everything. I don’t even care that he saw us right now. Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll give it more thought, but right now, I feel like I need to get out of here.
“I’m taking a cab,” I say as I reach him and open the door to the first one I see. I glance over my shoulder and catch the torn look on Oliver’s face before I slide into the car and close the door—then I head to the only place I’ve been able to call home for the past two years. Thankfully, I still have a key.