everything up the moment I touched her. How could I be so stupid?
The evening sunlight filters through the
thick trees lining Scott Risk’s long driveway. I replay the words I’ll say when Scott answers his door. I don’t have much of an excuse to see Beth. The truth won’t help: Hi. I took your niece out last night, got drunk, made out with her until she bolted from the barn, and I’d appreciate the opportunity to apologize to her and convince her to give me a shot.
Yeah. I see that conversation going well.
Bent forward with her head in her hands,
Beth sits on the front porch stairs. My stomach drops to the floorboard of the Jeep. I did this to her. Beth peeks at me through her hair as I park in front of the garage. She straightens and wraps her arms around her stomach.
“Hey,” I say as I approach. “How do you
feel?”
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“Like shit.” She’s barefoot and wears a
deep purple cotton shirt that hugs her waist and a pair of overly ripped jeans. Her shirt slips off her shoulder, exposing her black bra strap. I force my eyes to glance away. I became way too familiar with that tantalizing bra last night.
I stop at the foot of the stairs and shove my hands into my pockets. Does she feel like shit because she’s also hungover, or because she regrets making out with me? “My head’s hammered all day.”
Beth slowly sucks in air and releases it, blowing a few strands of her hair from her face. “What do you want?”
“You left in a rush last night.” Images of our night together flash in my mind. Her hands tugging off my shirt, hot on my skin, messing through my hair. I remember my lips on her neck and the sweet taste of her skin. The curve of her body against my hands. Her fingernails teasing my back. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she says.
Beth retreats behind her brick wall. Closed off. Emotions cemented in. I stare at her. She stares at me. I have no idea what to say. Last HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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night, we weren’t really on a date. It was an agreement. She wasn’t my girlfriend who I slowly worked through the bases with. She wasn’t a girl I took to dinner a couple of times and kissed a little too much for too long. With Beth, I crossed lines a real man wouldn’t cross.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Her glare makes me feel like I’m standing in front of a firing squad, awaiting my sentence.
“For…” What am I sorry for? Taking off her shirt? Kissing her until I thought I was going to lose my mind? Touching her? Feeling her? Of all the things I may be sorry for in my life, I’m honestly not sorry for any of that. “For taking advantage of you.”
The right corner of her mouth struggles up, then down, then slowly back up. “We didn’t have sex last night.”
Heat runs up my neck and I focus on my
shoes. “I know.”
Part of me is thankful she left when she did.
The moment my lips found her body, we
quickly became an erupting volcano. Hot and fast. Very fast. Fast enough that I would have given her my virginity.
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“Then what are you apologizing for?”
I gather my courage and face her. “You left.
In a hurry. And what I did…we were drunk. I don’t get drunk and I don’t take advantage of girls. You left upset. I crossed lines, and the way you left…I’m sorry.”
Beth clears her throat. “Ryan.” She stretches out my name, as if giving herself time to think.
“I was the one who took advantage of you.”
I still. “No, you didn’t. Girls don’t take advantage of guys. Guys take advantage of girls.”
Her lips bunch and twist to the side as she shakes her head. “Nope. I distinctly remember telling you I didn’t want to be alone.”
“And that’s the moment I should have
walked away.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“But I should have. It’s what an honorable guy does. Especially for a girl he likes.”
Beth points a finger. “See, that’s where
you’re confused. You don’t like me.”
Why is she making this apology
complicated? Why does she make everything complicated? “Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. You’re telling yourself you HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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like me.”
She drives me insane by finding a way to
slink underneath my skin. “That makes no
sense.”
“You feel guilty for hooking up with me so you’re trying to make yourself feel better by convincing yourself that you like me, when you don’t.”
“Wha…” The more she talks, the more my
mind becomes a cluttered mess. “I like you. I.
Like. You. I’ll admit, you’re annoying.
Sometimes you agitate me to the brink of
insanity, but you can throw it back at me like no one else. When you laugh, I want to laugh.
When you smile, I want to smile. Hell, I want to be the one to make you smile. And you’re pretty. No, you’re sexy, and last night was…”