“But I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s worth it. Because I like you, Jazmine, and I want to get to know you better.”
His words surprise me and at the same time I don’t know how to respond. I mean, Devon is good looking, funny and seems like an all-around decent guy. But do I like him? Do I want to get to know him better? I have no clue. My stomach doesn’t flutter when he’s around, my heart doesn’t pound like crazy. But he also doesn’t irritate the hell out of me or make me feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall to my death. He’s open, honest and uncomplicated. He’s being up front about how he feels and what he wants from me—and maybe that’s the most that I can expect.
The uncertainty must show on my face.
“Look, I’m not sure if something’s going on between you and Raph …” he starts.
“There isn’t,” I interject quickly. “I mean, he used to hate me and now he doesn’t and that’s it.”
Devon pauses for a moment, then nods.
“Okay, well, if you ever want to hang out—on a date or otherwise, I’m here,” he says then.
“And in particular, if you don’t have a date to the Fall Ball yet, then I’m also here,” he adds.
Dani’s mentioned the Fall Ball a few times, but I’d forgotten that it’s coming up. Raph didn’t mentioned it at all before I started avoiding him, but then again why would he? It’s not like he was ever going to ask me to be his date.
I’m saved from having to come up with the right response, though, when someone calls over to Devon, asking him to move his car, because it’s blocking someone else in.
Devon sighs before turning back to me.
“Hold that thought, I’ll be right back.”
I nod as I watch him go. My eyes find their way to Raph. He’s sitting closer to the cliffs, with Layla next to him. Ivy and Lance are there, too. The four of them look so right together, they fit together perfectly, like they belong. It’s me who doesn’t.
I get up and find myself walking away from the party, towards the water. I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep walking until the orange lights of the bonfires are replaced by darkness and the silvery glow of the moon. I walk towards the shore until I feel the cool water lapping against my bare feet. In the distance, I can see people from the party swimming and splashing around.
“Can we talk?” Raph’s voice makes me jump. I didn’t sense him approaching but now that he’s here, his presence is all that I can feel. I hate how he does that—makes the whole universe narrow until it feels like we’re the only two people in it.
I turn to look at him and school my face to stay blank, although it’s difficult as hell. In a white t-shirt and denim cut offs, he cuts a sexy figure, even in the darkness.
“What’s there to talk about?” I ask, keeping my voice flat.
I can see that it irritates him. Good.
“Well, for starters, do you mind telling me why Devon Waldorf has been glued to your side the entire night?”
He looks pissed, but I am, too.
“What happens between Devon and me is none of your business.”
Those blue eyes flare in the darkness.
“Like hell it isn’t.” He has the gall to say.
“It isn’t,” I reply.
“Look, I have no idea what twisted game you’re playing. I thought we’d called a truce, but it looks like you’ve just come up with a new way to torture me. Whatever it is. I’m done being your pawn.”
Raph looks back at me in confusion, but I can’t allow myself to believe him.
“What are you talking about, Jaz?”
I lose it then—the control that I had been trying to maintain vanishes, and there’s only anger and hurt left.
“I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been acting all nice to me—pretending that you want to help me, sleeping in my bed, making me believe that you’re not actually an asshole, but that you might actually be a decent guy, trying to make me feel that I can actually begin to trust you, trying to get me to like you.”
I’m aware that I’m ranting and that I’m probably embarrassing myself with the words that are coming out of my mouth. But I don’t care.
“Then you almost kiss me. But then tell me that it was a mistake and you’ve been avoiding me ever since. Now, you’re here with Layla acting like, I don’t know. Like you’re back together or maybe you always were together. Because that’s the thing with you—I have no idea what the hell is even going on.”
I throw my hands up in frustration and turn my back to him so that he can’t see the shine in my eyes. I’m angry at myself, because I have no idea why I even care. I don’t feel anything for this guy but hate, I don’t even like him. So, why does it feel like my chest is being ripped open? Why does every fiber of my being want him to turn around and tell me that it wasn’t a mistake? Raph St. Tristan is nothing but a heartache waiting to happen, I shouldn’t want anything from him other than for him to stay the hell away from me.
I force my breathing to calm as I look up at the stars and the night sky. But even that does little to comfort me just then.
I feel Raph coming up behind me and my body stiffens at his presence but because I’m stupid and weak, I don’t move away. I feel his solid chest against my back and the warmth that he radiates causes me to shiver. It reminds me of that morning when we woke up tangled up in each other’s arms. His hands are gentle as they caress my arms and move down to my waist. I want to push him away, when he wraps those strong arms around my waist but I lean back instead, letting him support me. He must be able to feel my body tremble under his touch, and I think I must be imagining, it but I can swear I feel his body quake, too.
I hate him for how good this feels. How wrong it is and at the same time, I want it to be right.
“It’s not like that,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.
“Then tell me what it’s like.” The question is barely a ragged whisper in the night, and I’m not sure if I’m even ready to know the answer.
He lets out a long sigh which makes my skin tingle, and I swear I can feel his face hovering over my neck, over my hair, breathing me in. I feel the ghost of his lips brushing against my shoulder and it’s barely a touch, yet it shakes me to the core.
“It’s complicated—Layla, the throne, this world.”
He doesn’t offer up any other explanation. He doesn’t seem to be able to. But those words alone are enough. They tell me everything I need to know and I feel them like a punch to the stomach. I feel every inch of my body locking up, the stone walls starting to close up again.
I wrench myself out of his arms, hating myself for feeling the loss of his warmth. When I turn to face him, my face is like stone, because I’m made of stone.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, with a deathly calm that scares even me.
Those impossibly blue eyes lock onto mine and I see the anguish in them, but it doesn’t matter, because he still can’t answer the question.