Be with Me (Wait for You #2)(6)

“Damn straight it wasn’t gross!” There were a lot of moments in my life when Cam would tell me that I didn’t have the common sense to keep my mouth shut. This was cooking up to be one of those moments. “You kissed me. You touched me. You said I had no idea what I made you—-”

“I know what I said.” His eyes flashed an angry quicksilver now. He looked me dead on as he hopped off the fence with the kind of grace that was almost predatory. “I just don’t know why I said those things. It had to have been the beer, because there is no other reason why I would’ve done or said any of those things!”

A red--hot burn replaced the hurt. My hands closed into fists. No—-no way did two beers make him do those things. “You’re not a lightweight. You’d been in full control of yourself. And you had to have felt something when you kissed me, because you couldn’t kiss like that and not feel anything.” The moment those words jumped off my tongue, my heart lurched. Thinking that was one thing, but saying it out loud showed how . . . how naive the words sounded.

“You’ve had a crush on me for how long? Of course you’d think it meant something amazing. Jesus Christ, Tess, why do you think I haven’t talked to you this entire time? I knew you would think there was more behind it,” he said, and heat poured across my cheeks. “It was a mistake. I’m not attracted to you, not like that.”

I jerked back as if I’d been slapped. And God knows I knew what it felt like to be slapped. Part of me would’ve taken that over this. I should have run when he said he needed to talk. Or least limped back to the truck. Screw being brave and confrontational. Hurt and embarrassment crawled up my throat, filling my eyes. Apparently, I was as transparent as a window, so I was thankful for the sunglasses hiding my emotions, but he must’ve seen something in my expression, because he closed his eyes briefly.

“Shit,” he cursed low, the skin around his lips a shade paler. “I didn’t mean it like that. I—-”

“I think you did,” I snapped, taking another step back. Jase was right. That night had been a mistake—-a stupid kiss that I had attached feelings to and built up in my head during his absence. I don’t think I’d ever felt more foolish than I did in this moment. “You couldn’t be any more clear.”

He cursed again as he crossed the distance between us, dipping his chin and causing several locks of waves to tumble forward. “Tess, you don’t understand—-”

I barked out a short laugh as mortification burst through me like a dam breaking. “Oh, I’m sure I understand completely. You regret it. Got it. It was a mistake. You probably don’t want to be reminded of it. My bad. And it doesn’t matter. Whatever.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to save face in the worst possible way, and as I went on, I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t, so I focused on his grass--stained sneakers. “It’s not like I’m going to be here for long anyway. As soon as my knee is cleared, I’m out. And that will be sooner than later. So you don’t have to worry about running into me for long or me bringing any of this up again. It’s not like you’re the only guy that’s—-”

“Kissed you?” At the sharpness in his tone, I looked up. His eyes were narrowed until only thin, silvery slits were visible. “How many guys have you kissed, Teresa?”

Not many. I could count on one hand and only needed two fingers to count how many went beyond that, but pride had sunk its claws in me. “Enough,” I said, crossing my arms. “More than enough.”

“Really?” Something flashed across his face. “Does your brother know this?”

I snorted. “As if I would talk to my brother about that. Or like he actually has a say on whom or where I put my lips.”

“Where?” he repeated, head cocked to the side as if he had to work that single word through his mind. The moment he decided on what that could possibly mean, his broad shoulders stiffened. “Where are you putting your lips?”

“Uh, like that’s any of your business.”

His stare sharpened. “It’s totally my business.”

Did he live in an alternate universe? “I don’t think so.”

“Tess—-”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, sucking in a deep breath.

Jase reached for me, and I easily dodged his grasp. The last thing I needed was him touching me. Determination settled into his striking features. “Where are you—-?”

The door to the front of the house slammed shut behind us, saving me. Jase stepped back, drawing in a deep breath as his little brother raced across the grass and gravel.

From about four feet away, the little boy launched himself at Jase, screaming, “Superman cape! Superman cape!”

He caught Jack and slung him around, latching his little brother’s arms around his neck. Jack hung down his back, sort of like a flesh cape.

“Sorry it took so long.” Cam grinned, unaware of what felt like unbearable tension to me. “Your mom had lemonade. And applesauce cake. Had to get me some of that.”

Jase smiled, but ducked his chin at the same time. “Understandable.”

I stood there like a statue. A bird could’ve pooped on my head and I wouldn’t have moved. My fingers felt numb from how hard I was clenching my hands.