Hostile(51)

Her face softens as she offers me a smile. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to have all types of feelings and not be able to tell everyone.” She purses her lips, deep in thought and then laughs softly. “Well, I mean, I guess I kind of know how that feels.”

“Bree . . .” I feel a pang of guilt about our whole thing, but she shakes her head.

“But it’s not the same because I know you both have feelings for each other, and not being able to share that has to suck.”

“He’s leaving at the end of the summer.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for him. Don’t do that. Don’t push away your feelings.”

I want to laugh because that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. “I’m good at it.”

She sits up and grabs my hand. “Not as good as you think.” She looks over her shoulder at Grayson and his friends. “And I know you’re hurting. We can leave if you want, but you’re here to show him you care.”

She turns back, and my eyes meet hers. “How do I do that when I can’t be with him?”

“By being here.”

I nod, still feeling shitty about the whole situation. Hating his parents and his friends and every goddamn thing that keeps us apart. I also hate that Bree is right, and I’m a dumbass falling for him.

Or okay—having already fallen for him—because when I’m on the dancefloor with Bree, and I look over at Grayson with Crystal’s arms around his neck, leaning into him, watching her feel his big body against hers, I can barely breathe through my jealousy.

I can’t focus on anything but her hands on him and the fact that everyone looks at them and sees a couple. They look at Grayson and see the façade. They see the rich-boy jock who’s straight and taking her to the afterparty.

They don’t know that he loves to draw and swim. That he’s kind and compassionate. That he volunteers with kids after school. And instead of soft curves, he prefers hard muscle.

They don’t know he’s had his lips on every inch of my body, and I loved every single second of it. And suddenly, it’s all too damn much. I apologize to Bree and dart out of the gym, trying like hell to catch my breath.

This isn’t me. I don’t get attached. I don’t feel possessive. I don’t want to go and tear a girl’s hands off my man’s body. But I can’t think straight right now as I walk into the hallway and down the bay of lockers.

I hear footsteps behind me, but I’m lost in this fog. Of fucking course, the one time I actually have an insane attraction to someone, it’s to someone totally unavailable.

“Rhett?” Grayson’s voice wavers with worry, and I turn around to take him in—all his handsome glory on full display in his snug tux.

“Go away.”

“No.” He walks closer to me. “I thought you didn’t do prom.”

“I don’t.” I point at him. “I do you.”

Neither of us laugh at the double meaning because nothing seems funny right now. I’m pissed off. I’m frustrated that I can’t tell everyone we’re together. “What do you want from me, Rhett? Tell me.”

I laugh, but it’s humorless. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He walks closer, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me.”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.”

The toes of his shoes touch mine. He’s breathing heavy, and so am I. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Rhett.” He grabs the back of my neck the way I love—possessive and strong—and rests his forehead against mine. “Tell me.”

“No,” I say again and watch the rise and fall of his chest.

“I hated watching you with Bree. Even knowing you don’t see her that way. Knowing that other people in the gym probably think differently.”

I shake my head slowly. “You’re one to talk with Chrystal’s hands all over you. You should have just humped on the dancefloor. It would have been even more convincing.”

“That’s really not fair,” he says, but his voice is calm.

“None of this is fair.”

I lift my head and meet his eyes as he nods in agreement. “What do you want? You want me to go in there and tell everyone we’re together?”

“We aren’t together.”

“Exactly.” His voice drips with anger now.

“You’re pissed at me?”

“I’m angry at life, Rhett!” His voice booms as he spreads his arms out to the side. “I want to do right by my grandfather, but to do that, I have to be the fucking golden boy. I have to play the game, and it’s been fine. Totally fine.” He drops his arms to his sides. “Until you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. You remind me that it’s all a lie, and it’s not fair.”

Rage fills my insides, but not at him. I’m not mad at him. “I never wanted anyone until you came along. And now . . .” I give up, sighing with an angry huff.

He cups my face in one of his big hands. “Now what?”

I lift my eyes to look into his. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I know why we can’t say anything, but it’s hard, and I fucking hate it.”