One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths, #2)(79)

Taking my fingertips within his, he kisses each of them, his gaze burning with intensity as it settles on my face. “You do know why I dug through Coach’s dusty-ass attic for a week straight, right?”

My heart swells with the mention of that. Of what this sweet guy did for me. I’m not sure exactly why he did it, other than to make me happy. But I know what it meant for me. It helped me see the one thing that I know I want, buried amongst a pile of uncertainties.

“Because you’re madly in love with me?” I repeat what he said to me that day in class with a teasing wink to let him know that I’m just joking around.

But Ashton doesn’t response with a snort or a chuckle or anything close to humor. His expression is a mask of sincerity as he leans in to lay a tiny kiss on my bottom lip. “As long as you know.” And then he’s kissing me deeply again.

And I instantly fall back into oblivion.

“Maybe I’m not too sore,” I manage to get out around his hungry yet gentle lips. With a groan, he shifts his mouth downward along my throat, my chest, my stomach, stirring my need for the tenth, hundredth, thousandth time since we landed in his bed.

And that’s when the knocking begins again.

“Ace, open up! I know you’re in there.” There’s a pause. “I can’t find Livie. She’s not answering her phone.”

Shit.

Connor.

I haven’t thought of him once. Not once since stepping into this room last night.

“If you don’t open this door in two minutes, I’m going to use the damn key.”

Ashton and I look at each other, the fire between us doused like a bucket of cold water on a pit of flames.

“Fuck,” Ashton mutters under his breath, glancing around. My clothes are strewn everywhere.

We roll off the bed and begin collecting them. Connor may have been drunk, but I think he’ll recognize that outfit.

“Here.” Ashton hands me my jacket. I thank sweet heaven that I decided on my long black coat last night. It will hide everything but my heels and my black stockings on my way back to my dorm. “Go hide in the bathroom. I’ll try to get rid of him,” he whispers, kissing me gently.

I scurry in just as we hear Connor fiddling with the lock.

“I’m coming!” Ashton hollers.

Closing and locking the bathroom door quickly, I hold my breath as I quietly begin dressing. I can hear them outside perfectly.

“Jesus, Ashton, cover your junk. I already feel like puking,” I hear Connor grumble, and I roll my eyes. Is walking around naked an Ashton thing or a general all-guy thing? “What happened to you last night, man?”

I hear a dresser door slam, and I assume Ashton is pulling on at least a pair of briefs. Even in the present stressful situation, that conjures a visual—one where I’m prying them off him the second Connor is gone. “I wasn’t in the mood,” I hear Ashton murmur.

“You . . . alone up here?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, you missed a good party from what I remember. Which isn’t much.” There’s a pause. “I think I f*cked up with Livie.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as anxiety slips through my core. I don’t want to be listening to this.

“Oh yeah? That sucks.” Ashton is phenomenal at pretending to sound uninterested.

“Yeah, I think I might have come on a bit strong. She left the party early and she’s not answering my calls or my texts.”

“Just give her time to cool down.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I’m going over there to see her today. I need to know things are okay.”

They’re not, Connor. They never really were. With a small sigh, I accept that I can’t hide out in Ashton’s room for the rest of my life, though the thought has crossed my mind more than once. I need to finish getting dressed and get back to the dorm so I can end this with Connor.

And he’s given me the perfect excuse.

I can blame Connor for the breakup. He pushed me too far. He knows I want to take things slow and he groped me like a thirteen-year-old boy playing the closet game. This is perfect. Then it won’t be my fault. He’ll think it’s his fault. He’ll . . .

Taking a deep breath, I turn to look at the reflection in the mirror—at the woman in black thigh-highs and I-just-lost-my-virginity-and-then-some hair, hiding in a bathroom while her boyfriend is on the other side, worrying about her with his best friend, the dark and broken man whom she has fallen madly in love with. And all this person can think about is how she’ll avoid admitting to all wrongdoing.

I don’t recognize her at all.

I hear that heavy sigh of Connor’s and I know he’s rubbing the top of his head. That’s Connor. Predictable. “I just . . . I think I’m in love with her.”

My body hunches in on itself as if just punched. Ohmigod. He just said it. He said it out loud. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I was afraid of this. Now it’s real. I think I’m going to be sick. Seriously, I am two seconds away from diving to the porcelain bowl.

This. Will. Crush. Him.

And Connor doesn’t deserve to be crushed. He may not be right for me but he doesn’t deserve this. Yet no matter what reason I give, whether I blame it on him or me, whether I tell the truth or not, I’m going to hurt him. I have to resign myself to that fact because no matter what, he and I are done.