Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(113)

“Is that supposed to make me feel special?” I blurt.

“You are special, and you know it.” He leans in, kissing the top of my head, and his chest brushes against mine, sending a flurry of fiery tingles whipping through me. Heat from his body washes over me, and I close my eyes, praying for self-control. The urge to touch him is almost overpowering. It’s one of the reasons why I haven’t pushed him as much as Ayden. If we were to start spending more time together, I don’t know that I could contain my feelings. As it is, I don’t know how much longer I can continue to hide them.

I’ve spent years crushing on Devin, and I’m close to my breaking point.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierces me straight through the heart.

I shouldn’t feel this way about one of my best friends, but I can’t help it. I’ve been in love with him for so long, even if he doesn’t have a clue.

He doesn’t look at me like that.

Neither of my besties do, and that’s the way it should be.

I’m the one stuck with faulty internal wiring. We have grown up as close as three kids can be. He should be like a brother to me. In a lot of ways, he is.

But, God, he’s so much more.

“How’d you get on my balcony anyway?” I ask, the thought suddenly occurring to me.

He drops his head onto my pillow, chuckling. “How do you think?”

My mouth falls open, and I slap him across the chest. “Devin Robert Morgan, you did not climb the tree?!” He sends me a devilish wink, and I slap his chest again. “You idiot! You’re not a kid anymore, and you’re lucky you made it in one piece.” Devin is well over six-foot tall and while he doesn’t have Ayden’s football player’s body, he has a toned, muscular physique that has all the girls drooling.

Yours truly included.

“Chill. Old Man Willow can handle my awesomeness.”

My bedroom is at the back of our house, and I have my own private balcony. An old oak tree holds court directly outside my room, its spindly branches like giant fingers stretching toward our house. When we were younger, the boys used to climb the tree in the dead of night and jump over onto my balcony. Mom never knew, and thus began a weekly tradition that spanned years.

Every Friday night, Devin and Ayden climbed that tree to my room. And every Friday night, we sat up until the early hours, whispering, laughing, and watching the stars. We went through a Lord of the Rings phase one year, and Devin likened the tree in my yard to the willow tree in Tolkien’s legendary tale, and, henceforth it became known by the same name.

Our Friday night tradition ceased when the boys stretched up and out and became too big to climb it. It also coincided with the time of Devin’s transformation—when he morphed into one of the town’s most notorious bad boys.

“You know my mom works the night shift in the hospital almost every Saturday night. You could’ve just used the front door.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” he quips, smirking, and I roll my eyes. “Wanna hang out on the balcony? For old time’s sake?”

I examine his face, noting a vulnerability I haven’t seen in a long time. My chest tightens in awareness. Something brought him here tonight. Something forced him to seek out my company.

Not that I’m in any way complaining. The last thing I’d ever do is deny him anything. Even if his actions unconsciously continue to hurt me. “Sure. That’d be fun. I’ll get some snacks. Can you grab a couple blankets from my closet?”

“You’re the boss.”

I arch a brow, and he chuckles. “Glad you know the lay of the land.” I grin, before throwing caution to the wind. “We should call Ayden.” I know he’s visiting his grandma in the nursing home—he always goes with his mom the last Saturday of every month—but he’ll be back soon.

“No.” Devin’s reply is swift and laced with determination.

“Don’t tell me you two aren’t speaking again?” It’s a familiar pattern these last few months, since something went down between them during summer break, and I hate it. Hate all the tension and discord. All the fighting.

“That’s not it. I just…” He trails off, looking down at his feet. “I just want to be alone with you.” He lifts his head, and I’m surprised to see such raw, naked emotion glistening in his eyes. I feel his pain as acutely as if it’s my own. It’s like I’ve been punched in the gut. “I need you, Ange,” he whispers.

I step toward him without thinking, planting my hand on his rock-hard chest. His heart beats steadily under my palm through the thin material of his shirt. “I’m always here for you. Always. You never have to doubt that.”

He cups my face, peering deep into my eyes. “You’re way too good to me. You should hate me.”

My brow furrows. “Why on earth would I hate you?” Devin is trampling all over my heart, but he doesn’t know that, and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. He can screw whomever he likes, and it’s none of my business. Doesn’t matter that every girl, every kiss and every caress I’m witness to, adds another scar to my heart. Outwardly, there is no reason why he should feel like this, so I don’t understand what’s going on in his head.

“Because this … this divide between us is all my fault.”