The Mistake(38)

I really ought to message back. I haven’t spoken to her since Thursday. Granted, that isn’t an obscene amount of time considering it’s Saturday and she had dinner plans with her father yesterday. So technically, I’ve only been avoiding her for a day and a half.

She doesn’t know I’m avoiding her, though. If she did, she wouldn’t have invited me over.

The way I see it, I have three options.

Option 1: Ignore the invitation.

And if she texts again, ignore that too. And then keep ignoring her until she gets the message that I’m not interested. Which is a whopping lie, because I am interested. I have fun with her, and if I weren’t so f*cked in the head about this Hannah thing, I’d absolutely keep seeing Grace.

Christ, I shouldn’t have allowed Thursday’s impromptu date to happen. It’s not fair to lead her on like this.

Which brings me to option 2: Message back, decline the invitation, and tell her I can’t see her again because of (insert bullshit excuse here).

Except…well, I’ve been brushed off via text before and it f*cking sucks.

So that leaves option 3: Go over there and talk to her in person. That’s the mature course of action, the one I should definitely take. But the thought of glimpsing even a shred of hurt or disappointment in her eyes makes me sick to my stomach.

Man up already.

Fuck. I guess it’s time to pull up my big boy pants. Be a man, rub some dirt in it and all that shit. After our night at the water tower, Grace deserves a helluva lot more than a text brush-off.

Stifling a sigh, I drop the towel I’ve been wearing for the last…forty-two minutes now. I grab a pair of clean boxers and jeans, zip up, and throw on a black sweater my mom got me for Christmas. It’s tighter than the shirts I normally wear, but it’s the first thing I find in my dresser and I’m in too much of a hurry to change.

I swipe my phone off the bed and text Grace.

Me: When?

Her: Now, if you want.

She punctuates that with a smiley face. Shit.

Me: omw.


Ten minutes later, I kill the engine in the parking lot behind the dorms and head for Fairview House. When I reach her door, I’m overcome with hesitation. And a major case of nerves. I take a deep breath. Fuck, it’s not like I’m breaking up with her. We’re not even a couple. I’m simply letting her know that I’m not in a good place to continue things at the moment. Doesn’t mean it’s forever over. It’s just…right now over.

Right now over?

Brilliant, man. You’re going to awe her with your lyrical prose.

I knock, armed with my very unimpressive parting speech, but when the door swings open, I don’t get a chance to open my mouth. Actually, scratch that—I don’t get a chance to voice any words. My mouth is open, because Grace yanks me into her dark bedroom and kisses me, and if my mouth was closed, then how is her tongue supposed to get inside it?

The kiss is completely unexpected and hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. She wraps her arms around my neck and backs me into the still-open door. It closes when my shoulders bump into it, and suddenly I’m pinned between the door and Grace’s soft, warm body.

Her lips tease mine until I can’t see straight, and then she eases back breathlessly. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

She leans in again.

Oh f*ck. Don’t let her kiss you again. Don’t—

My tongue tangles with hers in another hot duel. Damn it. I plant my hands on her hips, intending to gently push her away, but I no longer have control over my own fingers. They slide lower and dig into her firm ass, pulling her closer instead of away.

With her mouth still locked with mine, she grabs the bottom of my sweater and tugs it up. Somehow I find the willpower to break the kiss.

“What are you doing?” I croak.

“Taking your clothes off.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The only reason I allow her to remove my sweater is because the material is now caught around my chin and neck, and I need my mouth in order to speak to her. In order to stop this. But then she tosses the fabric aside and touches my bare chest, and my brain short-circuits. She delicately strokes her fingertips over my abdomen, and makes a breathy sound. Half-moan, half-whimper, and so sexy it sends a sizzle of lust right to my cock. My balls tighten, drawing up painfully when her fingers find my belt buckle.

“Grace, I…” Instead of finishing that sentence, I groan loudly, because holy f*cking shit, she doesn’t just slide my pants off.