The Mistake(55)

“You guys go on ahead,” I say gruffly. “I’ll catch up. Or I might just meet you back at the house.”

Dean continues to leer at Grace, until Hannah finally shoves him to force him to follow her. As they head for the path, I move in the other direction, my heart beating faster and faster the closer I get.

It’s not only her hair color that’s different, I realize. She’s also wearing more makeup than I’ve seen her wear before, smoky green eye shadow that makes her eyes look bigger. Fuck, it’s sexy. Especially combined with the freckles that no amount of makeup can cover up.

My chest clenches as something occurs to me. She’s wearing a dress. And makeup. On a Thursday afternoon.

Is she waiting for someone?

My palms are clammy as I approach her. I can’t take my eyes off her. Jesus. Her legs really are phenomenal. Smooth and tanned and…crap, I’m imagining them wrapped around my waist. Her heels digging into my ass as I f*ck the hell out of her.

I clear my throat. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she answers.

I can’t for the life of me read her tone. It’s not casual. Not rude. It’s…neutral. I guess I can work with that.

“I…” The nerves get the best of me, and I end up blurting the first thing that comes to mind. “You didn’t call me back.”

She meets my eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Yeah…I don’t blame you.” I wish my goddamn track pants had pockets, because I’m experiencing that age-old problem actors have—what the f*ck do I do with my hands? They’re dangling at my sides, and I’m fighting hard not to fidget. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear a word I have to say, but can we talk? Please?”

Grace sighs. “What’s the point? I said everything I needed to say that night. It was a mistake.”

I nod in agreement. “Yes, it was. It was a huge mistake, but not for the reason you think.”

Irritation clouds her features. She closes her book and stands up. “I have to go.”

“Five minutes,” I beg. “Just give me five minutes.”

Despite her visible reluctance, she doesn’t walk away. Doesn’t sit down either, but she’s still standing in front of me, and five minutes in the life of a hockey player? More than enough time to score a few points.

“I’m sorry about how everything went down,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have ended it like that, and I definitely shouldn’t have let us get that close to having sex when I was so screwed up even before I came over. But all that stuff I said about wanting someone else? I was wrong. I didn’t realize until I got home that I was already with the person I wanted to be with.”

Zero reaction on her face. Zip. Nada. A part of me wonders if she’s even listening to me, but I force myself to continue. “The girl I told you about…she’s my best friend’s girlfriend.”

A flicker of surprise crosses her expression. So she is listening.

“I convinced myself I had a thing for her, but it turns out it wasn’t really her I wanted. I wanted what she and Garrett have. A relationship.”

Grace eyes me dubiously. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, but I don’t really buy that.”

“It’s true.” My throat is tight with embarrassment. “I was jealous of what they have. And I was stressing about other things too, family stuff, and hockey. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t in a good place, and I was too confused and bitter about my life to appreciate what I had. I really did like you. Do like you,” I amend hastily.

God, I feel like a frickin’ pre-teen. I wish she’d offer some shred of encouragement, a hint of understanding, but her expression remains blank.

“I’ve been thinking about you all summer. I keep kicking myself for the way I acted, and wishing I could make it right.”

“There’s nothing to make right. We barely know each other, Logan. We were just fooling around, and honestly, I’m not interested in starting that up again.”

“I don’t want to fool around.” I exhale in a rush. “I want to take you out on a date.”

She looks amused.

Goddamn it. Amused. As if I’ve just told her a humdinger of a joke.

“I mean it,” I insist. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Grace is quiet for a moment, then says, “No.”