A Midsummer's Nightmare(57)

“Because she wants you there,” he said. “And so do I.”

Those last four words shouldn’t have made my heart rate speed up a notch, but they did.

“No,” I mumbled, feeling myself start to waver.

“Whitley, is this about Harrison’s party?” His voice was quiet.

I wrapped my arms around myself. Phantom breath and ghost fingers lingering on my skin. “I can’t, Nathan,” I whispered. “It was my fault with Theo that night. If I hadn’t gotten so drunk and gone with him, if I hadn’t let everyone think—”

“No, Whit. That was not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t—”

“I’m going to keep telling you this until you believe me,” he said. “I don’t care what you think you did. No one deserves that. No one. That guy was a sick bastard—a complete *. You did not ask for it. So stop blaming yourself.”

I looked down. “I just don’t want to go out tonight, all right?”

“Listen to me.” He stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’ve been having a rough time lately. With your dad and all that. I know that what happened at Harrison’s party scared you. I’m sorry about everything.”

“Don’t go all Hallmark on me,” I warned, focusing on a small tear in the collar of his plain navy T-shirt instead of looking him in the face.

“Look, I’m glad that you’ve chilled out a little lately—easing up on the Girls Gone Wild act—but you’re just going to make yourself miserable staying in here.”

“Girls Gone Wild? Please. You only wish I’d taken my shirt off.”

Oh, wait. I had taken my top off in front of him. On graduation night and that one time in his car outside of the movie rental store. Whoops.

He pretended not to hear me.

“You need to get out. Have a little fun. You can have fun without tequila, you know. I swear.”

“Christ, Nathan, can’t you just drop it?” I asked, trying to swerve out of his reach.

He caught my other shoulder and pushed me lightly against the wall again. Finally, I looked up at him. He held me between both of his hands and was staring down at me. We were standing too close. For a minute, all the feelings I’d been trying to stifle came bubbling to the surface. I was looking right into his eyes; I could smell his fresh, cinnamon breath. All I wanted was to kiss him. Or for him to kiss me. It didn’t matter.

But that wasn’t what this was about.

“I want you to be happy,” he said. “And we both know you’re not happy like this. Locking yourself in here isn’t going to make you happy. It’s not going to make any of us happy.”

“Nathan…”

“Either you promise me right now that you’ll come with us,” he insisted, “or I’ll go get Bailey and have her lay those puppy eyes on you. We both know you’re wrapped around her little finger. You’d do anything if she asked.”

I knew he was right.

But in that moment, as I opened my mouth to answer, a scary realization hit me: Everything he’d just said about Bailey applied to him, too. I’d do almost anything for this boy.

“Fine,” I relented. Then, with a forced smile, I added, “I mean, it looks like you actually combed your hair. We wouldn’t want that rare effort going to waste.”

He laughed as I thumped him on the side of the head with my index finger. His soft brown hair—which really did look neater than usual—tickled my knuckle. God, I wanted to run my fingers through it. Luckily, he was stepping away, removing the temptation. At least a little bit.

Silently, I reminded myself that I couldn’t feel anything beyond friendship for Nathan Caulfield. He was going to be my stepbrother. It would be weird. People would think… lots of things.

I wasn’t allowed to like him.


It might have been my imagination, but the minute we walked into the Nest, I could have sworn that every pair of eyes turned to look at me. The girls were giving me cold, disapproving glares. The boys smirked menacingly, spotting their prey. I folded in on myself, scooting closer to Nathan. I wanted to leave already.

People had thought of me as a slut back home. I was a party girl, a wild child, a bad influence. But things are different in cities, I guess. Because in the city, there are plenty of other sluts. Plenty of other people to gossip about. And there was a chance that the new people you met had never heard of you. I mean, I graduated with people—Nathan, for instance—that I’d never met.

Hamilton wasn’t the city. Here, I was a hot topic.

“I don’t think…” I began, already stumbling backward in an attempt to get to the exit.

“Smile,” Nathan muttered near my ear. “We’re here to have a good time, remember?”

I looked at Bailey and realized how pathetic I was. Four years younger than me, and she was standing there with her head high, like she belonged there.

“I’m going to go dance,” she said.

“You are?” I asked, shocked.

“Of course she is,” Nathan said. “Dancing is fun. We should dance, too, Whit.”

I shook my head. There were so many reasons not to dance with Nathan. The biggest being my already-damaged reputation. Bumping and grinding with my soon-to-be stepbrother wouldn’t earn me any brownie points.