Lonely? “Wait, do you know this guy?”
“Yeah. It’s…” He cleared his throat. Never a good sign. “It’s Quinn.”
I groaned.
“I know, I know, he’s not your favorite, for whatever reason—”
“The reason is that he was a cocky, condescending asshole to me. Other than that, he’s adorable.”
“Come on, it’s been ten years since the thing.”
My eyelid twitched. Did he have to bring it up?
“Look, I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”
“You haven’t. I can’t even believe he told you.”
“He felt like he had to. He knew you were upset and felt bad. He also wanted me to know he hadn’t done anything to encourage it and never touched you. Mom and Dad were paying half his college tuition—what was he supposed to do?”
Kiss me back, dammit. Love me back.
Cringing, I recalled the way I had attempted to seduce my brother’s closest friend at their joint graduation party at our house. The horrible details rushed into my mind as if a dam had burst…the wine I drank from a red Solo cup as I worked up the nerve to act on my crush. The artless way I shoved him into the downstairs bathroom and shut the door. The sound of my pounding heart as I pressed my bikini-clad body against him, lifting my lips toward his.
That awkward moment when I realized he wasn’t into it.
Instead, he laughed.
That asshole laughed at me.
“Jaime, what the hell are you doing?” He turned on the light and stared at me, a look of bemused embarrassment on his face. His eyes were so beautiful—the kind of blue that made you shiver.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Bravely, I put my hand on his crotch and felt his dick stir beneath the nylon of his damp swimsuit.
“Jesus. Stop it.” More nervous laughter as he swatted my hand away.
“Why? You don’t want this?” I blinked in confusion. Did he not feel the same pull I did when we were together? For months he’d been looking at me differently, teasing me more than usual, flirting with me in front of other people. Just an hour ago, he’d gotten handsy with me during a game of chicken in the pool—I was positive I’d felt his fingers graze my ass multiple times. Had I misread him?
He looked uncomfortable as he adjusted himself. “Look, you’re like my little sister, and—”
“I’m only a year younger than you,” I said, trying to sidle closer again. “And I’m d
efinitely not your sister.”
Backing away from me, he ran a hand through his dark blond hair, still a little wet from the pool. “Yeah, but…I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
And that’s when I said it.
(Brace yourself.)
“But I love you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, Quinn.”
After a moment of stunned silence, during which neither of us blinked, he burst out laughing.
Shame and humiliation coursed through me. “Oh, God. Just forget it. Forget this ever happened.” Without another word, I yanked the door open and ran from the bathroom straight to my bedroom, hot tears burning my eyes. How could I ever face him again?