Locked Heart (Cash Me Outside 1)

I breathe in the scent of sex and sweat and can’t tell him what he wants to hear. I’m not entirely sure this is happening. “If it’s not real, I don’t want it to end,” I whisper.

I never thought this would happen. Cashton has been a memory impossible to live up to, but the same complete feeling I used to have with him envelops me the same way his warm arms are. It covers me like a blanket, and I never want to let go.

“I didn’t think this would happen,” Cashton says.

Neither did I. I didn’t realize how much it needed to happen for me to see my life for the past ten years for what it was. Frivolous.

That doesn’t stop me from using the jab on the tip of my tongue and turning this around on him. “It did take you a superlong time to play here.”

Cashton bursts out laughing. “Asshole.”

I could stand here holding him forever, but I know that’s not how this is gonna go.

He pulls back and looks up at me with those dark eyes of his. “You ghosted me.”

With a sigh, I let him go. “I did.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I’m an idiot?”

“I’ve known that for years. Try again.”

I force a smile. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Chapter Five

Cash

Locke’s green eyes soften. His jaw is still angular, his nose narrow, but his skin used to be pale and freckly. Now, his gorgeous freckles aren’t as bright due to a light tan.

His eyes graze over me from my shirtless torso to my tight pants, and the look on his face almost makes me want to forgive him no questions asked.

He looks lost, like a wounded puppy, and while I know none of that is my fault—he’s the one who ghosted me—I can’t help feeling responsible.

It’s so damn mind-blowing that the man who just fucked me into oblivion is the same guy standing in front of me right now with pure fear and uncertainty on his face that this isn’t real, like he could wake up at any minute.

I recognize it because that’s exactly what’s going on inside me right now.

“Want a drink?” I ask. I move over to the mini fridge. “You’ve got a choice of beer or Dr. Pepper.”

Locke’s face lights up. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you, and considering your cherry cola addiction was one of the biggest things about you when you were a teenager, there’s no way I was going to forget it.”

“You knew I’d come.”

“I’d hoped you’d come.” I waggle my eyebrows to be a total douche. “And I guess you did. In more ways than one.”

Locke scoffs. “You’re still as corny as ever.”

“Always. Life’s too short to be serious and sincere.”

“They should put that on a Hallmark card.”

Nostalgia hits with such force it throws me for a second. How we can still be the same, still play off each other, but have ten years between us?

I hand him a Dr. Pepper, our fingers brushing against each other. It’s so slight, yet that spark that has always crackled between us is there still.

“Come on.” Locke puts the soda down and takes my hand, leading me to the long bench seat along the wall of the bus.

We sit close, our thighs touching, and he refuses to let go of me.

“I need you to know something.” Locke’s thumb caresses my hand. “My first two years at Wharton were hell. Literally, all I did was study. I made one friend. I didn’t go to any parties, didn’t join any clubs, and I spent all my spare time online stalking my ex-boyfriend who I’d stupidly let go. Watching your posts and waiting for an update from you became my life. Waiting for you to wake up on the West Coast so you could see my good-morning message became so unhealthy I was checking my phone when I should’ve been focusing on classes.”

I know I’m supposed to see something wrong with that, but I was the same way. “The favorite part of my days back then was talking to you online or seeing you post about exams or …” Something occurs to me. “Okay, I do remember a lot of your posts being school related. I thought you were doing it to shield me from guys you were dating or something.”

“I didn’t date anyone.”

“At all?” I shriek.

“That’s the point. We broke up so I could have those college experiences and you could live it up in LA without guilt. After two years, my roommate had enough of my wallowing and not going out. He made me block you for one month. After that, I was allowed to unblock you if I wanted … but …”

“But you liked it so much, you figured, hey, I’m gonna make this a permanent thing?” I sound bitter. There’s nothing I can do about that. I am bitter.