Becoming a global musical superstar felt more realistic.
I struggled to keep my head, but it swam in vodka. I was submerged under the sensations of Amber’s body and hands and tongue, watching images swim by: Violet smiling at River, Chet’s snarl, Ms. Sanders’ pitying look…lights s
hutting off in my life, one by one.
Amber dropped to her knees, her hands on the fly of my jeans.
“Amber, wait.” After what was coming next, there’d be no going back.
She looked up. “What’s wrong?”
Inside the gym, the muffled sound of the MC calling the King and Queen to the floor for their dance, followed by raucous cheers.
Violet in River’s arms, gazing up at him adoringly…
“Nothing.”
My head fell back against the wall as Amber freed me from my jeans. I moaned softly, shut my eyes and let the world spin out from under me.
Chapter Twelve
Dear Diary,
It’s been a long time since I’ve written in here. Years, even. The last entry was the night I told Miller we should kiss. For practice. So that when the real deal came along, we wouldn’t be so unprepared.
But I had my first real kiss and nothing could have prepared me.
Miller sang for me so I could put him on YouTube and make him a star. And God, even before he sang a note, my body was humming. He took off his beanie and ruffled his hair… I’d never seen anything sexier in my life. So sexy because he had no idea the effect he was creating in me. I could hardly take it myself.
Then he began to sing and I could hardly hold the phone still. His voice—rough and low and so masculine—went right through me. My heart and soul, and God even between my legs. I felt it—him—everywhere. Like the best fever.
And then he kissed me.
I was completely unprepared. Not only because it was my first, but I was shocked at how thoroughly he took my breath away. How he smelled and sounded and tasted so good. How perfect it felt. How right. It did everything a first kiss was supposed to do; it swept me off my feet and made me want more.
It made me want him. My body now feels awake. Alive.
Miller told me he was okay with us being friends, but that was a lie. No boy kisses a girl like that unless he cares about her more than she could ever have guessed. I felt everything in Miller from his kiss. How he felt about me; how he’d probably been feeling about me for God knows how long. Maybe he’s loved me for as long as I’ve loved him…which feels like always.
And that scares me.
I’ve spent years doing exactly what he accused me of, holding him at arm’s length for the sheer, simple fact I love him too much. I love him so much my heart feels like it’ll burst. I love him so much I’d rather keep him in my life as a friend than ruin us. I know that sounds crazy, but good and precious things like Miller Stratton only come along once in a lifetime. To have him and lose him…?
I can’t even write it. It nearly happened four years ago, and that night scarred me for life.
But he kissed me and now everything’s different. I feel different. And angry. He shouldn’t have done it. But he did, and now, I can’t go back.
And the worst part is, I don’t want to.
I shut my diary on those words—my confession—and exhaled a shaky breath. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be late to the school where River Whitmore would be waiting for me. After the parade, we’d gone our separate ways so I could change for Homecoming while he had a victory dinner with his team. He suggested we meet at the dance in case his dinner ran late. Not exactly romantic but okay.
And I realized it didn’t bother me anyway. My crush on River had begun long before I met Miller, but now I felt like I was clinging to it as a safety net. Miller’s kiss cut the wires, and now, I was falling…
I wished Shiloh was there to slap some sense into me, but she wasn’t going to the dance either. She had other plans. Evelyn had been acting cool toward me, and I was in too much emotional turmoil to call anyone else.
I got dressed alone, donning a white ice-skating style halter dress with lace at the hem, waist, and under the arms. Mom had taken me to a salon earlier that day, and they’d piled my hair onto my head in an elegant but messy bun with little daisy pins stuck here and there and tendrils curling down around my ears.
I examined myself in the mirror. Homecoming Queen. Nothing felt special or exciting. I was as lonely as I’d ever been on a Saturday night. And Miller wasn’t going to come climbing through my window to sing for me.