Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill 1)

Carrie.

It was obvious. She thought she was being slick with adding the wrong deposits into the bank, but she was clearly lacking knowledge as her numbers didn’t match up at all. I’m not sure if she was truly stupid or if she didn’t think anyone would notice, but after comparing the last several bank statements until my eyes bled, it was obvious.

Dawson strode over to me and slowly lowered his body to where I was sitting. He pushed his shoulders and back along the same wall that mine was leaning against and angled his head down to the paper in my hand.

I began showing him how the numbers didn’t add up correctly and where Carrie just so happened to stop marking the correct amounts onto the deposit slips. He inched a little closer and I could smell the soap he’d used; I could smell the last little bit of shampoo still lingering in his hair.

His jean-clad leg rubbed against the little sliver of skin on my bare thigh from where my skirt had risen and I gulped. I knew my voice would be shaky if I spoke, but he’d asked me a question and I couldn’t feign becoming a mute in a matter of a few seconds, so I answered anyway.

I opened my mouth, trying to calm my heart. “The first time she did it was over five months ago, and then…” He adjusted his leg against mine once more and I literally had to catch my breath. I swallowed, clearing my throat. “Ur, um…” I took my finger and pointed to the increasing amount of times that she’d marked the wrong amount. “Right here, and then right here again… and then—” Dawson took his own hand and placed it in the spot that I was about to move to.

Our fingers brushed and a surge of pleasure went down my spine. If he could elicit such a feeling in me with the brush of one of his fingers, I couldn’t imagine what they’d feel like all over my body.

Or, maybe I could.

Goosebumps broke out along my skin and I turned my head over to his. He was only a few inches away from me, but it was close enough that I could feel his breath.

I flushed from head to toe, staring directly at his lips. Almost begging them to just touch mine.

Just kiss me. Please.

I wasn’t thinking about a single thing in that moment other than him. His body heat, the way his bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top, the way his azure eyes almost called out to me.

He looked at me and I looked at him and the entire world melted away. Dawson’s hand reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and my heart swelled. His eyes traced my face, leaving a blissfulness after every single movement.

Suddenly, I was back in my fifteen-year-old body, staring at the one boy I’d ever truly felt connected to, the one boy I’d ever truly loved, and I wanted him to love me back so badly I could taste it. It was like the last six years were nonexistent. We were back in his bedroom, many moons ago, about to have the best kiss of our lives.

But then he backed away.

Dawson looked absolutely mortified, like he couldn’t believe we were just that close for that long. Reality smacked me across the face and I felt my eyes instantly welling up. Such a strong force of hurt went through me that I could barely stand it.

“Um,” I muttered, my voice along the lines of breaking in every way possible.

My body was still reaching out for him, but my mind had thrown up defenses. Dawson was taken, and I wasn’t fifteen anymore. I shouldn’t still have this massive crush on the guy I considered my best friend once upon a time.

This was wrong on so many levels. If I were Breanna, I would hate me, too.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as he was pulling himself away even further to stand up.

“Don’t be. I crossed a line.”

I was quick to get to my feet, adjusting my pencil skirt along my hips. “No, you didn’t. Nothing happened.”

Oh, but so much did. Even though Dawson and I barely touched, other than his finger accidently skimming mine and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and even though we didn’t kiss… anyone with a ten-foot pole could feel the pull that was occurring between us. It was evident that we very well could have gotten swept up in those long, lost feelings.

Because they were there, as if they’d never left, and in fact had only grown stronger.

Dawson’s eyes locked onto mine and they were full-on feverish. They were so heated looking that I could almost see the thoughts whirring through his head.

Then he opened his mouth, regret clinging to his voice. “No…but I wanted something to happen, and that’s just as bad.”

Dawson walked over to his ladder and started to pack his stuff up. I hated the feeling that was edging its way into my lower stomach. A feeling that he was about to put a lot of distance between us. It was inevitable, though. I mean, he had Breanna and she hated me. As long as they were together, Dawson and I could be nothing more than a simple “hello” here and there, and that might even be pushing it for her.

Dawson had all the construction equipment put to the side in less than three seconds flat and then he finally got the nerve to look back up at me. I tried to pretend like I wasn’t hurting or disappointed in some way or another but I knew the barely-there smile on my face couldn’t fool him.

“I’m sorry,” he droned, looking down at the floor and then back up at my face. My heart wrenched because he appeared so troubled.

“For what?”