Cruel Kiss

Well, that couldn’t have gone worse.

Not even a little bit.

I hadn’t known that I was going to break up with him when I woke up this morning, but here I was. I took a fortifying breath and then released it. As much as it sucked to hurt him, I couldn’t keep on like this. It was better to just yank the Band-Aid off.

I stepped onto the elevator as my phone dinged. I checked the message, expecting something from Robert, but it was my bestie, Anna English.

We’re here! Come downstairs, bitch!

I closed my eyes and said a silent good-bye to Robert.

On to bigger and better.

Then, the elevator doors opened, and as I stomped out, my foot caught on the exit, and I fell face-first into none other than Gavin King.

“Fuck!” I cried out.

There was nothing I could do in this situation. I was fucked. I was going to fall on the floor all because I hadn’t been paying attention. And Gavin was going to be there to witness me looking like an idiot.

“Jesus,” Gavin said as he reached for me.

Then, Gavin’s arms came around my waist. I released a gasp as he pivoted sideways, twisting me in his arms. My caramel-colored hair dangled toward the floor. My hazel eyes went wide. The suitcase I’d been holding crashed against the lobby wall.

“I got you,” he told me.

Heat flooded my system. I was a tiny thing, only about five feet tall, and Gavin was somewhere in the mid-six feet range. I felt like a rag doll in his arms. Normally, my personality made up for the extra inches I’d clearly lost in my adolescence, but right now, I had never been so glad to be this small.

Gavin was in jeans and a soft green sweater. His burnished dark auburn hair was carefully tousled, and a strand fell forward toward my face. His lips were mere inches away, and a secret dimple peeked out on one side. I was a goner for dimples.

Something crossed his face that I couldn’t quite place. Desire? No, that was my imagination. Gavin wasn’t into me. He had never been into me. We were friends. We’d played each other’s wingman more than one time in the past. I was the flirt, and he was the player. We were too similar in so many ways. And neither of us was inclined to settle down. Then, I’d started dating one of his best friends, and he’d pulled farther and farther away.

Now, he was right here.

“Little clumsy, Bowen,” he said, hastily putting me back on my feet.

We were still so close together. Not quite flush, but I could feel the heat off of him. I tilted my head back to look up at him. Again, something flashed in those emerald eyes.

He stepped backward and then went for my suitcase. “What happened?”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t fucking know. Just tripped on something.”

He flashed me a characteristic teasing smile. That was more the Gavin that I knew. “Where’s Robert?”

“Oh,” I said, fighting for carefree Whitley. “He’s not coming.”

Gavin arched an eyebrow. “Do I need to go upstairs and tell his ass to get moving?”

“He has to work.”

“So? That’s not an excuse.”

I shrugged and met his gaze again.

“We broke up.”

2

GAVIN

We broke up.

I heard the words that Whitley had said, but somehow, I couldn’t comprehend them. Robert was one of my best friends. Before he’d gone for Whit, he’d asked if I was cool with it. The guys thought I had a thing for her even though we said time and time again that we were just friends. Of course, my friends were right. No matter how I denied it, I had this pull to Whit.

There was no one else in the world like this wild, flirtatious girl.

Which was why I had stayed far away. I burned all relationships that I touched. And Whit deserved better. So, I’d told Robert to go for it and regretted every minute I had to see them together.

But I was loyal to my boy.

“That sucks,” I told her.

She shrugged. “It’s not that surprising though, is it?”

It was surprising, only because I knew how much Robert was into her. I’d known him a long time and never known him to go after anyone like Whitley. She was driven, one of the leading plastic surgeons in Manhattan. Not to mention, funny and a party girl and over the top. The girls Robert liked were one of two extremes: serious, studious types or girls who ended up in rehab.

“He was really into you.”

“Yeah,” she muttered with a sad shrug. “That makes one of us.”

And there it was. I’d spent so long focusing on how much Robert liked her that I’d forced myself not to pay attention to Whitley too closely. In my mind, she was incandescent and vibrant. A shooting star in the night. A bonfire on the beach. The rush of that first roller coaster drop.