Love You Better (Better Love 1)

“Ayyy,” Jesse calls from the living room, and the sudden interruption causes Ivy to jump off me. “Who got Chinese?”

What the actual fuck.

I hear his footsteps heading toward us and Ivy scrambles off the bed, fixing her shirt, running her hands through her hair, and looking at everything in my room except for me.

“I’m going to go get Jesse his dinner,” she says quickly, her voice high-pitched and airy. She runs out of the room as if she’s just narrowly avoided disaster, and I’m left lying on my bed, alone, with my hands outstretched, reaching for something that’s no longer there.

I squeeze my eyes shut and allow myself to recall the jolts of electricity that exploded through my body when we touched. The way all of my nerve endings vibrated with excitement. So much more than our barely-there finger brush. More powerful and more pleasurable and more torturous than anything I’ve felt in my life up to this moment.

Then I let myself replay her reaction when I leaned up to kiss her. The way her gorgeous blue irises were nearly swallowed whole by her pupils. The emotions I watched flash over her face. I didn’t imagine it. The way my body burns is proof it wasn’t a dream.

She wanted me.

She needed me to kiss her, maybe as much as I needed it.

I know because I’ve seen that look on her face once before. And I’ll be fucked if I mess it up this time around.

11

Senior Prom

“I look like a fucking idiot,” I grumble as my mom fixes my tie.

“You look very handsome,” she says, finishing the knot and stepping back to survey me. “You look like an adult in this tux, but don’t swear. It’s pedestrian.”

I roll my eyes at her. If she only knew how pedestrian my fucking mouth can be.

“I just don’t understand why Shelby picked out this fu—” Ma glares and raises her hand like she’s gonna smack me. She won’t really do it, but I still throw up my palms, ducking away really fast, and correct myself.

“Fugly! I was gonna say fugly! I don’t know why she picked out this fugly pattern. I look like a circus clown.”

Ma hits me with her I’m not impressed with your antics, young man expression. “Fugly is no better than the other word. But, no, you do not look like a circus clown.”

I turn to look in the hallway mirror and grimace at the maroon tux and pink and maroon polka-dotted tie. What the fuck was Shelby thinking? Was she fucking high when she selected this from the catalogue? I shake my head in disgust and turn away.

“What time is Ivy getting here,” I ask my mom and check my phone to see if she’s texted.

“She and Jacob should be here in about 10 minutes,” my mom calls from the kitchen. Good, I think to myself and walk into the foyer to wait for them.

Things have been weird with Ives and me since our, uh, spat? Yeah spat. Since our spat in the cafeteria two weeks ago. Basically, I fucked up and spazzed out on her and now I think she’s punishing me with the cold shoulder. It sucks.

I was actually dreading tonight until she called and asked if my parents could watch Jacob. Her mom has to work a late shift last-minute, and Ivy doesn’t want to miss prom. Of course, my mom and dad said sure, and now Ivy and Tyler are doubling with me and Shelby.

It’s gonna be awkward as hell.

Shelby and Ivy don’t get along—well, Shelby doesn’t get along with Ivy—and Tyler is fucking annoying. But at least I get the chance to try and patch things up with Ives. I hate this weirdness between us. I just want my friend back.

Headlights flash in the driveway, and I walk over and open the front door, just as Ivy and Jacob are climbing out of their mom’s car. Ivy looks absolutely stunning in a dark blue dress. The straps that go over her shoulders and tie behind her neck are covered in sparkly diamond crystal things, and her waist dips in and her hips flare in a way that makes me choke on my own spit. When she

turns to shut the car door, I see that her back is bare almost to her ass, and I have to look away or else I might actually die. Best friends shouldn’t be allowed to look that good.

“Hi, Mrs. Rivenbark!” I divert my attention to Ivy’s mom and smile at her. She leans over to look at me through the passenger window and throws me a thumbs up.

“Hey, Kelley. Tell your momma I said thanks for watchin’ Jake. I’d hate for Ivy Jean to miss her prom ‘cause my employees are unreliable,” she calls from the car. She’s got a smile on her face that looks a bit like Ivy’s when she’s sad but trying to act like she’s not sad, and I smile back to make her feel better.

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Rivenbark. Don’t work too hard.”

She laughs and waves my comment off. “I told you before to call me Pam, Kelley. Now you behave yourself and stick close to Ivy Jean.” Ivy’s standing next to me now and rolls her eyes at me. The playful gesture lessens the tension coiled in my stomach.