A shiver slides through me as I press my lips together, reluctant to agree. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. It was...enjoyable.
When I remain silent, he raises a brow in askance.
“Yes, it was,” I admit begrudgingly.
He tilts my chin higher. “Nice enough to do again?”
No way. Being with him is sweet torture, and there’s only so much I can take before I eventually break.
When my tongue darts out to moisten parched lips, an answering groan rumbles up from deep in his chest. Just when I expect him to lean in for a kiss, my fingers scramble behind my back, grabbing hold of the handle and twisting. When the door springs open, I realize that I didn’t lock it earlier and nearly fall inside the entryway. The motion is enough to break the spell he has effortlessly woven around me. I stumble back a step before he reaches out and grabs my shoulders.
Before he can detain me any longer with his voodoo magic, I snatch the containers from his other hand and take a hasty step in retreat, slamming the door in his face.
“Thanks for dinner,” I yell through the barrier that now separates us.
“Anytime,” he says in reply, humor dancing in his voice.
I don’t care if he’s laughing at my awkward attempts to keep him at bay. The only thing that matters is that I was successful. There’s a beat of silence as I tiptoe through the entryway and cautiously press my ear against the wood. It’s only when I hear his door from down the hall slam shut that I release a breath of relief before swinging around and collapsing against it. Curiosity gets the better of me as I stare at the small white dessert box before breaking down, opening the lid, and peering inside.
What I find has my throat closing up.
Chocolate-covered strawberries.
My favorite.
Damn him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alyssa
For what feels like the hundredth time, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling in the darkness that fills the bedroom. Even though I glanced at the clock on the nightstand less than two minutes ago, my gaze flickers in that direction again. It’s after midnight. If it were simply a matter of closing my eyes and allowing my mind to wander until sleep took over, I’d already be happily snoring away. Instead, every time I close my eyes, an image of the hot, blond football player materializes in my mind. No matter how much I try, I can’t stop thinking about him.
I can’t deny that this Colton—the one who prepared dinner for me tonight—is different than the guy I dated a year and a half ago. It’s not that I don’t think people can grow and change. Of course they can. I’d like to think that I’ve matured somewhat over the years. But am I necessarily ready to take the risk only to wind up nursing a broken heart?
That’s a complicated question with an even more complicated answer. The unnerving part is that it shouldn’t be. After the way he treated me sophomore year, I should be immune to his charms. But Colton has always been my weakness. That, unfortunately, has not changed.
A month ago, when I was living in London, life had seemed so much simpler.
Now?
Now I’m a confused mess.
If I had any brains whatsoever, I’d stay as far away from Colton as humanly possible—and even that wouldn’t be enough distance. Ever since my return, he’s been carefully chipping away at my resistance, and I’m afraid that tonight might have truly weakened me.
Just as I flop over onto my side and squeeze my eyes tight, willing myself to find slumber, my phone chimes with an incoming message. Before glancing at the screen, I already know who it’s from. It’s like he can sense my vulnerable state even though we’re nowhere near each other.
Don’t do it!
Don’t you dare do it!
Ignore him.
I hold out for roughly ten seconds before rolling over and reaching for my phone.
I had a great time tonight. Hope you realize I won’t give up easily.
My breath escapes in a rush as I pour over the message half a dozen times.
His words scare the hell out of me. Deep down, I know they’re true. He won’t give up. Colton will continue to pursue me until I give in. As tempted as I am to do just that, I’m terrified he’ll only hurt me in the end.
The day he dumped me, it felt as if someone had reached into my chest, wrapped their hand around my beating heart, and ripped it free. There’s no way I can go through that again.
That boy had meant everything to me. More than I ever imagined possible. Until he threw it all away. Until he threw me away. The darkness that had fallen over me after our breakup had been all-encompassing. I’d had to fight my way free, and that had taken time and determination.