“I just need a minute,” I say, probably too low to be heard over the music.
But with a strained nod, Holden begins to lead us off the dance floor. We find our table, and my drink looks so inviting . . . but it’s been sitting out unattended. And alcohol is the last thing I need. “Can you get me a water?” I ask.
With another nod, he takes off. The tightness in my chest releases in a hot breath past my lips. Whatever was happening out there . . . it’s happening too fast. Just this morning, we were at each other’s throats. This whole trip has been one intense moment after the next. No time to equilibrate in-between. And I need . . .
I have no idea what I need.
Tyler made it a point of letting me know he was aware of my feelings for his brother. I didn’t get to finish that conversation with him, though. I can’t imagine he was giving me permission. For anything. And, I don’t get how he remembers all that but forgets other things.
I shake my head, my thoughts becoming muddled the more I try to sort them out.
Tyler also witnessed the devastation I went through the first time around where Holden was concerned. If Tyler wasn’t even a part of this equation, if my brain and heart weren’t so unbelievably fucked up—I still couldn’t entertain thoughts of me and Holden together. Granted he was only seventeen when he said those things, when he shattered me. But he hasn’t proven that he’s changed at all from that guy.
It’s hot and sexy and full of lust in this club. And Holden’s a guy. I’m sure banging me would be no big sacrifice on his part. Like he said all those years ago, he just wanted to know what I’d be like. I clamp my eyes closed, reliving that painful moment, and shut down the frenzied desire pulsing through me.
When I open my eyes, Holden’s setting a water bottle on the table. “You want to get out of here? Are you feeling okay?”
I don’t know which question to answer first. But this environment isn’t a good one for us. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”
Once we’re outside, the cooler night air hits me, sobering my body and thoughts. I gulp down my water, diluting the alcohol further. My ears are muffled, the loud music from inside the club still ringing in my head. People are dancing right outside the building, and we’re being hurried to walk on the sidewalk as the crowd pushes in.
“I can get you something,” Holden says, keeping close to my side. “An aspirin. Stomach medicine. What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. It just got too hot in there.” Shit. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I glance up at him, and a sly smile curves his lips. “You know what I meant. God, Holden. Vain much?”
He chuckles. The rumble of his voice weakens my knees. I turn my sight ahead. “I know what you meant,” he says, laughter lingering in his deep voice. “Well”—he looks around—“we can find another bar. We still have to hit every one, right?” He examines my expression closely. I feel my brow furrow. “Okay. Agreed. We’re pushing it. It’s been a long couple of days. Maybe sleep is best.”
I exhale the tension from my chest. “Thanks. I think Tyler will let us off the hook on this one.” I bite my lip, definitely not meaning that the way it sounded.
He’s quiet for a minute as we take the corner toward the hotel. “Yeah,” he finally says. “He’ll probably forgive us.”
I can’t tell if he’s insinuating anything, or if he’s just going along with my crazy. I decide to let it drop. And once again regret not taking my shrink up on her offer of anxiety meds. Just the thought of trying to sleep in the same room as Holden has my heart racing. My stomach clenching. I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep for a long time, if at all.
I’m tempted to stop at a drug store and grab some sleeping pills, but push the thought aside. I’ve never depended on anything to get me through shit, not even Tyler’s death. I’m strong enough to deal with Holden, too.
Keeping the reminder that he’s an asshole fresh on my mind should help.
We ride the elevator up in silence. The weight of things unsaid heavy between us. And when we enter the room, the stillness is deafening. I can hear my heart beating, and the pressure building beneath my skin makes me want to claw at my arms. Wanting to unleash whatever fire is trying to consume me.
Plopping onto the bed, I kick off my shoes, grateful I at least wore my Converse tonight, and won’t suffer from sore feet tomorrow. Holden flicks on the TV, and the sound settles my nerves. Some. The quiet between us is still too thick.
Holden rummages through his bag, pulls out a white T-shirt. I think he’s about to change, and my stomach knots all over again, until he tosses his bag on the floor and heads to the bathroom.
My forehead creases. Not that I’m not thankful for his decency not to change in front of me . . . but I’m starting to think he’s purposely hiding his tattoo. Most guys, especially in the residence hall, walk around shirtless all the time. It’s like, they want every girl to see them half naked. I don’t know whether Holden’s just being chivalrous, or what. But my curiosity over his tattoo is becoming morbid.
He steps out in his tee and blue and black checkered boxers. My heart skips a beat. I guess he has no qualms about walking around in front of me wearing those, however. “It’s all yours,” he says, jerking his head toward the bathroom.
“Thanks.”
The uncomfortable tension between us is palpable. I could reach out and carve my hand through it. Pushing down the anxiety roiling in my stomach, I yank out my sleeping clothes from my pack and go to the bathroom.
Locking the door behind me, I flip on the vent. Then brace my hands on the sink counter. “Shit,” I breathe. The mirror reflects the emotions tormenting me clearly on my face. I look ill. Terrified. Turned on.
“Tyler,” I whisper. And wait. I just need to see his face. Feel his presence. Be reassured that he’s still with me. When he doesn’t materialize, “Tyler. I need you.” Silence.
With shaking hands, I strip off my clothes. I’m just pushing my sleeping shirt over my head when a knock sounds at the door.
“Sam.” Holden’s voice is gruff and questioning. Worried. “Open up.”