Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill 1)

Slowly lowering my hand, I asked, “I’m causing trouble with Breanna, aren’t I?”

Dawson’s mouth formed a straight line. He turned on his heel and walked towards the kitchen, avoiding my question.

I followed after him, my bare feet smacking against his weathered-wood floor.

He must have sensed me behind him, as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye while bending down and looking in the fridge. I couldn’t help but let my eyes travel over his butt.

Dark grey sweatpants hung loosely from his hips, just below his white t-shirt, and even though they weren’t fitting him tightly like the jeans from earlier, his butt looked just as good. If not better.

“Things with Breanna aren’t… good.”

I walked over to the island and rested my forearms along its marble top.

“And I’m making them worse,” I stated.

He shut the fridge and walked over to the island, placing his palms flat along the top. I finally brought my eyes up to his and waited.

“You’re making them real,” he answered, driving his dreamy blue eyes into mine.

What the hell does that mean?!

“Dawson,” I started, backing away from the island. “Maybe I should just go… I don’t want to make things worse for you two, even if I don’t think she’s right for you.”

My heart climbed up to my mouth. Why. Did. I. Just. Say. That.

“You’re not going anywhere, and you don’t think she’s right for me?” he asked, perplexed, a smirk growing on his face.

I laughed. “Of course not, and I bet everyone agrees with me.”

He turned away for a second, showcasing his jaw that looked as if it had been chiseled from stone. I knew what he was thinking; he was probably going through all the times someone had said the same thing that I just did.

She wasn’t right for him. She didn’t make him happy; anyone could see that.

I’ve barely seen them together, but the one time that I had, he had literally looked pained and she… w

ell, she’d looked like she was going to kill me.

“Then who is?” he asked, turning his chiseled face back to me.

I gulped.

I felt flutters deep within my stomach, and looking directly into the beautiful, dark-blue hues of his eyes honestly stole any coherent thought out of my head. His eyes were heated, pupils dilating…like they were begging me to say the right words.

And then, I heard a faint male voice say “Hello?” from my pocket. I opted to ignore it, choosing to stare into Dawson’s eyes instead.

They had me caught up in thinking all the wrong things.

I’m right for you.

But I wasn’t.

Or was I?

“Is your pocket talking to you?” he inquired, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Huh?”

His cheeks lifted and then he finally released my stare. I let out a held breath that I wasn’t even aware I’d been holding.