We need to talk, it’s far past time, but I chickened out while we were dancing on that dirt road. Amelie wanted to avoid it, I know that, and the moment was so perfect that I let it happen, too.

  Maybe my sister is right; I may not think I deserve Amelie, but I’d never hurt her because I’d spend my entire life trying to prove I’m worthy of a woman like her.

  “I just got an email. Keith Wonderstone’s people are here, he’s putting together a new show they can’t talk about. But they want to talk to you about it.” Quinn’s frantic words interrupt my Amelie thoughts, and I see her head is now buried in her phone.

  Keith Wonderstone is a bigwig for teen drama shows, and even some of the ones that Amelie and company like to binge on Netflix after a hangover. His name is synonymous with plucking undiscovered talent and turning them into franchise stars.

  “Hell yes.” I bounce my elbows up and down on my knees, pumped but trying to stay calm.

  “I’ll set up a lunch for us tomorrow before we leave.” Quinn’s fingers are flying over the screen as she taps out the email response.

  If I could get in with Keith and his people, I could possibly book something. Which could lead to a paycheck, one that I could send home to Webton and help my brothers and sisters.

  This trip, one I had to squeeze in for fear of missing college courses, has paid off. Even if we only get one sip of coffee with Keith, at least I know I’m on his radar.

  Things might be working out, and I allow myself one breath of hope.

  22

  Amelie

  My five roommates and I stand in a huddle on the campus quad.

  Around us, there are tons of groups made up of different off campus houses, dorm roommates, and suite-shares. Someone is yelling over a loudspeaker, and there is campy carnival music playing that hurts my ears.

  “Why the hell are we here?” Bevan snarls.

  If there is anyone who hates group activities more than quiet, bookworm me, it’s Bevan. While she’s ultra-competitive, group bonding is her hell.

  And she also might want to kill Scott, who organized this whole thing, because he called the one person she hates more than group activities.

  Callum is here because he has to be in order for us to win. Technically, he’s still on the lease, even if he’s crashing on a buddy’s couch to avoid Bevan, his ex-girlfriend. Since Scott wants to win whatever prize it is that comes at the end of these relay races, he resorted to calling Callum. I think Bevan might murder him … or both of them.

  And to say that the tension and awkwardness between them is affecting the group would be an understatement. Mostly, the sadness wafting off both of them is overwhelming. I know how upset Bevan has been, and Callum looks like shit. Their relationship is the kind that is more on and off than a light switch, and it was so toxic for both of them. Even though they love each other so much it hurts, that was the problem. They were always in pain.

  “This would win us free coffee from the cafe for a month! Don’t you all want that?” Scott looks at us like we’re crazy.

  “Wait, so free coffee is the thing you try hard for and are passionate about? I’ve seen you be apathetic at best about flunking out of that trig course, but this is what gets you hot and bothered?” Bevan is incredulous.

  “I have a thing for those whipped girly lattes.” He shrugs, then claps his hands. “All right team. I can definitely walk across the field on my hands, ninja style. Who is doing the piggy back leg, and who is going to do the scale the tree TikTok challenge?”

  Gannon’s hand shoots up. “Ams and I have got the scaling me challenge. I’ve seen it a billion times on TikTok, and Ams is the most flexible one we’ve got.”

  Everyone’s eyes zoom in on me, and I go bright red. “Gannon …”

  He hears the embarrassment in my voice and laughs. “I don’t mean like that. Although …”

  This time, I actually guffaw.

  “God, I mean, because of her dance background. Get your heads out of the gutter, people!” Gannon admonishes all of us.

  “Sure, that’s what you meant.” Scott winks at him.

  Great. Does everyone know we had sex? I probably should have thought of that before this moment. I could have gone through the stages of embarrassment when I wasn’t in front of all of my roommates.

  “Enough of this,” Taya snaps, and it’s so unlike her that everyone swings their head her way.

  She’s glaring at Gannon, and I would not want to be on the receiving end of whatever she’s thinking. Taya is the most level-headed, laid-back person I know. She doesn’t get angry like Bevan or weepy like me. But if she’s agitated, and right now she’s bordering on furious, I’d steer way clear.

  “Let’s just get to it.” She corrects her tone, coming off a little more like her normal self. “Bev and I will do the piggyback challenge, which leaves Callum as the other one walking across the field in a handstand.”

  “Ass backward? Sounds like him,” Bevan mutters under her breath.

  Callum’s eyes go steely, but before he can say anything, a whistle blows.

  “All right roomies, let’s get to your relays!” the organizer calls out, a peppy girl with a high pony and a clipboard.

  “She’s definitely an RA.” Gannon snorts as we walk side by side.

  “You should know, didn’t you screw ours freshman year?” We lived in the same dorm, and I swear he slept with the one on our floor.

  I’m getting back at him for exposing our personal life back there, and we both know it.

  “Sorry, shouldn’t have made that comment.” He hangs his head, deflated.

  That guilty conscience of mine, which aches any time I’m not at my nicest, slams into me. “It’s okay. You were just making a joke.”

  Now he gives me his signature grin, and my heart is back to melting. I’m having so many mixed emotions when it comes to him that I can hardly keep up.

  “So what is it that we’re doing here?”

  Gannon pulls out his phone and clicks through some apps before coming to a video. A girl is legitimately scaling this guy, climbing him like a damn tree. My mouth drops open because I’m going to have to do that on Gannon, but I study it. I’m not one to let my friends down, and so if this is what I have to do to win Scott those damn coffees, I’ll do it.

  A familiar face catches my attention in the crowd, and I don’t miss Jameson staring daggers at Gannon and me.

  “Want me to beat the shit out of him?” Gannon puffs out his chest and throws an arm around me.

  I shrug out of the hold and put my palm to his heart. “Don’t you dare. He’s mad for a completely valid reason.”

  Shame burns in my gut, because I hate that I hurt him.

  “Fine, let’s focus,” Gannon grumbles, throwing one last searing look over his shoulder. “Should we practice?”

  My heart kicks up a notch. I don’t think I can do that twice, because I might pull a muscle. But more importantly, I’ll never be able to do it a second time after I grope Gannon all over his body once.

  “Nah. Let’s not jinx it.” I wave it off nonchalantly.

  A couple minutes later, the student organizing our relay comes over and tells us to stand in a certain spot. Rules are explained about how if the person climbing falls off the stationary person, we’ll be disqualified, and then we’re at the ready.

  Gannon offers me his hand and his thigh to propel myself up onto his body. Hesitantly, I grab it. Of course, I trust him, but trusting him like this only makes my heart fall further. Meanwhile, it’s already in dangerous territory and always has been.

  The whistles blows, and we’re off at warp speed. For the duration of the relay, my mind is on conforming and twisting my body, straining my muscles around Gannon’s so that I don’t fall off. Every time I think I might, his hand is there to hold me up. Each time I get stuck, he works in tandem, moving himself to give me room to perform.

  Finally, I twist myself around to his front, so I’m essentially straddling him as he holds me in midair. Almost like he did the night on my desk.

  Reality comes slamming up at me, like the ground just slapped my body, and I blink as we’re nose to nose. Gannon is breathing heavy, but the interruption of someone yelling in our faces jolts us out of the haze we’re in.

  “These are our winners!” the student organizer cries, making a spectacle of us.

  My cheeks, my heart, my stomach, the place between my thighs, they all burn bright red as Gannon slides me down his front. It’s like he’s moving me in slow motion so that I feel every ripple of his body, every divot I’ve never gotten a good look at in private.

  Sometimes I wish we weren’t in the dark the night we had sex. It’s been a fantasy of mine to look at him, all of him, good and long and in the light.

  “Look, Scott is about to fall on his face.” Gannon breaks my eye contact but is still holding both of my arms by the elbow.

  A rush of air expels from my lungs, and it’s weird because I didn’t think I was holding it.

  We’ve been in neutral for the past couple of weeks, not wanting to rock the boat or confront what’s going on. But it’s clear after this that I can’t go on with this everything’s normal facade.

  I have too many things going on; I don’t need more drama or strife.

  But part of me can’t help but think, is it time to confess my feelings to Gannon once and for all?

  23

  Gannon

  “Stop fucking with Amelie.”

  Taya is in my room before I even invite her in, and I let out a huge sigh.

  The last two weeks have been so hectic that I haven’t even gotten to talk to Amelie like I want to. I had a plan to sit her down and hash this all out the moment she got back from Webton, but then Scott insisted on the field day and the whole house was within earshot. We needed a quiet, private space to dig deep into our issues and hopefully resolve them.

  And even more hopefully, she’ll listen when I tell her that I love her. Because no matter how much I keep trying to tell myself I don’t deserve her, the universe, and even my sister want me to get the hell over myself.

  But of course, Taya is here to smack me down to reality. “I love you, Tay. But it’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business when you’ve been making googly eyes at her, leading her on, and now she’s done with Jameson because of you. Jesus, Gannon, don’t you know how long she’s been waiting for this? I told you before you went to Webton for Cher that you had to stay away from her. You promised! I swear to God, Gannon—”

  “You don’t think I know?” My voice is quiet, shredded. “Of course, I know how she feels about me. I’m not as big of a moron as you guys think I am.”

  “What?” Taya’s mouth drops open.

  She shakes her head in disbelief, as if she can’t imagine that I’m really saying this.

  “I know how she feels about me. I’ve always known. Do you think it hasn’t gutted me for eleven years? Do you think it feels good to turn my cheek every time she looks at me with that longing gaze? You think I don’t want to kiss her every time she’s upset, or every time she fucking breathes?”

  My throat is ragged with the hurt I’ve been shoving back down for years. Taya looks like she could both kill me and burst into tears. I love her and Bevan, like sisters, but they’ve only been getting Amelie’s side. I’m also an injured party here, forced to swallow the love I have for her. And I’ve had no one to talk to about it. Because if I voiced it, I might act on the feelings I was trying to ignore. That was my rationale, anyway.

  “But why? Gannon, what the fuck? If you knew all this time, and you led her on like this—“

  I think I pull a muscle in my neck I whip it so fast. “I never led her on. Don’t you even say it. I’ve been here, as a friend, as her closest person. But I’ve never tried to trick her, or promise her things I can’t give her. I’ve been a shoulder, but nothing more.”

  “Just by sticking around you’ve done that.” There is sympathy in her voice, but also an edge of anger. “And let’s not pretend you haven’t been more. Not after you slept with her. What the hell did you think that would give her if it wasn’t blinding and rose-colored hope?”

  I run my fingers through my hair and then fist them, relishing the bite of pain at my scalp. “I … couldn’t stay away. I should have, I know that. But … she’s my magnet. I’m drawn to her. I don’t want to hurt her, I know I don’t deserve her, but I can’t help myself. I have to be near her.”

  “You don’t deserve her?”

  We’re standing across the room from one another, and how confused Taya seems to be is palpable.

  “I never have, isn’t that what you always thought? I’m an asshole, just a charming face, no substance. My family never taught me to love. Amelie … she’s the definition of everything good. She’s nice, angelic, beautiful both inside and out. She’s the type of person no one can ever say a bad word about, and I’m the complete opposite. It’s no mystery that everyone who knows us, our friendship, thinks that I’m the wolf and she’s the naive Red Riding Hood. That one day, I’ll eat her and spit her back out. It’s why I’ve stayed away. Why I’ve put on the facade and worn my reputation, or the one people gave me, like a suit of armor. You don’t think I love her exactly the way she loves me? Then I’ve been doing a hell of an acting job.”

  Exhaustion seeps from my pores. I rub my forehead in frustration and depletion. Keeping it all inside this long has made me a shell of a man.

  “I can’t believe you,” Taya growls. “All this time you claim you love her, and you’ve let her suffer through that crush? I don’t care if you think you didn’t deserve her! You let Am hang on your every move while you felt the same about her? What is wrong with you?”

  “So, I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t? Perfect.” I grit my teeth.

  Taya takes two deep breaths. “Shit, I … I’m just worked up. I don’t understand why two people who love each other have waited so long to actually admit it. Especially with all she’s going through.”

  “Like you admitted you had a gigantic crush on Austin in high school?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  Yeah, of course, I know about the Austin crush. For one, Amelie tells me most everything. And second, I was in planning sessions with the girls around the time of that sophomore homecoming dance he finally noticed Taya. They would ask me how she should proceed, if she should throw herself at him, etc.

  “Touché, asshole. But … touché. Things worked out for us in the end. That could happen for you and Amelie.”

  “One second, you’re telling me to stay the fuck away from her, and now you want our happily ever after?” I cock my head to the side.

  Taya shrugs. “I want everyone to have the love I have. And I know how badly Amelie has wanted that with you.”

  “We’ve done everything backward. I’m not sure there is any way to correct it.”

  “Then why don’t you start at the beginning? Actually talk to her.”

  Her advice goes off like a lightbulb in my brain, and I start toward the day. “Thanks, Tay!”

  “What, now?” I hear her say as I take the stairs down two at a time.

  I’ve been trying to convince myself for weeks that I need to just confront Amelie with everything. Her best friend coming to me has spurred me to do so, and I’m not losing this momentum.

  Which is why I burst into Amelie’s room and plan to do just that.

  24

  Amelie

  Books are scattered about my bed, my eyes narrowed at them as I try to pick which one to choose next.

  I’m taking a paranormal literature course, and while it’s fascinating, I have a hard time getting into the mystical and magical. I’m much more comfortable in a women’s fiction genre or with a good regency romance, heck, I’ll even take an interesting autobiography. Something about my brain makes it hard to immerse myself in worlds that might not conform to reality.

  Which is why I took the course, I’m trying to get better at it. As a librarian, I want to be able to make impactful recommendations in each corner of the book world.

  While I’m tapping my chin, contemplating the ten books I checked out of the library, Gannon storms in.

  “We’re going to have this talk, right here, and right now.”

  He practically stamps his foot as he points to the floor, as if to say I better come stand over there to talk to him.

  I stay seated on my bed, more than surprised. “Um, what?”

  “I’m tired of skirting around this, of never talking about what happened between us. Or, fuck, let’s face it, has been happening between us for eleven years. Everybody wants to have their own damn opinion and I’m not allowed to voice mine for fear of upsetting you more or breaking my own rules or whatever the hell else is holding us back. We’re talking. Now.”

  Oh, shit. He’s really aggravated and I wonder what got him to this point. But I don’t have time to think about that because my mind is going into panic mode. I don’t want to have this talk. I don’t want to expose all of the scary, painful parts of myself. I don’t want him to know that I’ve been in love with him since the first moment I saw him in the fifth grade.

  “Gannon, we really don’t have to. I told you, we’re good. I care so much about you, we’re best friends—”

  Forget everything I said after the field day this afternoon. I’m too much of a coward to confront him, to tell him everything I’ve felt for him all these years. I’m that scared, kind little girl who never wants to feel anything too big.

  “Bullshit, we’re best friends. Best friends don’t fuck each other’s brains out. Best friends don’t think twenty-four seven about what you sound like orgasming on my cock. Best friends don’t wish they could be holding you every night as they fall asleep. Best friends aren’t so fucking in love with you that I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t fucking function because you don’t know how much I love you.”

 

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