Influenced a romantic co.., p.29
Influenced: A Romantic Comedy, page 29
The answer is simple.
She doesn’t.
I sit up and look the window, seeing that the storm that’s brewing outside matches my mood, all dark clouds and the harsh winds. One glance at my weather app tells me it’s only supposed to get worse. Well, at least I can count on the weather to feel the same way I do.
Throwing on my bathing suit, I grab my surfboard and head downstairs. I’m just leaning it beside the door when the sound of Kaia laughing meets my ears. I turn around and my stomach drops as I see her sitting on the table, talking to Rhys, a bright smile on her face. The sight alone kills me and brings me back to life all at the same time.
I keep my head down as I go into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I try my best to go unnoticed, or at the very least hope she’ll let me out of here without saying anything. But luck isn’t on my side as I reach the front door and she calls my name.
No matter what we’re going through, I still find it hard to breathe when I see how gorgeous she is. She smiles hesitantly as she walks up to me.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
It’s probably something we need to do…scratch that. It’s definitely something we need to do, but right now, I don’t think I can handle it. Just being in the same room as her is hard enough. Listening to her reject me all over again? No, thank you.
“Can it wait?” I reply, a little less calm than I intended. “I’m going surfing.”
She looks concerned. “Haven’t you seen the storm that’s coming?”
“Yes. That’s exactly why I want to go.” I go to turn away, but she stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Dex, what’s wrong?” she questions. “What happened last night?”
Strategically, I move my arm away from her touch, making it look natural. “I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Don’t let me interrupt what you were up to.”
Her brows furrow as she glances back at Rhys, still right where she left him. “What? With Rhys?” She waves it off. “He was just—”
“It’s none of my business,” I interrupt. “Seriously, you do you. I am.”
I don’t stick around to see the hurt look on her face or the way she wraps her arms around middle. I throw my board under my arm and walk right out the front door, leaving her to watch me as I go.
THE OCEAN IS PISSED. Not only is there a storm coming from the east, there’s another one brewing over the Pacific. It makes for a dangerous ocean, but some killer fucking waves.
Emphasis on killer.
I’m halfway out when I hear my name being shouted from behind me. My head drops as I register that familiar voice and know exactly what she wants.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Oakley asks as she paddles out next to me.
“I’m fine!” I yell back. “I just want to surf!”
“In this? There’s a reason no one else is out here, Declan. Only the adrenaline junkies are this reckless.”
I huff and cast my eyes up to the sky. All I wanted to do was surf. To let off some damn steam by catching some waves. And I can’t even do that.
“What’s wrong?” she questions when I stay quiet. “Kaia said—”
Hearing her name sets me off and I snap. “You were right!”
Confusion etches across her face. “Right about what?”
“She didn’t know we were dating. That we were serious,” I confess. “It was only just fun to her, that’s all. So while I was crazy about her, I was just a project to her.”
“I thought you two talked about it.”
“We did, or at least I thought we did.” I shrug. “I guess I wasn’t clear enough. I was going to tell her that I love her last night, but before I could, she asked how much longer we were going to keep our fake relationship going. We weren’t just on two different pages, we weren’t even in the same damn book.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile that only manages to make me feel worse. “So, what did you do?”
“I panicked. Told her that there was some girl I’d been wanting to hook up with and that I would tell Beau to organize the breakup.”
Her hand whips against my arm, slapping me hard enough to leave a red mark. “Why the fuck would you say that?”
“Because! I wanted to save myself. To hide the fact that I’m pathetic, over here thinking we were in a relationship that never existed.”
“You could try talking to her,” she suggests. “You know, for real this time.”
I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “No. I don’t want to talk. I’d rather do literally anything but talk.”
Oakley rolls her eyes, looking like she wants to slap me again. “Doing anything but talking is literally what got you where you are now.”
“Still, no.” I lay down on my board and turn around to head to shore. “I’ll get out of the water if that makes you feel better, but I’m not going home. I just need some time alone.”
“Declan—” she tries, but her insistence strikes a nerve.
“I’m not good enough for her, Oak!” I shout. “I was stupid to think I stood a chance when she has guys like Brayden Hodges after her.”
She doesn’t say anything else as I start to paddle out of the water. The waves crash angrily against the shore, and my mind is so all over the place, I don’t even notice how close we’ve drifted toward the jetty until it’s too late. The retreating water creates an impossible pattern to get through. and I can’t seem to turn my board fast enough.
“Dex!”
Oakley’s panicked scream meets my ears, but I don’t have time to react before the wave takes me out and right into the rocks.
32
KAIA
I stare out the window, watching the rain pour from the sky. Thunder cracks and obliterates the silence as I curl into a ball. Lux rubs my back as she tries to think of what to say.
“It’s going to be okay,” she offers hesitantly. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
But I’m not so sure.
The sound of tires screeching in the driveway provide more relief than I ever thought it would. I’m up out of my seat and rushing toward the foyer when the door opens and Declan storms inside with Oakley right behind him. When he turns his head, however, I see the blood dripping down his face—the source being a nasty gash on his forehead.
“Oh my God!” I gasp. “Are you okay?”
“Fucking fantastic,” he grumbles.
Tossing the broken pieces of his surfboard onto the floor, he starts marching up the stairs when Oakley tries to talk to him.
“Declan,” she says softly.
But soft is not what she gets back.
“I said fucking drop it!” he screams. “What part of that are you not understanding?”
I flinch at his tone, having never heard him talk to her that way. He’s always been so calm with her. When he disappears from view, I turn to Oakley.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
The sound of Declan’s bedroom door slamming echoes through the house, making us both flinch. Oakley sighs in frustration and runs her fingers through her wet and tangled hair.
“You need to talk to him,” she tells me.
I shrug defeatedly. “I tried, this morning. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to me.”
“Then make him!” she snaps.
She doesn’t mean to be a bitch. I know that’s not how Oakley is. She’s just frustrated, and judging by the cut on Declan’s forehead, whatever happened out there wasn’t fun.
We’ll make up later. Right now, there are more important things to deal with.
I stare up at the top of the stairs and take a deep breath.
“Do you want me to handle it?” Havoc offers.
“No,” I say with an exhale. “I’ve got it.”
When I get to Declan’s room, I notice he slammed the door so hard that the frame cracked. All I have to do is lightly push and it opens. I peek my head in warily, not seeing him in there, but the light coming from his en suite gives away his whereabouts.
I lean against the doorway, watching as he tries to clean the cut. Any time he comes anywhere near it, he hisses in pain. His eyes meet mine in the reflection of the mirror. Even with his closed-off demeanor, I still feel so comfortable when I’m around him.
“I’ve got it,” he growls. “You can go.”
I hum and take a step toward him. “I’m sure you do, Casanova, but millions of girls will be devastated if a scar tarnishes that perfect smolder you’ve got nailed.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but he must know I don’t plan on listening, because he turns and sits on the closed toilet, handing me the washcloth. I run it under warm water instead of the cold he was trying to use, and then gently start cleaning the blood from his face.
“What the hell happened?” I ask.
It takes a second before he shrugs. “I underestimated the ocean. A wave took me out, and I slammed my head into the rocks. Just your typical stupid surfing accident.”
My brows furrow. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”
He nods. “I’ve gotten a few while skateboarding. I know what they feel like. This isn’t it, though.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling a little relieved. “So then why were you yelling at Oakley?”
For the first time, remorse flashes across his face. “She, uh…she was lecturing me about surfing in the storm the whole way home. Like I didn’t already learn my lesson.”
I press my lips together as I concentrate. “Well, it’s only because she cares.”
He doesn’t respond to that, and everything goes quiet as I work on cleaning his cut. Once all the blood is gone, I grab some antiseptic cream and butterfly bandages out of the medicine cabinet, applying them both. But the whole time I’m tending to him, he won’t look me in the eyes.
“Okay,” I tell him. “You’re all set. Just cover it with something if you decide to take a shower.”
He nods, not taking his eyes off the floor.
When I realize he isn’t going to say anything, I sigh and turn around to leave. But before I reach his bedroom door, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist.
I spin back to face him, and my gaze locks with his. The stare starts off hard, but I can see as he softens. Still, it’s just as intense.
I feel exposed.
Like he can see right through me and read my every thought.
“Declan,” I whisper.
He exhales, and the two of us move at once. Our lips crash together and I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as our tongues tangle together and fight for dominance.
“The fucking things you do to me,” he growls against my mouth.
He throws me down onto his bed and I grab the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and throwing it onto the floor. My fingers lace into the back of his hair as I pull him down to kiss me again.
His hips roll forward, grinding against me through the thin material of his bathing suit. “God, Kaia. I can’t get enough of you.”
I moan quietly as he slips his hand under my waistband, immediately rubbing circles against my clit. Sex with him is so goddamn addicting, and I think that’s because of the way he’s taken the time to learn me.
What I like.
What I don’t like.
What the best way to make me come is.
He knows me like the back of his hand, and he uses it to his advantage.
“Fuck,” I mewl. “It’s always so good with you. So perfect.”
“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs, his lips against my neck. “No one else can make you feel like this. Not Harrison. Not Brayden Hodges. Not even Rhys.”
His words strike a nerve, and my brows furrow as I push him back. “What are you talking about? I’ve never even talked to Brayden Hodges, and Rhys is just a friend.”
He looks down at me, lacking the warmth he had just a few days ago. “To be honest, babe, I really don’t give a shit.”
Dropping his head back down to kiss me again, I turn my head and squirm out from under him. “Stop.”
He backs off and sits up, running his fingers through his hair with a look on his face that tells me he knows what he did. I get up from his bed and pull my shirt back down from where it rode up.
“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but I’m not just going to be the doormat you wipe your feet on,” I sneer. “You’re snapping at Oakley. You’re treating me like some groupie you picked up at a club. It’s not fucking happening. So figure out what your deal is, because until you do, I don’t want to be around you.”
I walk out of his room, only pausing when I hear something crash against the wall, but I keep going.
I promised myself that I will never let a man treat me like less than I deserve again, and I’m keeping that promise.
TO SAY THINGS ARE tense would be an understatement of epic proportions. Declan and I are completely avoiding each other, to the point where if one of us walks into a room, the other walks out. It comes down to the fact that I’m rightfully pissed, and he’s not doing anything to try to make it better.
The shit he said—throwing Brayden and Rhys in my face like he had a right to—was wrong on so many levels. I’ve left Brayden unanswered this whole time, and he knew that. I told him as much. And Rhys is his friend just as much as he is mine.
The morning after Declan told me he’d ask Beau how to break us up, I had gone downstairs to get some coffee, with full intentions to go find Declan when I was caffeinated so we could talk. Sort things out and get to the bottom of everything. But as I was waiting for it to brew, Rhys asked for some advice.
Apparently, there is a girl he’s really into, but she hates social media. Avoids it like the plague. He said something about growing up with her dad in the spotlight. He felt like I’d be the perfect person to ask about it, because I’m new to social media, whereas he started years ago. His career grew as the platform did, so the experiences are different.
I could tell by the way he talked about her that she’s really special to him, but between living in the Swype House and the reality show he’s going to be doing that follows him getting ready for the X Games, there’s no way she can be with him and not be in the spotlight. When Declan came down, he was just telling me about how he embarrassed the shit out of himself the first time he met her dad.
It was completely innocent, as if I was talking to Nate, and Declan’s imagination ran wild. And I won’t be the first one to say sorry for something he did wrong.
I’M SCROLLING THROUGH SWYPE when a gossip video comes up, with a picture of Declan and me separated by a jagged line. I know I shouldn’t watch. I should keep scrolling and let Beau handle it. But I can’t.
I’m just as addicted to the narrative as I was addicted to him.
“Is Swype’s favorite couple dunzo? All signs seem to point to yes, just a couple weeks after getting matching tattoos. Neither one of them has posted anything about the other. They haven’t been seen in the background of other Swype House members’ videos, and when they are, they’re not together. And when they all went out the other night, fans said Declan and Kaia didn’t interact at all. I don’t know if this is just speculation and everything is fine, but if it’s not, I’m sure they’re regretting that ink right about now.”
I forward the video to Jules and within a few minutes, she’s calling me.
“Hi,” I answer sadly.
I try not to let this shit affect me, but the truth is it does. Hell, the only reason I haven’t been able to stay in the same room as him is because just seeing him hurts. Maybe it was a stupid tactic, but I was hoping that by suggesting we end out fake relationship, he would make some excuse to stay in it. At least then I would know there was some part of him that felt something real for me.
But instead, it blew up in my face.
Jules sighs heavily. “I still don’t know why you two don’t just talk to each other.”
“Not this again.”
At least once a day she gets in these moods where she’s frustrated. For me, with me, I’m not really sure. But each day, she gets closer and closer to snapping.
“Yes, this again,” she cracks.
And here it comes.
“You two are aggravating as hell. Just man the fuck up and talk to each other. Neither of you are fucking talking to each other!”
I contemplate hanging up, but I know it’ll do me no good. “Why is this all my fault?”
“It’s not,” she tells me. “But you’re the only one I’m talking to at the moment because I’m a loyal ass friend and won’t talk to Declan in honor of best friend code. So you’re the one who gets the lectures.”
“Lucky me,” I drone.
She goes quiet for a second, and I don’t have to see her to know she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “You are so infuriating sometimes. How the hell can you not see that the two of you are equally miserable?”
When I don’t answer, she changes tactics.
“Answer me this,” she says. “If it was just a PR thing—a way to get uncanceled, per se—wouldn’t he have ended it shortly after his account went back to normal?”
It’s not something I haven’t already considered. “Maybe he liked the publicity of it.”
“Or maybe, and I know this is far-fetched so follow along closely, but maybe he didn’t want it to end because he has actual feelings for you.”
I inhale deeply and then let it out, trying not to acknowledge the hope that spurs inside my chest. “I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t,” she chuckles dryly. “But I don’t know anyone who would ask someone’s best friend what her favorite food and drink from back home is just so he could have it flown in especially for her and surprise her with a picnic if she was just work to him. But maybe that’s just me. Who knows.”
Thinking back to that picnic, I remember how happy we were. We had just started sneaking around, and when he asked me to leave with him, I thought it was so we could go have sex. But the surprise I got instead was everything.
