Through the door, I can hear the women still discussing us like we’re actually a couple. They’re building a future that doesn’t exist for two people who are barely even friends. I don’t know if our relationship will survive this test. It certainly didn’t survive all those years ago.
Brendan’s fingers curl around the zipper, then stop. When I glance back, his gaze is fixed on my bare back, his jaw tight and his eyes dark.
And I don’t understand. Not when he’s made it clear that he only sees me as a friend.
“Brendan?” I whisper.
He clears his throat. “Sorry—” His voice comes out low and rough.
He swallows, then finally, I feel the zipper give way. His fingers slide down my spine slowly, making heat pool in my belly. I fix my eyes on the floor, trying—and failing—to ignore how much his touch affects me, when we both know exactly where the line between us is supposed to be.
“There,” he says roughly, pausing the zipper halfway down my back. “Do you want me to…” He hesitates. “…stop?”
Don’t stop touching me, I want to blurt so badly, it takes everything in me not to. Instead, I bite down on my lip and nod.
“Okay…” He hesitates, like he’s waiting for me to say something different.
Don’t turn around, Scarlett,I commandmyself.If you do, your face will betray everything.He wanted a fake girlfriend who wouldn’t develop feelings. And I’m breaking that cardinal rule.
“I’ll just go, then,” he says quietly, backing away.
As much as I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, the joke’s on me.
Because they just did.
FOURTEEN
Brendan
I stand at the edge of the rink, watching pucks rocket toward our goalie in a steady rhythm. The ice, the sound of skates, the rhythm of the drills—it usually works to keep me focused. Instead, my mind is somewhere else, stuck on the image of Scarlett in that gown, the silky skin of her back flashing through my thoughts.
I try to think about hockey instead, but then an image comes into my mind of the first time I saw her.
I was fifteen and trying to hide. To be invisible inside my own life.
I’d found my way to a hidden pocket of beach tucked away from the rest of the shoreline and shielded by dunes, the perfect place if you’re looking for somewhere to disappear from your family.
My dad had died two years before, and my uncle’s estate was full of people that summer. I needed somewhere quiet, a place where I could think about things without anyone asking if I was okay.
Everyone wasalwaysasking if I was okay. I told them yes because that’s what they wanted to hear.
SayingI’m not okaymeant I’d probably end up in therapy,talking about my feelings. And the last thing I wanted was to talk aboutthat. All I needed was to feel, for once, like everyone else who still had both their parents.
That’s when I found this secluded spot, where it was just me and the waves.
Until the dog found me.
He was some kind of goldendoodle mix, all curly golden fur and no personal space, bounding across the sand. He was on top of me before I could move. Paws on my chest, tongue in my face, completely ignoring my need to be alone.
“Max!” a girl called. She was running toward me, out of breath, a leash dangling from her hand.
I looked up, and the sun was directly behind her head, turning her into a silhouette with a golden halo. I had to shield my eyes just to see her face.
When she stepped out of the light, I caught my first real look at her. Dark hair falling in windblown waves down her sun-kissed shoulders, a red tank top and frayed cutoff shorts.
She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, scooping the dog up with an apologetic smile. “He doesn’t know a stranger.”