Past - Age Nineteen
“Thank you for a wonderful date,” I tell Blaine. We’re both sitting in his car as it idles in front of my brother’s house. I was going to have him drop me off at my apartment, until I realized I left my keys in the pocket of the duffle bag that’s still in Selma’s room. My roommate is forty-five minutes away at her flavor of the week’s house. Lucky for me, my car is still here, as Selma had offered to just drop it off tomorrow with Maverick’s help.
I sent her a text five minutes ago, letting her know there was a small change of plans. She’s yet to respond, but I doubt she and Maverick are anywhere other than home.
“I should be the one thanking you,” Blaine says, reaching across the center console and putting his hand on my leg.
“We can have a mutual thank you,” I respond awkwardly, unsure of what I’m supposed to do with my own hands. Do they go on my leg? In my pockets? Shit, I don’t have pockets.
“Can we show how grateful we are with a kiss?” His bluntness takes me off guard.
I’m sure he can hear my small gasp as I hesitantly look over at him. I give him a shy nod, too stunned to get words out.
He slowly—so freaking slowly—leans across the center console, using his hand that isn’t on my thigh to pull my face closer to him. The air from his mouth tickles my cheek as he draws me closer.
Before I can process anything, his lips cautiously press against mine. The kiss is feather soft and sweet. But right now, the last thing I want is sweet. I lean in even closer, my tongue slipping out and pressing against his closed lips. Just as he opens his mouth to me, a knock on my window has me almost jumping out of my pants.
I mean, I’m not wearing pants, but if I were, I’d have jumped right out of them.
Blaine and I separate in an instant—and I feel murderous when I look at the perpetrator through the window.
“Was he expecting you?” Blaine quietly asks, reaching for his control panel to roll down the window.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell Blaine, before damn near burning a hole right through my window with my eyes.
Aspen stares right back, a smug grin on his face. When I don’t make any attempt to get out of the car, he takes it upon himself to open my door. The sudden rush of cold air, following the recent warmth I’ve grown accustomed to, makes my skin rise with goosebumps.
“Uhhhh…hi, Aspen,” Blaine mumbles, removing his hand from my thigh before running it through his hair. Finally, he rests it on the steering wheel.
Aspen doesn’t even give Blaine a response; he’s too busy staring at me with that stupid ass smirk on his face. “Have fun?” he inquires. That stupid cleft in his chin is obvious, and all I want to do is slap it off him.
I narrow my eyes at him, not dignifying him with an answer. I turn to find Blaine’s uneasy stare. I try to apologize with my eyes, mouthing I’m sorry to him. Then aloud, I say, “I had the best time tonight. Thank you, Blaine.” I reach across and plant a tender kiss on his cheek before I step out of the car.
“I’ll call you,” Blaine says as I shut the door.
Aspen laughs from beside me, muttering something I don’t quite pick up on.
I stomp up the driveway, ignoring the annoying presence right on my heels.
Blaine’s car has just made it down the street when Aspen reaches out and grabs me by the elbow. “Have fun tonight, Lil?” he accuses.
I turn so fast it almost gives me whiplash, my finger instinctively darting out at him. “Don’t even talk to me right now!” The words come out as a shout.
“Awww, are you upset about something? Was Blaine a bad kisser? I could’ve probably told you that. I’ve heard from a few ladies that they were very unsatisfied by him.” His grip tightens on my elbow, reminding me that his grubby paws are still on me.
I rip my elbow from his grasp. “Grow up.”
“So that is why you’re mad?” he says through a wolfish grin.
“I’m mad because I’ve been dying to kiss Blaine Wilcox for an entire year and you just ruined that for me!” I have so much pent up aggression right now, I want to shove him right against the hard chest he has on almost full display with his cutoff T-shirt.
“Trust me, I have it on good authority that he’s a mediocre kisser at best.”
“And what authority is that?” I cock my hip, waiting for him to respond.
He smiles, waiting for me to connect the dots.
“Disgusting, Aspen. I don’t need to hear how the girls you kiss have also kissed Blaine. I don’t believe you anyway.” I turn to head toward the front door, my boots clacking against the pavement as I bound up it.
“Suit yourself,” he says nonchalantly, still near enough that I can feel his breath hitting my neck.
“You don’t need to stand so close,” I throw over my shoulder, running up the front porch steps as fast as I can manage. I swing the door open, expecting to find Selma and Maverick on the couch together.
But I’m met with nothing. Then, I notice their bedroom door hanging wide open—neither one of them in sight.
“Where are they?” I ask as Aspen shuts the front door.
“I don’t know. I got home not too long ago, and they weren’t here.” He props his hip against the entryway table, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“I just need my bag, then I’ll be going,” I explain, taking small steps toward their bedroom. The look on Aspen’s face has me wary. He looks like a hunter feeling out his prey.
“Awww, not so soon,” he teases, his gaze flicking to my feet as I inch away from him.
“I’m leaving,” I tell him.
Aspen ignores me. “Should we have girl talk?” he sneers. He claps his hands together, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.
“You can go fuck yourself,” I shoot back, quickly turning away from him and power walking toward their bedroom.
“Why would I do that when I’d much rather fuck with you?”
My body wants to stop in its tracks at his question, but I don’t want him to know the way his words can be felt in my core, so I continue with my trek until I find my bag. I pull the strap over my shoulder then pull my hair out from underneath said strap.
When I turn to exit the room, I see Aspen blocking the doorway. The look on his face is serious. I can almost see the wheels in his head turning. The notion scares me. Joking, pervy Aspen I can handle; it’s when he turns calculating that he terrifies me.
The complete one-eighty has me uneasy.
“Why’d you go on a date with him, Lily?” The use of my actual name instead of his typical pet name for me only makes it worse.
I fiddle with the strap on my shoulder to try to buy myself more time. “Because I’m a grown ass adult and I can?” I try to fit underneath his arm stretching through the doorway, but he quickly lowers it, blocking me in once again.
“Not a good enough answer,” he says, his words uncomfortably close to my ear.
I look up at him, intimidated by his nearness. His breath tickles my ear, and the spot he reached with his crude words earlier warms even more.
What’s in his eyes stuns me the most. For once in his life, there isn’t indifference written in them. They look serious, as if he actually cares about my response.
“What would be a good enough answer?” I ask, refusing to look away from him. His arm is centimeters away from my chest. Every time my chest heaves after taking a long breath, I can almost feel the scratch of his arm across the peaks of my boobs. Part of me wants to breathe harder just to test what that’d feel like.
He must notice the tension, because his eyes flick to the small gap between us before he looks at me again. “That you regret going,” his voice is husky, void of its typical joking tone.
My mouth slowly parts as my brain tries to decode what he just said. Did I have too much sugar? Am I seeing things? My thoughts scramble as I try to process what the hell Aspen is saying. “Come again?” I whisper, my eyes darting to his lips. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and I can’t look away. I’m too sucked into every small movement he makes.
“I want to hear that you regret going,” he says, dragging out the last syllables, his gaze stuck on where my chest heaves. He’s so locked in on my chest it feels as if he can see through the thick material of the dress covering it.
I search his face, trying to fill in the blanks from his words. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer me immediately, but he does manage to throw me off balance—because instead of using his words to answer, he does something worse.
He uses his hands.
He slowly moves his arm. I avert my eyes to the open space in front of me.
Then, I see my escape route.
I can get out of here and pretend none of this ever happened. But I can’t. For some reason my body is betraying me, and it doesn’t move. My feet stay rooted as his hand starts at my hip and slowly brushes its way up my body. It caresses my hip bone, my rib, my collar bone, only stopping when his fingers find the space between my chin and neck. His fingers are hot against me, branding the same spot Blaine had touched minutes ago.
“Aspen,” I breathe.
“Hmm?” he asks, staring at the spot where his thumb currently rests next to my mouth.
I want his lips to caress the spot his thumb is brushing over. I want to lean in and kiss each dimple on his cheek, memorize the little dips using my tongue. All of a sudden, I have all these wants for Aspen, and it disarms me.
“Why do you want me to regret going?” I need to know. Aspen’s favorite thing is talking in riddles. As someone who’s always suggestively straightforward, he’s making no sense right now.
He stares at my lips, his emerald eyes unwavering. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He moves his gaze from my lips and looks me in the eyes. His eyebrows raise in suggestion, waiting for me to reply.
All I can do is nod, too enthralled in the moment with him.
His grip tightens on my neck, bringing me a fraction of an inch toward him in the process. His head inches closer and closer until his breath peppers my lips. “I wanted you to regret going because—”
The sound of the front door flying open reaches our ears and stops his words.
“Lily, hi!” Selma says from down the hallway.
Aspen and I jump away from each other so fast it has my head spinning. Or maybe it’s Aspen’s sudden change in demeanor.
“I just saw your text,” Selma says, finally looking at the two of us. “Hey, Aspen.” Her eyes travel between us, her thick eyebrows pulling together in momentary confusion.
Maverick walks in behind her, a smile on his face. “Lily, Aspen. How are you tonight?”
“Got my bag!” I blurt, holding it up to prove to everyone I have a true purpose for being here. “Look,” I reach my hand out like the models on The Price is Right, “bag.”
Aspen laughs next to me. My eyes dart to him, narrowing. He’s the reason I’m feeling the need to model my bag like it’s going to the highest bidder, seeing as my twin and best friend just walked in on a weird moment between the two of us.
I think I was about to kiss Aspen. I’m in sudden panic mode.
“Riiiightt…” Mav says, staring inquisitively between me and Aspen. He gives Selma a look, one she returns with a nod.
“All right, well,” I glance at Aspen, finding him staring right at me—an expectant look on his face, “I’ve got places to be. Toodles!” I refuse to look at Aspen on my way out, moving as fast as I can manage. “Bye, Mav. Love ya.” I give my brother a swift hug, adjust the bag on my shoulder, and fly out of the house.
As soon as I get in my car, I let out a shaky breath, hands gripping the steering wheel in front of me before I let my forehead fall against the top of it.
I think Aspen almost just kissed me.
And I think I wanted him to.