Page 43 of Give You Up

“Dare hugs me. Slings me over his shoulder when he’s in a hurry. Kisses the top of my head. Holds my hand in a crowd so we don’t get separated.”

“Then we’re not friends.”

“Of course not,” she says. “We’reexes.”

“Our breakup wasn’t mutual,” I point out. “If I had my way, we wouldn’t have broken up at all. I’d take you with me to Stanford.”

“And how would that have worked out? Me sitting at home waiting for you to be done with classes? Me wondering if some girl or girls is pawing at your body at parties? Me wondering if you would come home at all or whether you stayed the night at some other girl’s place?”

“You think I would cheat on you?”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Taron.”

“Be clear what you’re insinuating,Pixie Dust.”

“The other kids said your dad cheated on your mom and you have half-siblings.”

“Every family has their secrets. What’s yours?”

Her eyes widen. She bites down on her lower lip. Swings her gaze to the ground. Shit, I’ve hit on a sensitive topic. I pull her into my arms.

“I’m sorry, Syn. I didn’t mean to pry, baby. You tell me when you’re ready. Or not at all.”

Her arms hang loose at her sides. A heavy silence hangs in the air. I let go of her. Syn doesn’t want my comfort or my apologies. This, too, is different from the old days of high school. Back then, Syn would cling to me, her tears shredding me to pieces. Now? Now she is her own woman, a strong and independent woman.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t believe the stupid rumors then and shouldn’t now. Your father is the kindest man, Taron. He’s hardworking, and every time I went over and he was there, he doted on your mom.”

My dad is a charmer. A great actor. He fooled a lot of people. He’s a cheater and a liar in his marriage, but in his profession, he is nothing but honest and fair, getting his clients the best deals. It’s the reason I hate and love my dad. He can be an upstanding guy one moment and a douchebag the next. How I see myself too.

“Before we call it a night, I have a proposition for you.”

Proposition? It’s the sexiest damn word from her mouth. She runs the plan by me.

“You think this is the same guy?” I don’t say her name. The girl in question wants to keep this on the down low. Doesn’t want any trouble. Except the bastard who hurt her could hurt someone else, and that pisses me off.

I agree to helping Syn. Not that I could refuse her. If she’s putting herself in the path of danger, Jesus H. Christ, I plan on being there and protecting her.

“I can book us rooms for this Friday and Saturday.”

“Friday, yes, but Saturday . . . Let me check.” She takes out her cell phone from her back pocket and swipes her fingers over the screen, bringing the phone up to her face. “I’m corgi-sitting for my friend on Saturday.”

“Sunday?”

“Open.”

“How about we go over our assignment?”

“It’s a plan.” She pockets her phone and sticks out her fist.

I stare at her small hand. Fist bumps I reserve for friends. With Syn, I am aiming for more than friendship. I unfurl her fist, and bringing her hand to my face, I collapse her hand and press a kiss over each ring.

“Taron?”

There’s hesitation in her voice, as though what I did is something special and unexpected, but also something that shifts her feelings for me into new territory. I understand her confusion. My intention when I transferred to DU was to mess with Syn’s life for fucking up mine with her cheating and pregnancy. Except she is more different than I have ever imagined she’d be, and that stokes my curiosity and gets me hard in a way only Syn can do to my junk.

I reach for her other hand, and holding her gaze, I drop kisses along her knuckles.

“We are not friends, Syn. Or exes. We are a work in progress.”

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