Page 41 of Flame After the Fumble

“Why do you have to make it so hard?” she whispers almost inaudible.

“Make what so hard?”I ask.

“Not falling for you.”

My chest fills with a warm sensation. Pounding overtakes my eardrums at the thought of Liza being mine and only mine. “It’s too late for me.”

Her glossy eyes shift toward me, but now it’s my turn to tear away from hers and stare into the fire.

27

Liza

Ugh. Why does he have to be so ridiculously charming?!

My brain continues to return to the moment we shared by the bonfire. Hartley has done his best to prove that he can be what I need, but something still holds me back. Every time I come close to acting on my feelings towards him, my mind short circuits and freezes. Just another trauma response Layne injected into my system the night he betrayed me. If he could do it, anyone could.

I need a night to gather my thoughts, alone. I brush my wet hair until it’s slicked and dripping onto my back before wrapping a towel around my body. Grabbing the matches, I light my favorite peppermint hot chocolate candle. Condensation covers my icy, dorm window on one of the rare cold nights in Florida. I plop onto the high set bed, pick out my pink jammies with little gingerbread men on it, and slip on my fuzzy white socks. I twist my damp hair in a pile on top of my head and begin searching my drawers for the supplies I need to create killer nails. A date with my store bought acrylic nail kit is a must for thinking about long-term life decisions. Emberly is out for the night. Shementioned something about a project with a hard deadline, so I have the place to myself.

Taking a seat on my rolling desk chair, I begin on the right hand first, applying the nail glue to my pinky finger. Just as I push the first nail down with a firm force, my phone buzzes on the edge of my bed, nearly falling to the tile floor. I roll my chair over and flip my phone screen to see who’s calling. My throat constricts when Hartley’s name flashes across the screen. He’s not just calling, he’s FaceTiming.

No way can I answer when I look like this.

I click the red decline button and shoot off a text.

Me: Sorry, I can’t answer right now. What’s up?

Hartley: Wanted to hear your voice. We just got back to the hotel, but Ryan took a walk to call Violet.

Me: How did the game go?

Hartley: We won easy, but I’m beat.

Me: Took some hard hits?

Hartley: You could say that.

Hartley: *picture of dark bruises along his hip bone*

Me: HART!

Hartley: Yes?

Me: That looks terrible. How are you walking?

Hartley: Haha. It’s a part of the game, sometimes you take hard hits, sometimes you don’t.

Hartley: I miss your face, too, why can’t I see you?

Me: Told you I’m busy.

Hartley: May I ask what’s got you so busy?

Me: I’m putting on nails.

Hartley: Okay. I’ll join you.

Me: No can do. I already showered and washed off my makeup.

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