Page 10 of The Worst Kind of Promise
Seemingly unaware of my ogling, Kit cards a hand through his disheveled hair. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
His voice has the right amount of grizzle to wake my lady bits from hibernation, and I have to remind myself that no matter how badly I want to jump his bones, doing so will result in a downward spiral for both of us.
“Yeah, I slept alright,” I reply, my fingers drifting up to my necklace, searching for relief. It’s how I alleviate a lot of my anxiety.
My whole body swims with nerves as my pulse capers, sweat beginning to trickle from my hairline down to my forehead.
A tiny divot develops at the corner of Kit’s lips. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Yep.”
“Mm-hm.”
Oh my God. Why is this so awkward now? No, no, no. If this is how Kit and I interact, I can’t be stuck with him for the whole summer.
I finger the birthstone laying against my chest. “I’ve been thinki—”
“Do you want breakfast?” Kit cuts in, reaching across me to grab the room service menu on the nightstand.
“I—what?”
He pretends to pour over the menu. “What do you feel like? Omelet? Bagel? Sausage and bacon?”
My eyebrows hike up. “I’m okay, thanks. But I think we should talk about—”
Kit swings his legs over the mattress, stretches, then saunters over to the phone, giving me an unobstructed view of his sculpted and squeezable ass. Even though his face is hidden from me, I can tell he’s harboring a lot of tension in his shoulders.
“God, I’m starving. Maybe I should just order one of everything. Are you allergic to anything?”
Moving faster than I think I ever have in my life, I appear right behind him, waiting for him to turn around. And he does, the phone hovering a few inches from his ear.
My knees are about to collapse beneath me. “I want to come with you. To California,” I say, my gut plummeting to the earth’s mantle. The second those words materialize between us, they quickly turn into an inextinguishable silence, and I begin to regret letting them spew out.
The phone clatters to the floor, and Kit stares at me like I just confessed to a murder.
“Are you sure?” he inquires quietly, as if he doesn’t want to be asking.
I pause for a moment. This summer could change everything. Am I ready to take that risk? Am I ready to deal with the consequences if it backfires? I have to believe that the good outweighs the bad. I have to.
“I’m sure,” I affirm confidently.
A CRUEL SUMMER INDEED
KIT
Ididn’t expect Faye to take me up on my offer. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I’d see her during future holidays because I had to go and make things awkward between us. But by some miracle, she said yes, and now she’s standing scarily close to me.
Sun-dappled and glowing—even despite sleep trying to mute her beauty—Faye stands at the height of my chest, staring up at me, enthusiasm playing in her russet eyes. Golden light, as soft as silk, outlines the profile of her face, dusting over her barely there freckles.
She looks beautiful.
My gaze gravitates toward her eyes, which might seem like safe territory if it wasn’t for my desire to get lost in them.
“I honestly didn’t expect you to say yes.” The reality of the situation hits me square in the chest like a boomerang. The side effects of my proposition—namely anxiety and uncertainty—take turns folding my stomach into an origami crane.
Faye looks up at me through her lashes, a smile rounding her lips. Lips that I would give anything to kiss right now.
