Page 66 of The Worst Kind of Promise
I walk down the aisle with Kit trailing behind me like a lost puppy, and I drag my finger along the mismatched spines.
“You do realize you’re saying that to the person who’d buy you a house, right?”
And Kit’s doting act saps me of my smart mouth, warming every inch of my body in a bonfire-turned-wildfire. I’m convinced he’s dead set on making me blush every time I’m around him.
It feels like asphalt clots my throat. “You wouldn’t do that.”
He steps into me with his intimidating body, making my back go flat against one of the shelves, so close to me that I can see the nuanced truth in his eyes. “You’re right, I wouldn’t do that,” he whispers. “I’d only do it if you agreed to live with me.”
My thoughts go astray, and it feels like all the air’s been plucked from my lungs. He didn’t…he couldn’t possibly mean that. We’re not even dating. No matter if he meant it or not, though, I’m still at a loss for words.
“You…”
“I mean it, Faye.”
God, I want to kiss him so badly right now. I want to cling to him and never let go. And I lean in just an inch, to where our lips would touch if I pushed forward anymore, but the silhouette of a person on the fringe of my peripheral reminds me that I can’t go there. All of these empty promises—they’ll remain empty.
I quickly pull away from him and reroute my gaze, feigning interest in a hardback cover that’s embellished with different illustrations of wildflowers. I want to tell him he can’t say stuff like that, but I’m not sure if it’s because of some self-preservation instinct taking over or not. I need to remind myself that I’ll face inevitable heartbreak at the end of the summer.
We don’t say anything to each other for a good five minutes, with me either pulling books out and placing them in Kit’s outstretched arms, or me pushing them back in and moving on to the next shelf. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time—which is part of the reason I try to keep my body turned away from him.
I’ve already amassed an impressive pile of books, and I hear one being flipped open as I continue to browse.
“A werewolf and an orc romance story? Really?”
I turn to find Kit waving a book with an inappropriate cover around, and even though I’m used to consuming smutty romances in public, I prefer a less conspicuous cover. The naked—by werewolf standards—protagonist is lovingly embracing his equally naked orc mate, with one loincloth somehow covering both of their private parts.
“I was under the impression that this trip would be free of judgment,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
He readjusts his grip on my stack of books. “I just didn’t think you’d be into…”
“Smutty monster romances?”
“Like…do they have the same anatomy as humans?” he asks louder than the conversation warrants.
“I’m not discussing this in the middle of Barnes & Noble with you.” I inch further down the aisle to a less populated part of the bookstore, all while Kit lags behind me and continues with his endless arsenal of questions.
“Does it take place in the real world? Do people know about their existence? Or is it more of a fantasy world where humans don’t exist? What’s the main conflict in the story? Does it revolve around their relationship, or are there some weird monster laws in place that forbid the coupling of interspecies relationships?”
As annoying as Kit usually tends to be, I have to admit that I’m amused by how interested he seems.
“It depends. They can take place in the real world or in a fantasy world, sometimes even on home planets. And the conflict varies depending on the author. Some authors write books that don’t have conflicts—it’s just a hundred pages of marathon sex. Other authors go really in-depth about there being some kind of competition among mates or some kind of love-hate angle that has the protagonists in a push-pull situation.”
I expect him to snap back with a witty remark, but he doesn’t. In fact, his face becomes crestfallen, and his voice thins.
“Like us.”
My wandering hand—hovering over a Regency romance—freezes. My stomach froths with regret, and a sick taste cakes the back of my mouth.A push-pull situation.Kit’s all the way in, he’s made that clear from the beginning. I’ve been the one on the fence about everything. I’ve been so caught up with how this unpreventable separation might affect me that I haven’t even thought about how Kit would feel. I keep finding more reasons to not be with him, because setting myself up for disappointment is better than having it blindside me out of nowhere.
He's working so hard to make this work, and I’m…doing nothing. I’m letting what could possibly be the best relationship just fall through my fingers. Instead of enjoying each other’s company for the past month, we’ve been stuck in this revolving door of will-they-won’t-they. I have a little over a month left with him. I’m done feeling guilty every time we kiss. I’m donemakingmyself feel sad over what I’m going to lose instead of happy over what I have.
“Not like us,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry that I acted like you—this—was expendable to me. It’s not. You’re not. I’m all in, Kit. Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”
Goddammit. I want to kiss him right now. I want to show him how much he means to me. Because I am all in. Kit Langley’s the only man in the world who holds the key to my heart, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to be telling him I love him before the summer is over. And telling someone I love them romantically was never on this year’s bingo card.
Love rallies inside me. “And I forgive you for the party.”
“You do?”
