Page 56 of Hunt for the Roses
I watch her start peeling the layers of the orange fruit, refusing to look at or acknowledge me. With each ticking second, I lose my will to filter the words that come out of my mouth, and decide to voice them before thinking it through. “Did you sleep with Blake tonight?”
Not the best plan of attack, but I have nothing to lose here.
Aria slams her hands down on the counter of the island and picks her head up to look at me with an intensity that recharges my madness. This is all so fucked up, but I’m past the point of caring. The fact that I think I have the right to invade Aria’s privacy like this, and the fact that Aria thinks it’s none of my business to know what she does with other men has me spiraling out of control. I seem to think Aria is mine.
Mine.
Aria starts to shake her head before speaking. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because he doesn’t deserve you.”
She dips her brows as she says, “You don’t even know him.”
“I know you,” I challenge. Aria turns her attention back to her fruit in a weak attempt to get rid of me. I see her inhale as she keeps her eyes trained downward, and I can tell she’s intentionally avoiding eye contact. I gradually lift myself off the doorframe and walk the few steps to Aria, who doesn’t budge an inch. I lay a palm on the counter as I come up beside her, barely grazing my body with hers as I’m hovering over her. “I don’t want him around here,” I confess.
I feel Aria shiver at my demand, and as I’m watching her peel her fruit, her fingers are slowing down to clumsy movements and seem to have lost focus of what they were trying to do in the first place. “It’s not your concern.”
I lick my lips as I swing my arm around Aria’s back, letting my other palm rest on the other side of Aria on the counter. I’m caging her in from behind, making sure to leave a few inches between us as I curl my fingers into my palms against the granite. “Seemed to be my concern when all I thought about tonight was some guy’s hands all over you,” I say from behind her, my voice just above a whisper.
Aria lowers her fruit to the counter, resting her hands on top of it as she slightly turns her head to the side, sneaking a glimpse of my body behind hers. It’s apparent I’ve caught Aria off guard with my comment, and the wheels in her mind are turning to make sure she heard me correctly and decide how to proceed. When she turns her head forward to resume stripping her fruit, it's apparent she’s dismissing my comment. Aria’s mentally running from the admission I just made, and it frustrates me to my core.
I gently place my palm over the top of her hand that’s cupping the fruit, and lower it to rest on the counter. “Stop with the fruit,” I demand.
I hear the faintest breath escape her lips as I pull the fruit out of her hand, purposely grazing my fingertips along her skin, until I place it to the side on the counter. On instinct, Aria raises her palms to her chest, holding one palm in the other hand, as if to physically hide them from me.
“I’m not really used to a woman shying away from me,” I taunt.
I notice Aria’s breathing gets slightly shallower. “There are boundaries here, Dane,” she whispers.
“As far as I can tell, I’m not touching you, and I’m certainly notfuckingyou, so you’re going to need to be a little more specific,” I retort as my palms grip tightly around the edge of the counter.
Aria swallows a lump in her throat as she turns around to lean her back against the kitchen island. She slouches against it, creating as much distance as possible between us, while looking up at me with lost eyes. “You can’t talk to me like this,” she breathes. Aria’s chest rises and falls in deeper breaths, making my eyes drift downward, where her skin is flushed red. I notice her hardened nipples pressing against the fabric of her romper, and it takes every ounce of restraint to hold me back from taking one of them between my lips.
I lift my eyes up to meet hers. “Because I’m the last person who should talk to you like this?” I ask. “Or because I’m the last person who should get you this worked up?”
Aria swallows thickly. “I need you to leave,” she whispers. I hold her gaze for a few moments, and the longer we stare at each other, the more flustered Aria becomes. Aria hugs her arms across her chest as she nervously licks her lips. “Dane, please just go,” she pleads in a hushed voice.
I can tell I’m making her uncomfortable, and my need to exude my alpha persona takes a backseat. Eventually I inhale as I peel myself off the counter, and then turn to walk away and walk out her front door.
* * *
Aria
My palms are glued to the edge of the kitchen island behind me as I stare blankly in front of me. My mouth is slightly parted, and my body feels like it’s overheating from the whirlwind of emotions that’s been spun into overdrive. Part of me is so livid with Dane for thinking he has any right to micromanage my life when he does whatever the hell he wants, whenever he wants, with no questions asked. But the other part of me defies rational thought. Anyone in my position would feel pure frustration, and they should only feel rage and resentment towards Dane.
But not this other part of me.
This part of me is cracked from a forbidden shell. A shell I wasn’t aware was lying dormant inside my body. I can almost feel the new emotions ooze out of the shell in a slow-moving current, and time seems to stand still around me as I try to focus in to get a closer look. This part of me isn’t irate with Dane. Instead, this part of me is curious to know how far he’ll keep this up. How far he’s willing to go to push the boundaries of our friendship and test the limits. It excites me. It captivates me and holds my attention longer than it should. Because when Dane’s body was caging mine in and he started becoming vulnerable, there’s no denying the revival I felt in the blood pumping through my veins. Like my body had been jolted awake, and made aware of something that’s been there for a while. Dane’s confession affected me in a way a friend should never affect another friend.
We’refriends.
He’s Kyle’s best friend.
But the more I feel the liquid of emotions pouring out of the cracked shell, the more I feel frightened. Because the invisible line that’s been drawn between Dane and I is fading, and it seems like it’s only a matter of time before we step out of bounds and suffer the penalties.
Saturday, July 16, 2022
I’m sweaty from working out and need a shower, but I promised Ronnie I’d help him with the light fixtures today at Dad’s restaurant while our parents are at the bank sorting out the loan plans. Turns out, I did not manage time accordingly beforehand. I came straight to the restaurant after my run, and I’m wearing black spandex shorts and a black sports bra covered with an off the shoulder white tee. My hair is high in a ponytail, and I feel like I smell, but whatever.
