Page 15 of Keeper of Hearts
"Hmm. This morning, maybe?" Her eyes flash, her cheeks flushing. "You told me that you don't have a girlfriend, but that's clearly not true since you were with her last night."
"What the fuck are you talking about? I was filming that damn soap commercial last night."
"Victoria just couldn't wait to make sure I knew all about you guys," she says. "About how beautiful she is and how she's so much better than 'the thing' with the sad, fat face that follows you around."
"That bitch," I snarl. Of course, Victoria is filling her head with lies. But that's my fault, too, isn't it? I lashed out at her this morning, and this is how she decided to punish me for it—not by coming for me, but by coming for Troian.
"It's nothing she hasn't said to me before," Troian mutters. "But you know what was different this time, Gage? This time, I realized she's actually been doing me a favor in her own messed-up, bitchy way. She's been trying to tell me for years that you don't care about me. I refused to see it because I thought…" Her voice cracks. "I thought you were my friend, but you were never that."
"What? I've always been your friend, Troian. Your best friend."
"No, you haven't," she whispers sadly. "I was just the naïve little girl who didn't see what was right in front of her face."
"That's not true!" I growl, stalking toward her until she's backed into the corner with nowhere to go. My heart pounds like a drum, fear and anxiety rushing through me in a current. I feel like I'm losing her, and I don't even understand how or why. "You've always been the only thing I've ever seen."
"No." She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "You never saw me. You never saw…"
"Saw what?" I ask when she trails off without finishing her sentence. "Tell me, butterfly."
"It doesn't matter."
I cup her cheek, breathing her in. "It matters to me."
She bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head.
"Tell me. Please."
"You never saw what was right in front of you," she says, her voice cracking again as a tear rolls down her cheek.
The sight of it wrecks me. Troian wasn't made to cry. She should only ever know laughter. She should only ever feel happiness. That's what she deserves. That's what I want to give her.
"I see you," I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "I've never seen anything except for you, butterfly. There is no girlfriend, and there never has been. Victoria is lying because I told her the truth this morning—that she will never compare to you. All she'll ever have are these few years, where she tried to make you feel small to try to make herself forget that she has never once been able to outshine you, and she never will. You're better than her in every way. You're better than all of us."
Troian whimpers softly, another tear rolling down her cheek.
"You think there could be another girl for me?" I ask, brushing it away. "How could there be when I've been at your side for the last few years, praying you'd notice me? When I've never been able to see past you? When I've been trying to find a way to finally, finally show you…show you…" Words fail me.
I don't know how to tell her that I've been waiting all this time for her toseeme, to love me the same desperate, wild way I've always loved her. When I've been trying to be good enough for her. So I stop relying on words. I stop trying to talk her into seeing my point. I can't do that, not when I've already spent so long fucking it up at every turn.
"Show me what?" she asks.
"This," I growl, sinking my hand into her soft hair to angle her head back.
Her breath shudders against my lips, and then mine are on hers. They're so soft beneath mine, so sweet, so perfect. I groan softly, pulling her closer, flicking at the seam of her lips with my tongue just to taste her.
Her lips part on a whimper. I take the invitation, slipping my tongue into her mouth to taste her in the way I've wanted to do since the very first time she smiled up at me. It's even better than my dreams. She tastes like peppermint and sunshine, like all my dreams are coming true all at once.
I'm not sure who gets carried away first—probably me. But within seconds, the kiss is burning out of control and so are we. Sounds from the rest of the library vanish as I press her deeper into the alcove, my hands moving across her body the way I've always wanted.
Her soft whimper wrecks and rebuilds me at the same time.
I know I should stop before this gets too far…but I don't. She's here right now, kissing me back, and I don't want to be rational or stop. I'm greedy for her. So I don't stop.
I slip my hand beneath her shirt, groaning when I feel her soft skin beneath my palm. I slide it up, brushing my thumb across her hard nipple and then over the old, brutal scar from her surgery. I want to strip her bare and kiss every inch of that scar.
The fact that she has it means she's here right now, her heart beating beneath my palm. It means she's real and alive and healthy. It's beautiful, just like the rest of her.
"Gage," she whispers.
