Page 72 of Wallflower
I glide through the water and latch onto his hard, wide shoulders as he kisses me. Our wet lips slip against each other in a way that’s new and sensual, but his tongue is familiar, and I wrap my legs around him with the need to be closer. His fingers briefly dig into my ass before finding their way up to my waist, and although I can feel his arousal between my legs, his kisses are slow and reverent. And perfect.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur against Chord’s ear as I cling to him in the water.
His palms sweep over my back, my ass, my thighs, as he nuzzles my shoulder. “Anything.”
“I know we agreed it was too early to put a label on… on…this… but…” My voice grows smaller as I grasp my hopes and fears tight against my chest. “What are we doing?”
Chord presses his lips to my shoulder, pausing there like he’s thinking about the answer, and my stomach tightens. Each day I spend with Chord leaves me feeling safer than the day before. I’ve let down my guard, and finally, for the first time in my life, I feel like it’s okay to be the real me. But maybe… maybe it’s too much to want to ask how he feels. The wrong answer would wreck me.
But then Chord draws back and looks at me with so much heart shining in his cobalt eyes that I can barely breathe.
“I don’t know about you, Wallflower,” he whispers, “but I’m falling for you. Hard.”
Light. Butterflies. Everywhere. I tighten around him—arms, legs, soul—and burrow into the crook of his neck. Chord’s arms grow snug, his lips go to my hair, and his heart beats fast against mine as I murmur my reply against his wet skin.
“I’m falling hard for you too.”
twenty-nine
Chord
53 DAYS TILL HOCKEY SEASON
“You okay there, Wallflower?”
Violet hangs off my arm as we approach the front door to the main house. This is her first time visiting my family home, and she’s about to meet my brothers in the potentially overwhelming scenario of our second family game night. So, although the way she squeezes my bicep gives away the fact she’s nervous as hell, I pretend to believe her when she says, “I’m okay.”
I still tighten my grip on her hand.
It’s been a week since our Aster Springs date and the declaration I made in the lake. I meant it all. Every single word of it. And it was so damn romantic—the kind of stories oldies tell their grandchildren—until photos surfaced online and social media shit all over it.
Violet insists there’s nothing for me to feel guilty about, but I do. I’m pissed at myself for putting her in that position. I should have been more careful. I should have knownpractically privatewasn’t private enough for the most precious person in my life. Violet trusted me, and I fucked up.
But I’m resolved to make it up to her tonight.
Izzy declared her first game night such a success that she had to host another one, and this time, she graciously agreed to extend the invitation to Violet and her dad.
I say graciously with heavy doses of sarcasm and begrudging admiration. I asked her if it would be okay if I invited two extra people, and she lit up like a firefly before inexplicably narrowing her baby blues. Then she negotiated. Hard. I got to add Violet and Luke to the guest list. Izzy walked away with a sneaky stash of candy plus a contract—drafted in purple marker and signed by me with Daisy as a witness—that sooner rather than later, Iwillbuy her that horse.
She’ll make a killer sports agent someday.
We enter the house without knocking, and the sound of my brothers and sisters talking in the living room floats out to us in the hallway. I lead Violet in that direction, wading through a sea of blue and green balloons on the carpet and streamers overhead.
This is the first time Violet will be in a room with everyone in my family at the same time. I know she wants to make a good impression, and even though I wish she wouldn’t worry, the fact that this is so important to her means a lot to me.
“Uncle Chord!” Izzy jumps up from where she’s playing cards with Finn at the coffee table and launches herself and her enormous purple tutu into my arms. “Did you bring my hor—”
“I’m working on it,” I interrupt, casting a furtive glance around the room for Charlie, but she’s nowhere to be seen. “Do you remember my friend, Violet?”
She gives Violet a look that reads something likecan you believe this guy?
“OfcourseI remember, Uncle Chord. We’ve metseven timesalready.”
“Sorry.” I roll my lips to stop a smile and notice Violet is fighting one too. “Ofcourse, you two know each other.” I point to the pair of extra-large whiteboards set up in front of the cold fireplace. “What are these for, Iz?”
“We’re playing Pictionary tonight! Boys versus girls, and we’re going to win! Aren’t we, Vi?”
Violet chuckles at Izzy’s use of Daisy’s nickname. “You know what?” she says in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think we will.”
