The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,102

leave to give him privacy, but he pulled me into the glass enclosure with him. For a long while, we stared into each other’s eyes as we stood under the spray, letting the warm water rain down over us. I need to get home.

I told him so, and his response was to push me against the tile and kiss me deeply. I guess that meant I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He confirmed it when he spoke.

“Tell me everything, Barbette. Tell me right fucking now because I’m not letting you marry someone else.”

“It’s not exactly up to me,” I reminded him. Well, that wasn’t true. It should have been up to me, but my father was a terrible man with ancient beliefs.

“I’ll talk to your father,” Jamie absently announced. He must have forgotten that they hated each other’s guts. His gaze became unfocused, and I could tell his mind was running a million miles an hour.

“And say what?”

Finally, his focus cleared. “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Grabbing his loofah, he poured his body wash on it, but instead of cleaning himself, he ran the soapy sponge down my neck, across my shoulders, and then my breasts. Taking a deep breath, I let him clean me. My mind was still reeling from that revelation to offer much argument.

“Please, don’t say you’re going to offer to marry me,” I said when he was done cleaning me and started washing himself.

The cold stare he gave me made me shiver despite the hot water and the steam clouding the bathroom. “Because you’d rather marry someone else. Anyone else but me?”

I want no one else but you.

Slowly, my hand reached up, and my fingers brushed his cheek. “Because somewhere out there is a girl who deserves you. I won’t let you throw that away for a girl you hate.” My voice was barely a whisper when I added, “Even if that girl is me.”

“What do you want from me?” he pushed through gritted teeth. His frustration was palpable, spurring my own as the truth I hadn’t intended to tell recklessly spilled from my lips.

“I want to be friends again.”

I didn’t expect him to scoff at that, and it was hard pretending that my feelings weren’t hurt.

“We were never friends. Right from the moment I first saw you, you were mine, and I was yours. You were just too blind and stubborn to see it.”

I had a hard time swallowing the accusation he’d just shoved down my throat. The flickering flame I once held for Ever was nothing compared to the roaring torch I still carried for Jamie. He claimed I’d been the one blind, yet he couldn’t see that my heart had been just as open. I wanted to tell him so, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Jamie stared at me for a long time, the need in his eyes tripling my own until I foolishly believed that he’d give in to my plea. “You can have anything I own, baby, including my last name, but you can’t”—his eyes squeezed shut, and I could feel every ounce of the pain I’d caused—“you can’t have that.”

I didn’t stop him when he stepped from the shower and fled. Instead, I stood there, letting the water pour over me and wishing he’d come back.

Even knowing the truth, he still wasn’t able to forgive me. I didn’t want to understand his reasons, but I couldn’t help it if I tried.

The damage I’d done to him was irrevocable. The pain too great to risk ever reliving it. He’d given me his heart, and I’d stomped all over it. Even if I could somehow repair that vital part, I knew Jamie’s heart would never beat the same again.

Summer… Six Years Ago

THE CHAIN POWERING MY HUFFY threatened to break as I pushed my bike past its limit. Today was the day Jamie left for home. Last night, I’d cried myself to sleep, and so I stupidly overslept.

Nothing else mattered except getting to him before it was too late.

We’d spent the summer riding bikes, climbing trees, swimming in the ocean, and writing under our favorite tree while Jamie struggled to remember the scales and chords his father had taught him. He was so adorable whenever he’d grow frustrated. I’d mentioned how I would like to write a song one day. He had practiced every day since when he’d barely shown interest before.

I was thankful the gates were already open when I flew through them