Page 72 of Fight For Me

Something warm spreads through my chest. “You liked me back then?”

She laughs again. “Of course. You were my first crush.”

I like that way more than I probably should. For the first time ever, her reminder of our family connection doesn’t make me feel guilty. I like thinking about her having a crush on me, like that she has this sweet memory of me from back then. I remember her sleeping playlist, and something clicks into place in my mind.

“Is that when you started liking classical music?”

Her cheeks redden a little, but her smile doesn’t falter. It’s one of the most attractive things about her—this confidence she exudes. Even when she’s embarrassed she doesn’t let it shut her down.

“Pretty much. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I was bored out of my mind during the concert itself.”

A bark of laughter escapes me and I put a hand over my heart. “You wound me, Alexandria.”

Her grin grows. “But after we came home? And I started drawing your name in hearts on everything? Yeah, that was about when I started listening to piano concertos.”

“Hold up.” I grab her arm. “Go back to that first part. You drew my name in hearts? Did you save any of these drawings? Wait—did you write about me in your diary?”

She pushes my chest. “I had no idea your ego needed so much massaging, Wyatt.”

Without even thinking, I bring my hand up to trap hers against my heart. The breath all leaves her in a whoosh as she gazes up at me. “Wyatt?” Her voice is a whisper, barely audible over the waves, her gaze locked on mine, eyes wide.

My brain feels fuzzy, all my attention focused on her. I have the vague thought that she’s looking at me the same way I saw Eva looking up at my brother earlier. I remember how sure Will had sounded when he talked about loving her. How clearly happy the two of them are together. The truth is, my brother is brave as hell. He could have completely shut down after Skye died but he opened himself up again, risked getting hurt. Something stirs in my chest, a deep aching desire to be that brave.

“You still are.” Alex’s words pull me from my thoughts. I refocus on her, realizing that she’s moved even closer. In the dark I can make out the individual long lashes that fan out across her golden skin when she closes her eyes.

“I still am?” I question.

“The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. But it’s more than that, now. You know that, right? That this isn’t just a crush?”

“It was never a crush for me,” I tell her. “It’s been more since that night I kissed you.”

Her eyes are suddenly fierce in the dim light. “It could be more now. We could be happy.”

God, she’s brave. As brave as my brother or anyone else I know. For the first time in a long time, I find myself thinking that maybe I could be that brave, too.

And just like that, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about all of the reasons standing in my way, all the reasons I’m supposed to stay away from her. She’s sitting her next to me in the sand, her eyes full of fire, laying her heart out for me, and there’s no way in hell I’m not going to catch it.

Before she can say anything else, I lean down and kiss her.

Alex

I’m kissing Wyatt Warner. My brain has pretty much stopped working, those words blasting on an endless loop my only coherent thought. I’m kissing him and he’s not pulling away. In fact, he’s pulling me closer. His hands are on my back, around my waist, and everything in me is begging him to hold me tighter.

This is everything I’ve been dreaming about since the last time we kissed. As much as I tried to tell myself to forget about him and move on, I never could.

Yes, when I was younger I harbored a silly teenage crush for him, but that went right out the window the day he came home two years ago. From the moment he looked at me across the driveway of his parents’ house after he arrived home, everything had felt different. I’d heard of people having immediate chemistry, but I’d never experienced it so strongly as I did in that moment. There was a connection between us, a connection that was impossible to ignore. I hadn’t wanted to try—and that was why I threw caution to the wind and kissed him a few days later.

I’d spent two years trying to convince myself that what I felt for him was imagined. That it was just an extension of my old crush. But I’d been lying to myself, and never has that been more clear than it is right now, with the feel of his lips on me.

I didn’t imagine our connection. If anything, I underestimated it.

Because now Wyatt is kissing me and it’severything. My skin is hot and buzzing, my stomach filled with butterflies. It feels like the world begins and ends in the feel of his lips pressing into mine. I never want it to stop.

“Every day,” he mutters against my mouth, voice ragged, breath heavy. “I’ve wanted to do that every single fucking day for the last two years.”

My lips twitch against his. “Two years and five months.”

He pulls back, making me whimper at the loss of contact, and raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Two years, five months, and three days. Don’t you believe for even one second that it didn’t affect me as much as it did you.”