Page 58 of Holding Hope

But it wasn’t her outfit that made my stomach drop.

It was her mouth.

A smudge of red lipstick stained her lips.

Clarke hadn’t been wearing lipstick when we arrived. She hadn’t had any twenty minutes ago.

Had she beaten me to it?

Had she kissed someone else?

“You coming?” Schuyler asked from inside the closet.

I snapped back to reality, tearing my gaze away. I didn’t care that Clarke kissed someone. I was about to do the same. She had every right to kiss whoever she wanted.

She wasn’t mine.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Sorry.”

As I stepped into the room behind Schuyler, my mind kept circling back to that image of Clarke beneath the strobe lights — her lips stained red.

Who had she been kissing?

Schuyler drifted closer, her fingers tracing along my collarbone. She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear her over the pounding in my chest. Clarke had found someone so quickly? How?

Schuyler’s lips brushed my neck, but whatever I was supposed to feel… wasn’t there. No spark. No hunger. Not for her.

Had Clarke just kissed some random girl?

A sharp tug at my skin snapped me back. I blinked, forcing myself to focus on the girl in front of me. I shouldn’t be thinking about the one person who didn’t want to kiss me. This was the whole point—to get her out of my head.

“Sorry,” Schuyler purred, lashes low. “You seemed so preoccupied. I wanted your attention.”

I forced a smile and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Unwanted memories flashed—my fingers tucking golden hair behind Clarke’s ear.

I blinked them away.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

“I’m all yours,” I lied. “I promise.”

Schuyler growled playfully. “Good. Now can I finally get a taste of that pretty little mouth?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She tugged me closer and pressed her lips to mine.

Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, tripping over cleaning supplies. The metal ladder behind me kept us from crashing to the floor, though I was 85% sure I’d have a bruise tomorrow.

Now in a reclined position, Schuyler swung a leg over each of my hips, straddling me. She cupped my face, trying to coax my mouth open with her tongue—but my lips stayed clamped shut.

No matter how hard she tried—or how hard I tried—my mouth wouldn’t move against hers.

My eyes stayed open the entire time, which told me everything I needed to know.

I didn’t understand. I wanted this. Didn’t I?

I wanted to kiss someone.