Page 121 of Only Ever You

“Fine, but what about when he started talking about your body? That didn’t sound like a casual conversation.”

She humphs. “Was he inappropriate? Yeah. But I wasn’t really listening to him.” She lifts her chin. “I was going to send him packing the moment I got my drink.”

I run a hand down my face. “Isla, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask you to manage my space. I can handle myself.”

My gut twists. She’s right. And this need to protect her anyway scares the hell out of me.

“This dude was pushing his luck. He was crossing a line, and he definitely wasn’t taking the hint.”

“I’m not yours,” she says, her voice flat, not angry. “Maybe everything that happened when we were kids was supposed to happen,” she continues quietly. “I always thought we’d be more. But maybe this”—she gestures vaguely between us—“is how it’s meant to be.”

She turns away, walking off fast, like if she doesn’t leave now, she’ll break.

Absolutely the fuck not.

I follow her, ignoring the growing pit in my stomach. I’ve given her all kinds of space, and it hasn’t done me any favors. We need to fucking talk.

“Isla, stop,” I say as we step into a dark hallway.

She doesn’t listen. Shocker.

With one big stride, I catch up and grasp her wrist, making her stagger back.

She tugs free of my hold and whirls around. “What?”

“Look, I’m trying…I’m trying to give you space. To do this right for once. To not push.” I pull the mask off the top of my head and thread my fingers through my hair. “But hearing you say you’re not mine”—I falter, my voice breaking—“wrecks me. I didn’t like seeing you with other guys when I was ten, and I sure as hell don’t like it now.” My chest aches. “I know I haven’t earned the right to feel that way, but I can’t help it. All I want is to make things right. To show you who I am now. To get to know the new you. To talk about all the things that went wrong between us. That talk at the arena was the tip of the iceberg. We have so much more to work through.”

Eyes softening, she steps closer, her chest rising and falling quickly. “I’m not playing a game. I swear. I pull away because if I don’t…I will keep wanting more. And when it comes to you, wanting more has a way of turning into losing control.” She splays a hand on my chest, peering up at me. Her red irises are strange, but the rest of her expression is familiar. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my distance.” She emphasizes the point by gripping my tee. “And there’s no competition. None. You wouldn’t even recognize the Isla who doesn’t have a crush on you.” She licks her lips, eyes burning into mine. “Because she doesn’t exist. It’s plagued me since we were kids. It never went away. It just⁠—”

I drop my mask to the floor and cup her face, cutting her off. Her words steal the last of my self-control.

Without letting her finish, I kiss her, hard and fiery.

Her mouth moves against mine, and when she swipes her tongue along the seam of my lips, I open, letting her in, and back her against the wall. We explore one another, her fingers clutching my tee.

My whole being ignites, burning hot.

She digs her nails into my stomach through my T-shirt, and the sensation grounds me.

I gently slip my hand behind the long pink wig and relish the heat of her nape. That’s when it hits me: this isn’t just want.

It’s an undiluted need. This is Isla. The girl who’s been under my skin since we were kids. The one constant I could never let go of, no matter how much I wanted to.

Fuck, I burn for her. No one has ever made me feel like this. This sensation is nothing like what I experienced while fooling around, while exploring, sating my curiosity.

This is terrifyingly real.

She breaks away, gasping. “Why was I keeping my distance? I can’t remember.”

Chuckling, I take her hand in mine. “Because you love to complicate things.”

“Not true,” she bites back, though her lips twitch.

Without releasing her, I shuffle down the hall. The first two doors I try are locked. The third leads into the bathroom, and once we step inside, I lock the door. The lights are off, casting us in the low glow of the streetlight outside. The blinds are closed, muting even that.

As the music pulses through the walls, my body vibrates, my nerve endings firing.