Page 39 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

This is the first time Holt has ever said anything about it.

“He stopped to get you the chocolate he knows you like, Faye, because he knows you don’t like smores without peanut butter cups.”

I shrug. “So?”

“So?” Holt scowls. “That’s my job.”

“You didn’t know we were doing smores tonight.”

Holt pushes a hand through his hair. “It’s more than the chocolate.”

“Tate’s a friend. And he’s your brother. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Peach.” There’s a sneer to the word, faint, but there. It’s the first time Holt’s called me Peach, that I haven’t liked it. That it’s felt wrong. “He’s wanted you since the day you moved in.”

Something unpleasant flips in my belly. I whisper, “That’s not true.”

Holt takes a step toward me, and then another and another until we’re standing close. I can feel his exhale when I tip my head back to look up into his dark eyes. They’re filled with a hardness I’m not used to. And there’s a tenseness to his jaw that makes me think he’s grinding his teeth.

“Are you attracted to him?”

“What is this about, Holt?” I shake my head. I’m at a loss, annoyed, and uncomfortable. I feel unexplainably afraid.

“Are you, Faye?” He pushes.

“God, no.” I add, “He’s handsome, but you’re the only one I want.”

He runs another hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just freaking out about this trip.” His hands come to either side of my neck and he looks deep into my eyes. “I don’t want to be away from you for two weeks.”

“I don’t want you to be gone, either.”

His forehead meets mine. I can taste the sweet musk of his exhale, and I shiver in memory of his kiss. He sounds wounded when he says, “I’m going to miss your birthday.”

“You are.” I ignore the tickle of pain in my chest.

“Your sweet sixteen.”

I close my eyes against the sting of emotion I feel at that. I’ve been struggling with it for a while, but it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it. And me and Andy are going to get pedicures. It’ll be fine.

I force a soft smile. “You’ll make it up to me.”

“I will. I promise.”

17

SWEET SIXTEEN

AUGUST 26, 2007 – 16 YEARS OLD

“Urgh,” Andy groans, part in pleasure and part in frustration as the foot bath bubbles. “Who knew I was going to miss Micha like this?”

“I could have told you.”

Andy rolls her eyes. “You could not.”

“Yes, I could. Why don’t the two of you just start dating, already?”

Andy is quiet and suddenly very interested in the bubbling water. Finally, in a small voice she says, “He hasn’t asked.”