The Worst Kind of Promise: Chapter 7

How much luggage could one woman possibly need for the summer?

Apparently a fuckton, because the entire trunk of my car is bulging with miscellaneous suitcases and carry-ons. Every time the Jeep sways or stutters, something pings around back there like a pinball in a machine.

Faye seems a lot more relaxed than she did at breakfast, which is weird considering that it’s just dawned on me how real my summer’s about to become. I’m internally freaking out. I might’ve said a lot of charming stuff at the café, but oftentimes when I speak, I usually have zero recollection of what came out of my mouth. And whatever confidence was instilled in me during that blissful crêpe coma has dissipated into thin air.

Faye has her toned, tanned legs propped up on the dashboard, her dirty sneakers discarded on the floor, and each time I glance over at her, the hem of her Daisy Dukes has somehow risen even higher on her thighs. She insisted on changing when we got back to her place. If it wasn’t for the air-conditioning, this summer heat would’ve already taken both of us out.

She keeps most of her attention on the vegetation outside, beams of sunlight casting shadows across her face and over the defined dip of her strawberry-stained lips.

Focus on the road, dude!

The drone of the radio makes for a distracting backing track in the cramped car, but it’s so quiet that all I can hear is the heaviness of my exhales, the unending racing of my heart, and the shuffling of Faye’s denim on my leather seat.

I let the silence stretch between us for a few miles, more than content with not making any small talk, but she pushes me out of the comfort of my nest like I’m a baby bird with its wings still glued to the side of its body.

“So, what do you guys usually do during off-season?” she asks, and I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or the beating sun, but I swear I see her eyes sparkle.

My nerves break out into acrobatics, my fingers gripping the steering wheel at a rather aggressive ten and two. “I wish I could say we just sit around and play video games, but we’re working out most of the time. Some of the guys golf, some of them swim. Anything that’ll keep us in shape for the upcoming season.”

Faye chuckles, and it sounds like the crunch of gravel under foot. “I don’t think you need to do much to stay in shape.”

I nearly gun the gas as embarrassment licks the back of my neck. The lurch of the car doesn’t go unnoticed, and Faye flings out her hands to steel herself, one planted on the passenger door and the other planted on…my arm.

Her touch, even with no romantic intention, makes warmth blossom in my belly. I don’t think that’s a normal reaction to have. That’s like—at least in my eyes—the equivalent of blowing your load just from a girl giving you some over-the-clothes action. I can’t be a one pump chump.

I school my expression to the best of my ability, but that doesn’t stop a distressed noise from escaping me. Like a sad, not fully formed, very unmanly squeak.

Faye immediately removes her hand. “Sorry.”

My chest broadens as I load my lungs with oxygen. “No, no. You’re fine. Sorry for the turbulence.”

A coquettish smile teases her lips. “I thought turbulence was more of an air thing.”

“Considering you’re the one with an Ivy League education, you’re probably right.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. UMich is a top-ranked university.”

My brows swoop together. “How did you know I went to UMich?” I ask, and those restless butterflies start to stir again. The only plausible explanation is that she stalked me on the internet.

She stiffens as her fingers, yet again, swirl around her necklace, rubbing the tiny amethyst like it’ll stomp out whatever unwanted feeling she’s warring with. “Oh, Hayes told me.”

“Hayes. Right.”

“Do you and your brother usually talk about me?” My voice has a teasing timbre, one that nudges her mouth into a perfect O.

Faye ducks her head away from me, that blush of hers coming back in full force. She needs to stop being so beautiful. God, this woman is like an itch I need to satisfy, a scratch that I can feel in the marrow of my bones. She’s unshakable.

“Of course not!” she refutes, sticking her tongue out. “It’s not like you’re the center of every conversation I have with my brother.”

Fuck. I want to bite her tongue, leave behind teeth impressions, mark her as mine. Give her a princess treatment she’ll actually enjoy. If I wasn’t being held back by this fucked-up situation, I’d pull over right now and spend the rest of the day worshipping every inch of her body. But even kissing her—without tongue, might I add—is a bad idea.

Hayes is my friend. I respect him. I live with him. We play on the same team. If he finds out I even looked at Faye a certain way, he’d have me eating ice for every foreseeable game in the future. And with a little more blood to the correct head now, I also don’t want to put Faye in such an uncomfortable position, no matter how badly I want her.

“Hey, no judgment here. I’m a great talking point.”

Something unreadable brews in her eyes, and it’s blatantly obvious to me that I haven’t been doing a good job of mitigating her worries. I can’t even earn a half-hearted laugh from her.

“I can’t believe I’m keeping a huge secret from my brother.” With a bow of her shoulders, she buries her face in her hands. “I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, but all of that’s going to change when I’ll be seeing him every day.”

I want to reach out and comfort her, but I’m pretty sure that would do more harm than good right now. I feel for Faye. I can’t imagine going through something so traumatic, then having to deal with the fallout for the rest of your life.

My throat practically seizes shut. I have a feeling I know what she’s trying to tell me, and I don’t think I’m ready to hear those words yet.

She runs a hand down her weary face. “Maybe…”

The Jeep chugs forward a bit before I narrowly miss the bumper of the vehicle in front of me, revealing a sea of traffic that extends all the way into the hills we were scheduled to swerve through before it got dark. But judging by the number of cars, we might be here for a while.

“Maybe what?” I pry, trying to keep my impatience from spilling out.

“Maybe we should…”

“Should?”

“Never mind,” she finishes noncommittally.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, tacking on a softer tone in hopes that it’ll coax her out of her shell. “What is it?”

She plays with the stringy threads on her shorts, her leg bouncing like she’s ingested three cups of espresso. “Maybe we should cool it with whatever’s going on between us. Keeping one secret is going to be a lot, but I don’t think I can handle keeping two.”

Whatever’s going on between us.

Shit. There isn’t even an actual word to describe what is going on between us. That has to mean it loses credibility, right? It’s not a relationship; it’s not a fling. It’s not…anything. It was just a declaration and some mutual pining between two people who are foremost friends.

I knew her words were gonna have some kick to them, but I wasn’t expecting them to be a goddamn loaded chamber against my temple. Can I even mourn something that never happened?

With my stubborn streak, I always fight to get what I want. But this time, it’s not really up to me.

“Okay,” I relent, afraid that if I elaborate, I’ll say something that makes this ride a thousand times more awkward than it already is.

“Okay?” Faye parrots in disbelief.

Don’t worry, I’m just as shocked as you are.

“If that’s what you want,” I say, digging my half-bitten fingernails into the leather of the wheel. The pressure isn’t anywhere near strong enough to distract me from the feeling of my heart being sliced to pieces.

She turns away from me, and I barely hear her whisper, “It’s not what I want. It’s just what needs to happen.”

In the past forty-eight hours, I’ve confessed my feelings, kissed the woman of my dreams, and somehow lost her. That has to be a fucking record.

“So, we should just pretend like I didn’t kiss you.” There’s no venom in my tone—no anything. It hasn’t hit me yet. I’m waiting for the weight of the situation to collide into me like some doped-up defenseman with a bodychecking agenda.

She chews the inside of her cheek. “Probably.”

I shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place.

“Okay, then.”

“I’m sorry, Kit.”

My breath trembles, and despite feeling sick to my stomach, I shake away the gray storm cloud hanging over my head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re right. It’ll be easier on everyone if we stay friends.”

Faye hesitates with her mouth parted, like the word is foreign to her. “Friends.”

Traffic begins to disperse as the tension between us follows suit, and I force myself to focus on the road ahead instead of the disappointment clogging my arteries. Physically, she’s close to me, but emotionally, she’s a universe away.

I’ve never been a smart decision-maker. I’ve slept with girls I had no business of involving myself with. I’ve made dumb decisions during games that cost my team wins. I’ve said terrible things that I never should’ve uttered to another person.

But this…this has to be the worst mistake of my life.