Page 50 of The Summer I Destroyed You

“Now I just need to convince you to stay,” he adds.

I bite down on a smile. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I got all kinds of ways, baby,” he purrs.

Ick.

He finds us a table. I sip my beer while Chloe tells us some story about peeing herself during yoga and try very hard to pretend Liam isn’t here, isn’t sitting across the room like some kind of really hot priest who inspires lust while making you feel guilty about that lust at the same time.

When our first and second beers are done, Chloe goes to the dance floor, Troy goes to the bar to get another round and I go to the bathroom. I reapply my lipstick in the mirror, noting with genuine satisfaction that I don’t at all look like a woman certain she’s about to make a huge mistake.

And then I step out of the bathroom and Liam waits—all long-legged ease, broad-shouldered, and so pretty. It just pisses me off.

I walk past him, but his hand wraps gently around my bicep to stop me.

“Why are you throwing yourself at Bradley’s boyfriend?” he demands. “Was sleeping with your mom’s doctor not enough?”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t sleep with anyone. And I’m not throwing myself at that guy. If you haven’t noticed, he’s doing all the work.”

“This is all about Bradley, isn’t it? That’s why you’re putting in the grocery store…just another of your grudges.”

It sounds petty as hell when he describes it like that, and it’s not petty at all. “Don’t you ever tire of trying to be my moral compass? Enjoy your search for a soulmate and stop judging me for the fact that I don’t want one.”

I pull, but he doesn’t let go, instead turning me so my back is to the wall and he is in front of me, his hand on my hip both heavy and light at the same time, crowding me in.

“I wasn’t judging you, princess,” he says, stepping closer. His mouth drags from my temple to my cheek, warm, light as air. I give a tiny, involuntary gasp. “I just want you to stop giving away something we both know ought to be mine.”

I arch toward him involuntarily, wanting more. Trying to breathe in the smell of his soap, wishing I could glue myself to him when I should be walking away.

“I thought you wanted meals, not snacks,” I whisper. I’m breathless, my pulse ticking fast in my throat.

“I think you can be both,” he says, his lips close enough to brush mine. “And I know that’s crazy. But I can’t seem to stop thinking it.”

“I won’t be, Liam,” I reply. “I’m definitely leaving, and this isn’t what I want.”

His hands mold to my waist as he presses against me, as his mouth lands fully on mine—warm, heavy, full of need. His whole body is taut, restrained, but barely so, and I gasp for air as his tongue tangles with mine.

I’ve been kissed more times than I can count, and this is better than all of them. A mix of contrasts: hard and soft, sweet and dirty, a beginning and an end. This isn’t a requisite step in some ten-point plan to get me in bed—it’s a kiss just for its own sake.

His nostrils flare as he steps back. “Don’t go home with him, Emmy,” he warns, and it should annoy me, but that hint of fever and possession in his gaze before he walks away makes my knees weak instead. By the time I recover myself enough to follow, he and his friend are walking out of the bar.

“I was scared you weren’t coming back,” says Troy when I return to the table and take my seat next to Chloe. He has the same face and the same smile and the same body, and he is no longer who he was before. He was chips and now he’s sandpaper, so unpalatable I can’t imagine what I saw in him.

But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Liam win. I’m not. He’s not ruining this for me, with his bullshit about meals instead of snacks.

“I ran into a friend. Not a friend,” I correct. “A colleague.”

I smile, but my heart is no longer in it. Chloe’s boyfriend texts to say he’s home, and as she gathers her things to leave, her eyes dart from me to Troy. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply. But I’m still shell-shocked by that kiss. I certainly hadn’t expected it, hadn’t asked for it…but I’ve been wanting it. For months, I’ve wanted it.

I think you could be both.

Fuck.

“Actually,” I say, grabbing my purse, “I’ll walk out with you.”

Troy pleads with me to stay, and I tell him maybe another night. As I walk out of the bar with Chloe, I’m angry at myself for blowing this chance to punish Bradley.

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