Page 44 of Stealing Summer

I needed more, I wanted to explore all of him—to know every inch of him. Despite my uncertainty about being ready for sex, I couldn't resist pushing the boundaries with him. Maybe it was the alcohol, guiding me like a force beyond my control. My hand hovered over the button of his jeans, torn between desire and hesitation. But finally, I unbuttoned them slowly, my anticipation building with each passing moment.

"Chandler," he gasped against my lips, a mix of desire and restraint. Then he pulled away slightly as he bit his lip seductively, holding my gaze. "Listen, once you start fucking around with me, you won't be able to stop," he said, his tone filled with certainty. "You'll want it all the time. Trust me, it's a whole thing." He paused, tilting up his chin. "And I'm prepared for that, but you can’t be under the influence when you decide to cross that line with me."

The air felt charged with electricity, each word hanging like a promise or maybe a very tempting challenge. I wanted to test that statement, to see if it held any truth, but I focused on keeping my breath steady despite how deeply intrigued I was by his words.

"Cocky much?" I shot back, arching an eyebrow to mask the effect he had on me.

"Don’t you know me by now?" Reese asked, the half-smile returning, this time with a hint of mischief. "Only when I can back it up," he added smoothly, his confidence unfazed.

His assurance sent a shiver down my spine and the thoughts of what crossing that line with him might be like swirled in my mind. There was truth in his arrogance, a truth we both recognized, and it was impossible to ignore the allure of his audacity. His words held a weight that suggested he knew exactly what he was capable of—and so did I.

"And really, Reese?" I teased, lifting my knee to show off the Mickey Mouse bandaid he chose. "A Disney fan?"

A smirk played at the corner of his mouth, those dangerous green eyes twinkling with amusement. "Finding out new things about me every day, Chandler," he said, rising to stand in front of me before he helped me to the front door.

twenty-three

I clutched my throbbing head as I shuffled into the kitchen, the bright morning light like daggers in my eyes. Coffee. I needed coffee.

I filled a mug to the brim and took a long, scalding sip, leaning against the counter for support. The bitter liquid burned my tongue, but already my foggy mind felt a bit clearer.

The sound of footsteps made me look up. Boston walked in, his hair messy and his eyes were bloodshot. He gave me a hesitant smile. “Morning.”

All of a sudden, it all rushed back to me. I replayed the events that happened last night—dancing with Reese, and the overwhelming jealousy that swallowed me whole when I saw Boston dancing with Caroline. Reese taking me home—and the embarrassing things I probably said.

“Shit,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. The memory was vivid, as if it were happening all over again. I could almost hear Boston’s voice, hesitant yet earnest, confessing something that seemed to tip my world on its side.

For years, I had imagined what those words would feel like coming from him—the boy who grew up tossing a baseball around next door. It was as if the universe had finally handed me a gift I had stopped believing I would ever receive. Little me, the girl who used to peek out of the window just to catch a glimpse of him, would be utterly beside herself. She’d be jumping on the bed, her pigtails bouncing, cheering at the top of her lungs because Boston—gorgeous, kind Boston—finally liked her back.

But it was just me, a much older me, trying to navigate feelings that were a complicated mix of past dreams and present realities. “Why when I’m finally moving on, finally happy, did he decide to throw a wrench in it all?”

Was it possible that Boston’s feelings were genuine, untainted by rivalry? Or had I become just another prize to claim in their ongoing competition? Is this real, or is this just another game to him? Another competition with Reese?

“Great timing, Boston,” I whispered to myself, resting a palm on the counter. “Really, just perfect.”

He risked a glance my way, as he reached to grab a mug from the cabinet, trying to gauge my reaction. But I kept my expression carefully neutral, taking another sip of scalding coffee.

“About what I said...” he cleared his throat. “I had too much to drink. I shouldn’t have blurted all that out.” He stared at the coffee pot, unable to look me in the eyes. The silence stretched between us.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” he said. “No hard feelings. I’m gonna give Caroline a chance and take her to the ball. She’s excited about it.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” I nodded, placing my cup on the countertop.

“So we’re good?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah. We’re good,” I replied evenly, turning my gaze away before he could see my expression.

Before the awkwardness could stretch any longer, we heard footsteps down the hallway. Parker emerged looking disheveled. His hair was sticking up at every angle. He squinted against the morning light streaming through the windows.

“Ugh,” he groaned, making his way slowly to the fridge.

A giggle sounded behind him, and Willow followed him out from the hallway, wearing one of his t-shirts. Her blonde curls were a tangled mess. Boston and I exchanged a look, then burst out laughing.

“Well, well, look who finally got the girl,” Boston teased Parker, who grinned sheepishly.

“What can I say? The Hartford charm runs deep,” he joked back. Willow flushed pink but couldn’t hide her smile.

I shook my head in amusement. “I am deeply, deeply disgusted. I don’t know whether to be angry right now or excuse myself, so I can go puke in the bathroom.”

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