Page 13 of Sacrifice Bunt

“We are nothing of the kind. Don’t piss all over my relationship just because you don’t know what real feelings are.”

Knowing they were alone, she let out a loud scream into the air. They were sitting outside on the patio, the Arizona heat already making itself known.

“Feel better,” Celia asked calmly.

“No, but thanks for asking.” She felt as shitty as she ever had in her life. There was a reason she picked guys who she knew she wouldn’t have feelings for, who would never be more than just for sex.

Celia laughed as she picked up her drink. “Anything to help.”

“Cel, what am I doing?”

“You’re being human.”

“I don’t like it. I want to go back to having no feelings.”

“Is that really better? Also, is that even true? Are you telling me you haven’t been thinking about Noah since the night all those years ago?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hated him for all these years because of that one incident. Why would you hate him if it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things? Why would you ever even think about it?”

“Because it was humiliating.” She’d been a pretty confident person until that point in her life. With school, with friends, and with guys. Sex had made her feel even more confident. When Noah had scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder, running out of the building, all that confidence went out the door.

“Was it really? Unless you tell the story, no one knows about it. There aren’t people walking around going, ‘remember that night the building burned down and a man carried a woman out naked?’ Nobody's doing that.”

“How do you know? Maybe people who were there still talk about it.”

Celia narrowed her eyes. “Give it up, Zara. Admit that you like Noah, and I can help you figure out what to do. The other option is to keep lying to yourself and me, and be miserable.”

Zara pursed her lips. She’d said the words out loud earlier on the phone with Celia, but repeating them would mean they’re real. Could she do that? For the first time in her life. Even more, could she admit to herself that she had real feelings, not just sexual ones, for someone?

She was starting to hate being a strong, confident woman. Maybe she’d change herself into someone meek and fearful.

Who was she kidding? She was already fearful. Fearful of love, of losing herself, of what would happen if she wasn’t the most competent person in the room.

Taking a large drink of her mimosa, she tried and failed to calm her nerves before speaking. She was about to take a giant leap. “I—” she stopped before starting again. “I like Noah.” Was her heart beating out of her chest? It fucking felt like it.

“Finally,” Celia pumped a fist in the air, the elation of Zara’s declaration evident.

“Gloating is not pretty on you.”

Celia flipped her off. “I’m pretty all the time.”

That was true. Celia was beautiful. “Now what?”

“Now you talk to Noah.”

She shook her head from side to side over and over again. “Oh no, that’s not happening.”

“How do you picture this going if you don’t plan on talking to him?”

She frowned, looking down at her almost empty drink. “I was thinking I could avoid him the rest of this trip and then send him an email when I get home.”

“An email, really? Who are you, Joe Jonas?”

“First, get it right. Joe Jonas made a phone call. Second,” she frowned, “I can’t see him again right now.” She wasn’t sure she could ever see him again. Not without wanting to do exactly what they did in that car. And more.

“Why is that?”

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