Page 175 of Crazy for this Girl

Cal Harper has always been mine.

The thought cuts off my breathing as I cry out for only a second before Cal’s mouth devours mine again. He consumes my words, my feelings, and the way I’m crashing and falling.

When I’m putty in his arms, he licks his fingers, making me pool again at the sight of him tasting me. That I’m an addictive flavor that he can’t get enough of.

Still, after all these years, Cal Harper wants me, proving that I was always good enough when I never believed I was.

“You okay?” he asks, still holding on to me with one arm while his thumb grazes along the corner of my lips.

“Nothing changes?”

His face twists before a brow heaves to the ceiling. “Define nothing to me.”

“We work as we have been.” I pause, trying to catch my breath. "No dates, no inappropriate comments. Still no getting into my personal life.”

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t glower at me like I thought he was going to do. “So, you just want me to fuck you without my dick and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Sorta,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “It’s just that…I don’t want to take things too fast. We still have to talk, and I don’t want this to get messy.”

“It’s always been messy, Laynee.” He drops his hold on me and steps away, leaving me to fend for myself to stand. “You just won’t let me in.”

I can see the betrayal buried in his features. The way he wants to strangle me if he wouldn’t catch a murder charge. It hurts that I put all that there, but it’s facts.

“Do you want me?” I solicit. “Because this is how you’re going to get it. I can’t give you anything—”

“You think you can fuck me and not feel anything?” His eyes bore fragments of anger, defeat, and frustration, all aimed at me.

I shrug because probably not.

Actually, no—let’s be real here, I’ll always feel shit for him. It’s a burden I have to bear until I die.

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Alright.” He looks me over once before saying, “We’ll see how long that lasts, Laynee Peabody Reese.” My nostrils flare at his petty moment of using my middle name. “I’ll see you at the office.” He then points up at me. “And fix your hair. You look like someone’s fucked you decently for the first time in a really long time.”

My jaw slacks as he pivots and walks down the hallway without another glance.

I don’t see him for the rest of the night.

At Last by Etta James is the song that Marie and her new husband, James, decided to dance to when they became husband and wife. The dim lighting dawning along the small reception hall makes the scene almost magical and movie-like as they move to the beautiful rhythm and blues voice, and the soft strings of violins.

Marie looks beautiful in her mermaid gown as she smiles up at her new life wrapped in a black suit and tie. A life that she deserves more than anyone I know.

With steady movements, they move along the shiny white tiles, their guests watching with happiness and well wishes in their eyes. The handsome couple glides through the night and onward through the years.

I watch with hope that they’ll be happy. That their future won’t be so rocky or hard.

James dips Marie with one graceful move, gaining a smile from the crowd. But when she comes back up and moves, my vision falls to the suited man in a navy jacket and matching slacks, boring his mighty greens at me.

My breath catches as Cal stands on the other side of the huddled guests watching the newly wedded couple. My immediate thought of what he’s doing here is prominent, the argument we had at the bar two days ago waning over my head.

It’s always been messy, Laynee. You just won’t let me in.

That accusation has been ping-ponging in my head on repeat, driving me practically manic with guilt and how it’s not so easy for me to drop everything.

To stop protecting myself.

When I blink a few times, Cal is gone as if I imagined him, and maybe I did. I’ve downed two shots with a few girls from work and my head is starting to feel the aftermath of them.

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