Page 40 of I Still Love You

“That was the lesson you got out of it?” I look over at him. “Heatstroke kills dreams?”

“One of them.” He picks up his own water bottle from the grass and chugs half of it in one go, crinkling the bottle as he squeezes the rest into his mouth.

“What was the other?”

“That heatstroke kills people, too.” A bout of gloom washes over his face. “He never made it out of the hospital.”

I offer my condolences through my stare because, fuck, I wasn’t expecting that. “I guess it’s a good thing we have the emergency department’s booth next to us, then. More likely to survive.”

“I don’t know about that, man. You see these walls?” He flicks a thumb toward one. “Can’t see a damn thing unless you stand up.” If we fell over, they wouldn’t notice. He moves to the edge of his chair, and I rise to my feet, hoping I’ll cool off by moving around but guess what direction my eyes move?

“Wait a fucking second.” Jett’s eyes narrow on me. “That’s what it is.” He laughs and shakes his head as he follows my gaze. “That’s her.”

“That’s who?” I move to the table we have set up and pick up a thick stack of pamphlets. I put the stack back down. Fuck. There’s something wrong with me. Maybe I do have heatstroke.

“The chick you’ve been seeing.”

Shit, shit, motherfucking shit.

I twist on my heel, but he only spares me a glance before looking back in her direction. It would be pointless for me to cover my omission with a lie. Considering he knows I’m not acting like myself, he’d see right through it. “What makes you think that?”

He gives me an elusive grin after looking over the divider, completely ignoring my question. “She’s easy on the eyes and blonde. I fucking knew it.”

I gnash my teeth together.

If he’d listen, I’d demand he sit back down. “I’m not even hurt that you didn’t tell me she’s been next to us this whole time because if I had a piece like that on my arm, I’d keep it hidden, too.” He whistles lowly, a glimmer forming in his eyes that I don’t like.

“Jett.” The smirk playing on his lips is a sure sign I’ve failed to keep my deal with Layla professional because now it’s out in the open.

“Just keeping it real. If you want to go over there, go. I won’t be upset if you leave me here to man the table for a few minutes. Everyone bailed for lunch, anyway.” He turns and winks, sitting back down. “I won’t be mad.”

I appreciate his offer of holding down the fort and almost consider it. As much as I want to go over there… “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m working, and she’s working.” Though that’s not true at all. If I wanted to, I would knock down that stupid fucking divider so I could see her without having to press on my damn tippy toes. It’d sure as hell be easier to gawk if I did.

The real reason I can’t go over there? She felt too good in my hands. Like home. The honest to God truth, it’s why I’ve been sneaking glances from afar rather than allowing myself to walk over there, drink her in, and talk to her.

I’ve been trying to forget what it was like to have my mouth on her again, what it was like to breathe in her intoxicating citrus aroma that always got the best of me. It’s no use. I can’t get it the hell out of my head, out of my nose, off my tongue.

I inhale a silent breath, breathing as deeply as I can, but I’m thirsty as fuck, and I don’t want to face the truth. I don’t want to deal with the fact that I may hate her a tiny bit less. That I might be considering how fucking stupid it was for me to ask her to leave after her contract with Regional ends.

Jett just stares at me, places his hands on his thighs, and pushes back to his feet. “Well, if you won’t, then I am.”

“I’m back!” Rebecca singsongs, rushing back into the booth with our water and food. “Sorry it took forever. The line was awful. How about I put up the closed for lunch sign, and we can go around the divider to the grass to set up shop?”

My eyes move to her, the bags, and I want to tear them from her because I. Need. Water. But I also need Jett to stay in his own lane. I’ve seen him in action. He can turn on the charm in the snap of a finger, and I do not want Layla falling victim to that. More importantly, I don’t want him to find out who she is.

18

Layla

They think I don’t see them, but I do, especially the taller one. His chin, level with the white dividers, clears more than what Luke’s does.

It’s been eleven days since I’ve felt his mouth on me. Since we’ve been in that research lab, and he graced me with the touch.

I’m still trying to sort my feelings about it. Trying to figure out why it happened. More than ever, I want inside of Luke’s head. Maybe it’d offer me an ounce of clarity if I got a glimpse of what he’s thinking.

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