Page 22 of Rival Summer

My feet felt heavy as I considered my next move. Whatever I chose would tilt the delicate balance of our intertwined relationships—a dance far more complex than the one I performed on the bar.

Reese's patience snapped, the carefree facade he usually wore crumbling in an instant. "Fuck this," he muttered with an edge that tore through the bar. Before I could process his intent, strong hands gripped my thighs, and the world flipped upside down.

"Reese, put me down now!" My words tumbled out, slurred and ineffectual, as I dangled over his shoulder. I beat against the firm expanse of his back, but it was like trying to dent a brick wall.

My vision still struggled to right itself, but I caught sight of Ben—an inverted figure in my topsy-turvy view. He was scrambling, reaching out his outstretched hand, his features contorted with concern.

Boston's broad frame moved like a barrier between me and Ben. The golden retriever of my childhood memories, always so sweet-natured, now stood with a fierce determination to keep this other guy away. Boston’s eyes were sharp, focused, and there was an edge to him that felt new, more hardened.

"Just let her go." Boston's warning was firm, yet his voice still held a familiar warmth, and I could tell he was trying to force a cold dismissal in his tone. I assumed that Boston and Parker would follow, but they didn't. They stayed put, still in heated conversation with Ben until I could no longer see them.

Reese's stride never faltered as we passed the sea of bodies in the bar, his grip on me unyielding. The tattoos tracing the contours of his arm muscles shifted with each determined step as he carried me effortlessly through the crowded bar.

He stepped out into the darkness of the back patio. The clamor of inside was instantly replaced by the quiet hum of the night. Reese finally set me down, and I could see upright again.

"Chandler, breathe," he said, his voice low and steady. His eyes held mine, fierce yet strangely protective, as if he'd just saved me from a burning building.

"I'm fine," I asserted, more forcefully than I felt. "You didn’t have to carry me out of there like that." My attempt at sounding indignant was betrayed by a slight wobble in my stance, but I straightened up, determined not to show any weakness. "I can take care of myself."

Standing there, with the night air filling my lungs and Reese's eyes on me, I knew I had to be the one in control. This was about drawing lines, about asserting my independence from the bad boy who used to unravel me with just a look. The sameboy who showed flashes of depth that few ever saw. And as our standoff continued in the silence, I realized that I wasn’t just convincing Reese—I was also convincing myself.

Reese smiled with his signature cockiness making my blood simmer. It was the same grin that could make a girl’s heart trip over itself, but right now, it only ignited a spark of defiance.

"Can you, though?" He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Because it seems like you can barely walk. And I think you have drunk vision, considering you were obviously flirting with that creep."

My jaw clenched against the heat rising in my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from annoyance. "I do not have drunk goggles on," I snapped back, feet planted firmly despite the unevenness I felt.

Why did his opinion matter? Why did his words make me want to prove him wrong so badly? The questions circled in my mind like vultures. "And why do you care, Reese? You have no say in what I do." My voice grew louder, more forceful as I reclaimed the space his presence always seemed to shrink. "You're the one who broke up with me."

The words lingered, a reminder of a past we were still entangled in. Yet, beneath the layers of resentment and hurt, a flicker of the old connection we shared sparked reluctantly to life.

He clenched his jaw as he took a half step closer, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a memory I couldn't escape. "I didn’t break up with you," his voice was low and rough with an emotion I couldn't name. "Chandler, there was a lot of shit going on. I couldn't even talk to you about the Boston situation. I didn’t know how…"

He paused, raking a hand through his hair, frustrated. The gesture tugged at something deep inside me. "And then before he left town we finally talked. We had a conversation weshould've had a long time ago." His eyes searched mine. "I saw him, Chandler. I saw how much he cares about you. I thought maybe it was a crush, but it’s way more than that. I can't be the reason you two aren't together."

The words struck me cold and unexpected, like a sudden downpour. Those words drenched me in a reality I hadn’t really expected. Anger flared hot in my chest, burning away the alcohol-induced haze. "You didn't give me any say," I breathed out, my voice shaking with a mixture of rage and hurt. "You made the decision for me."

Reese's expression flickered, regret flashing in his eyes before he masked it with that all too familiar stillness. But it was too late—I had seen the crack in his armor, the glimpse of the vulnerability he so rarely showed.

"Chan—" he started, but I cut him off.

"No, Reese. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me," I said firmly, finding strength in the clarity.

The words hung heavy between us, the truth of them settling around us like dust after a storm. And in that moment, standing face to face with him, I realized that no matter what came next, I was the one who would be making the choices for my heart.

Reese's shadow loomed over me, the streetlights casting a glow on his face. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next confession. "Look, Chandler," he said, his eyes locking onto mine, "if you and Boston decide you aren't meant to be... Then I'll be here waiting for you. I'd do whatever the fuck it took to make it up to you." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "But I'm not going to be the guy who stands in the fucking way."

I felt a surge of emotion—anger, confusion, and an undeniable flutter of hope that I immediately tried to squash. I stared back at him, my own resolve firming. "Well, maybe I don't want either of you," I retorted, my voice a mix of defiance and weariness.

That's when it happened. Reese smiled—the kind of smile that saw through every inch of me—one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other, revealing a dimple that had always been my downfall. It was infuriating how he could shift the atmosphere and disarm me with one simple expression.

"Come on, Chandler," he whispered, his arrogance laced with a tenderness that almost made my heart skip a beat. "You and I both know that's not true."

Before I could respond, he changed the subject seamlessly. "Do you need a ride home?"

My pride flared, giving me the strength to refuse his offer. "No. I'll be fine," I said firmly, crossing my arms as a shield against his unsettling proximity.

"Okay," he conceded, pulling out his phone and typing a quick message. "Just texted Parker to make sure he’s on his way out here." He pocketed the device and stepped back. "I'll see you around. And, hey, I can’t wait to see how this summer plays out." He walked away with his hands in his pockets.

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