Page 37 of Fool Me Once

He looks amused, but he doesn’t tease me or try to imply that I actually do care. Which is great because I don’t. Why should I? I mean, why would it be my business if he was screwing the maid while she waited for the laundry to dry? Exactly. It’s not.

And I’m over him. Definitely. Totally. Completely.

“Well, you don’t need to do that,” he says, but suddenly, he gives me a grin. “Hey, so I have a game tonight, and I’d be pumped if you came to it.” He winks. “I even have a spare jersey you could wear, like old times.”

You’re over him. You’re over him. You’re over him.

Bitch, get it together. Why is your cold, dead heart fluttering the slightest bit right now?

“First off, old times were when we were teenagers. And … I shouldn’t,” I say, giving him a slight shake of my head. “The games are televised and all. So …”

He drops his duffel bag onto the floor before approaching me as I stand in the hallway, Storm right behind my legs. My heart speeds up the closer Smith gets, but it’s not from nerves or being afraid. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s simply because that’s what his presence still does to me, even after all the years we’ve been apart.

We’re two different people now. He’s a big star, and I’m just … damaged goods. My heart has no business racing this way, yet when he stops a mere six inches from me, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears because it’s beating so hard.

“You’re worried that he’ll see you on TV and come to Maine.” He says it as a statement and not as a question, but reluctantly, I nod.

“You have nothing to be scared of, Gem. I will never let anyone hurt you. I failed before, but I will never make that mistake again.”

Reaching out, his hand almost cups my cheek, and I step back.

“Stop doing shit like that,” I hiss. “Do you not remember what I said in my bedroom the other night? I have no interest in rekindling anything with you, Smith,” I lie through my teeth.

In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be this fucked-up soul, and we’d just fallback into exactly how we were when I was seventeen. But that’s not real life. That’s the type of crap you read in a book or watch in a movie. My life has proven to never be that way.

“It’s not like I grabbed your tits or took my dick out,” he says angrily, but quickly changes his tone. “I’m just trying to be here for you. Can’t you just fucking let me?”

“Be there for me without touching me!” I yell. “Be there for me without saying things that make me feel like—” I snap my mouth shut, not wanting to make the mistake of showing him my cards.

Since I’ve been staying with Smith, I’ve been having thoughts of him kissing me. Touching me.Fucking me.I’m sure it’s natural; after all, I spent the majority of my life wanting him, and then my dreams came true for a short time. It’ll all pass. I just have to be patient. But when he says those deep, sweet things or reaches for me … it makes it all so much more difficult to ignore.

“Feel like what, Firefly?” His gray eyes burn into mine. “Make you feel like I still want you?”

I suck in an angry breath through my nose, attempting to level him with a harsh glare, which is ineffective. Turning quickly, I begin marching to my room, hearing Storm’s toenails right behind me. I make it to the door when I know Smith is following too.

Whirling around, I point my finger at him. “Go away. I need a goddamn minute.”

“I can’t stop saying things that show I still want you, Gem.” His voice is hoarse, and his body is tense. “Because I’ve never fucking stopped wanting you. Not ever.”

“Don’t say that,” I growl. “You can’t say shit like that. We had an agreement.”

“Tell me you don’t fucking feel it,” he says, stepping closer and tapping his palm to his chest. “Tell me to my face that you don’t feel meeverywherewhen our skin touches. That you don’t still want me the way I want you.”

He reaches for me again, but this time, I’m frozen in place.

“Tell me you don’t still love me, Gemma. Tell me all those things, and I’ll leave you alone.”

His face dips closer, and his lips are a mere inch or two from mine, his minty breath all up in my space.

“Say the words, Gem. If all you need is a friend, I told you, I’ll be your friend,” he rasps, tortured. “But, fuck, I hope that isn’t what you want.”

My eyes float to his lips, and my breath hitches. I remember exactly how his lips felt and how his kiss tasted, but right now, I have the painful memory of kissing Richie in my head, and that’s enough to make me sick. It would be good to cleanse my brain of those thoughts. Maybe kissing Smith could help that. Maybe it could mend me.

No, you dumbass. You are the only one who can fix you.

“That’s what I want,” I say bluntly. “To be your friend and nothing else. So, please, stop pulling this shit, or I promise you I’m going to leave.”

I know my words hurt him because he flinches. He takes hits on the ice for a living; he is covered in tattoos and made up of pure muscle. Yet I have the ability to bring him pain. Regardless of our past, I don’t want to hurt Smith. I just want to survive my life.

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