Page 55 of Unforgettable

Kissing him the exact way I would’ve if I hadn’t been so stunned, and if he were really mine and I was really his, I surrender myself to him.

“God, you two are disgusting,” Maddy comments, interrupting us. “For two people playing pretend you’re getting awfully cozy.”

“Maddy,” Oz chides.

“It’s okay.” I rest a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down while feeling equally embarrassed. “She’s right. We should probably tone it down in public.”

Hurt crosses his face and guilt settles beneath my skin. It’s one thing to indulge when we’re in our own little bubble, like we have been on the nights we have after dinner at his parents’ place.

But this, with other people to witness it, it feels irresponsible. It almost feels like I’m leading them on as much as I am myself.

“Let’s look for something to wear.” I stand up and gesture for him to follow. He does, but the confusion and the crushed expression on his face eat at me.

I know he’s madder at Maddy than at me, but I feel like I’ve just been hit with a painful dose of reality, and I don’t know where or how else to channel my disorientation.

Pretending to get lost in the search for clothes, Oz and I keep close, but I make a solid effort to reduce the touching, which eventually affects our interactions all together.

How did we get here? And how come we can’t go back?

Oz and I go through the motions, showing off different shirts and pressed pants, but nothing really catches our attention. What happens instead is the distance between us continues to grow, and I find it difficult to get back to exactly where we were without throwing myself into his arms.

“Hey.” Someone tugs at my elbow and I turn to see Maddy, looking extremely apologetic.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “That was really insensitive of me.”

I don’t disagree, but I add, “It was also the truth.”

“It’s none of my business, Reeve. And I think I’m finally starting to understand that.”

“What are you talking about?”

She glances over at Oz, who’s doing his best not to look over at us. He’s far enough not to hear, but I don’t doubt he’d still be trying to. “He might be my younger brother, but he’s still his own man. And what he does with you is between you and him. I shouldn’t have made a joke about it just because I was privy to that information.”

I accept her apology, keeping the conversation as short as possible, because she isn’t the one I need to be talking or explaining myself to. The only problem is, I can’t seem to talk to Oz either.

When he pushes me into a changing room only moments later, I brace myself for anger or a fight, but I get neither.

He backs me up against the wall, his hands on either side of my head. His face is so stricken and solemn that I immediately hate myself. “Don’t do that,” he says, his voice strained. “Don’t shut me out because of what she said. We don’t owe her or anyone else anything.”

“We owe it to ourselves not to get caught up,” I argue, trying to be the voice of reason.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Huffing, I close my eyes. “Aren’t you worried?”

“About?” I feel his lips press against my pulse and I immediately sigh in resignation against the wall.

“Oz,” I groan.

“Yeah?” He skims his mouth against my skin.

“We can’t. Not in here.”

“It’s boyfriend day,” he protests. “Let me be your boyfriend.”

“Is this what boyfriends do? Make out in the store changing room?”

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