Page 23 of Sweet Heat

“Posie… I…” he begins, then rubs his eyes as though exasperated.

“It’s okay if you don’t have time. I can call a ride…” Twisting in my seat, I grab the belt to release myself and get out. Every part of me is screaming to remove myself from this moment. To flee from the embarrassment. My instincts riot against the rejection from Miller, knowing it will be more devastating than the ones that came before.

Run. Run. Run.

He takes a deep breath, and I brace for what I know I’m going to hear.

“Puff, we need to talk about this…” he trails off, and my heart cracks a little in my chest.

“It’s okay,” I rush to explain. “I was hysterical. You kissed me to stop it. I totally get it. No-strings-attached. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Posie… that’s not,” he tries again, but my heart spasms. I can’t understand why this feels so much different. So life-altering. Alphas have been assholes forever. I’ve met plenty who think I should worship the ground they walk on just because I’ve got a bit of extra padding. Some even asked me on dates, then completely ghosted me. It all hurt, but this… this is something else.

“I really need to get to school,” I beg, and thankfully, he starts the car with a deeply frustrated sigh.

“Fine, but there are some things I need to tell you as we drive,” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes at me. My lower lip trembles, and tears threaten again.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I squeak, letting my hair fall forward so he can’t see how much this is affecting me.

He grunts, but does as I say.

“That kiss…” he begins, and I want to stick my fingers in my ears and shout until he stops. “I never…”

The stereo lets out a shrill ring, and my brother’s name pops up on the screen in the dashboard. “Incoming call from Owen,” “Incoming call from Owen,” it chants. Miller curses under his breath, sending it to voicemail. But, of course, my brother won’t be so easily dissuaded, and he calls again.

“I’ll be quiet. You should get that,” I promise, looking out the window. With an annoyed huff, he answers. The houses quickly give way to busier streets as we head toward the highway. It’s a short drive to the university from here, and I’m hopeful I can get there without having my heart completely stomped on. The need for space to process everything creates an itch under my skin that is impossible to scratch, and nervous energy surges through me.

“Dude, you missed practice this morning,” Owen says, and I glance at Miller, surprised. That’s unusual for him.

“Had somewhere else to be.”

“And you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” Miller’s eyes flick over to me, his lips twisting in a frown that frays my nerves further. There’s a lengthy pause in the conversation so filled with tension that I need to bite my lip to stop my whine.

The sign for my school appears, and Miller turns onto the long, winding road that will take us straight to the University Library.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But are you riding with us to the airport? We’re leaving in about an hour to get there in time.” Miller’s face blanches, and I wonder if he’s somehow forgotten that he has a string of away games for the next few days.

“Uhhh. Yeah. That sounds good. I’m headed toward home now. I just need to pack quickly.”

“You need to pack? You still need topack?” Owen squawks through the speakers, and I press my hands to my ears at the sudden volume.

“Yup. I’ll be ready. Gotta go.” Miller ends the call before my brother replies. He pulls the car to the curb, and I quickly unsnap my seatbelt, ready to hightail it out of there the second the car stops.

As I reach for the handle, ready to make my great escape, Miller grasps my wrist—holding me firmly, but without hurting.

“Puff,” I cringe at the hated nickname. The reminder that all he will ever see me as is his best friend’s chubby baby sister. “We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” I tell him. “I know it didn’t mean anything. I get it. Please just let it go. I need to prepare for class, and you have a plane to catch.”

This time, when I tug away, he lets go, and I fumble with the handle.

“It meant something, and wearegoing to talk about it,” he growls. I throw the door open, shivering as the fresh air rushes in. “I’ll call you later. Be sure to answer your phone.”

With a gulp, I nod but make no promises before rushing toward the library doors. They open automatically, and I head for the back as quickly as my legs will take me until I stumble into an empty study pod.

Dropping on the bench, I bring my fingers to my bruised lips and allow all the adrenaline to catch up to me, before falling into silent sobs. My phone vibrates loudly in my pocket, and I pull it out, ready to silence it, but the name on the screen has me pausing.

Miller

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