Page 58 of The Love Trick

Blaze

Iknowsomething’swrong.Addy’s not even really talking to me, and what was with switching seats?

Like comeon, Addy.

I had to sit next to some guy who wanted to talk hockey fortenfreakinghours. Meanwhile, she’s laughing it up with some lady that I’ve never seen before in my life—like the two of them are old friends or something…

I toss our bags into the back of my Jeep and take a deep breath as Addy climbs into the passenger seat. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and I try hard not to stare—which is starting to become a problem. This vacation has made mealltoo aware of how gorgeous she is. And I hate the way my body responds when I look at her, giving me the urge to kiss her until I’m blue in the face.

My Vans are quiet on the pavement as I pop open the driver’s side door. There’s a part of me that wants to instantly grill her with questions, and the other part of me just wants to curl up inside of myself. I mean, honestly, I don’t even know how I’m feeling right now—but panicky might be the best term, given that I’mterrifiedto lose Addy as a result of all this.

But Addy assured me that this fake relationship wouldn’t change anything between us. So I just have to trust, now that we’re back home, things can go back to normal.

“You wanna come over?” I ask her, breaking the silence as I pull away from the curb. “I can get us pizza and we can watch a movie.”

She looks over at me like I’ve just suggested climbing Mount Everest. “Uh … I don’t think so. I’d rather just go home. I’m beat from the flight.”

“Hungover, you mean.”

“What?” she snaps. “Why would I be hungover?”

“I saw you drinking with that lady on the fl—”

“I had three drinks. Over a span oftenhours, Blaze. I’m not drunk. I’m not some alcoholic or something.” Her tone is so sharp that I catch my breath. She rarely talks to me like this … and once again, it makes me feel panicky.

“Okay, sorry,” I say quickly. “I don’t blame you. It’s the last little bit of the vacay before we have to go back to normal life.”

She turns her attention to the window and doesn’t respond. Her blonde hair is slipping from the bun on top of her hair, and my mind flashes with the image of taking it down for her…

STOP.

Stop being a freaking creep.

I sigh and reach for the radio, flipping through the channels until I find something that doesn’t grate my nerves any further. It ends up being some kind of classic rock. I spend the rest of the thirty-minute drive to her townhouse listening to a bunch of now-old guys singing about pouring sugar on themselves and whatever else.

Finally, I pull up to the curb and put my Jeep in park. I slide out to grab her bags for her.

“I can get them,” she huffs, jumping out to join me. “I don’t need you to get my bags.”

“Ialwaysget your bags when I pick you up from the airport,” I argue, beating her to them. “It’s just what I do.”

She scowls. “Well, I don’tneedyou to.” Addy grabs her other suitcase before I can and rips it out of the back of the Jeep, stalking off toward the front of the house. “I can take care of myself,” I hear her add under her breath.

“I know you can take care of yourself. I was just trying to help,” I call after her, slinging the bag over my shoulder and jogging up to catch her as she struggles to climb the front steps. “You grabbed the heaviest one.” I reach down and pluck it from her hands, trying to ignore the way my fingers brush hers.

Addy eyes me, her lips parted slightly, and my heart goes rampant, thudding against my ribcage like I just ran five miles. I quickly step back and away, gesturing for her to open the door. With a heavy sigh, she does.

“I’ll carry them to your room,” I tell her as I step inside, always relieved to smell the crisp cinnamon and vanilla that seems to permeate the air.

“Just leave them here,” she says, still holding the front door open.

I make a face. “I’ll take them upstairs like I always do.”

“Are you seriously going to pretend like I didn’t just say to leave them?” She shakes her head. “I’mtired.I just want to take a long shower to wash this wholevacayout of my system and then go to bed.”

My chest tightens. “Right. Um, okay, then. I’ll just leave them here, if that’s what you want—or I can take them upstairs and put your stuff away for you so that you don’t have to mess with them. I don’t mind, Addy.” I sound desperate. I know I do, but for some reason, I’m worried that if I leave, she might slam the door and never talk to me ever again…

I hate having anxiety.

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