Page 32 of Can't Take My Eyes Off You

‘Can ya stop poking me?’ She groans, pushing her ass into my groin. Her voice triggers something in me, a tugging at my heart that makes me forget my own name.

‘Berx,’ I say with a sigh of relief, sliding a hand around her waist, pulling her against me, kissing her shoulder. I throw a leg over hers, like I won’t let her get away from me. ‘My God,whyare you here? I thought I fucked up again.’

She settles into me, holding my arm across her tightly. She missed me; I can feel it. I can’t believe she’s in my bed. I kiss along her shoulder to her neck.

‘You did,’ she says, moving her head back and allowing me access to continue up her neck. ‘Fuck up again, I mean. You got blackout drunk and threatened to jump from the balcony. You don’t remember asking me to come over?’

‘I don’t,’ I say. ‘We didn’t use up our last relapse night, while I wasthatwasted, did we?’

‘Technically, we didn’t.’

‘Phew,’ he says with relief. ‘What stupid things did I say?’ I ask, nuzzling my head into her hair, breathing her in deeply. She always smells like vanilla shampoo and raspberry body spray. A summer day in the form of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

‘You said you missed me,’ she says. ‘That you’re not happy here. You said you were going to try and kiss me—’

‘Am I a good kisser when I’m hammered?’ I ask, interrupting her with a laugh.

Suddenly she goes stiff. I feel her let out a disheartened breath like she’s near tears. I hold her tighter. What did I do this time?

‘I honestly don’t remember anymore,’ she says, her voice flat. ‘You passed out after the crying phase.’

The crying phase,fuck.

‘Baby, are you…madabout that?’ I ask, confused by her words.

She lifts a single shoulder. ‘I don’t know,’ she says, her voice wavering as she speaks. ‘I haven’t seen you – and I… I…’ She can’t finish her sentence for some reason, and I can hearwhyin her voice. ‘Last night, you said you were unhappy, and… and, I don’t know how to fix that.’

‘Berkley.’ I scoot away from her, encouraging her to face me.

Finally, she rolls onto her back, glancing up at me, tears in her eyes.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’ She cries with legit tears streaming down her face and it tears at my heart. ‘Seeing you hurts too much. It makes me miss you, and I have no right to miss you becauseIcalled this off.’ She covers her face with her hands. ‘I think we should call it.’

Fuck. I brush her hair from her face, resting my hand on the side of her neck, kissing her lips gently.

‘You want to call it? Our relationship?’

She cocks her head, narrowing her pretty eyes at me. ‘Yes, our relationship, whatever it even is anymore. To the whole world, you’re a rich single Portland Royal, and I’m the woman in the wings saving you from yourself while the woman the tabloids once called “Prince Willy’s queen” is lounging around on your brother’s lap when you’re too drunk to notice.’

‘I could give two shits about Felicity.’

God, my head is pounding. It’s hard to be smooth when your brain feels like it’s on fire. How much did I drink last night? I rub the back of my neck, the hangover moving over me like a wave.

‘Hey.’ The door to my room swings open and in walks a woman Berkley’s never met. Felicity’s best friend, Danika Frost, and she’s wearing her underwear and a skimpy slip only. ‘Which dress should I wear, the red or the black? I know it’s not dress-up worthy, but I like to look my best when standing next to the most handsome prince in all the world.’ Finally, she looks up from the dresses in her hands. ‘Oh. You have company… I didn’t know.’

There is nothing going on between me and Danika. But she’s trying harder than Felicity is so guilt washes over me.

‘And this is my cue,’ Berkley says, climbing out of my bed, still clothed, and slipping on her flip-flops. She’s mad. I can sense she’s mad. But it’s because she doesn’t know nothing’s going on between Danika and me.

‘Berkley, don’t go,’ I say, following her out. ‘That’s not what it looked like—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Danika says to me as I race past her, following Berkley from my room towards the front door, in only my underwear – which is an opportunity that Jonah doesn’t ever miss.

Me calling her name doesn’t do a damn thing, and I watch as she storms out of my apartment and disappears into the elevator. Why must my life look so much worse than it really is? There’s no way she’ll be answering my calls now.

13

BERKLEY

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