Page 18 of My First Mistake
She spins in the opposite direction and I watch her dark head disappearing as she turns down one of the aisles. And then I take a second to breathe and remind myself that I’m only doing this as a favor to Brax. I’m here for four more days and just because Addie is tolerating me, doesn’t mean we’re miraculously going to rekindle our old friendship, and definitely not anything more.
So, stop looking at her and thinking all of the things you’re thinking about doing, Chase! She’s not yours anymore. You had her and you fucked it up! Asshole.
With that thought in my head, I wander in the direction of the grocery aisle to find some food and coffee.
By the timeAddie and I meet up again at the register, I have an entire shopping cart laden with food and other essentials, such as toilet paper. She casts an eye over my choices and grudgingly gives her approval. I glance in her basket, filled with cookies, chips, candy, a bottle of Buffalo Trace—her favorite bourbon—and nestled against it is a bottle of Woodford Reserve—mine. I know her favorite bourbon because I low-key stalk her social media, which is incredibly lacking in any kind of regard for her personal safety or security, but she’s actually remembered mine.
I grind my jaw to stop myself from smiling at that, and she helps me unload my cart. When that’s done, I grab the items from her basket and add them to mine.
“Good idea. We can just split it fifty-fifty.”
I shake my head. “This is on me.”
“Nuh-uh. I pay for my own stuff. I don’t need your?—”
“Addie!” I don’t mean to say her name like that, like a command, but I don’t miss the way her hazel eyes darken at my tone, nor the way she immediately gives me her undivided attention. “You paid for the entire cabin, and I know I wasn’t your intended roommate, but I want to pay my way. Please just let me do this, okay?”
She stares at me, her chin tilted and her jaw working. “No way. You might be invading my cabin this week, but let’s get one thing straight, you are less guest and more unwelcome intruder. And you do not get to assuage your guilty conscience for ruining my wonderful, idyllic getaway by bribing me with pasta and toilet paper. Capisce?”
I want to argue. Fuck, I want to toss her over my shoulder, march her outside and kiss that sassy mouth until she stops yelling at me. But I absolutely cannot do any of that.
So, I relent. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she parrots.
Brat!
Still beingas stubborn as a mule, Addie refuses to let me drive her precious Angelina back to the cabin. And infuriatingly, she insists on listening to her owncarefully curatedplaylist on the way back, a playlist which consists of annoying, cheesy Christmas songs. It’s not that I’m some kind of monster whohates Christmas; it’s just that it’s historically not been the happiest time of my life. At least as an adult. My mom always did what she could to make the holidays special. She was a waitress in a diner and our Christmases usually involved me sitting with some coloring books and waiting for her to finish her shift. It was still fun though. We’d take leftovers home and watch Christmas movies while stuffing our faces with turkey, and then cheesecakes for dessert. Then, she died a few weeks before Christmas while I was in my last year of college. So that holiday sucked ass. And then the following one…well, that was the year Addie and I hooked up.
“I love this song!” She turns up the volume super loud and begins singing along. Addison Kinsella is a woman of many talents, but singing is not one of them. I suppress a smile at her off-key vocals. But then the lyrics hit me, and now I’m overwhelmed with memories of that night.
I doubt she even realizes the significance of this song, but I watched her dancing to “Santa Tell Me” at Hugo Pierson’s Christmas party. I still recall what she was wearing in technicolor detail even now: blue skinny jeans, a tight, red sweater with the words “I’m on Santa’s Naughty List” written across the front and pair of sky-high red Louboutins that her parents had bought her for her eighteenth birthday—her pride and joy.
And fuck but the way she danced, like she didn’t care who was watching her, even though I know for sure I wasn’t the only guy staring at her and drooling over the way her hips moved so perfectly to the music. Her confidence was sexy as fuck, and all the times I’d told myself I shouldn’t look at her that way because she was my best friend’s sister seemed to melt into nothing. And then she smiled at me, right as she was singing the part about “getting on top of him by that fireplace” and I was done for.
I took her home and even though we kissed in the park, and then again on her porch, I still tried to convince myself that nothing more would happen. Except it did. We shared something incredible.
And then I fucked it all to hell.
Chapter 10
Addison
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Ican’t believe this is actually happening. My mouth is dry. My heart beating erratically in my chest. How did we even get here? We were at a party, and I was dancing, and I was sure Chase was watching me but assumed I was delusional because he’s, well, he’s Chase Hunter—former star quarterback, my brother’s best friend and three years older than me. Then Chase’s friend, Freddie, got way too drunk and was being an asshole, and Chase asked if I wanted to leave, and of course I said yes.
We were walking through the park and talking about how much he missed his mom, and I told him how we all miss Karen too. Then I hugged him, and he kissed me. And my soul left my body because I have never wanted to be kissed by anyone quite as much as I’ve wanted to be kissed by him. And it was everything I dreamed it would be and more. He’s so confident and assured. So skilled with his mouth and tongue.
And now we’re lying on my bed, and he’s kissing my neck and moaning my name, and my panties are soaked, and he’s barely even touched me yet. I run my fingers through his thick, dark hair, grinding my hips against him.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Addie,” he groans, sounding pained. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod, lip caught between my teeth. I’ve never wanted anything more.
He growls. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited to taste you, baby.”
He’s been waiting…for me? My head spins faster. I’m certain this must be a dream. He kisses my neck again and then he’s moving lower, his hands pushing up my sweater until his lips are on my stomach. And then he’s unbuttoning my jeans.
