Page 45 of The Promises We Make

Itrail my fingers over the material at my hips.Inever in my life thoughtI’dwear something from an honest-to-god designer.It’sthe most incredible thingI’veever had on my body.Theintricately beaded silver halter-neck bodice leaves my shoulders and most of my back bare, then cinches tight at my waist before the material changes to a royal-blue satin that flares into a flowingA-line skirt.

Ismile my thanks atBeaufor his reassuring words, then, almost reluctantly, turn my attention toDevon.JustlikeBeau, he’s dressed in a sexy-as-sin black tuxedo that shows off the width of his shoulders and his lean waist.Hisdark hair is so casually but artfully disheveled,I’dassume he had a stylist do it ifIdidn’t know better.

Hisgaze sears up and down me, and he smiles too, but unlikeBeau’s, his doesn’t reach his eyes. “Youlook beautiful.”

Hurtcrawls up my throat, andIturn back toBeau, who’s grinning at me. “I’llhave the hottest date there,” he says with a flirtatious wink.

Iroll my eyes at his over-the-top flattery. “Justdon’t let me eat or drink anything tonight, becauseI’lldefinitely drop it on this amazing dress, and thenI’llhave to buy it.”

“Withyour spare ten thousand dollars?” he asks with a smirk.

Iwince. “Don’tremind me.”

Hethrows an arm over my shoulders. “Don’tworry, if you spill nachos and beer down your dress,I’llbuy it for you.”

Thatgets a laugh out of me. “AndhereIwas thinking they only served wine and caviar at red carpet events.”

Beau’sphone rings and he pulls it out of his pants pocket and checks it. “I’lljust take this, then we’ll need to go.Yougood?”

Inod, and he takes a couple of steps away before answering the call.

Iglance over atDevonagain.Hisback is to me, and he’s looking in the big mirror that hangs on their wall.He’sfiddling with his bow tie, untying it, and starting over.

Ashard asI’vetried over the last week, putting what happened between us out of my mind has been impossible.Justthe sight of him moving around the apartment has my pulse skyrocketing.Ican still taste his kiss, remember the press of him between my thighs, the feel of him in my mouth.

ButI’vebeen doing my best not to let on.TopretendI’veput it behind me the way he has.Ishould have known it wouldn’t take him long.He’sa rock star with plenty of other women to keep him occupied.Andhe’s never wanted anything more than friendship with me.

BackwhenIwas sixteen, the embarrassment of finding out he’d only kissed me because of a dare had put a painful crack in my heart.Andto rub salt in the wound, later that evening,I’doverheard him tellingBeauhe’d actually been hoping they would dare him to kissMelissa.

Icried myself to sleep that night and avoided him for a few days afterward.Butstaying away was hard, especially when he’d give me little confused looks every timeImade up excuses not to hang out.Iwas hurting him for no reason other thanI’dlet myself get carried away, believing there was something between us when there wasn’t.Itwasn’t his faultI’dgotten hurt—it was mine.

Thatwas whenI’dgiven up hoping thatDevonmight fall madly in love with me one day.Insteadof wallowing in my hurt,Imade myself consider how losing his friendship altogether would be far worse than never having him reciprocate my feelings.Iforced myself to move forward and focus on being just his friend because that alone was pretty damn awesome.Anda month later, whenIsaw him kissingMelissa,Ialmost believed it whenItold myselfIwas glad he’d gotten the girl he’d wanted all along.

AndnowI’vegone and done it again.Ofcourse, he was the one who instigated the dare this time, and what happened in the closet.Butwhen it comes down to it, he still doesn’t want more than what we have.Sojust like back then,Ihave to push aside my feelings and think about how muchIvalue the relationship we already have.Andabout how unbearable it would be to lose him orBeauif we did try for more and things went wrong.

AsifDevoncan sense me looking at him, our gazes catch and hold in the reflection.Hisfingers still.

Ican’t help the way my heart flutters.Butthat’s not whyIgo to him, reach up, and lay my hand on his.It’sbecause, first and foremost, he’s my friend.

“Letme?”Isay, giving him a small smile so he knowsIwant to get us back to the way we were.Theexpression feels uncertain on my face, andIhate that the ease we used to have with each other has gone.

“Thanks.”Heturns so he’s facing me, andIconcentrate on getting his bow tie perfect.

Devon’scitrus and soap scent weaves around me, andItry not to inhale too deeply, because nothing good will come from letting him overwhelm my senses again.

“Tiea lot of bows?”Hisdeep voice is lower than usual, as if he’s asking me to share a secret with him rather than whereIgot my bow-tying skills.

“Phillipused to get me to do them for him,”Isay, trying to hide the sudden tremble in my hand.Idon’t want to think aboutPhillip.Evenwhen things were good between us, beforeIrealized the type of man he was and how farI’dlet him crush me,I’dnever felt this kind of awareness humming between us.

Irisk a glance up.There’sa line betweenDevon’sbrows and a question in his eyes.Neitherhe norBeauknows the truth aboutPhillip.Asfar as they’re aware, we grew apart and broke up.ButIwonder if he sees something on my faceI’drather he didn’t.

Witha final smooth over the material at his throat,Itake a step back. “Perfect.”

Hedoesn’t look in the mirror to check.Instead, he ducks his head to catch my gaze. “Phillipwas an asshole who never deserved you.Youknow that, right?”

Iswallow, feeling exposed, as if he can see all the still-raw parts of me.Iforce my lips to curve. “Butat leastIknow how to tie a good bow tie.”

Ican’t look away from him, and the urge to wrap my arms around his broad chest and burrow my head into it grows too strong to bear.Iwhirl away and go to the table to fuss with my tiny black clutch.

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