Playing For Keeps

Broken Hearts and Broken Promises Part 2

She squints at me, but shakes her head.

My lips twitch with a smile. “My senior year of high school. You were, God, you were what, in eighth grade?”

She nods, and takes another small bite, still watching me.

“Owen and I skipped practice to smoke weed, and we got a whole bunch of tacos and hung out in your parents’ basement all afternoon.”

She must remember the day I’m referring to, because suddenly she starts laughing behind a nap- kin.

“Your parents got home from work and ...”

She stops me, raising one hand, still chuckling. “And I immediately told on you guys. I never said sorry for that, did I?”

I shake my head. “It’s all good, E-class. I’ve never held it against you. Even though I got grounded for like a month after that.”

Elise looks away from me and takes a long drink of her iced tea, setting down her half-eaten taco on its paper wrapper. “I’m feeling a lot bet- ter thanks to this greasy goodness. Tomorrow I can face my students hangover free. Thanks, Justin.”

“No problem.” I finish my food, and wipe my hands on the napkin. It grows quiet between us, and I’m not sure if I should go or what. But fuck, I’m not ready to leave.

She tucks her hair behind one ear, looking con- templative. God, that hair. Those silky dark waves. I remember exactly what it feels like when my fin- gers are threaded through it. I remember the smell of her shampoo and how it felt dragging over my chest when she kissed a path along my neck.

I clear my throat, forcing the thoughts away. “You sure you’re okay about the breakup?”

She nods. “I’m sure. Thanks though. Sweet of you to ask.” She gives me a half-smile, but I’ll take it. She hasn’t smiled at me in so long.

But sweet? Me? Yeah, no. Sweet is not an ad- jective I’d use to describe a guy who takes the v- card of a girl he’s known all of his life and then disappears like a coward. That’s the exact fucking opposite of sweet. A jerkface is more like it.

“What about you?” Elise asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

“What about me?” Is she seriously asking if I’m dating anyone? Isn’t the answer to that ques- tion obvious? I don’t date. I fuck around. Isn’t that

what everyone expects anyway?

Elise bites her lip and takes another sip of her drink. “Your relationship status … Still loving the bachelor lifestyle?”

I consider her question for a moment. The me- dia blows my love-life out of proportion. I never thought Elise of all people would buy into the hype. But I like that she’s actually asking me directly and not assuming like everyone else does.

But Elise also knows the shit-storm of my par- ents’ divorce, and how it’s made me gun-shy about relationships.

“I guess I just haven’t found the right girl yet. And even though I’ve never been the relationship- type, part of me wonders if maybe it’s time to grow up.” I don’t mean to be so honest with her, but I’m not lying. It’s not something I’ve ever had before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.

I can’t tell if my response surprises her, but she doesn’t say anything else. And I know I should, but I can’t make myself get up and go just yet. Instead I do the one thing I know I shouldn’t, I move closer to her on the couch.

Huge gray eyes look up at mine, and fuck, I’m done. I’m done resisting this girl, with her sweet

personality and her quick wit. I’m all wrong for her, but she’s gorgeous and I want this. So fuck- ing badly. Or maybe I just want redemption. Either way, I can’t go on like this.

She doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but I’m more of a take action kind of guy anyway.

I lower my mouth toward hers and Elise parts her lips as my mouth meets hers in a slow, tenta- tive kiss.

Her shaky breath ghosts over my lips as I go back in for more, deepening our connection and coaxing her tongue out to touch mine.

Fuck. It’s electric. I stifle a groan and thread my fingers in the hair at the back of her neck.

She kisses me back and I’m in heaven. The taste of her, the softness of her lips eagerly moving under mine, brings me right back to the first night we kissed in my bedroom. The quiet sounds she makes, the feel of her trembling fingers skimming along my chest…nothing has ever felt more right. I feel so many things in this moment, I can’t even put it into words. The rush of adrenaline. An in- tense pressure in my groin. She’s kissing me. Open mouthed and hungry. I stroke her tongue with mine, and she makes a low sound in her throat. The

noise is something in between a moan and a sigh of relief, and the skin on the back of my neck tingles.

But then, two firm hands are pushing against my chest.

I stop immediately and put some space between us. The air around us is charged with pheromones and desire and I miss the warmth of her body heat close to mine, but I have no other choice than to respect her need for space.

My eyes meet hers, trying to read what she’s thinking. I would never want her to feel threatened or unsure about the physical contact between us. But even as I meet her eyes, I come up blank.

“We can’t,” she says, breathless. Her fingers touch her lips and her eyes are two huge pools of worry.

My heart stops and I give her a shaky nod. “I know.”

I should regret pushing her into a kiss, but I don’t. It’s never been about winning with her, and I’m not playing a game. All I need is one more shot at redemption, and I’m determined to get it.