Chapter 7

Maya

The cold night air should have helped.

It should have cooled my face down.

Slowed my pulse.

Given my brain a chance to reboot after whatever the hell had just happened inside that football house.

Instead, it somehow made everything worse.

Because the second Bree and I stepped outside, I became painfully aware of two things.

One, my heart was still racing.

And two, I had come dangerously close to kissing Cole Ryder.

The realization hit me all over again as we crossed the lawn.

Not almost shaking his hand.

Not almost hugging him.

Not almost exchanging phone numbers.

Kissing.

Actual kissing.

With lips.

Like an idiot.

“Oh my God.”

Bree’s voice broke through my panic.

I immediately groaned.

“No.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bree.”

She doubled over laughing.

Actually doubled over.

Hands on her knees.

Struggling to breathe.

People were walking past us, and she didn’t even care.

“Bree.”

“I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not.”

She pointed at me.

“I have never seen Rogue Ryder look like that before.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He looked normal.”

“He looked confused.”

“He was not confused.”

“He looked like someone unplugged his brain.”

That image was unfortunately accurate.

I hated that.

Bree followed me onto the porch.

Still laughing.

Still entirely too pleased with herself.

The second we stepped inside the house, she kicked the door shut and turned toward me.

“Oh, this is amazing.”

I pointed a warning finger at her.

“Don’t.”

“He almost kissed you.”

“Don’t.”

“You almost kissed him.”

“Don’t.”

“You were both leaning.”

I threw my purse onto the table.

“Bree.”

“You were.”

“Bree.”

“Your faces were practically touching.”

I covered my face with both hands.

This was a nightmare.

An absolute nightmare.

Because every word she was saying was true.

The worst part?

I could still remember exactly how close he’d been.

The way his voice had changed.

The way he’d looked at me.

The way the entire room had seemed to disappear for a second.

I hated that I remembered all of it.

Hated it.

“So.”

I immediately didn’t like Bree’s tone.

“So what?”

She sat down on the couch.

Crossed her legs.

And smiled.

The smile of a woman about to become insufferable.

“What are we naming your future children?”

I stared at her.

Then I grabbed a throw pillow and launched it directly at her face.

She caught it.

The traitor.

“We are not naming anything.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“But if we were—”

“We aren’t.”

“—I think football-themed names would be cute.”

I threw a second pillow.

She dodged it.

Unfortunately.

“You need help.”

She gasped dramatically.

“I am helping.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You’re welcome.”

I hated her.

Not really.

But a little.

Maybe.

Fine.

Not at all.

Bree watched me for another second.

Then her grin softened.

Just slightly.

“Okay.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Okay what?”

“Real question.”

Uh-oh.

The serious voice.

Those were dangerous.

“What?”

“What happened?”

I looked away immediately.

Because that was easier than answering.

Nothing happened.

That was the problem.

Nothing happened.

And somehow that felt worse.

“He was flirting.”

Bree snorted.

“Maya.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t flirting.”

I blinked.

“Yes, he was.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

She pointed toward the football house next door.

“That man flirts with everyone.”

I hated that statement more than I should have.

Which was concerning.

“Okay?”

“What happened tonight wasn’t flirting.”

I crossed my arms.

“Then what was it?”

Bree studied me for a moment.

Then smiled.

Slowly.

Knowingly.

“Oh.”

I immediately regretted asking.

“Oh what?”

“You know exactly what it was.”

I groaned.

“You’re impossible.”

She laughed.

“Maybe.”

The room grew quieter after that.

For the first time all night, neither of us spoke.

I sank onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

Everything felt strange.

The house was quiet.

The party noise was fading.

My essay was still sitting on the coffee table untouched.

Normal life was waiting for me.

But my brain kept replaying the same stupid moments.

The hallway.

His smile.

His laugh.

The way he looked genuinely relieved when he came back upstairs and found me still there.

That one bothered me the most.

Because it hadn’t felt fake.

And I didn’t know what to do with that.

“You’re thinking about him.”

I nearly jumped.

“Bree!”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things.”

“You are.”

I grabbed a couch cushion and hugged it to my chest.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m thinking about my essay.”

Bree looked at the untouched laptop.

Then at me.

Then back at the laptop.

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“Maya.”

“What?”

“You haven’t mentioned philosophy once.”

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

Because unfortunately she had a point.

A very annoying point.

Silence stretched between us.

Then Bree smiled.

A small smile this time.

Not teasing.

Not dramatic.

Just knowing.

“You like him a little.”

I immediately shook my head.

Too fast.

Too hard.

Too obvious.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

I pointed at her.

“Stop saying okay.”

She laughed.

“You totally do.”

I buried my face in the pillow.

This was the worst night of my life.

The absolute worst.

Because somewhere along the way, Bree had stopped sounding crazy.

And that was terrifying.

A few minutes later, she stood up and headed toward her room.

At the doorway, she paused.

Then looked back at me.

“He’s going to come after you, you know.”

I snorted.

“No, he isn’t.”

“Want to bet?”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

Then she disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Which turned out to be a terrible idea.

Because the second the house went quiet, my eyes drifted toward the window.

Toward the football house next door.

Toward the upstairs hallway where I’d left him standing.

And before I could stop myself, I wondered what he was doing right now.

The thought lasted less than a second.

But it was enough.

Enough to make me groan and drop my head back against the couch.

Because that was the real problem.

Not the almost-kiss.

Not the flirting.

Not even Cole Ryder himself.

The problem was that for the first time since moving next door…

I was starting to wonder what would happen if I stopped walking away.