Lost in Us (14 page)

"What's wrong?" he says, looking startled.

I glare at him. "Jess just signaled that she got me a drink," I lie through gritted teeth.

He attempts to place one hand on my hip again, "The drink can wait."

"No, it can't," I say firmly.

"But the song—"

"She said no," a deep voice booms from behind me, and my smoldering heart bursts into flame. Rage plagues his every syllable.

"Who the hell are you?" Jason says over my shoulder.

I take one deep breath and step sideways, unwillingly turning my gaze toward James. It wasn't just his tone that bore unmistakable signs of anger. His jaw is tight, his elbows wide away from his torso in a provoking way. The dark blue shirt reminds me of the one he was wearing when we first met. And his eyes… they have the same glint they had under the valley oak next to the auditorium. No, not the same. It’s ten times darker. Almost frightening.

"This is James," I say at once because I have the nagging feeling James is preparing to punch Jason rather than answering his question. "A friend of mine."

"Can I talk to you, Serena?" James says, not taking his eyes off Jason. "Alone."

I hesitate for a second, despite all the promises I made to myself that I will never speak to him again. If I say no, Jason will take it as a sign that I liked his sleazy hands on me after all and I will really lose my temper when he tries something. If I say yes, I might lose everything.

Jason makes the decision for me. "Serena and I have a conversation to finish."

"We can finish that later," I say and stride toward the bar, with James hot on my heels. I look for Jess, but she and the rest of the group are no longer where I left them.

"Are you all right? That guy—"

"Let me make something clear," I turn to him. "I have no intention of speaking to you, I just want to get rid of Jason."

"I only need a few minutes, Serena. Please."

"You had your few minutes. You filled them with stone silence, as I remember."

"I called you a dozen times. I wrote to you."

"Didn't the fact that I ignored everything send you any kind of message?" I ask, grinding my fists so hard my nails bite in to my palm. Anger, that's it—the secret to not breaking down in front of him.

"It did. It was obvious I had to talk to you in person."

I take a step back. How could I have thought that him being here is a coincidence?

"You had me followed?" I ask aghast.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then how did you know where I was?"

He hesitates, then flutters his hand as if saying it doesn't matter. But his eyes betray him. They slip sideways. Just for a fraction of a second, but it's enough for me to identify the person the conspiratorial look was meant for. Jess. She doesn't try to hide her part in this conspiracy as she raises her glass in our direction, entangled in her latest victim's arms. My drink is probably long forgotten, as everything usually is when there's a guy involved.

So that's why she was so calm this morning when I told her James had stopped calling, the traitor. I realize on the spot what her siding with him means. I will never see the end of this unless I do talk to him. Or at least pretend to.

"Let's go outside," I say, making sure Jess sees us heading to the staircase.

The line in front of the club is twice as long as when Jess and I were waiting. A bunch of giggling girls stare at James, taking him in from head to toe when we pass them, my existence not deterring them in the slightest.

I walk around the corner, and except for a few garbage cans, it's just us.

"Your minutes are ticking so start talking," I say, folding my arms over my chest, determinedly watching my feet.

"I'm sorry for what happened back at the apartment."

"Not more than I am," I say. Coming out here was a bad idea.

"I didn't know you were… I would've never—"

"Look," I cut him short because every word he utters stings my already shattering heart, "I really don't want to hear any explanations, okay? So if we're done, I'm just going to head back inside."

I step forward and run right into his arm, as he raises it to stop me. The current fizzing through me takes my breath away. I leap back. I can't bear it. His touch. It's electrifying and torturous.

Dangerous.

"We're not done."

I raise my eyes and stare directly into his for the first time tonight. His gaze is no less dangerous than his touch. "Let me go.”

"I want you," he says in a broken voice, and it takes all I have not to melt. Not to forget the tears and pain and let him have what he wishes. What I wish.

"Why, you already got tired of Sophie?" I ask bitterly. "I'm sure Natalie will be happy to take her place." 

"Don't do this," he pleads.

"I'm not doing anything. This is how your life is." My voice is getting stronger. "And I don't want to be part of it. It would drive me crazy to wonder who you are with every second we're not together. What am I supposed to do? Go out and try to forget my misery by letting some random guy run his hands all over me?” I recoil at the memory. ”That's not me. I don't want that for me."

He frowns. "I don't want that, either." I can't escape him this time. In a blink of an eye, his arms are around my waist; his body presses me against the cold wall. My arms lay motionless at my side. If I raise them, it'll only be to bring him even closer to me. "I don't want anyone to touch you or dance with you like that," he says in a low voice, his lips inches away from mine. He raises one of his hands and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand has a slight tremor to it. His whole body has. "I want you to be mine. Only mine."

It's here again. The illusion. It takes over my mind, my heart, my everything. But there’s something else that keeps me from asking the question. Something that's almost as powerful as the illusion. Fear. When the words finally come out of my mouth, I can barely hear myself.

"Does that mean you also want to be . . . only mine?"

He smiles and leans in, muttering against my cheek. "I do."

Life burns through my veins again as his lips touch mine in a kiss so fierce my whole body responds to it with a frantic desire to touch and kiss every inch of him. So does his. His lips prove it in their furious descent on my neck and my chest. He reaches the neckline of my dress and pulls it down in one swift move, revealing one of my breasts. His tongue around my nipple sends me over the edge with a loud moan.

"No, James, please," I beg, pulling him up and rearranging my dress. Then I launch into another kiss, fiercer than the first one. My hands find their way under his shirt and he's the one moaning when my fingers almost scratch his skin in desperation for more. 

We break off gasping, our foreheads together. He pushes away my hands from under his shirt, saying, "Stop, or I'll have you right here."

He takes a step back, putting one finger against his lips, now curled into an uneven smile. Not conceited, the way it usually is. There's something different about it, although I can't say what. This reminds me of the other thing that’s supposed to be different—our newly defined relationship—and my craving for him transforms to excruciating agony again.

"You said you couldn't do commitment," I say.

His smile melts into an aggravated frown. "You think I lied to you just now? Why?"

"To get me in your bed," I whisper, hating myself for how weak I sound. Never show vulnerability. That's one of the few rules on Jess's dating list that I agree with. I cried and sobbed in his arms but that was different. This… this shouldn't be.

He lifts my chin with his fingers. "I never lied to you, Serena."

"I know," I say in a small voice.

"I hurt you and I despise myself for that, but I never lied to you."

His eyes bore deep into mine when he says, "I will never hurt you again."

"You just stood there, saying nothing," I whisper.

"I'm slow, okay?" he raises his hands in desperation. "I… you just… everything was happening so fast, I didn't have time to think or react."

He pulls me in a tight embrace. "I knew it was a mistake to let you go the minute you left. I will not let you go a second time," he whispers and kisses me on the forehead. "Do you believe me?"

I nod, afraid my voice will betray just how doubtful I am.

"Good. Let's go."

"I actually promised Jess I would celebrate with her something," I say in a surprisingly even tone.

"I know," he says with a smirk. "She said she'd be happy to celebrate another time when I told her about the surprise I prepared for you."

"You prepared a… surprise?" I ask blankly.

"I thought our reunion night should be memorable. Seeing that the actual reunion was among the dumpsters of a second rate club, I think that was a wise decision."

I chuckled. He's too polite. I believe I used the word decrepit when Jess informed me where we were going.

"Let's go," I say.

T
he Porsche is parked opposite the club and when I slip inside, the butterflies, dormant for so many days, start to lazily flutter their wings. James slips inside and starts the engine, then starts rummaging in the pocket of the door. Just when I'm about to ask him what he's looking for, he pulls out a thin strip of black silk.

"You have to put this on."

"A blindfold? Are you serious?"

"Very."

"James, I'm not putting this on."

"Then we are not going anywhere," he says and actually turns off the engine.

"I don't know where we're going anyway."

"Why do you protest so much, then?" he asks, his lip curling into a smile. He forms a semicircle in the air with his forefinger and I turn around, sighing.

The flutter of butterflies isn't lazy anymore when the fine silk touches my skin and his fingers become entangled in my hair as he ties the piece of fabric.

"This is ridiculous," I say.

"The blindfold matches your dress," he says amused. "By the way, what were you thinking wearing something this provocative?"

"You don't like it?" I tease.

"You look great in it. A little too great." He glides one finger playfully up my thigh, sending delicious little tingles in my entire body. "You're tan."

"I played volleyball in the sun almost the entire day."

"I'd love to see you after one week in the sun. We could go on a holiday, just you and me after you graduate."

"I… sure. That's a wonderful idea," I jabber, finding it very hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Mr. Spontaneity is making plans for something that will be happening three months from now.

Plans with me.

"How long will this ride last?"

"About an hour," he says.

"Wow. Celebrating our reunion on the highway. How original."

"How do you know we're on the highway?" he asks sharply. "Are you peeking?"

"It was just a guess, James. Chill out—"

A buzzing noise interrupts me and I clumsily try to open my tiny bag to reach my phone.

"Leave it, it's my phone."

He snorts after a few seconds. "Dani's checking whether I'm off with you. Well, she only misspelled two words, so I guess she's still sober." The concern behind his mocking tone is not lost on me.

"Don't worry. Parker will take good care of her."

"That's what I'm worried about. He won't. Dani is determined not to be a bookworm anymore when she arrives at Oxford, and apparently she needs six months of clubbing to achieve that. Parker refuses to interfere with her goal."

"Why should he?"

"I don't want her to waste her time at Oxford crawling from party to party," he exclaims.

"That's a bit hypocritical coming from someone who ravaged his entire trust fund in college."

"It actually only took me three years. I was already broke by the fourth year. But she's got no reason to be as reckless as I was. "

The words are past my lips before I fully realize what I'm saying. "Was Lara your reason?"

I whisk the blindfold off, but he doesn't notice. My eyes instantly seek his hands and I breathe. They are not clasping the wheel that weird way they were after the lark brought up boarding school. The speed indicator is far more to the right than it should be, but I know that's just his way of driving.

When he talks, he doesn't sound half as mad as I feared. "How do you know about her?"

"Umm… Parker sort of—"

He grunts.

"Don't get mad at him. It sort of slipped."

"What
exactly
slipped?" I catch the faintest hint of anger.

"That she… died at your high school graduation," I say in a small voice.

Neither of us speaks for a few seconds. I try to gauge something, anything from his expression, but it's completely unreadable as he looks forward.

"You'd think that would have been the worst day of my life." All signs of anger are gone from his voice. "But the days after it were much worse. The years, really."

I know what he means. At first there's the shock. The beautiful, marvelous, numbing shock that wipes away every thought.

And then the pain comes.

"I went into sort of a nightmare afterward and only woke up from it when the balance on my account hit zero."