The Unexpected Way of Falling in Love Page 7

  I start to walk away as the past catches up with me.

  Deep down, underneath the years of being teased, I understand my reaction is silly. That calling me cute isn’t an insult. But, at the same time, he once told me I looked like a boy. And just yesterday, he told me I wasn’t pretty. So, why now, only a day later, is he telling me I’m cute? It makes no sense at all. Unless he’s playing a game.

  “Ens, wait.” Carter wraps his fingers around my arm before I make it very far.

  I freeze, deliberating whether to slip my arm out of his hold and run or stay and hear him out.

  “What?” The girl with a crush side of me wins.

  He pulls me closer to him and, like an idiot, I let him.

  “Whatever I said, I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips close to my ear.

  I swallow a shaky breath, fighting back a shiver, loathing how much my body wants him. “You mean, for what you just said?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, grazing his finger along the inside of my wrist where my pulse is pounding. “Whatever you thought I said that was mean … I didn’t mean it.”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure what else to say since I’m not one hundred percent sure what he’s apologizing for.

  “Good.” Then he turns me around so I’m facing him.

  My gaze automatically drops to his shoes. It’s such a bad habit. I really need to break it. Apparently, Carter thinks so, too, because he hitches his finger under my chin and angles my head up until our gazes collide.

  “You know, you should really stop doing that.” A playful gleam twinkles in his eyes.

  His shift in attitude makes my head spin with dizziness.

  “Stop doing what?”

  “Looking down instead of making eye contact. You do that a lot.”

  He noticed that?

  I shrug. “I probably should, but it’s become a habit.”

  “Well, you should break it.” With his free hand, he gently grazes his thumb underneath my eye. “Your eyes are too gorgeous. Don’t hide them.”

  Those butterflies come to life again.

  Goddammit, they’re getting out of control!

  I keep a blank expression. “Seriously?”

  His forehead furrows as he releases his hold on my arm. “Seriously, what?”

  “ ‘Your eyes are too gorgeous,’ ” I make air quotes. “How many times has that line worked for you?”

  “Truthfully?” he asks, surprising me—I thought he was going to pretend to be clueless.

  I nod. “If you’re offering the truth, then yeah.”

  “I am. And to answer your question: not once.”

  I stare at him in doubt. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  “Um, yeah, because it’s the truth.” He uses his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  A damp strand of hair.

  I really wish he’d stop doing that. Out of all the times to touch my hair, he decides to do it while I have hat hair. Then again, my normal hair isn’t much better.

  “So, what you’re saying is that you expect me to believe that you’ve never told another girl that her eyes are gorgeous?” I question. “Ever?”

  He nods. “You’re the first.”

  I resist an eye roll. “Sure I am.”

  “You don’t believe me?” He cocks his brow just like I did a few seconds ago, only his comes off sexy, while mine probably came off more idiotically confused. “Huh, this might be a first, too.”

  “What? Having a girl doubt your truthfulness?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes glitter with amusement. “It’s an … interesting feeling.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

  He takes a step closer to me. “I guess so, since I just used my first gorgeous eyes line on you.”

  Even though his nearness sends my heart into a fit of flutters, I step away from him. “Sure you did.”

  He chews on his bottom lip as he fights back a smile. “You know what? I think I’m sensing a challenge coming on.”

  I swiftly shake my head. “I’m not into challenges.”

  He takes another step toward me. “Oh, I think you are. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  I start to move back, bumping into the wall. “You don’t know me, Carter, so don’t pretend like you do.”

  “But I do know you,” he insists, daring another step toward me. “From that secret conversation we had that you can’t remember, but that definitely happened. Best conversation of my life, by the way.”

  I point a finger at him. “Now, I know that’s a line since you told me the same thing yesterday while we were on the phone.”

  “No, I said that was the best conversation I’ve had in a long time.” He’s on the verge of smiling as he reduces the last bit of space between us with another step.

  He’s so close that his chest presses against the finger I’m pointing at him. His chest that’s solid. Really, really solid.

  I swallow hard, mostly to stop myself from drooling.

  Get a grip over yourself, Ensley. He’s hot; so what? You’ve always known that. Just like you’ve always known he’s a jerk.

  His lips tug up into a cocky smirk, the smirk I’ve seen him use multiple times, including on me. That smirk is usually followed by a mocking joke, like, hey, I think Ensley was just checking me out. What do you think? Should I give her a chance? And yes, he actually said that to Holden once when I was at his house with Elodie. Elodie had left the room to get a snack, so I was alone when they wandered into the living room.

  Holden had replied with a, “I don’t know, man. She might be kind of hard to handle … She looks intense.”

  Carter stared at me for an unnerving amount of time, as if searching for a hidden weakness. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m probably better off with someone like Stella or Jane.”

  “What do you think, Ensley?” Holden asked me. “Do you think Carter should go for Stella or Jane?”

  Knowing they were teasing me, I stayed quiet and tried to focus on the television. But they didn’t take the hint, or didn’t care, and sat down beside me on the leather sofa, squishing me between them.

  The overwhelming scent of cologne engulfed my nostrils, but not in a bad way. No, I liked the smell more than I wanted to admit. It was another thing I liked about Carter, and I hate it.

  Carter draped his arm across the back of the sofa. “So, you think I’d be better off with Stella or Jane?” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear.

  His breath smelled like whiskey, and I realized they were both drunk. That sent any hope of getting them to back off and fly out the window and into the night sky.

  I sucked in a discreet inhale through my nose, crossing my fingers they couldn’t tell how nervous I was. “You can do whatever you want.”

  He combed his fingers through my hair and a smile played at the corners of his lips. “Anything I want? Really? Well, in that case, I want to f—”

  Elodie walked into the room and glared at Carter. “Leave her alone.”

  Carter raised his hands in front of him. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Sure you aren’t.” Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You’re always doing something.”

  “God, you’re so uptight, just like Mom,” Carter sneered, stumbling to his feet.

  Holden tapped fists with Carter. “Nice one.”

  Elodie’s lip twitched, and then she threw the bottle of soda she was carrying.

  Carter ducked to get out of the way, but Holden moved too slow and the bottle hit him square in the gut. Holden started cursing while Carter started chewing Elodie out. And Elodie argued back, demanding that Carter take back what he said.

  And me? I sat there quietly, wishing they would all stop, like I did every time I was around people fighting.

  “Earth to Ens.” Carter waves his hand in front of my face. “Are you still with me?”

  I bob my head up and down, blinking back to reality. “I was just thinking abou
t some stuff.”

  “What sort of stuff?” he asks, eyeing me curiously.

  I shake my head. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

  He juts out his lip.

  I’m not a fan of pouting, but dammit, he makes it look so sexy.

  “Even with me?” he asks, batting his eyelashes. Yes, actually fucking batting his eyelashes.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Not even with you.”

  He sighs, but a teasing glint glimmers in his eyes. “Fine, you keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine. But when you’re ready to trade, let me know.” Then he slants forward and places his palms on the wall, trapping my head between his arms. “You know, I actually do have something I need to talk to you about. I didn’t just ask to talk to you alone so we could flirt.”

  “Flirt?” I pronounce the word slowly as I process what he just said. “I wasn’t flirting.” I’m not even sure I know how.

  He rolls his tongue in his mouth as if restraining a laugh. “If you say so.”

  I lightly swat his chest. “I do say so.”

  A laugh escapes him. “Now you’re definitely flirting.”

  When heat floods my cheeks, his lips expand into a haughty grin.

  “Now that’s cute.” He removes one hand from the wall and drags his thumb across my cheekbone, making a slow path along my jawline to my lips.

  My mouth goes dry as I’m thrown out of my comfort zone.

  I’m not stupid. Something strange is going on. Something that is more than likely going to end in disaster. I know I shouldn’t react to his touch, but I’ve been crushing on the guy for almost ten years. I can’t not react. Plus, I’ve never had my lips touched by a guy before. Never been kissed. Never been pinned against a wall. Never ever. That’s a lot of nevers. And I loathe that almost all of those nevers are happening right now while I’m only supposed to be pretending. And Carter probably is, too.

  But I can’t help the desire pouring through my body. I want to bite my lips and suck on his thumb, graze my teeth across it. Then I want to lean forward and kiss him. My first kiss, and I want it to be with him.

  Even after everything.

  I shake my head at myself. I really do have problems.

  “Why did you want to talk to me?” I try to direct the conversation away from cute remarks and lip touching, even though the way he drags his thumb across my lips feels wonderful. Like dancing out in the rain on a warm day after spending hours reading your favorite book sort of wonderful.

  He stops moving his thumb, a pucker forming at his brow. “I …” He blinks like a lost baby deer.

  I’m sure my expression matches his. Why is he perplexed?

  “You said you wanted to talk to me about something alone,” I try to clarify. “Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” He stares at me for an unnerving amount of time before withdrawing his thumb from my lips. Then he steps back, putting space between us and leaving a mixture of relief and disappointment whirling inside me. “I just wanted to make sure you dressed appropriately for where we’re going Saturday night.” The playfulness in his voice is gone and now replaced with formalness. “The place we’re going has a dress code.”

  “Okay.” What did I say that’s making him act so cold? Or did the old, moody Carter take over the playful Carter I’ve been talking to on and off for the last couple of days? “What am I supposed to wear?”

  “You can wear whatever you want, just as long as you don’t wear any open-toed shoes, like sandals or something. And no bulky clothing—it’s a fire hazard. And while it’s not required, the owners prefer you wear some sort of red and black, even if it’s just a necklace or something simple like that.”

  “That seems a little strange,” I say. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise, remember?” He almost smiles, yet kind of looks sad and lost. “And remember, you have about an hour after I pick you up to prove to me that I can trust you. Otherwise, I’m just going to have to take you on a normal movie date and you’re going to end up missing out on some serious fun.”

  “Some serious fun that has a dress code?” Skepticism seeps into my tone.

  “Hey, don’t mock the dress code,” he teases with a wink, but his playfulness feels more forced now. “It’s just to keep you safe. I swear.”

  “I believe you. It’d just be easier if I knew where we’re going because the place sounds intense.”

  “It is intense, but you’ll have fun.” He starts to reach toward me, then hesitates and returns his hand to his side. “I have to go. I’m supposed to eat lunch with my family in, like, an hour.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” I glance at the clock on the wall across from me. Lovely. I’ve been standing here for almost fifteen minutes. My aunt and mom are probably wondering where I am.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” It’s not a statement, but a question. I don’t know why since I agreed to go with him yesterday, but I nod, anyway. He frees a loud breath. “Good. I’ll see you at five thirty.”

  He starts to turn away, but then glances back at me. His lips part then shut. Part then shut. Then his gaze drop to my lips. He stares momentarily before shaking his head and plastering on a smile. Then he winks at me and strolls down toward the end of the hallway.

  I stand there, feeling lost and dazed, and at least ten other different conflicting emotions. Most of all, I feel confused. Because all through that conversation, he wasn’t acting like the Carter I know.

  Maybe that revelation should bring me some comfort, but all I feel as I head for the back area of the gymnasium is lost. Lost in a plan that I supposedly have control over.

  Yeah, I’m really starting to worry that might not be the case.

  I retrieve my phone from my pocket as I enter the back area of the gym and text Elodie.

  Me: Hey, so I just got done talking to Carter …

  Elodie: And …?

  Me: And he just wanted to tell me there’s a dress code for this place we’re going to on our date tomorrow.

  Elodie: Huh?

  Me: Yeah, I was confused, too. Not sure what sort of places have a required dress code, but it’s making me a little nervous.

  Elodie: What’s the dress code?

  I text her back the list Carter gave me, but she doesn’t respond instantly. Figuring she’s busy with her family, I hurry and slip my robe off and hand it to the woman sitting next to the rack full of robes. She asks for my name then checks over the robe before telling me I’m good to go.

  As I turn to leave, a girl around twelve or thirteen, who I’ve never seen before, comes skipping up to me with a rose in her hand.

  “This is for you.” She smiles as she hands me the rose.

  I don’t immediately take it. “Who’s it from?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” She urges me to take the rose.

  Hesitantly, I reach forward and wrap my fingers around the stem. Then wince as a thorn pricks me.

  “Careful. It’s pretty but it bites.” The girl giggles, then skips off toward the doors that lead to the left side of the gymnasium.

  If Carter had me feeling on edge, the girl has me zooming toward What the Fuck is Happening Land, which isn’t a great place to be.

  “Wait a second.” I rush after her, winding around the robe rack.

  She quickens her pace and hurries out the doors. I follow, ignoring the blood trickling out of my finger.

  As I push through the doors, a giggle echoes through the air, but when I step out onto the floor of the gymnasium, no one is around. The area is abandoned except for a janitor, who’s folding up the chairs.

  My gaze skims the bleachers and the upper balcony. No sign of the girl anywhere.

  So strange.

  “Excuse me.” I approach the janitor, an older man with salt and pepper hair. “Did you see a girl run through here just a moment ago? She was about thirteen or so, with long, brown hair, and she was wearing a black and red dress.”

  The man’s eyes drop to t
he black and red dress I’m wearing, and he raises his brows. “You mean, you.”

  “Hey, I’m not thirteen. And the girl didn’t look like me. Her hair was straight, and she didn’t have freckles, and …” I trail off as the janitor gives an insinuating look at my freckles and hair. “Never mind. Sorry I interrupted your chair folding.” I stride toward the doors on the right side of the gym.

  The janitor grumbles something about being sick and tired of rich, spoiled kids who don’t understand hard work. I don’t bother pointing out how wrong he is, letting him continue on with his rant as I push out the doors and into the hallway.

  Unlike the gym, the hallway is crammed with families and people from my graduating class, making it nearly impossible to spot the girl. Still, I weave my way through, trying to find her, needing to know who sent the rose. And needing to know why she acted like such a little weirdo when I asked her who it was from.

  As I’m maneuvering my way through the mob, someone reaches out and captures my arm.

  I suck in a startled gasp and reel around, lifting the rose to hit the person, which is stupid since a). I have no real reason to be so jumpy. And b). Hitting someone with a rose isn’t going to do much harm. Well, unless I whip them with the thorny stem.

  “Ens.” My mom releases my arm and holds her hands up, her eyes wide.

  “Sorry.” I feel ridiculous as I lower the rose and press my bleeding fingertip against the palm of my hand. “I thought you were someone else.”

  She gradually lowers her hands, her gaze dropping to the rose in my hand. “Who on earth did you think I was? Because clearly, you have some issues with this person.”

  I look from the rose to her. “I wasn’t really going to hit you with this … It was just a reaction.”

  “Okay.” She gives me a concerned look. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. “Where’s Aunt Bethany?”

  “She’s meeting us at the restaurant.” She pauses, glancing at the rose in my hand again. “Who gave you the rose?”

  I quickly tell her about the strange girl as we make our way down the hallway and toward the exit doors.

  “And then she just disappeared,” I tell her. “It was so strange.”