The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (85 page)

“
Mind if I cut in?
”
I ask once I
’
ve closed the distance between us. I don
’
t really care what this guy has to say
—
I don
’
t know who he is, and I don
’
t need to know
—
I
’
m ending this situation. Right now.

“
Yeah, actually, I do,
”
he mutters.

“
Aw, hi sexy! Did you come out here to
dance
with me?
”
Logan coos, flashing me a smile.

I cut my eyes at the guy who
’
s still got his hands on her and he shakes his head before he lets her go. She clings to me, not even bothering to acknowledge her previous dance partner, and continues to move to the beat of the music.

“
How are you feeling?
”

“
Amazing
now.
”

I nod and stifle a chuckle.
“
I think you were about to break my rule.
”

She gasps, clapping her hands around her mouth.
“
No!
”
she replies. When she starts to giggle again, she drops her hands and her eyes.
“
Maybe
,
”
she admits, looking back up at me from underneath her eyelashes.

“
That
’
s what I thought. Come on. Let
’
s get you some water.
”
I place my hands on her shoulders and spin her around before gently encouraging her toward the bar. She doesn
’
t protest, which surprises me, but I don
’
t mention it.

It
’
s standing room only at the bar and they
’
re still pretty busy so I have to wait my turn to request what I came for. I don
’
t mind, though, content with having gotten Logan away from that
heavy petter
.

“
You
’
re on your white horse, again,
”
she says, tapping her finger against my nose.

“
What?
”
I ask, taking hold of her hand in order to move it out of my face. I let her go as soon as she relaxes her arm at her side.

“
Playing Mr. Responsible. Looking out for me. I think you care about me.
”

I know that it
’
s mostly the alcohol talking and I wonder if she
’
ll remember this conversation tomorrow. Either way, I play along.
“
I
’
m your friend. Of course, I care about you.
”

“
My
friend
,
”
she says, jabbing her finger in the middle of my chest.

“
Yup. That
’
s me.
”
Eric catches my attention and I indicate that I need a water and he nods before he goes to fill a glass.

“
I care about you, too,
Mysterious
.
”

“
I
’
m glad,
”
I say with a smile. I look to my left, once more, just as Eric returns with the water. I reach for it, and when I turn to hand it to Logan, she surprises me first. Before I know it, her lips are pressed against mine. For a fraction of a second I
’
m so shocked that I can
’
t move
—
and then it registers that her mouth is the
wrong
mouth; her perfume is the
wrong
scent. With my free hand, I grip her bare shoulder and push her away. I can
’
t decipher the expression on her face when our eyes meet.
Disappointment? Rejection? Surprise?

“
Logan,
”
I manage.
“
No.
”
Her shoulders sag and that
’
s when I realize that the look on her face spoke of her disappointment.
She
’
s not thinking straight. I
know
she
’
s not herself right now. She didn
’
t mean to do that.
“
You
’
re drunk, Logan. It
’
s not like that with us. You
’
re my friend. I don
’
t like you like that.
”

“
Right,
”
she states, taking her glass of water from me.
“
Because you
’
re still dealing with
the bitch
.
”
I know she means my
complicated
situation, which we don
’
t ever talk about, and
not
Addie, so I nod. She mimics me and then proceeds to gulp down every last drop of her water. I study her as she does so, curious and a little bit worried about what just happened.
“
Thanks for being my
friend
,
”
she says, handing me the empty glass.
“
I promise not to break your rule.
”
Before I can say another word, she turns and walks away.

I was on my way to the bar to grab a couple waters for Sarah and Claire when I saw her lean in. He wasn
’
t expecting it.

Neither was I.

It only lasted a second
—
but I swear it was the longest second of my life!

I force myself to keep walking, to make it to my destination; with every step I take, I relive that moment. I can
’
t erase the image of that kiss from my mind. I
’
m surprised by what I feel. Or, rather, the
lack
of what I feel. I think I
’
m in shock. I
’
ve never, ever,
ever,
seen Beckham kiss someone else.

Then again, technically I think that
’
s still true.

The clarity of that thought is brought about as I replay the scene in its entirety. He pushed her away. That means he didn
’
t want it. It means, when Beckham was given the opportunity to kiss one of the prettiest girls in the room,
he pushed her away
instead of kissing her back.

I know that I should feel relieved by that truth
—
but I still can
’
t feel anything.

“
Hey, are you okay?
”

I
’
m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of Avery
’
s voice. I run my fingers through my hair and draw in a deep breath as I bring my eyes to meet hers. For a second, I think about telling her. Then I don
’
t. I realize that I
can
’
t
. It
’
s like I can
’
t really wrap my mind around what I just saw and so I can barely process it, let alone share it.

“
Yeah. I
’
m fine.
”

“
Are you sure? You look like you
’
ve seen a ghost or something.
”

“
No,
”
I say, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it. This room is too loud and I
’
m suddenly far too exhausted to try and think about Beckham or Logan. I
’
ll just have to deal with it tomorrow.
“
I
’
m good,
”
I assure her, forcing a smile.

“
I
’
m going to get a water. Do you want one?
”

“
Yeah. Um, three, actually,
”
I remember.

“
Four waters, coming up. Just don
’
t go anywhere. I only have two hands.
”

“
I
’
ll be right here.
”

I look down at the other end of the bar, wondering if Beckham is still there, but he
’
s gone.

My bottom lip is sore from my constant biting. Every other minute it gets pulled between my teeth until I remember that it hurts, at which point I release it only to pull it back in a minute later. I can
’
t help it. It
’
s hard for me to remember something so insignificant when I have something so much more important on my mind.

I should be doing homework or practicing or something. School started a couple days ago. I still need to work on bits and pieces of my grad school applications, but every time I try and sit down to do anything, I get distracted
—
which is why I find myself sitting in the middle of my bed, flipping the photograph over and over with my fingers as I gnaw on my raw lip.