Midnight Heat (Firework Girls #2) (14 page)

Sam turns to me. “How’s my hair?”

I tend to a lock of curls that’s starting to fray, feeling a confusing mix of guilt and hope and fear. She might be okay that things are done with Grayson—an eventuality we all knew was coming anyway—but there’s still a big piece to this puzzle she doesn’t know about and I’m terrified to see her reaction when she does.

I watch Sam approach Isabella, feeling I’ve betrayed all of us, in the end.

“I’m such a horrible friend,” I say to Ashley.

She looks pained. “Maybe I gave you bad advice. Maybe I should have told you to tell her from the start.”

“God, Ashley, none of this is
your
fault.”

No. It’s all on me.

I look at Isabella and Sam, both looking radiant and smiling for the camera.

It helps to know Sam and Grayson haven’t slept together, and to hear it out of her own mouth that she’s done with him. It does. But none of that changes the fact that I didn’t know any of that when I started making out with Sam’s date.

There’s just no getting around the fact that I betrayed her, and Sam’s going to know it.

I think back to the moment Sam found out Loni slept with Sam’s ex. She hadn’t cared about that guy either. It was the betrayal Sam couldn’t stomach. I remember how she got that hard expression on her face, tore Loni a new one, told her to take a hike, and never looked back.

For all I know, I’m only two days away from the same fate.

After another hour of pictures, a break for lunch, and a repeat of the whole scenario so Isabella and Shane could have more pictures at the beach, I’m pretty exhausted. I change out of my dress and into more comfortable clothes for the rehearsal. By the time that’s all over, we and the rest of the guests are gathering in one of the hotel’s dining halls for the rehearsal dinner.

The food is incredible and there’s even dancing. I wonder what they have in store for the reception if they’re doing all this just for the rehearsal dinner. I stick close to Ashley, who’s doing a good job keeping me away from Grayson. I need the backup too, because I’m having a hard time not going to him. Our eyes have met more than once, but I try not to linger. It’s too hard if I do. I really don’t trust myself right now.

Jack’s date arrived this afternoon, apparently, so she’s keeping him occupied. I’ve barely spoken to him all evening. I’m surprised when, well into the evening’s dancing, he approaches my table during a slow song and quietly asks me to dance.

I look up at him. He’s neither smiling, nor scowling. He’s simply looking at me and holding out his hand. With no small amount of trepidation, I take it. Heart pounding, I allow him to lead me onto the dance floor. I catch Grayson watching us just before Jack stops, pulls me into his arms, and starts to dance.

I don’t say a word. Neither does Jack. He slowly pulls me closer, until we’re holding each other tight. Fighting tears now, I rest my head against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

After a moment, he says, “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

He sighs, but doesn’t respond.

“Have you told Sam?” I ask.

“Why would I do that?” he asks quietly.

I don’t know. We may joke about who Jack’s favorite is, but we all know it’s Sam.

When I don’t reply he says, “You said you’re going to tell her, right?”

I nod against his chest.

“Okay, then.”

We go through the rest of the dance in silence. When it’s over, he holds me by the shoulders and looks at me. “You tell her all of it,” he says. “The whole story with you two. Okay?”

I don’t answer and he doesn’t wait for me to. He hooks my hand around his arm, escorts me back to the table, thanks me for the dance, and returns to his date.

At that point, I think I’ve had about all I can handle for the evening.

“I’m going to bed,” I say to Ashley. “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay honey,” she says, giving me a hug. “I think it’ll be okay.”

Uh-huh.

“We’ll find out,” I say, giving her a small smile.

I’m halfway down the hall, when I hear my name.

I spin and sure enough, there he is, coming toward me. I want to run to him and throw my arms around him and stay there for the rest of my life. What I
should
do is tell him to keep his distance and walk away myself. Instead I stand there, torn, until he’s nearly to me.

“Wait,” I say, raising my hand and glancing at the empty hallway behind him. “We can’t,” I say. “Not until I talk to Sam.”

“Can’t what?” Grayson asks. He’s wearing a pained expression again. “What are we doing, Chloe?”

I look toward the open doors to the dining hall, the music pouring out. It’s still empty, but that could change at any minute.

He looks behind him too, then takes me by both arms and steers me around a corner.

“We can’t,” I say, retreating farther down this second hallway, with him following me.

“I’m not trying to do anything with you,” he says, “I just need to talk to you. Please.”

I stop and face him. “I really don’t trust myself around you,” I say.

He blinks at me. “What does that mean? Are you leaving again?”

“Am I—what?”

“Are you done?”

“Done with you? God, Grayson, no,” I say, putting my hands on his chest. His face relaxes a bit, but he still looks anxious. “No,” I say again firmly. “I just... it’s bad enough kissing you once behind Sam’s back. I really, really don’t want to do that again. I’m going to talk to her, but not until after the wedding. I don’t want to risk upsetting Isabella.”

He takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

He looks like he wants to kiss me though. This close to him, taking in his smell, I’m having a really, really hard time resisting him too.

I already kissed him once,
a traitorous voice inside me says,
What difference will one more make?

“Alright,” he says again. “I’ll wait.”

I nod.

Okay. There it is. We’ve both agreed.

But, intending to be good or not, we’re both leaning closer and closer to one another. I’m trying not to, I really am. But my hands grip the front of his shirt as my mouth tilts toward his.

“Only one,” I whisper, just before our lips meet.

“Only one,” he agrees, then his mouth is on mine and I exhale with relief. Oh how I’ve longed for his touch all day.

It’s a short kiss, but it’s all I need. It’s enough to get me through.

We pull away and I don’t linger. I turn and continue down the hall, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.

The wedding day is here at last. It’s been busy with preparations and yet more hair appointments. We’re less than thirty minutes away from the ceremony. Sam, Ashley, and I are in a dressing room, watching Sam put the final touches on her makeup. Sam’s been busy helping Isabella, who’s in another room with her mother and grandmother, so while we’ve been ready for a bit, she’s just now getting there.

As we sit here, though, I’m starting to realize how quiet Sam’s been. We’ve been so busy, I hadn’t really noticed it. She’s sitting at a vanity, applying her blush, not saying a word.

“You okay, Sam?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Though her answer is short, she doesn’t sound mad or anything. She dips her brush into the compact and starts on the other cheek.

Ashley and I exchange glances. Ashley kind of shrugs. Maybe Sam’s just distracted. She has been busy today.

“I can’t believe Isabella’s getting married,” Ashley says.

“Isabella Brooks,” I say. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

Suddenly, Sam turns toward me, tears brimming in her eyes.

I blink at her in surprise.

"How could you?" she whispers.

Instantly it's clear: Sam knows. All my dread about her finding out drops over me in a split second. My skin is cold with fear.

“Sam, I—”

“You’re supposed to be my friend,” she says quietly. A crocodile tear escapes her lashes and runs down her cheek. She instantly turns away from me and yanks a tissue from the box, dabbing her eyes. She’s being careful not to ruin her makeup. Her face is becoming a mask, as she focuses on what she’s doing.

“I saw you two,” she says flatly, still tending to her eyes. “In the hall last night.”

God, I’m a stupid idiot. And a rotten friend. And there’s no point denying any of that.

I no longer want to explain. I don’t want to say I’d met Grayson before or that I love him. Because none of it really changes what I’ve done.

“Sam, please, I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.”

I glance at Ashley helplessly. She looks tortured. “Sam, you should know—”

“No,” I say.

Ashley looks at me. “But...”

“No. It doesn’t matter.” I don’t want it to sound like an excuse. Whether I was with Grayson first or not is irrelevant. I kissed him—twice—while he was here with Sam and she has every right to be hurt about that. I’m hurt about it myself.

Sam spins on Ashley. “You knew about this too?”

Ashley gapes at her, speechless.

Sam turns back to the mirror, angry and fighting tears.

Oh god,
I think. “No, this isn’t Ashley’s fault.”

“You need to tell her,” Ashley says forcefully.

“It’s no excuse,” I say.

Sam spins around to face me, arms crossed. “Tell me what?”

For a moment I’m frozen, caught in Sam’s glare. But she’s waiting, and I realize I have to say
something
.

I slowly approach and go down on my knees, looking up at Sam. She looks temporarily disarmed by this, but frowns at me, as if raising her defenses.

“I met Grayson before,” I say quietly. “He’s the one I was with the night I was supposed to marry Brad.” Sam’s eyes sharpen slightly, but otherwise her expression doesn’t change and she does not move. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I should have. I didn’t know what to do. I thought...” my voice breaks, but I take a resolute breath and push on. I just need to get it all out.

“I fell in love with him that night and I know that sounds stupid but I did. It freaked me out so I ran out on him. I didn’t see him again until he came here to be with you. I thought it was over anyway and I didn’t want to ruin your week so I just—” I stop. Her expression still hasn’t changed. “I should have told you. But I...”

“You’re the girl?” Sam says. I don’t know which I hear in her voice more, hurt or anger.

I nod helplessly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” she says sharply. “I was talking about it right in front of you and you said nothing.”

I pinch my eyes closed briefly. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you were going to react and I didn’t want to risk spoiling Isabella’s wedding. I was going to tell you afterward.”

Looking at her is too much for me. I’m a horrible friend and a coward, because the only way I can get through the next part is to look down at my hands clasped on my lap.

“I kissed him Thursday on the ship and I kissed him in the hall yesterday and I didn’t mean to betray you. I swear to god, Sam, I didn’t. But I know I did. And if I could go back and change everything I would.”

I look back up at her. She still has the same hard expression. She’s still frowning at me. But now her eyes are filled with tears. “I’m so, so sorry. God, Sam. I’m so sorry.”

I can’t even ask her to forgive me. Why should she?

As if in slow motion, Sam raises to her feet.

“I’m going to go help Isabella,” she says flatly. “She doesn’t need to know any of this right now. I’m not going to ruin my friend’s wedding.”

Then, calm as you please, Sam leaves the room and closes the door quietly behind her.