30. Chapter 30

30

Heath

We lost.

If there's one thing about me, it's that I hate losing.

I can't recall a single time when I've been beaten at a game, much less by my best friend and his girlfriend. But I don't even fucking care that I lost. All I can focus on is the smile on Hope's face. She looks happy. A look that I want to stay on her face forever.

I watch her talking to Marie who's listening to her and eating fries.

"You can't seem to look away from her," Sebastian mumbles from beside me.

"I'm making sure she's okay. I'm being a good friend." Even my words sound shit to my ears.

"Yeah, sure." He rolls his eyes.

"You don't believe me." I steal from his plate, and he glares at me. He hates it when I do it. More reason for me to do it.

"Not one bit."

"What's there to not fucking believe?"

"Everything."

"Stop talking in code words."

"I'm glad we have a secret language. Strengthens our friendship."

I sigh heavily. "Sebastian, get to the point."

"All right. What I'm trying to say is you've got feelings for her. Why don't you do something about it?"

"Do something about it? What exactly do you suggest now?"

"So, you admit you have feelings for her."

I scowl. "No, I don't."

"You're one stubborn fucking horseshit."

"That's the best you've got?" I smirk.

"Shut up."

I chuckle and look away only to witness a guy slipping a note near Hope's plate and walking away.

"Oh my God. That was so smooth," Marie squeals.

"I know right," Sebastian joins in.

"Check what it says." Marie encourages Hope who looks conflicted.

Her light brown eyes look at me. I stay still and stare right back at her, mainly because I can't look away from her. She's just so beautiful.

Marie grins. "He gave you his number and he called you gorgeous."

I scoff and everyone looks at me.

"You disagree?" Marie shoots daggers at me.

"No," I lie and look at Hope and my breath gets lost somewhere.

She is not gorgeous. She's beautiful. So, fucking beautiful that she steals my breath away.

"Good." Marie turns to Hope. "You should text him right now."

"Wh-what? I shouldn't. I don't know him," Hope replies nervously.

"He's looking at you."

I follow their gazes and fair enough a lanky guy with glasses is gazing at Hope with a stupid smile. He looks like a geek, perfect for Miss. Nerd here. His looks are average and he's not too tall either.

My chest burns like it's on fire and smoke fills every corner of my lungs.

I can't breathe as silly ideas of them together occupy my brain and rile me up.

"He's a loser," I grumble.

"He's not," Marie argues, then looks at Hope who smiles at the guy.

What the fuck?

Marie continues, "Don't listen to Heath. I think you should text him and see how things go."

"Do you really think so?" Hope looks hesitant.

"Yes, of course. Life is about experiences."

"I'll think about it." Hope spares me a glance.

I want to fucking punch someone or let them punch me. Either will do as long as I don't feel my chest burning with fire.

Marie turns to me. "Seb and I won. Now we have to give you guys a dare."

"I'm done here." I stand up, but Sebastian pulls me down with so much force that when I sit I shake the whole table.

"Sit down, she's speaking."

Running a hand through my hair I suppress a groan. "What's your fucking dare?"

"I don't have it in mind yet. I'm calling a rain check."

"That's now how dares work, Blondie."

She frowns. "Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Then it can work like that."

"Whatever. I'm fucking out of here." Before any of them can protest, I exit the building and let the cold air of the evening welcome me.

Leaning against my car, I smoke a cigarette and watch a group of men checking out women outside a local bar that's brimming with a drunk crowd. One of them, a tall man with dark hair, smacks a woman's ass and then squeezes it. She shoots him a smile over her shoulder, and he leans down to kiss her.

I contain my disgust and light up my second cigarette.

The more I smoke the quicker my chest unfurls with tension.

I can breathe again without feeling like my chest is on fire.

I hate this fucking feeling. I've never felt it before with anyone.

For fuck's sake. I've never cared about a girl texting another guy. Yet, here I am, thinking about Hope contacting that sorry excuse of a guy and going on a date with him.

The thought makes me want to punch a wall.

For fuck's sake.

This is all so new to me. I've never let anyone, much less a girl, get under my skin.

I'm head-deep in the sea of thoughts that is her. I don't even want to fight my way up to the surface and breathe air. I just want to drown in her.

Maybe you do like her, my heart whispers.

I stop breathing.

Do I like her?

I care about her as a friend, and I'd do anything to make her happy. I like spending time with her and talking. I even like it when she rambles about her books. Listening to her brings me silence and calm. I enjoy it more than I enjoy smoking. Is that how it is when you have feelings for someone?

I'm still thinking about it, when the door flings open, and Hope storms out. She frantically looks across the street, stares for a minute, then turns around. When her eyes settle on me, she runs toward me and my heart skips a beat.

Throwing her arms around me she hugs me tightly. Her erratic heartbeats thump against my chest and I can feel her anxiety seeping out through her skin.

She's afraid. So fucking afraid.

"I need to go home. Take me home. Now!" She rushes out.

"What's wrong?" I discard my cigarette and fight with myself to not cup her face in my palms.

"I-I just need to go home," she stammers.

A tear falls and I quickly wipe it away.

Who made her feel this way?

Why is she shaking?

What the fuck scared her so much?

So many questions pop up in my head and I can't answer a single one. She won't either. All I can do is hold her and do as she says. This is the only way I can help her.

Marie and Sebastian see us as they stumble out. Their gazes lock on us and I give them a nod. I got this. I got her. They steer toward Sebastian's jeep but don't leave.

Hope trembles against my chest.

Hesitantly I put my hands over her waist. My touch immediately pulls her attention, and she tilts her head back to meet my gaze.

"I'll take you home once you stop crying," I demand in a cold voice, masking my emotions well.

"What if I can't stop crying?"

"Then you're staying with me."

She stays quiet for a long time, her eyes dropping so many tears, then she murmurs, "I wish."

My hands tighten on her waist, and she steps closer to me. Her lavender scent invades my senses, and the familiarity throws a blanket of calm over my raging state.

Hope sniffles and then wipes her eyes. I hold the car door open for her.

During the ride, she barely speaks a word to me.

I'm mad. So fucking mad. At her for not telling me stuff. At myself because I can't seem to figure it out. At the universe for making me catch feelings for her when I wasn't supposed to.

How am I supposed to deal with any of this? I'm lost, confused, and livid.

I pull the break and park a little away from her house, just like she wants. If I ask her she's going to give me a stupid answer.

We sit in the car and watch the road. I wait for her to make a move, but she sits still. So incredibly still that it makes me worried.

"It's seven-thirty," I speak, breaking the ropes of silence tied around us.

A nod is all she gives me as she looks out of the window.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

She has a curfew. I can't keep her with me, even if I want to.

She has to go. I don't want her to go.

My phone pings with a text message. Hope and I both look at it at the same time.

Mom: Happy birthday, son.

I quickly shut off my phone.

"It's your birthday?"

"Tomorrow."

I don't like my birthday anymore. It was the one day Emery made a big deal out of. From decorating the living room with a horrendous rainbow of balloons to getting a custom-made cake. She went all out like it was a carnival. She was annoying and unbearable most of the year, but on my birthday she tried hard to make it the absolute best for me. We were the only family for each other, and we were happy. We were enough for each other.

"You should've told me," Hope says in a feeble voice.

"It's not my birthday yet. And it doesn't matter. I don't celebrate my birthday since…"

"Since Emery's death."

"Yes," I rasp out.

Hope stares at me like she can see right through me. All that I hide from the world because I can't bear their sympathy and pity, but it's there, all of it. Grief, anger, guilt, regret, love, sadness, emptiness and so many other fucking emotions.

"It's like any other day. Forget about it," I gruff out roughly, and look out on the street that's lit with a few houses where people are moving around casting shadows on the curtains.

"I can't just forget it. You're my friend. It's your special day, so it's a special day for me, too."

Friend. I needed this reminder after how I've been thinking about her lately.

"You should go. It's almost eight."

"I should." But she doesn't make a move to leave.

I look over and find her staring at me with a tiny smile. "Meet me at the library tomorrow morning."

My eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"You'll see." She shrugs with a smile.

"I told you I don't celebrate my birthday."

"I never said a thing about celebrating your birthday." She's good.

"If you want me to read books with you at the library then don't bother. They bore me."

Hope gasps but a shadow of a smile dances on her lips. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. And no, we won't be reading books or doing anything book related."

"Then?"

"It's a surprise."

I roll my eyes. "Blondie is rubbing off on you."

"I love Marie."

"Clearly."

"I gotta go now. See you tomorrow."

Just like that, she's out of my car.