Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

WOOD

" D on't look at me!" More dry heaving. "I'm fine. Go away," she says with tears streaking down her cheeks.

No fucking way.

I rub Macy's back lightly, having already ordered everyone else away. They're still hanging around the back of the house, watching, but at least Macy can feel like she has a little bit of privacy.

"Here, let me take you to the room."

Macy sits up, slumped, eyes watery. "I ruined the pretty grass."

"Fuck the grass. Don't worry about the grass." I put her arm over my shoulder and lift her up into my arms. She's light.

"Put me down. I can walk."

"Okay."

She sways and stumbles, latching onto my arm with both hands. "I just need a minute."

I lean down, sliding my arm around her waist to keep her steady. "I know you can do it by yourself. But I'm here. Let me help you."

She gives me the cutest little scowl I've ever seen but reluctantly hooks her elbow around my neck and doesn't protest when I sweep her up into my arms again, careful to keep her skirt from flying up.

I carry her up the lawn and around to the house. She finally relaxes and lays her head down on my shoulder. I match Spencer's glare as we pass him and shake my head at Bex to keep her at bay.

Macy tightens her grip around my neck when we get inside, and I never want to put her down. But she insists on walking up the stairs herself, and I'm happy to see she doesn't seem as wobbly.

We get up to the room, and she immediately heads to the bathroom and shuts the door. I go to touch the handle, listening. But all I hear is running water in the sink and drawers opening and closing.

"How are you feeling?" I ask when she comes out, a little bit of color back in her face.

"Better. I just need to lie down and eat something."

She lies on top of the quilt, and I hand her a granola bar. Not one from the basket I got from the kitchen, but one of the ones she likes from home.

"Thanks," she says as I sit by her feet, her eyes already half-lidded. "I'm sorry I've ruined your afternoon. I ruin everything. You can go back down and hang out with people. I'm just going to nap."

"You haven't ruined anything. And I'd much rather be up here with you than down there with any of them."

"Even Margot?" She takes a bite of granola bar.

What? "Margot?" This seems out of nowhere.

"Yeah. I mean, she's totally your type, and if you weren't here pretending to be with me, you and she could be hooking up or something. I'm basically rooster blocking you."

"Rooster blocking? Oh, wait—you mean cock blocking?"

"Duh." Her eyes are shut now, granola bar almost gone.

"First of all, I'm not pretending to be here with you, I am here with you. And Margot isn't even on my radar."

Macy harrumphs.

Okay, maybe she would have been on my radar under different circumstances.

"Mace, if I had my pick of any of the women here, I'd pick you." My heart stops for a second at the admission.

"Shut up. You would not."

"I would."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

I don't know how to be any clearer or make her believe me. "I'm not. It's true."

She chuckles, sets the wrapper aside, and settles down into her pillow. "Thanks for making me feel better."

After a few minutes, she's breathing quietly, her face peaceful.

I want to lie down next to her and watch her sleep, maybe rest as well, but then I remember how ungentlemanly I was wrapped around her this morning when I woke up and how thankful I was she didn't realize.

I've never been the cuddle-while-I-sleep type. Another thing that's different when it comes to Macy, I guess.

So I reluctantly open my laptop to get a little work done instead.

There are more than a few eyes on us as we walk into the full billiards room for dinner, and most of them have the last name Hayes. Macy's arm, linked in mine, stiffens.

I know she doesn't like it, the attention, the whispers, the scrutiny. But walking in with her on my arm fills my chest with this overwhelming warmth. Look at us, all of you fuckers. I'm with the prettiest girl here. I can't help but smile when I glance at her.

She's wearing a dark green one-piece thing with pants. I think she called it a jumpsuit. I don't know. But I do know it's her color. It looks stunning against her pale skin and complements her red hair perfectly.

How she could think I'd pick Margot or anyone else over her in any scenario is bonkers. She's stunning. She's everything. But more than that, she's beautiful inside. She's brilliant and kind and caring.

I hate that she doesn't realize her worth. I want to tell her how fucking amazing she is—how gorgeous and smart and perfect, and how I've been crazy about her since the second I saw her—but this week isn't about me or winning her.

So, instead, I give her hand a light squeeze to let her know I'm here for her and to remind her of our little code and say, "You look beautiful, Mace."

She looks up and gives me a small smile.

Bex and Jake enter shortly after us to applause, and I'm able to whisk her away to our table with Noah and Livvy and Zayne and Dane. Spencer is at the table next to ours but I make sure she sits in the seat with her back to him so she doesn't have to look at him. She also gets to be oblivious to how much he's staring at the back of her head while we're eating dinner.

I, on the other hand, might dig this fork into my thigh to keep from saying something dumb just to antagonize him.

Macy seems less stressed during dinner than she did last night. I think having the menu beforehand helped ease her mind a little. The two glasses of wine she's had have gone to her cheeks, and god, she's so pretty. With her cheeks all flushed I can barely keep my eyes off her.

The sun dips down below the trees outside the wall of French doors, and suddenly the room is dark. Staff clears the dinner plates as Bex and Jake walk up to the front of the room hand-in-hand.

A bright spotlight shines down on them from out of nowhere, and suddenly the guy in the corner who's been playing classical jazz all evening turns on speakers and orbiting lights and hands them microphones.

Jake thanks everyone for being here tonight and then Bex yells over him, "It's karaoke time, bitches!"

They start off the night with "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher. Jake's a little flat but Bex more than makes up for it in personality.

"Who's next?" Bex shouts, still a little out of breath.

I nudge Macy's shoulder and lean in. "We should go! We could do ‘Islands in the Stream.'"

Macy crinkles her nose. "I don't know the words to that one."

"What? Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers? It's a classic!"

She shakes her head. "No, I don't think I could go up in front of everyone."

"It'd be fun." But I already know she's not going to change her mind, and I won't press her.

"Anyone? Oh, come on," Bex sighs into the microphone.

Fuck it. "I'm in, girl." I stand, pointing at Bex. "Let's do it."

Macy looks up at me, having gone pale, her big brown eyes growing into puddles. I give her shoulder a little squeeze and wink. "You just watch, love."

She exhales and I walk up to the makeshift stage area to lackluster applause, at best. I tell the guy my song, and Bex gives me her microphone while mouthing, "Thank you."

The first few beats of "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction play, and the energy in the room is already heightened. This is going to be good.

I sing the song. I know it by heart—we all had a One Direction phase in middle school, and I'll fight anyone who tries to deny it.

I'm working the crowd, moving around the floor. I'm doing the main vocals, the backup vocals, the harmonies. Bex and Margot are standing and dancing. Zayne and Dane are also on their feet, singing along.

Macy is in her seat, watching, arms twisted in her lap.

The high note is coming up and when I hit it, Bex and Margot along with half the crowd yell and whoop. I know I'm not the best singer, but what I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm and confidence.

Then Harry's solo comes up and I can't help it, I sing it directly to Macy. I nail it. And at the end of the solo, right before the beat drops, the corners of her mouth curl up and her cheeks darken. I'd spend my life trying to make her smile. I can barely contain my grin.

And then the chorus comes back in and the whole room erupts singing it along with me.

By the end, I'm a little sweaty under the lights, and everyone claps and Bex whistles. Spencer seems to have disappeared. Good.

I hand Zayne the microphone on the way back to my seat. He and Dane start to do an amazing duet of "Summer Nights" from Grease.

I put down my water glass after emptying it and look over to Macy. "You want to dance?"

She's almost startled by my words. She looks around. "No one else is dancing."

"We would be. Does anyone else matter?"

She hesitates a second then shakes her head again. "You know I don't really dance."

I nod. "I know."

"Anyway, I need to go to the bathroom." Macy grabs her little purse/bag/clutch thing, whatever she called it, and leaves.

Zayne and Dane are now doing an encore performance of "You're the One That I Want," Livvy is standing over with Bex which means it's only Noah and me at the table. He's giving me a look, and I know what it means.

He slides two seats over into Macy's empty chair. Oh boy.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just wondering how things are going with you and Macy."

"Good. Why?" That was a little defensive. Be cool, Wood. Jesus.

"I don't know. I haven't had the chance to ask you about it yet. I'm just concerned about you."

"Concerned?" What the fuck.

"About you getting hurt."

Being an only child, Noah's always been more like a brother than a cousin to me—especially after he lost his family in a car accident—so I relax my shoulders. "What do you mean?" I ask calmly.

"I mean"—Noah lowers his voice—"you've been in love with her for years, and she just got out of a long-term relationship. You're the serial-dating fun guy. Are you sure this isn't just a rebound for her? That she's not using you for a good time, not a long time? She's not just another girl to you. I don't want you getting your heart broken."

I give him a clap on the arm. "Thanks for looking out, bro, but I've got this. You don't need to worry, trust me."

The muscle in his jaw flexes. "Are you sure? Are things good when you're alone? Because I've been watching you two tonight, and it doesn't even seem like she likes you."

A soft gasp comes from behind me. I turn to see Macy standing there, holding her clutch thing tightly with both hands.

"Fuck," Noah sighs under his breath.

"I'm going to go up to the room," she says quietly.

"I'll come with you," I say, already getting up.

"You don't have to. You're having fun. Stay."

There's no fucking way I'm letting her go alone. "I'll have more fun with you. After you."

I follow her up to the room, glad not to have a run-in with Spencer this time.

She's quiet. Quieter than usual.

I close the door behind us as she's taking out her earrings at the dresser and kicking off her shoes. I go to use the bathroom and brush my teeth quickly. She rushes in after me, avoiding eye contact, and I hate this feeling. I want to make her happier, not sadder.

I change into a clean white shirt and sweats and get into bed. Maybe this whole thing really was a dumb idea.

She comes out after a while in her oversized Garfield T-shirt, hair up, face scrubbed clean. The first thing I notice is how adorable she looks. The second thing is that her eyes are red like either she was just crying or is about to.

Fuck.

"Oh, Mace." I open my arms to her. "Come here."

"I'm sorry," she sobs as she plops down on the bed.

I scoop her up into my lap and against my chest. Don't smell her hair, don't smell her hair. But she smells so good.

"For what?" I whisper as I softly stroke her back.

She hiccups against my shoulder. "For not being any fun. For being a bad fake girlfriend." She sits up and wipes one eye with her palm. "Heck, I was a bad real girlfriend, so I guess it shouldn't be a surprise."

"What? Of course you weren't a bad girlfriend. How could you ever think that?"

"I constantly fell short?—"

"Short of what? Fuck that. Fuck Spencer and anyone else who would ever make you feel that way." I wipe away a tear with my thumb, trying not to let it linger on her cheek. Failing. "You're going through a rough time, and this is a stressful week. You're not a bad fake girlfriend."

"Thanks for letting me cry on you. Again." She sniffles, but also smiles a little. "But Noah isn't buying this thing with us. What if no one else is either?"

"You want us to be more convincing?"

She nods.

Fuck.

"Okay. Let's practice."

"Practice how?"

"Practice looking at me."

She narrows her eyes, and that cute little crease appears between them. "I need practice looking at you? Are you messing with me?"

I bite my lip to hold back a laugh. "I'm serious. Here." I square up with her and look directly into her eyes. "Now, look at me with desire. Look at me like I'm the most attractive guy in the room—in any room."

She smirks a little.

"Not even close. Look at me like I've kissed and licked every inch of your body and you can't stop thinking about my mouth."

A breathy little gasp escapes between her parted lips. "You have? I mean…" She stumbles over the words, blinking rapidly. "If we were dating, you'd lick me…everywhere?"

"You mean like going down on you? Of course I would have. Multiple times by now."

Her neck and face have a healthy pink flush, and I'm trying not to picture it in my head because these sweatpants won't hide my hard-on.

"Oh," she says, almost surprised. I never allowed myself to think about her and Spencer's sex life, but I'm beginning to think he never ate her pussy. Maybe no one has.

A fucking crime.

Her eyes are wider. She's breathing faster. I am, too.

"Almost there," I say. "Look at me like you want me. Like I'm your last meal. Look at me like I've been fucking you every night and giving you the best orgasms of your life and you want me to take you right here, right now."

Her cheeks turn scarlet. The pulse point in her neck is visibly beating hard and fast. Faster. Her brown eyes get darker as her pupils dilate.

My heart is pounding, too. "There you go," I say. "That's the look." My voice comes out all husky and out of breath, and I really hope she doesn't look down because I know where all my blood is going. "We should practice getting more comfortable touching, too."

"We should?" She's whispering now and I wonder if she's feeling half of what I am because I'm currently in agony. Throbbing for her and holding myself still so she can't tell every inch of my skin is on fire and itching to feel her.

"Yeah," I say. "Just like this." I trail light circles with my fingertips on her back, up and over her shoulders, down her arms. "I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you if we were together."

"You wouldn't?" She looks so innocent, shocked by my words.

"No." I want to show her how I'd treat her, how I'd worship her. But it's not the right time.

It's never the right time.

"You can touch me more," She says, her mouth falling open. "I mean, like, when we're around people, you can. If you want. I'm okay with it."

"Good." Fuck, I'm rock hard. "And I'm okay with you touching me, any time, any way, anywhere you want."

"Really?"

"Nothing's off limits for you, Mace." Fuck, I'm going to need to get in the shower and rub one out if this keeps going.

"Thank you. For… everything. For coming here with me and helping me. I don't know how I would have done this without you."

"You would have been okay. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Her bottom lip trembles as she smiles at me with glassy eyes and then she launches herself at me. She wraps her arms around my neck and burrows her face into my shoulder. I hug her back, letting myself bury my nose in her hair and take in her sweet scent.

We stay like this for a minute, in each other's arms, quiet. She relaxes and there's no crying. That's good.

I resume making circles on her back and after a few moments she moves her hands, gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I could roll my eyes back into my head. It feels so good, just that simple little touch, her hands on me, it's heaven.

"You give good hugs," she says, her breath tickling against my neck and sending a shiver down my side. "You've hugged me more than anyone the last few weeks." She lets out a little chuckle. "I really am a mess, aren't I?"

"You're not a mess." I pull her in a little closer and kiss the top of her head before I think better of it. Fuck, I should not have done that.

But she doesn't tense up or pull away. If anything, she sinks against me more and even lets out a soft sigh.

I wonder when the last time she got real affection was. I don't think Spencer is even capable of it. He's a cold, regimented machine, which is why he's a successful surgeon and a sucky person.

Not Macy. She's warm and compassionate and sensitive, and she deserves to be taken care of and loved and appreciated.

I hug her tighter. She snuggles closer.

Her warm breath is on my neck, and then…a gentle press of her lips against my skin and the tender little smack noise she makes after placing the kiss.

She kissed my neck. Holy shit.

She sits bolt upright and out of my arms immediately, a look of horror on her face.

"Oh my gosh, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. It was too much. Or I should have asked first, or?—"

"Macy, no, it's fine. It was good."

"It was? You didn't mind?" She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and she has no idea I would literally do anything she wants.

Mind? "No, Mace. I don't mind. Should we practice some more? How about this?" I know I'm pushing it a little, maybe being a little too bold, but she kissed me first. I take her face gently in my hands.

Her lips part as she licks them.

I look into both of her eyes as I hold her still then lean in slowly and place the lightest kiss on her forehead.

I drop my hands and sit back, scanning her face. "Was that okay?"

She nods.

I'm not sure if that's the end of that. Maybe I should have just shot my shot and kissed her lips.

But then she's up on her knees and holds my face in her hands like I did to hers. She glances back and forth between my eyes as she bends forward. My heart is pounding like a fucking bass drum.

She comes in close, slowly. She looks at my mouth.

Am I sweating? I think I'm sweating.

Then, finally, with excruciating tenderness, she kisses my cheek.

She pulls back, fingers still curled in my hair, her thumbs grazing my jaw.

It's silent. We haven't broken eye contact.

Then she moves in again and I'm holding my breath.

She kisses my other cheek and then, slipping her hands away, she sits back down in front of me. "Your turn."

She says it almost like a dare.

Her breathing is ragged, her lips parted, and she keeps looking at my mouth with half-hooded eyes and blown out pupils.

She wants me to kiss her.

I think.

I'm usually pretty good at knowing when a woman wants to be kissed. Normally, I don't overthink it. Fuck, I don't normally really think at all—I just go for it. But I can't fuck this up. I can't take the chance that I'm misreading the situation. Not with her. Not Macy.

And I didn't come here with her in hopes of something happening between us or to take advantage of her while she's feeling lonely. I just wanted to help her. To be here for her. To be her friend.

So, I place my finger under her chin and lean in. She lifts her face to mine and closes her eyes, waiting for me to do it. But I kiss the tip of her nose instead.

When I move away, her eyes are open, lips parted. Quickly, she shuts her mouth and lowers her brows. She's almost pouting and I don't know whether to smile because it's adorable or smack myself across the face because I could be kissing those pouty lips right now.

"Your turn," I say.

If she wants to kiss me, it has to be her. She either needs to make the first move or flat out tell me she wants me to. I won't risk losing her trust.

Macy blinks rapidly. "Okay."

She puts her hands on my shoulders and moves in, her eyes darting back and forth between mine as she gets closer, as if to say, is this okay? I put my hands on her waist to steady her and to say yes, keep going, resisting the urge to pull her in faster.

We're so close. Her skin smells like warm peaches, and her breath tickles my lips, and I think I hear her letting out a shaky sigh but my pulse is pounding too loudly in my ears to be sure.

And then her mouth is on mine. I close my eyes to savor the contact. Soft and delicate, our lips barely touch before she starts to pull away. The sweetest, briefest of pecks.

No.

I grip her hips and move forward, keeping my lips on hers, kissing her back.

She exhales and presses against me harder in return and I fucking love it. She opens her lips just enough I get to taste the tip of her tongue and then the kiss is over and she's pulling away again.

Kissing her is perfect, but it wasn't nearly enough.

She's flushed, her chest rising and falling fast, lips darkened and slightly puffy. She's aroused, and my dick twitches.

Fuck it.

I wrap my hands around the back of her head, curling my fingers into her hair and pull her mouth back to mine.