Chapter Two

Dallas

Now

Help. Help.

The whirring continued around me as I opened my mouth, unable to get the words out. My screams were soundless, my pleas for help lost on the torrent of wind. The clouds circled me with the promise that trouble was coming. I watched the silent lightning strike the ground once…twice…. And then strikes littered the sky as the wind whipped around me, warning me they were coming.

I watched in sheer terror as the cloud directly in front of me began to stretch and sink slowly toward the ground.

I awoke paralyzed with fear instead of relieved at a good night's sleep. Calming myself with deep breaths, I brought my heartbeat down enough to throw my drenched covers off me.

Damn dream, always fear. I knew where this one stemmed from.

I had damn near ruined my career because of casual sex and would make it a point to get seen today so that it would never happen again. The constant nagging of my bladder let me know it wasn't going away. I stared at my reflection. I had to start taking better care of myself. My light green eyes had deep purple half-moons underneath them. My skin was pale from lack of sun, and in mid-June in Texas, that was a bad sign. I was working longer hours than I should, and though it spoke volumes to my colleagues, I was clearly pushing too hard. I took a scalding shower and made it a point to put on some makeup and a formfitting dress under my lab coat. I brushed my long brown hair and resigned to get a cut soon. I favored my mom and had her prominent sleek nose, large eyes, and full lips. Pleased with the effort I'd put into my appearance, I grabbed the keys to my small condo and headed out.

Today was my day to give all possible prognoses, and I had studied all the charts of the new patients. It was vital that I delivered my findings as a confident doctor who had graduated first in her class. Not the overworked, over-sexed mess that I was becoming.

Aside from the constant need to use the bathroom, I muddled through most of the rooms with success. My answers seemed to please the majority of the residents, as well as the impossible governing doctor. I finished with Mr. Carson, which I thought was cruel and unusual punishment. He was in this teaching hospital to receive the best, most cutting edge and affordable care for his condition—still, I had a horrible time repeating his worsening condition.

"Lance Carson, forty-six years young, stage four inoperable brain tumor."

"Treatment, Dr. Whitaker?"

I quickly looked to Dr. Pierce, ridding myself of the burden of studying Mr. Carson's reaction.

"Meds to keep him comfortable," I said in a low, defeated voice. I had no desire to drag this case out.

"Lost cause, Dr. Whitaker?" This time I had no choice but to look at Mr. Carson, who was clearly unaffected by the whole conversation. I, however, was furious about his question being in poor taste and glared at Dr. Pierce, challenging him.

"No such thing, sir," I snapped, clearly having lost my mind. Gauging his reaction, I realized that, yep, this was going to be bad.

"Excuse me?" I saw the entire fleet of med students stiffen at his incredulous tone and imaginatively bent over and kissed my ass goodbye. Well, if I was going to go all Captain Destructo today, I might as well go all in. I lifted my chin for a standoff.

"There is no such thing as a lost cause, in my opinion, sir. Death is the only definite. Everything else we can fight," I said confidently.

"Are you hoping for a medical miracle, Dr. Whitaker?" I looked to the source of the person speaking and saw it was a smiling Lance Carson. "Come on, Dr. Whitaker, let's hear your opinion," Lance requested, leading me deeper into the hole I was quickly digging myself into.

Shut the hell up, Dallas!

I saw a mini-me in the corner of my mind, holding the shovel and waving, and I flipped the apparition off. I watched every white coat in the room lean a little further in to hear the end of my short career.

I hesitated with my answer, now altogether avoiding Pierce's murderous stare.

"Okay…It's the art of practicing medicine, Mr. Carson. There are plenty of facts and a ton of theories. We have to keep practicing to make theory a fact in all sciences."

"Answer me without a bunch of philosophical bullshit, Dr. Whitaker," Lance said, his stare heavy on me.

I heard a med student chuckle and glared in his direction for a split second before continuing .

Floor is all yours now, idiot. Eight years of college, and you were a doctor for ten minutes.

I continued anyway, my insides churning. "They have been trying to cure this disease for far too many years, and I am telling you there is only one. The only cure for cancer is to fight and survive. There are more advanced treatments available every day. Dr. Pierce thinks you can't survive the fight. I say you can. I say we can shrink it enough to operate, get it out, and keep you fighting. You will be very, very sick. This is very close to a lethal dose, but it may work. They want to keep you comfortable while you die. I want you to fight death."

"Dr. Whitaker! Don't you think if I thought that was an option, I would've suggested it?" I heard Pierce growl my name and turned to him.

"It is an option, sir. An option you didn't suggest because of the risk of losing what time he has left. Mr. Carson wanted my honest opinion. Well, now you have it," I said, addressing Mr. Carson while sweat gathered on my forehead.

"I am his doctor, and mine is the opinion that matters," Pierce said, dismissing me, my whole spiel circling the drain.

"I asked her, Todd Pierce. Don't pull that shit with her when I asked her," Mr. Carson barked.

I looked between the two and quickly realized this was a debate I wanted no part of. They were obviously good friends, and I immediately saw the small amount of sadness in Pierce's eyes that he let show. "False hope breaks hearts, Lance. You know that."

"Hope is all you have when you're dying," Mr. Carson shot back.

"This could kill you the first day," Dr. Pierce said in a low, rushed tone.

"And it could save me, couldn't it, Dr. Whitaker? "

"It could," I answered quickly. "I could give you the probability and—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I just want to fight. It's pretty much die or die anyway at this point. You told me to fight, and I'm listening."

"You won't survive," Pierce said emphatically, his words coming out harsh.

"I wasn't going to, anyway," Mr. Carson shot back, meeting him with an equal measure of tenacity. "So, Dr. Whitaker, when do we start the fight?"

"Today," I said, watching my tone carefully so there wasn't a trace of victory in it. I was walking a very fine line.

"Good," Lance said enthusiastically, looking at me as he nodded. "Give me the treatment, order it now. And, Pierce, not a word to her about this entire conversation. This was my decision."

"I won't say a word to her about it, Lance. You have mine. Go on, Whitaker." Pierce sighed on an exhale, not meeting my eyes.

"Yes, sir." I turned on my heels and gave the orders.

I did a small strut down the hall, quickly felt my nerves get to me, and returned to my new second home to empty my bladder. I knew I hadn't suggested the treatment to Lance Carson just to one-up Pierce. I prayed then it would work. I brushed off the sickness with fresh new excitement and walked to my tiny closet-sized office. I picked up the phone immediately to dial Josh and tell him about my small victory but decided to text Rose instead. Josh never took a real interest in my career. He didn't understand my passion for my field. While he was somewhat supportive, it was a lacking factor in our relationship. One that I was sure would only wear on our connection as time progressed. In one of our few fights, he'd gone so far as to mention that he was tired of my endless rants about work and that I needed to find a hobby or a new outlet.

I hadn't looked at him the same since.

I was writing up charts when Dr. Pierce poked his head in.

"So, are you pregnant, Dr. Whitaker?"

"No."

I looked up to see him leaning in the doorframe. I could tell in his formative years that he'd been one hell of a lady killer. He had salt and pepper hair, and his eyes were a beautiful rich brown. He was a handsome older man, though I couldn't stand more than a few hours at a time with his brash personality. I saw a trace of a small smile grace his lips.

"Good for you." He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me stunned. In the last two days, he had shown concern for my well-being. And I was even more taken aback that he'd kept his word to Mr. Carson by not handing my ass to me. I knew then he'd probably taken to my idea to treat his friend. I'd spent the last thirteen months under his watch and was finally seeing a tiny hint of humanity in him.

It seemed to be the collective thought amongst most doctors to shed our human skins at the hospital. Those who thought we were simply cold-hearted, money-seeking machines were sadly mistaken. In the long run, it was easier to be a doctor if you thought of yourself as an uninvolved part of a well-oiled machine. Things would always get a little gray at times, but getting involved with patients led to nothing but an aching heart and the inevitable need to flee the career itself. Keeping your emotions in check was vital to a long career. Or so I was taught .

I willed myself to finish my charts as my fatigue set in early. I looked at the clock and realized I was ten minutes late for my OB appointment.

Your health first, Dallas .

"Okay, I'm going," I said to my subconscious ranting in my head. I quickly made it to the right floor and saw the room was packed with pregnancy. I caught the eye of a woman who looked like she was having triplets and saw the devastation on her face. I said a silent prayer of thank you and walked to the receptionist.

"Dallas Whitaker checking in for my one-thirty."

I filled out the paperwork, handed it over, then took a seat for the entire thirty seconds they made me wait and quickly scrambled to my feet when my name was called. I scanned the tiny room they placed me in and was met by my new doctor as he opened the door, reading what I assumed was my chart, and looked up. I blinked, and so did he as we both froze in place.

No fucking way.

"Dallas."

The room shrank by half its size, and I suddenly needed air. There was no air. A thousand emotions ran through me as I pushed out my usual greeting.

"Dean! Dean Martin!" I laughed as I threw my arms around him. He chuckled at my usual poking at his name.

"Dally." He lifted me off the floor in a long hug, then stood back, taking in my appearance. "How long has it been?"

"Seven years, and there is no way you're looking at my vagina. I need to be reassigned." I laughed through my request, as did he.

"I've seen it all, baby." He took his stethoscope off his neck and arrogantly circled it through the air like a lasso.

"Very funny. Last time I checked, you were getting married," I said randomly .

My mini-me took a gun out and shot me.

That seemed to sober him completely. "Yeah." He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I quickly soaked him in. He wore a black three-piece suit and a blood-red tie underneath his jacket. He was a full foot taller than me and had the most ridiculous set of perfect white teeth that shone in contrast with his naturally olive skin and crystal blue eyes. His black hair was combed back—not a hair out of place—and I could see he was perfectly fit.

Oh, God.

I couldn't shake the images of our past flooding my brain as his smell invaded my senses. We stood stunned for a moment until I broke the silence.

"Seriously, Dean, is there someone else? This is too weird, even for us professionals."

"Yeah, I will go get Margaret. She's great. So, you're here at Dallas Memorial?"

"Yep, just started my second year. Rose is almost done, and she is going to start a surgical program while I start our practice. I can't believe this. Why haven't I seen you?"

"I just moved back from New York last month and started this week. Hey, congrats on the baby. Who is the lucky guy?"

"I'm not pregnant," I told him quickly, and could see his visible exhale. "Though from the looks of the waiting room, you will be a very busy man," I joked, absently straightening the thin disposable table cover as I avoided his gaze. His eyes were covering me, and I couldn't help the slight tremble that started at the weight of his stare. The initial excitement of seeing him for the first time in so long was over, and I couldn't stop replaying the memory of the last time we had seen each other. I looked up, noting that my bravery in doing so was stupid. It seemed he was thinking the same.

"Let me take you out tonight to eat? "

"I'm exhausted, Dean. How about a rain check?" I said, making a lame excuse—anything to get myself together before we were forced to make more small talk.

"Sure, it's so good to see you, and you'll be a wonderful mom someday." I felt the change in the air as we stared at each other. I felt both the familiarity and the distance between us. It was odd and uncomfortable, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away. I felt a stir from a place I had long ago forgotten and cleared my throat quickly to keep myself from entertaining it.

"How about you? Any kids?" I asked, desperately trying to draw in air as slowly and inaudibly as I could. He reluctantly let go of our connection, his perfect full lips turning up at the corners in a knowing smirk.

"None. Are you kidding? I'm not falling for this crap." His eyes twinkled with his chuckle. I grabbed the plastic pillow from the exam table and threw it at him.

"It's so good to see you, Dally," he whispered as he closed the small distance between us and kissed my cheek, pulling back an inch away from my mouth. I stood stunned at his proximity. He traced my jawline with his thumbs and pecked my lips softly. I jumped at his kiss, and he quickly came to, seeming to catch himself.

"Sorry, horrible bedside manner. I do it with all my patients." His joke fell on deaf ears. He noticed my demeanor had changed and quickly spoke up.

"I will go get Margaret, but I can stick around to ensure she is thorough," he joked.

Still unable to shake his soft kiss, I looked up at him but couldn't utter a word. Dean knew every look I had. He had touched every inch of my body. He was so familiar, and yet so much time had passed. I knew nothing about his life now. He was engaged, though his kiss tried to deem that fact unimportant. I felt the burn in my throat as I made a joke to keep things light.

"Yeah, why not? Bring in the other doctors, too, and a bucket with butter."

"Still a sarcastic, sassy spitfire, huh, Dallas?"

"Still just the way you like me, Dean," I said without thinking through my words.

His eyes flashed with recognition as he swiped his tongue over his full bottom lip. "See you in a bit, Dally."

I quickly realized I was clutching my chest with both of my hands as I stared at the closed door. Of all the damn OBs offices in all of the great state of Texas, he and his perfect hair had to come waltzing into mine. I groaned as I buried my head in my hands. Engaged. He was engaged.

And I had Josh.

So why did his absence from the room already make me feel cold? He had been a closed chapter in my book since I had heard the news from his old frat brother Rob that he was engaged to another doctor in New York. I never thought I would see him again. To me, Dean was off in some foreign land, never to return.

Why had he come back?

It sure as hell wasn't for me.

I lay back on the table as all thumbs Margaret poked around my pelvis.

"You're a doctor. I'm guessing first year?"

"Second," I said, baffled at the conversation. I in no way wanted to talk while she was staring at my nether region.

"So, you're here for more birth control and a possible bladder infection?"

"Yes, I had a scare yesterday, and I want to take away the possibility. I have no time for that," I stated simply. Not to mention the thought of carrying a child terrified me to no end—I wasn't equipped.

"I can tell you right now—this isn't looking pretty. You know as well as I do that we're so busy looking at other people's symptoms to notice our own most of the time. It's time to shorten your work days, reduce your caseload and stress and keep up with what weekday it is, or your career won't last long."

I nodded though she couldn't see me. It really was time to make my health a priority.

Margaret was older and graying and wore huge black rimmed glasses. She had an endearing smile, and I immediately decided to keep her as my OB. She continued to make small talk as I kept my inner grunts inside and answered her uncomfortably with thoughts of Dean whirling around in my head.

I had only spent a year being Dean's significant other—that year had changed everything between us. The last time we saw each other had completely ruined us. It was seven years too late for an apology. I knew he thought the same thing when he looked at me earlier—seven years and so much had changed.

When I had my prescription—and another firm lecture from Margaret to take it easy in the bedroom and take time to heal—I gathered my purse and jacket from reception as Dean rounded the corner, stealing my breath. I saw the receptionist eye him and shook my head in amusement. The man was a walking magnet for any female in a ten-mile radius. He was simply the most beautiful man on the planet. His confidence was unbeatable, and charisma oozed from every pore in his body. He was a ladies man and always had been.

"Dinner tomorrow, Dallas?" Dean offered again as I put my jacket on.

I paused only for a second before nodding. "Let's do it. I'm on floor six. Pick me up at eight?" I saw Margaret's lips twitch with a smile as she walked past us. "See you soon, Dallas," she offered in goodbye.

"Thank you, Margaret," I replied, turning back to Dean, whose stare was on my lips. I stood stunned as he kept his gaze there through his next question.

"Are you working under Pierce? I heard he is the worst," he finished, flicking his eyes to mine. I recognized what I used to know as heat.

"I can handle him just fine," I said confidently, though I was anything but. I felt the burn build in my stomach and start to spread throughout my lower half. I licked my lips as Dean briefly closed his eyes.

"Ugh, hmm," the receptionist interrupted. "Dr. Martin, your two-thirty is in room four," she said sweetly.

"Thank you …" he trailed off and quickly recovered as they both said the name in unison, "Maggie." I saw her visibly blush in embarrassment at his failure to remember her name and couldn't help the smile that gathered on my lips.

"I'm sure you can handle him just fine, Dally. See you tomorrow." He gave me a smile and walked out the door, leaving me there thinking about him.

I left the room with memories I had pushed away for years clouding my mind and a rapidly beating heart.

Dean

Then

The first time I saw Dallas Whitaker, I was lounging against my locker listening to Jon Reiner comment on every passing pair of tits and ass. I had to agree with him on a few but kept it to myself. I prided myself on that. It was a gentleman's view, and I wanted to be just that, a gentleman. I wasn't the kiss-and-tell kind of guy, and I could already tell Reiner and I wouldn't see eye to eye on that. He was more than vocal as he taunted half the girls around us.

"Hot damn," he crooned after a great set of legs as she looked at him, clearly irritated. Her attention turned to me, and I smiled. The invitation was instant with her come-hither smile back. I laughed as Reiner followed her, briefly arguing his case. When I averted my eyes, I caught sight of her. I took in her long, dark brown hair and beautiful features and felt my entire body jolt. She was young, too young, but what I noticed most were her striking eyes. They were pale green and seemed to sparkle as she noticed me, absently digging in her purse. Once she saw my attention was solely on her, she looked away.

That was a first.

When she finally looked at me again, I saw something else in her eyes. She seemed more confident than the girl who had just shied away from me. I stood curious as she approached. She was just about to address me when I saw her stiffen with Reiner's swaying attention.

"Dallas, give me some sugar!" She half-masked her smile for Reiner as she scolded him, slapping his hands away as he pawed her.

"Get your hands off of me, Reiner! We went out once, and it was a disaster. Stop pawing me in the halls!"

"Awww, Dallas. It was not a disaster," he reasoned as she fought his busy hands from around her waist.

Her eyes were glued to me for a brief second before she turned to him with malice. "You got drunk and threw up on me, idiot!"

I laughed at their banter, watching her without being noticed. She was completely animated as she put Reiner in his place. I could tell that beneath her menace, she genuinely liked him. They had history. It was easy to tell. She also had a smart mouth on her, that was for sure. I took in her perfectly glossed pink lips and how she held herself with such confidence, and I instantly wanted to know her.

"Dallas, give me another chance," Reiner begged.

"Nope, it's a one-shot deal," she scoffed, shooting him down. She turned her beautiful green gaze back to me, and I felt my heart rate pick up. She scrutinized me with her stare, and I had to stifle a laugh. Who the hell did this girl think she was?

"Who are you?" she asked, demanding an answer.

I lifted my brow and peered down at her with a smirk before giving it to her. "Dean, Dean Martin. I just transferred."

"Dean Martin," she said with a snort, "sing us a tune."

I shook my head with mild irritation. "Yeah, no one has ever used that line on me," I replied, clearly unimpressed as I ripped my eyes from her to grab my history book from my locker. The truth was, I wanted to look at her, but for some reason it hurt. She was just a kid, not really a young woman yet. She was, however, absolutely beautiful—and she didn't know it. I loved that fact.

"Sorry," she said sincerely, her confidence slipping slightly as she weighed my reaction. I felt a tug in my chest for her then. I could tell in that moment that she really wanted me to like her.

"Forgiven, and your name is Dallas. That's pretty cool," I said, closing my locker.

Long eyelashes, prominent nose, and perfect lips… Damn, Reiner had it right with this one.

"I guess," she said, glancing down at my history book before her jade eyes shot up to mine. The shyness was back, and I was getting whiplash from the mixed signals.

"Martin?" She looked at my jet-black hair and olive skin with a question in her eyes.

"My mom is from Spain," I said with a smirk. This girl was anything but subtle.

"Hmmm," she mused, scanning my dress skeptically .

I'd always made it a point to dress impeccably, just like my dad. It's one of the things I'd admired most about him. Dallas seemed to be amused by it. "Are you going to church later? A funeral, maybe?"

"Don't even think about it, Martin. She's mine!" Reiner interrupted as he scooped her up over his shoulder and began to walk away as Dallas protested, raising total hell and punching at his back repeatedly. I had no choice but to just laugh and wave.

Dallas the spitfire. God, I loved that.

Later that day, I was talking pretty heatedly with another senior whose name escaped me when I spotted her again. Reiner had briefed us all after track and laid his claim. ‘Dallas Whitaker was a freshman. His freshman.' Fifteen, and she already had the attention of the most notorious playboy in school—and the confidence of a courtroom prosecutor. I quickly left my conversation with…um—okay, I couldn't remember her name—to catch up with Dallas. She froze in place as I approached, and I didn't mask my smile. Reiner may have already lost this battle. I knew it was arrogant of me to think Dallas was so easily swayed, but if I was weighing in on reaction alone, I would have to say she was as drawn to me as I was to her. I had no intention of stepping on his toes, anyway. I just wanted to know her.

"You're making a rep for yourself already. Especially if you get with Tina Walker. Watch out," she said dryly, obviously unimpressed with my choice of company.

"I don't worry about shit like that," I retorted quickly. "Never have."

Her grin was unmistakable, and I answered it with my own. "No?" she said breathily, eyeing me. "No plans to run for prom king?" Her smile slowly faltered as I took a step forward. She was standing next to a snack machine and took a step back, cornering herself.

"No," I said, getting as close as possible without scaring her. "Only two things interest me in this school—you and track." Her eyes widened as I confessed to her, and I heard her expel a long breath.

"Me?" she squeaked innocently.

"Yeah, you're going to be my best friend," I said, taking a step back, only to watch her face fall.

I was an asshole, but now I knew.

I was surprised by her aggressive step forward as she readjusted her backpack on her shoulder. "And what makes you think I'll go along with this?"

"I'll make it easy on you, Dallas, I promise," I murmured, lifting her backpack off her shoulder and pulling it onto mine. Right at that moment, Tina Walker passed by and shot Dallas daggers with her eyes and then turned her attention to me and smiled sweetly.

Hell no. Stay away from that one.

Dallas ignored her gracefully, and right then, I knew I had made the right decision. I smiled down at her while she watched me with curiosity.

"Where are we off to?"

"Debate," she piped warily.

"Isn't that an advanced course?" I asked, curious.

"Yeah," she answered, slightly embarrassed. I chuckled. She straightened her shoulders, a sign of clear pride in her posture. "I have yet to lose."

Of course, Dallas Whitaker, honor student and queen of debate. Lord help me, this girl was fire.

I kept my promise and made it easy on her. However, what I didn't count on was the hard luck I had created for myself. We were inseparable at first, and I couldn't for the life of me get away from her. Her smile and her voice were both addicting. I kept her at arm's length while every word she spoke, every little mannerism drew me to her. Like the way she drank her sweet tea, taking a sip and a piece of ice before slurping and chomping them down in equal measure. Or her filthy habit of chewing on every single pen lid until it's an unrecognizable mess. Or the way she paused right before she began to laugh really hard, as if the laughter wouldn't come until she'd built it up to the point it burst out of her. I actually adored these things, while it might drive some people crazy.

I tried to ignore how much she appealed to the guy in me. I tried so hard, but every time she looked up through those long thick lashes, I found it just a little bit harder to breathe. Every time she walked toward me each morning at school and left the stares of the guys who eyed her unanswered, I tried to hide the pride that swelled inside me.

She was only fifteen, and I was about to turn eighteen.

I couldn't fall for this girl. It was my new daily mantra.

I COULD NOT FALL FOR THIS GIRL.

So, I tried my best not to. I went on several dates a month, a few ending in a gratifying way to elude thoughts of Dallas. She was simply too young. I had plans. I was off to Austin in the fall. It was all I ever wanted. Austin led to New York and, with it, Columbia University. I'd become a doctor, and this small-town life that never suited me would be a distant memory.

I hated small towns. We had just moved from inner-city Dallas. Moving to the outskirts had been my mom's idea. She wanted out of the chaos. I simply wanted back in. I found quiet in the noise and excelled under pressure. It was sure to help me once I reached Columbia.

My mom informed me that this move would be good for me, help tame me a bit. I never got into trouble, but I think she knew how involved I was with the seduction of the opposite sex. Why she thought there was a shortage of girls in this school was beyond me. As far as I saw, it was clear and easy pickings, and their virtue was the same. Maybe it was Dallas's innocence that drew me in. But I knew better. Even at seventeen—with my hormones raging and an endless supply of female attention—she was special to me.

I didn't care to know the girls I was dating, but I did want to know Dallas…indefinitely. She fascinated me by being the polar opposite of the girls I took out on Friday nights. She was book-smart, sarcastic, and full of pride. She was far more mature than any girl I'd dated. There was just something about her, and it was becoming easier to pinpoint as I spent time with her. After a few weeks of knowing her, she declared that she, too, would be a doctor. The funny thing was, when she said it, I believed it. When I said it, I always felt like I was on shaky ground.

"What are you thinking about?" Dallas asked, making a meal out of her pen cap as she watched me closely, propped up in her bed, cross-legged with an open book.

I was jealous of that pen cap.

Ignoring her question, I looked around her room and saw that she had no boy band posters. In fact, she had nothing of the sort. It looked like the room of a mad scientist, not a fifteen-year-old girl. Her walls were decorated with colorful abstract shots of water. The rest of the room was filled with mostly science books. I pressed my brows together in confusion.

"Water is the universal solvent," she said quickly as I stared closely at one of the water photos. "It washes away everything, all impurities. It's magical. "

"Hmm, interesting," I said, pretending to push up glasses on my nose that didn't exist.

"Shut up. It really is cool what water can do," she defended. She went into minor detail about the magic of water, ending in an impressive spiel about the psychological effects as well. I was slightly intimidated, so naturally, I made a joke about it.

"You are really weird. You know that?" I said, half-kidding as she pulled the pen from her mouth.

The bedroom door suddenly flew open, and a kid no more than ten or twelve burst through. She had fiery red hair and the same green eyes as Dallas.

"She is a total weirdo! My dad says she gets it from my mom."

"Rose Whitaker, get out of this room right now!" Dallas fired at her little sister. Rose, ignoring her completely, looked at me with curiosity. I winked at her as her cheeks reddened, and she approached me with caution.

"So, you are Dean. Do you have any brothers?" I laughed loudly as I looked over at Dallas, who was glaring at her sister.

"No, I'm an only child."

Rose's eyes widened. "I wish I were, too," she said, shooting a mock-filled look at Dallas. "Anyway, you are a little old for me, but you'll do."

"Rose!" Dallas said, closing her book and standing up, ready to physically remove her sister from the room.

"Dallas," I reasoned, amused as Rose took a seat next to me, laying down the rules. "No kissing. I'm not that type of girl," she squeaked as she eyed me blatantly, egging her sister on. Dallas groaned, and Rose winked back at me secretly. I knew she wasn't a kid with a crush. She was a kid with an agenda whose sole purpose was to irritate her sister. I liked her right away.

"Oh, my gawd," Dallas muttered, burying her head in her hands. I stifled my laugh as I entertained Rose and watched Dallas. It was clear her ploy was working. Dallas finally put her foot down, throwing one after the other of what had to be a dozen pillows on her bed, and Rose flew out the door, looking back at me with a ‘Thank you.'

I chuckled as I watched her go. "She is something else," I said, looking back at Dallas, who had shut her door and now sat beside me with kaleidoscope eyes. She leaned in close to me and whispered, "So, am I weird in a good way or a bad way?" She was flirting, or what I assumed was her way of flirting.

It had been three months since we had started hanging out, and today was the day she decided to be brave.

No, Dallas. Oh, shit.

I froze, gripping the edge of her bed, wondering when her dad would burst through the door with some lame excuse. He seemed nice enough when I met him, but at the end of his kind greeting, there was a sort of warning in his eyes. I knew that look well, and I'd ignored it for years with other dads.

Not this time.

I wasn't sure if I was feeling it more out of fear or my own resolve. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater surrounded by a sea of pillows she claimed were a necessary comfort. That was about as safe as she could get. I laughed a little as Dallas leaned in further, clearly not having a clue what she was doing. She took offense, her face falling, and I immediately felt terrible. I entertained the idea of being her first kiss, then had a sinking feeling I might not be.

A sharp knock on her door made us both jump.

"Dinner in ten, angel," her dad barked.

"Okay, Daddy," she said hurriedly, staring straight at me. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from embarrassment. I sat stunned at her beauty. Every once in a while, I would catch a glimpse of her as an older woman, and it would take my breath away.

Kind of like at that moment. I had to get out of there.

"Dallas, I need to go," I said, standing up .

"You won't stay for dinner?" she asked, completely deflated.

Dean, you're such an asshole.

"I can't. See you later, okay?" I excused myself, cramming my books in my backpack, furious with myself. Who studied like this anymore, anyway? I had carelessly agreed to come to her home, meet her family, and be alone where she slept. I hadn't thought it would be hard to stare into those sea-glass green eyes or admire her perfect, pink pouty lips.

I was in my own personal Lolita hell. How had I gotten here?

Dallas

Now

I walked into Josh's apartment, the smell of his cooking invading my senses. He was one of the finest chefs in Dallas and was constantly in his kitchen honing his craft. I rounded the counter to watch him work and saw him smile though he didn't turn his head in my direction as he kept himself busy with his task.

"Baby, if I look at you, I'll have you naked and burn dinner. Just do us both a favor and pour some wine."

I smiled and shook my head. "Not a chance of getting me naked anytime soon. You gave me dirty dick disease," I said in a huff, uncorking a bottle of red we had shared a few nights previous. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked at me, and I gave him the stink eye as I poured us each a glass before taking a sip of mine.

"Okay, my curiosity is piqued," he said, chuckling as he took a glass from me, walking quickly back to the stove.

"A bladder infection, so your penis and I are now at odds," I stated, taking a long sip of wine in celebration that I still had my freedom.

"Sorry, babe," he said, eyeing me as he circled his pot with a spoon, carefully folding cheese into his sauce.

"I'll let you make it up to me with chocolate mousse," I said in a bratty tone, taking in more wine with a moan.

"Already chilling in the fridge," he said, smiling at me. I watched him cook a late meal for the two of us and admired his gorgeous body and how he glided across the kitchen with expert skill. I should want to move in with him. Josh had been nothing but good to me in our time together. We laughed a lot and had good sex. We were exactly what a budding couple should be. I slumped in my chair, thinking of the wind that had come and knocked the breath out of me today, making Josh seem like…less.

"I'm having dinner with an old college friend tomorrow," I said plainly.

"Damn, it's my mom's birthday, and I was just about to ask you if you wanted to join us for dinner," he said, pulling some fresh pasta dripping with sauce out of the pot with his thumb and pointer and then bringing it toward me to taste. I opened wide as he curled the noodle into my mouth, and I moaned at the taste. He leaned in, finishing the taste test with a long slow kiss on my lips.

"It's so good," I said, smiling a thank you.

"Yes, it is," he said, not referring to the pasta. I shook my head with a smile as he continued to cook another amazing meal for the two of us.

Josh.

Dean turned up the next night precisely at eight and was chatting with a nurse on my service as I sauntered up in my sexiest dress.

"Still up to the same tricks I see, old dog?" I poked.

He laughed at my comment, then stopped smiling as he took in my appearance. His eyes quickly diverted to the black dress and super-high stiletto heels I had purchased that morning before my shift. I was hoping he couldn't see the tiny cushions under my eyes. Besides a rough day and little sleep, I was all too happy to see him. He gave me a thorough once over and waved goodbye to the attentive blonde, who was now pouting that I had all of his attention. I gave her a wink that seemed to anger her and fully revealed a toothy grin as we walked away. His appearance screamed sex. And his sex…well, I still hadn't met his match. I shivered a little as I recalled the year we had spent tangled in each other.

He guided me with a hand on the small of my back toward his Jaguar, and I took notice that he was typically impeccably dressed in a three-piece. He had always been well dressed. While I initially found it odd, it did little to keep me away. To me, it was way more alluring than the jean-wearing, sandal-sporting guys I was used to dating. I felt a pang of guilt as I thought of Josh at home, thinking that I was probably with an old girlfriend.

He's engaged, and you're committed to Josh. This is dinner. Oh, and Dean's a lying bastard.

He opened the car door for me. "Let's go somewhere quiet where we can talk."

"Sounds good," I replied, completely uncomfortable in my own skin with thoughts of Josh—and the guilt I felt .

I shouldn't have worn this dress.

"You look beautiful, Dallas," Dean said, making himself comfortable to drive.

"Thanks, so do you. Where is your fiancée tonight?" I asked in an attempt to feel a little better about being out with another man.

"Not here," he answered quickly. He started the car and turned to me, a smile playing on his lips. "I dug this out of thin air and thought you might like it."

I heard the music start to play and laughed out loud. It was Dean Martin's greatest hits. I'd given it to him as a birthday present in college. He forced me to listen to it every time we were together.

" Ain't that a kick in the head ," I sang along as he pulled up to Chantilly, and I laughed at his choice of restaurants. We were definitely going old school tonight. It was the location of my parents' first date and was a Dallas landmark, having been open for over forty-five years. We walked inside, and I quickly surveyed to see if my parents' table was available. I requested it on sight immediately and reveled in the fact that it was ours. My parents had taken Rose and me here a few times when we were kids when they were unable to find a sitter on special anniversaries. We were usually grounded by the time we left, and they would swear never to take us again.

"My parents had their first date right here at this table," I remarked as we took our seats.

"Really?" he asked with a smile. "How are they?" The hostess seating us completely covered Dean in her stare. It was so blatant that I almost felt uncomfortable for him. He simply gave her a wink as he turned his attention to me.

"Terrific. We should have dinner with them soon. They always loved you. You can bring your fiancée," I added, reminding myself that this was a dinner date between old friends—but we weren't friends. We hadn't spoken in years. Our relationship ended in heartbreak. Morbid curiosity is what made me decide to dine with Dean tonight.

I saw him visibly cringe at the mention of his fiancée, then recover. "Sounds good to me. How's Rose?"

"She's perfect. She is in her last semester of school and is kicking ass. She is going for a surgical fellowship. I am so proud of her."

"And you're still going to open your own practice?" he asked as he glanced at the drink menu.

"Yep, everything is falling into place. Three years and it will be a reality," I said excitedly as our waitress greeted us.

"That's incredible, really. You're doing it."

"Yeah, we are," I boasted, the ghosts of our pasts lingering in the air along with a deafening silence that kept us mute. When it became uncomfortable, I could feel his next question coming.

"So, are you dating?" His beautiful, ice-blue eyes drifted from his menu to meet mine, rendering me momentarily speechless. I nodded in reply.

"Anyone I know?" His question was intrusive, and he recognized it as well as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Josh is a chef. One of Dallas's best," I announced proudly. "We've been dating a year. You'd like him."

"Nice, well, at least he's not a bum," he said with a shrug. I gave him an odd look and tilted my head at his remark. Surely this man was not jealous after seven years and a fiancée later. "You expected me to be with a bum, Dean?"

"Dallas, I never expect anything from you. You are too unpredictable," he remarked, looking for our waitress and gesturing for her .

"I was never unpredictable, and I was nineteen," I said, taking a long sip of wine.

He chuckled as he watched me. "Then you were twenty. Don't forget that I know you. I bet you're still an unbelievably cocky pain in the ass, Dallas Whitaker."

"You knew me," I retorted, finding that same lack of air that had tortured me a day earlier. Dean paused, and for a brief moment, I saw something in his eyes before it vanished.

"So, OB, that's an interesting field," I added, trying to change the subject. Though we had history, I was trying my best not to reminisce. We'd parted under the worst circumstances, and I definitely didn't want to rehash that tonight. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Never a dull moment," he said, catching my eyes briefly.

"Hmmm, well, you always were passionate about the needs of women," I paused with a smirk to watch him stiffen in his seat. "So, tell me about your fiancée. What's her name?"

"She's a cocky pain in the ass." He chuckled as he gave the waitress our drink order. It thrilled me that he remembered and ordered my favorite wine.

"So, she is just your type. What's her name?"

"Helena," he said quickly, re-situating the napkin on his lap. It was clear he didn't want to discuss her.

Tough shit.

"Is she a doctor, too?"

"Yes, she is," he answered curtly. I watched him shift his gaze to the window next to us as he stared at the people on the street passing by.

"Did you meet her at Columbia?" I questioned, taking another sip of wine.

"Dallas, what's with the questions?"

"Just curious," I said, sinking in my seat, an old pain in my chest moving to the surface. "So did you? "

"Yes, my first year." My eyes snapped to his as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He didn't miss my calculation.

"I'm just trying to get to know you again. I'm also curious about the woman who tamed the infamous Dean Martin. Definitely a first."

"She wasn't the first," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

I ignored his remark with more sarcasm. "Was she aware the merchandise had been test driven by half of Texas and the eastern seaboard?"

"I wasn't that bad," he said, crossing his arms with a smirk.

I just gave him my best ‘you're full of shit' eye roll.

I took a sip of my wine, finishing my glass, and pointed to my order on the menu, catching him eyeing me through his tumbler of scotch.

"You're a beautiful woman, Dallas."

I choked slightly on my mouth full of fermented grapes and thanked him as I recovered.

"You are…so damn beautiful," he said more to himself than me. I stared at him, unable to keep my chest from rising and falling rapidly. My thighs clenched with the way he looked at me—like he wanted to take me right there. I couldn't stop staring back. Everything I'd dreamt about for the last seven years was sitting across from me at the table, looking at me as if he was thirsty and I was the very last drink of water.

You hate him.

"Stop it," I said dismissively as our plates were placed before us. I finished my steak at neck-breaking speed and watched him scoff at my blatant disregard for the proper fork and the art of chewing.

"I remember Rose eating like this, but you?"

"Yeah, yeah." I ignored him as I devoured the rest of my plate and ordered a huge piece of seductive chocolate cake for dessert. We made small talk, mostly leading to dead ends. I fumbled with a few words under his gaze as I caught it throughout the meal. Dean's eyes were a clear blue. Much like Josh's, they had an effect on me. Yet Dean's did things far worse to me. After a few years apart from Dean, I was almost sure I'd romanticized so much about our past. Now, after staring at him across the table, I knew I hadn't imagined a thing. And he was no longer living in a foreign land I could never reach. He was within my grasp and looking at me like he used to. I was sure I was doing the same.

He was engaged, and, oh, Dallas, he tore your fucking heart out.

"Dean, this was wonderful, thank you. You can drop me off at my car."

"Ready for bed?" His gaze was hot on mine as he took in my neck and bare shoulders.

"Still a smooth talker." I winked. "I'm sure the three of us would be a little uncomfortable in your bed. You know, you, me, Helena—" I held my tongue as his stare grew a little colder.

His expression didn't waver, and I felt myself sinking in my seat.

"I'd have to have you all to myself," he said, his eyes lingering on my lips as I spoke.

"You have had me all to yourself," I said as the heat in my lower half rose to an immeasurable temperature.

Oh God, this was a mistake, a huge mistake.

Things had gone from casual to dangerous again in a matter of seconds. I would never get used to this—to the way he made me feel. I drank in his sharp features, his chiseled chin, and perfectly full lips. His paralyzing eyes were accented by dark black lashes, and his smooth black hair only made them stand out.

Was he always this gorgeous? Yes, God. Yes, he was.

I remembered the feel of his lips on mine, his tongue, and the weight of him as he took me —

"And then you dumped me," he said, dragging the dead horse to the table. He had said it in a way where it could be construed as a joke, but I knew better.

Shit.

"I think your memory may be a little foggy. That really isn't how it happened. Besides, you had it coming," I said, trying to tread lightly. "You put me through hell in high school and made sure no one would date me."

"That was just so Jon Reiner couldn't pop your cherry." I laughed at his absurd statement, and he joined in.

I leaned in to whisper, "How could you get my cherry if you never dated it in high school?"

"I figured I had some time, but you turned into such a hoe."

I laughed again, and so did he.

"One guy. I slept with one guy in high school. Let it go. God, you're such a hypocrite, and if it makes you feel any better, Reiner was a disaster."

I looked at the man across from me, replaying the night I'd boldly put the moves on him at his frat party. It had been incredible. All those years of pent-up sexual frustration unraveled around us as we explored each other—repeatedly. I'd replayed that night over and over in my head throughout the years—that night had changed everything.

I looked at Dean across from me at Chantilly and saw a sadness I hadn't noticed until now.

I felt the guilt of what I'd done to him that night hovering over me. Long after our first time together, I recognized that I'd been so concerned with my agenda to get him in bed that I didn't even realize what he was trying to tell me. He thought I was special. I wondered if I would ever think that way about myself. Then again, he was the only man truly capable of making me feel that way .

And taking it away too easily.

Pain ripped through me as I recalled the day it stopped. Dean saw the memory surface on my face and started to speak when I stood to excuse myself for the restroom, and to my absolute horror, I saw Josh standing a few feet away. He had his arm around an older woman I recognized as his mom. I quickly made my way over and hugged her in greeting, wishing her a happy birthday. Josh was far from civil as he spoke.

"An old friend, Jesus, Dallas," he whispered harshly and only for me.

"Josh, it's not like that, not at all. Please come outside with me."

"Dallas, how are you?" His mom, clearly embarrassed by hearing our unpleasant word exchange, did her best to make conversation. "I'm fine, Mrs. Stephenson," I piped in happily. "It's so good to see you. Happy birthday."

"What the hell is going on?" he hissed as Mrs. Stephenson was whisked away by the hostess. I glanced over my shoulder to see Dean behind me. "Dean, this is Josh. Josh, this is Dean. I ran into him yesterday at my OB. We went to college together." They shook hands, and I begged Dean with my eyes to give us a minute, and he quickly conceded. He walked over to the table, laying his card down, waiting on the server to pick it up and check us out.

Josh eyed Dean, then quickly turned to glare at me. "I really don't care how good of friends you are. That dress is not for a friendly dinner, Dallas."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just…it was a bad call. I'm under a lot of stress lately, and you don't want to hear about work—"

He roughly grabbed my arm and led me outside. Once we were far enough away, he tore into me.

"So, you dress provocatively and go on a date with an old boyfriend who wanted to pop your cherry! My mom heard that disgusting shit!"

"Oh, God." I wanted a blanket, no a tarp, no a nun's habit. I was thoroughly ashamed and hated myself.

"Disgusted, it's all I can think about looking at you right now."

"Don't talk to me like that. I haven't done anything wrong!" I felt my cheeks grow hot as he glared at me in front of the valet."I'm sorry, all right, but you're overreacting," I reasoned.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, Dallas. How fucking stupid do you think I am? Now I have to explain to my mom why my girlfriend is out in a fuck me dress with another man!"

"Watch your mouth," I snapped, ready to stand my ground.

"Really, and I suppose you're the voice for the morally sound, Dallas?"

"That's enough! I swear to you. You keep talking to me like that, you will be in for a fight! Who the hell do you think you—"

"I'm jealous!" he admitted, raking his hands through his hair. He looked at me in defeat, and I felt tears threaten. "God, I'm sorry, Dallas. You look so fucking beautiful. I really can't take this!" He looked over my shoulder and nodded. "Enjoy your date."

"It's not like that, Josh!"

"It's exactly like that, Dallas," he snapped, turning abruptly and leaving me as Dean approached.

"Sorry, that was…unexpected," I offered as he looked behind him at a retreating Josh. "This does look rather suspicious," I said, looking down at my filthy fucking dress. I would burn it. I was guilty for more reasons than one—the way I was dressed and the fact that a few minutes ago, I'd been replaying one of the most amazing sexual experiences of my life with Dean.

"That's what you do to men, Dallas," he chuckled .

"Thanks for siding with him. It's been years, Dean. You don't know me anymore!"

"I just remember how badly it hurt when you threw me in the garbage," he remarked, unlocking his car.

"I most certainly did not!" I huffed, refusing to let him get my door for me.

"Yes, you did." He started the car, and we made it back to the hospital garage within a few minutes. He walked me to my car door, though I told him it wasn't necessary.

"Welcome home, Dean."

He didn't say a word as I stood facing him, my back to my door. He grabbed my hand after a moment, then kissed the back of it. The years melted away one by one as we watched each other. We were on dangerous ground. The pull was impossible, and if I stood staring into his crystal depths much longer, I wouldn't be able to resist him.

"Maybe I don't know you anymore, but I knew you, Dallas, and I made damn sure you knew me." He leaned in close, leaving me breathless at his scent alone. He smelled like a mix of wood and sea, and it consumed my senses. In an inescapable fog, he inched closer, and I was in sensory overload with the bright blue of his eyes beckoning me like they always had. I whimpered and wet my lips as he came closer, and—h e was engaged. Engaged. Engaged!

"Engaged!" We both jumped at the sound of my voice, breaking our daze.

He didn't say a word as I opened my car door. I sat in my seat fuming, mad at myself and him. "I'm with Josh, and you're getting married. Go home, Dean."

I shut my door, then started my car. He stood near my door briefly, raised his hand, pressed two fingers to his lips, and then to the glass on my door before he turned and walked away. The recognition of that gesture had my chest burning in seconds.

I watched him drive away and sank into my seat as more memories of Dean came flooding back. I thought I'd closed that door, sealed it, and he had blown it all to hell in a matter of days.

"Did you meet her at Columbia?"

"Yes, my first year."

For years, I'd waited for the answer to that question. I hated my answer.

I had to stay away from him, especially if he was inclined to make our past more present. I'd come too far, gone through far too much when it came to him. I was a fool to think I could play civil when my heart had waged war on him so long ago.

I couldn't believe he had almost just kissed me. I also couldn't believe how badly I wished I'd let him. What the hell was he thinking? And what did he really think of me to try something like that? How the hell could I possibly entertain him after what happened? I needed a man with a solid foundation, preferably without Helena, and who hadn't torn my heart to shreds.

Dean was a liar.

I needed someone more like…Josh.

You don't love Josh, Dallas.

But I did love him, maybe not in the way that felt like forever, but in a way that was far healthier than what I'd experienced when I thought I'd had that forever kind of love.

Josh was exactly the type of man I needed.

I was hit again with the look on his face when he saw me with Dean. I would've been equally just as hurt if the tables were turned.

I dialed his number—knowing he wouldn't answer—and left him a message.

"Josh, you were right about tonight. Please forgive me and know I'm sorry." I had never been good at anything personal in my life. He deserved so much more than the hurt I had just inflicted. I had never given him any reason to not trust me…until now. He deserved better than me and the small piece of my heart I'd given him—the only part left that Dean didn't own, and he was doing a damn good job of trying to claim it. Only one thought raced through my head as I drove home—I had to stay the hell away from Dean Martin.

Dean

Then

"Get the lead out, Martin. You're off by a full second!" Dallas roared at me as I pushed through the last quarter mile.

"Time," she shouted as I crossed the finish, but not before handing my ass to me. "This won't cut it Saturday."

"Let's see you do better, Whitaker," I snapped, covered in Texas heat and gasping for breath.

"I didn't sign up for this crap. If you're going to compete, do it to win," she scolded, recording my time.

We were constantly at the track, and she timed me and kept up with the best times of the runners I'd compete against. Dallas fueled and motivated me to push myself harder than I ever thought possible. She never cut me any slack and would often ride me harder on my off days, bringing out the angry Spaniard in me.

"Would it kill you to throw in an encouraging word once in a while or maybe a ‘Way to go, Martin' when I've done well?" She ignored me as I went on. "Shouldn't I be enjoying myself and in it for the sport?" I mused as I approached her. Her demeanor was all business as she reviewed my timesheet for the last few meets.

"If you want a pep talk, then go talk to your groupies. I'm here to make sure you smoke Derek Watson. Your time today was shit."

"Jesus, you've got a mouth on you," I said, standing above her while she took it as a compliment and smiled up at me.

"You're the best, Dean, and you're the fastest. I've seen what you can do, even when you aren't competing. Dean, you can win this one."

"Only if I have you around to push me."

"You don't need me. You just need to know you can do it."

"I do need you, Dallas. I absolutely fucking do."

It was an acknowledgment I'd refused to give her until that day. There was so much between us, too much, and even if I couldn't do anything about it, I could tell her how important she was to me. I could give her that.

"So, you're all set for the science fair?" She peered at me momentarily with those green eyes as if I was asking her a trick question.

"Yep, I think I've got a good shot at winning."

"Need any help?"

"From you? No," she scoffed as if the idea was ridiculous.

"Look, if you need help—"

"I'm fine, really." Her cheeks flushed. She seemed embarrassed to be an academic, though it was a large part of who she was.

"Well, I don't ever see you with any friends around. I mean, why aren't you hanging out with other girls?"

She avoided my question entirely and handed me my stopwatch.

"I've gotta go. My mom's waiting."

"Dallas, why—"

She turned on me with an eye roll. "Because they have motives, Dean, and it's not to get to know me better, okay? I mean, it's no big secret who my best friend is. I have you and the guys. I'm good."

She was referring to my crew, who'd taken her in under strict guidelines to keep their fucking hands off. They all had a soft spot for her and looked out for her like I did.

"You want to do something for me, Martin?" she asked, turning to face me in front of her mom's SUV, her hands on her hips. "Teach me to drive."

"Done." I beamed at her as she lifted a brow, incredulous. "Seriously, I want to."

"Sure you have time with your social calendar and all?"

"Think you can set down your beaker and escape your mad lab long enough?"

She gave me the smile only Dallas could give that said everything in just a few precious seconds.

And in those seconds, I knew I was in love with her.

And for her, I smoked Derek Watson.

It had all come to a head at my track meet finals. For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to a date. There was a girl my age, newly eighteen, who seemed like the perfect candidate to get Dallas out of my head. My prospective date, Lindsey, was sitting in the stands. I waved to her, seeing Dallas a few rows over wave back at me. Lindsey was oblivious, but Dallas noticed her right away. And as usual, watching Dallas's face fall in recognition of my attention on another girl, I felt awful—as I should've for letting her get so close to me. Dallas had been to every single track meet, every single pep rally. She was by far the best friend I'd ever had. I hadn't made a mistake in making her my best friend. I had made a huge mistake in that I'd fallen for her.

She was only fifteen!

It all came down to that. I couldn't get past it, and I wouldn't. Most guys wouldn't blink at the age difference, but I wasn't most guys. She was untouched, that much I knew. It was settled. I caught Lindsey's eyes, and she smiled. I looked at Dallas—who was clearly hurt—and wiped my face with a towel.

What the fuck are you doing, Dean?

I'd noticed the subtle changes in Dallas's dress, the skirts getting slightly shorter, and she wore more makeup, more perfume. She was desperately trying to get my attention, and God help me, she had all of it. We'd come a long way as friends in such little time and much more. I'd dragged her on a few double dates to try to change the dynamic slowly building between us—to keep things friendly and less intimate, but it wasn't working. I missed her when she was not around, and I rarely paid much attention to my date, watching her date like a hawk, though I had handpicked and threatened every single one.

I had been to her home often and somehow became an integrated part of her family. I entertained Rose and had even become chummy with her older brother, Paul. She had met my parents on numerous occasions and had even lived through the scrutiny of my mom—who now adored her and threatened my life if I so much as touched a hair on her head.

As hard as I'd tried to keep our relationship a friendship, I'd failed. She was now a part of me.

There was no going back, and that was becoming clear with each day. I had to do the right thing, even if it meant hurting her—even if it hurt me.

I finished my meet and saw Dallas waiting at the bottom of the stands. I groaned when I took in her tiny shorts and snug shirt. I glanced at Lindsey, who had her hand up to her ear in a ‘call me' gesture. I nodded and approached Dallas with caution.

"Hi." She greeted me with a breathtaking smile.

God, you're beautiful.

"Hi," I said back, hoping she couldn't hear my inner musing.

"Good meet. I would congratulate you, but half the women here fainted when you took your shirt off. I think that's enough of an ego boost for one day," she joked. She lifted her hand as if to run fingers through my hair, but I stopped her quickly.

"Dallas, where are your clothes?" I snapped as I took a step back. She gaped at me, clearly shocked by her reception. I saw her embarrassment turn to anger as a few onlookers snickered at her discomfort.

"What the hell is your problem, Martin?" I knew the question didn't just have to do with today. I had been returning fewer of her calls and spending a little less time with her. She was an extremely smart girl, and if for one second, I thought I could tell her I returned her feelings without the result being that she tried harder, I would.

I didn't want to take that chance. I knew I would give in to the physical, even if the gentleman I wanted to be couldn't live with that. She already held a coveted place in my heart. She wouldn't be just another girl.

Not to mention, it was totally fucking illegal. And those were the kind of charges that stuck, that stifled a medical career.

She was still looking at me when I realized I hadn't answered her.

"Nothing, I don't have a problem," I barked back. "I just didn't expect you to greet me in your underwear."

She pushed past me in a huff, stomping off toward the parking lot.

"Dallas," I called after her, apology clear in my voice.

"Bite me, Martin," she said, pulling out her cell to text someone.

"You need a ride?" I said, quickly catching up with her. I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me and saw her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

I was the worst human alive.

"I'm sorry," I said instantly. I'd never seen Dallas's resolve waver in the six months I'd known her. The guilt I felt at that moment left a large lump in my throat. She looked at her flip-flops, refusing to meet my eyes. I grasped her chin, and she took it away with a quick turn of her head. She took deep breaths to calm herself .

"I just won't come anymore," she whispered.

"No, Dallas, it's not that," I offered. But what the hell could I say? I needed her to stay away. I needed to get her out of my head.

"It's fine." She looked up as tears disbursed down her cheeks. "I am weird. I am. And you know that about me. No one else does. I thought we got along. I thought we—"

"You're perfect," I interrupted. Only a step closer, and I would have her in my arms. I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair in frustration. "We do get along, Dallas," I offered, fisting my hands in an effort to keep myself from pulling her to me. She glared at me.

"No, you and girls like Lindsey do. I'm just…me." She looked past me, and I noticed her mom's SUV pulling up. "Bye," she rasped out, wiping her face before making quick strides to the truck and jumping in.

"Mom, don't." I heard her hiss her protest as the passenger window rolled down. Dallas sank in her seat, clearly embarrassed. I felt for her. My mom was just as intrusive.

"Hi, Dean," she chimed. "Did he win?" she tried to ask Dallas discreetly. She sat with her arms crossed, giving her mom a murderous stare.

"I did," I answered for her, leaning into Dallas's window. She flinched as I inched near her, and I shared a knowing smile with her mom, Laura. Dallas was anything but forgiving when she was mad.

"Thanks for coming, Dallas." I kissed her cheek and waved at them as they drove off. I saw Dallas glance at me in the rearview. I smiled broadly and caught her reluctant smile.

My spitfire.

Sitting in my car in front of her house on prom night had tested my limits. I'd wanted to ask her. In truth, all year, I'd only wanted her. I saw her bedroom light on as I sat in my tux, ready for a night I didn't want to spend without her. I was supposed to pick up my date in twenty minutes but couldn't tear myself away from staring at her window. I was leaving in two months and should've been relieved I'd kept my gentleman's vow. It wasn't just physical. Dallas had a way of challenging me. Whether it was an argument about my time on the track—which she kept up with to the half second—or the definition of a blind spot when I taught her how to drive, she had a way of making me crazy and needing more of her at the same time. She was often successful in taunting the angry Spaniard in me. And more often than not, she brought out the best in me with how she regarded me.

I had come so close to kissing her on her sixteenth birthday.

I knew she felt it because the pull was so damn strong—it was undeniable. I had pulled away at the last second, and she'd almost called me on it.

Looking up at her window and without thinking, I grabbed my date's corsage and walked to her door. Her dad answered with a smile and an arched brow.

"Dallas," he called up the stairs, staring at me with amusement. She stopped at the top of the stairs, looking at me in confusion. I felt like a complete idiot. She slowly descended, looking between her dad and me for answers.

"Hi," she squeaked. She had on a Dallas Cowboys fitted tee and shorts. "I think I may be underdressed."

Her dad, Seth, gave me an inquisitive look before taking his leave. I silently thanked him.

Dallas led me onto the porch. "Dean, somewhere there is a girl in a prom dress waiting for you."

"I know," I fumbled out as she looked up at me for an explanation. Somehow, with nervous hands, I managed to take the solid white lily out of the corsage box .

"I wanted you to have this." She shook her head, looking up at me.

"Why?"

"Because."

Way with words, Martin.

I slipped it on her wrist as she admired the flower. "Dean, it's beautiful, really, but I can't take another girls corsage. She picked up the packaging from the porch and slid the flower back in, handing it back to me.

"Girl's daydream about this night, Dean. That poor girl waiting on you probably has a thousand scenarios of how this night will go. She's probably checked her appearance a million times and is looking out her window, waiting for your arrival."

"I thought you were going with Reiner."

"I changed my mind. I was kind of holding out for something better." I didn't miss it, and she didn't let me.

"Dallas—"

"Go, you'll be late. You look…really good." She walked inside and shut the door, turning off the porch light.

I cursed my damn gentleman's vow as I walked down her steps. What I thought was selflessness had turned into pure stupidity.

Prom was a complete blur, and unfortunately for my date, I was distracted. I saw relief in her eyes when I took her home at midnight.

A few weeks before graduation, I showed up to Reiner's third party in a month with Daisy Tipton on my arm. Dallas was on the porch. She stood up to greet me and immediately lost her balance and flew forward. I let go of Daisy and caught Dallas quickly, getting a strong whiff of her poison and establishing the cause of her sudden immobility .

"Whoa, buddy, you've been hitting the sauce hard," I noted, immediately on edge. How long had she been drinking out here?

"Dean, you know I don't like Daisy. Don't screw her. Ew, not her." My eyes widened, and I had to stifle a laugh as Daisy spewed her venom.

"I can hear you, bitch," she snapped in warning.

"Oh, you can hear me?" She hiccupped as she took a step out of my arms, her body swaying and her attention toward Daisy. "Hear this. I would rather be a bitch than passed-around like you are."

Daisy didn't hesitate before landing a hard slap on the side of Dallas's face. Dallas smiled spitefully as if to say ‘thank you,' her hand going up to cup her reddening cheek. She had purposefully just started a fight.

My spitfire was drunk, and things were about to get nasty.

I reached for Dallas just as she lunged for Daisy.

"Daisy, we're done," I said simply, turning my head toward her as I held Dallas back, who was flailing her arms desperately trying to get her shot at Daisy.

Daisy looked at me incredulously. "You don't mean that!"

"No, I do. We are done," I said, turning away from her and wrapping Dallas in my embrace, trapping her arms around her and carrying her to the side of the house. Once she stopped fighting me, I cupped her red cheek and grinned at her.

"Okay, you want to explain what just happened back there?"

"No," she said, looking up at me as I tried to gently thumb away the burn in her cheek. For the first time in months, I saw it, the longing. My chest cracked in recognition.

"Dean, why won't you kiss me?" she asked as she leaned into my hand, her eyes raw and searching mine.

"Dally, you are my best friend," I offered weakly.

"You don't like me?"

"I love you, Dally," I said without thinking. I gave her the truth .

"You do?" I saw the hope in her eyes and then saw it pass away with my following words.

"You are like family to me."

"Oh." After a beat, I saw a wave of pure determination cross her face as she eyed me with sudden disgust. "You know they call you the Spanish slut?" she said as she scorned me with her alcohol-filled honesty. "One girl could neeeever be enough for you." Pain tore through my chest at that statement. She had done her job well. I was ashamed.

"But that doesn't bother you, right?" she scoffed. I stood silently, letting her have her way. I deserved every bit of it. All I wanted to do was to rid her of the look of contempt and replace it with what I'd grown used to. There was no sign of it. I was suddenly desperate for her laugh, her smile, anything but the look she was giving me. It was filled with so much resentment and, even more than that, defeat. I cringed physically as I took a step toward her. Doing the only thing I deemed safe, I pulled a Ricky Ricardo and started mumbling furiously in Spanish.

"Tú eres suficiente para mí, mi loquita. Si supieras lo mucho que quisiera besarte en este momento. Si supieras cuánto tiempo paso pensando en ti." Si supieraís cuanto tiempo me la paso pensando en ti."

Her eyes widened as she looked at me like I had grown another head.

"I don't speak Spanish, Martin," she snapped, irritated.

"And it's a good damn thing," I said, pretending my feet were made of solid rock as I kept them planted. Right or wrong, I wanted her, all of her. My anger at the situation rolled off me and landed on her. She gaped at me.

I'd been a fool to think this would turn out differently. Masked feelings were dangerous, and we were both at the end of our rope.

She waited for me to do anything, say anything, and I purposely failed.

"See you later…brother." She dashed away from me, and I went to follow her, but Daisy blocked my path with tears in her eyes. I felt gu ilty for the way I'd treated her and tried to calm her. I couldn't fucking win. Leaving Daisy with a group of friends, I searched the party for Dallas but came up empty.

I circled the house and banged on every door, barging into every single room, and was met with vicious protest. Still coming up empty, I began to panic. She was drunk, and she was angry.

After searching everywhere, I cornered Tina Walker, who was only too happy to inform me that Dallas had left with Reiner.

"What the hell?" I said, dialing her cell.

"They've been dating for a month," one of the girls at the counter piped up.

I swallowed hard.

Oh, fuck no.

She had been dating him for a month? How the hell had I missed that? I felt the bile rise up my throat. I was a hypocrite. I had no right to be acting that way. I was a man possessed as I questioned everyone in our circle, and no one had a clue where they were. Reiner had left his own fucking party. I quickly drove Daisy home and spent the entire night searching for them in vain. I ended up waiting at Reiner's house long after the party ended, alone and sitting on his porch as he pulled up.

It was no secret between us how I felt about her, and deep down, I knew he felt the same. She had been a silent tug-of-war between us this year, and I knew he thought he'd won. He got out of his truck, a smug smile on his face as he approached. That was all it took.

I used my fists to drown out each painful tear of my heart. Reiner matched me blow for blow as we exhausted each other until we were both panting on the grass, bloodied and aching.

He said nothing as he stood up to retreat to his house. There was nothing to say.

She didn't attend another party up to the day I graduated. She made herself scarce at school. I caught her once sitting in the stands after track. When I spotted her, she purposefully made her way down the bleachers and left before I had a chance to catch up with her.

Whether I'd made a move on her or not didn't matter anymore. Either way, I was losing her.

The day I graduated, I spotted her chatting with my parents before she made her way to her car. I quickly walked past my waiting parents to catch up with her.

"Dallas," I said urgently as she scurried to her car, speeding up when she heard my voice. She got in, ignoring me. I leaned against her car with a sigh and rapped my knuckles on her window as she shook her head. I stood there like a jackass.

"Open the fucking door, Dallas," I said, losing my patience. I was leaving for Spain in the morning to spend the summer with my parents—as I did every year. I'd planned on stopping by her house but was surprised to see her here, grateful for the chance to say goodbye.

"No!" she shouted, starting her car.

"Open the door!" I yelled, getting the attention of everyone in the parking lot. She lowered her window, and I reached past her and grabbed her keys from the ignition.

"Congrats," she snapped as she moved to stop me, her voice dripping with anger and hurt. "I hate you. I really do. We were best friends, and you just dropped me for being as promiscuous like you."

"Dally, get out of the car."

"Forget it. I hope you have a nice life," she said, her voice shaking. "Give me my keys," she ordered as she exited the car, refusing to look at me. She opened her hand, and I pulled mine out of reach, gripping them tightly.

"Not until we talk," I said firmly.

"Fine, I'll walk!" she shrieked, causing more eyes to wander our way.

"Stop it. Here are your damn keys. You want to act like a baby, fine," I huffed in frustration, holding them out to her.

"You are the worst best friend I've ever had!" she declared, ripping them out of my grip.

"I could say the same about you right now, Dallas," I snapped.

"Really, well, don't worry. It's all over now," she said with finality.

"No, it's not. I will always be here for you. I had to let you sit in your own mess for a while, Dallas, because you're acting like such a stupid girl. You deserved it, but it doesn't mean I don't care about you. I know that you're young and acting dumber than you're smart. You're brilliant and beautiful and way above all this crap. I wish you would just realize it already."

"How can I when the one thing I want …" she caught herself. "It's harder than you think."

"I know exactly how hard it is," I said as she stopped her rant to finally look at me. Her mouth parted as I gripped her shoulders and leaned in. "I know," I emphasized as I silenced her by taking her lips in a kiss that was anything but friendly. She gave in immediately and wrapped her arms tightly around me. I lost myself in her for a brief moment as our lips met and melded. I indulged on her mouth, swirling my tongue in and tasting all of her. The surprise in her return kiss dissolved as we were both lost and found together. I always knew I'd been right about her. I selfishly took as much as I could, knowing my craving for her was now seared into my DNA. Tearing myself away, I noticed the heated color of her face, the swell of her perfectly parted lips, and her need for me, memorizing every detail. "I'll see you again, Dallas. Tienes la otra parte de mi corazón. "

"Dean?" she whispered in question as I forced one lead foot in front of the other, walking away from her.

I turned to look at my spitfire one more time, pressed two fingers to my lips, and turned them outward toward her, and her answering smile was breathtaking. "See you at Austin, Dally." I winked before joining my parents, who were watching us with interest.