I crossed the divide I’d created, moving my body back in between hers, and relaxed the second her hands found my sides again and started moving up and down.

“I spilled my heart to you that night. Told you that I had feelings for you and that I wanted to be with you. You told me that I didn’t know what feelings were and that you’d never want to be with me. I even asked you again just to make sure. You were pretty adamant about your disgust for me.”

“James”—she looked like someone had just punched her in the heart—“I woke up in the vineyard the next morning, and I could barely remember going out there in the first place. The empty wine bottles were scattered at my feet, and I threw up the second I tried to stand. That night has always been a complete blur to me.”

“This whole time, I thought you remembered.”

“Is that why you started the rumor?”

I shook my head because that hadn’t been why at all. “You broke my heart that night, but the rumor was an accident,” I started to explain.

She scoffed, “How could what you said be an accident? You told everyone I’d slept with you!”

“Because I was in love with you, Julia. Why did you think I’d started it?” Clearing the air and healing old wounds was cathartic even if it hurt to relive it in the moment.

Her hands moved from the sides of my legs to my waist, and I tried to focus on her words and not the touch of her fingertips sending sensations throughout my entire body.

“I thought you were trying to ruin my life. Like hating me wasn’t enough for you, and you had to take it one step further.”

“I never hated you.”

“I know that now, but I didn’t then.” She swatted at me before faking a pout.

The rumor really hadn’t been intentional on my part even though I’d been so bitter about her rejection that it probably looked that way from her perspective. Or at least, it would have, if she had remembered rejecting me in the first place.

“I overheard a few of my basketball teammates talking about you in the locker room one afternoon after practice, and I lost my shit,” I started to tell her the story as my mind flashed back.

“Hey, Russo. What do you think Julia would say if I asked her out?” my teammate Todd Lestare shouted.

I slung a towel around my shoulder as I opened my locker. “I have no idea. Why do you want to? She’s not even remotely your type,” I said, hoping he would take offense and back the hell off.

Todd usually liked girls who were a little less difficult, and the thought of him anywhere near Julia made my skin crawl.