“Eighth grade? Ginny’s Halloween party? I didn’t mean to kiss you. I’d never kissed a girl before.” He clears his throat, and it’s the closest I’ve seen Holden to being embarrassed.

I don’t think he meant to say that—to admit that to me.

“Anyway, I just, I knew I wasn’t the right guy for you. I knew letting you think we possibly had that sort of future would just hurt you more in the end. So I thought avoiding you for a while would help draw boundaries. I didn’t think—I didn’t mean for it to totally end our friendship. But we started high school and had different friends. And then Sydney was a freshman, and you two were always together. You seemed happy. It didn’t seem like you were stuck in the past. I had no idea it still bothered you until last night.”

“I was closer with you than Sydney back then. You kissed me and then acted like I was invisible. Of course it bothered me, Holden.”

“I’m sorry, Cassia. Truly.” His blue eyes are sincere. I know he means the words, but they’re not enough to completely wash away years of resentment.

“Thanks for…explaining,” I say awkwardly.

Holden inhales. “Do you—do you regret last night?”

I’m thrown by the fact he’s bringing it up. I thought what happened in his hotel room would stay in New York, never to be discussed again. I was banking on it, actually. Holden bringing it up is unexpected.

It makes me wonder if he regrets it. Is he worried I’ll tell someone? That Sydney will find out?

“No.” I answer honestly. “I don’t regret it.”

He exhales. “Okay. Good.”

“Do, um, do you?”

“Nope.” He grins, unexpectedly. “I enjoyed it.”

Heat floods my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure fueling the blush. I was worried he was too busy treating me with kid gloves. “Me too.”

“I know. I felt you come on my cock.” He says the sentence casually, but I’m certain my face must be flaming red. It was one thing to hear him talk dirty in a hotel room when it was the middle of the night. His front porch in broad daylight is very different.

Holden smirks, confirming my suspicion my complexion resembles a tomato. He takes the last step, putting us at the same level, then tugs at a loose piece of my hair. His smile transforms from mocking to sweet as he tucks it behind one ear. “You look beautiful when you blush,” he tells me, then keeps walking.

I hear the front door open and close, and know I’m standing on his porch alone now. My blood is buzzing, and my stomach is giddy.

Getting under Holden to get over him? Undoubtedly the worst idea I’ve ever had. Any closure between us feels non-existent.

I’m totally screwed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN