Crushed (28 page)

I toss back the rest of my drink and make my way toward the exit, even though a part of me is itching to throw myself into the ring. To fight for the attention of the most gorgeous girl in the room.

Instead, I walk away.

This confident, put-together Chloe Bellamy can have any guy she wants, and I know how this story turns out.

She sure as hell’s not going to choose
me
.

Chapter 30

Chloe

I always thought this moment would feel better.

Because, although it’s probably crass to admit it, I know what’s going on here.

With the help of a killer dress, the right hair products, an hour’s worth of makeup application, and the world’s most uncomfortable shoes, I am officially transformed.

I am a different Chloe.

For the first time in my life, I am the pretty one, and I know it.

And Devon’s noticed.

“Hey, want to grab some air?” he asks, bending down toward my ear.

I’m tempted to laugh and tell him that that’s the oldest line in the book. That I’ve read enough romance novels to know that he, a) wants to get me alone, and b) wants to get me away from C. J. Tollefson, who I’m pretty sure is trying to get me drunk.

But when you’ve dreamed of a moment for this long, it’s not the time for jokes. So instead I smile. “Sure. That sounds great.”

He leads me outside, and I don’t miss the death glare from Kristin and her group of catty tennis friends.

I should probably feel guilty. This is her ex.

But you know what? He was
my
Devon first.

And I’m pretty darn sure Kristin knew that when she went after him.

I don’t want my sister to be miserable. I just want her to grow up. Hopefully into a nicer version of herself.

It’s quieter outside, the light noticeably dimmer. There’s hardly anyone around.

In other words, it’s perfect.

Isn’t it? Why doesn’t it feel
more
perfect?

“Excited for school to start?” Dev asks.

I inhale. “Yes. So excited. This summer’s been . . . weird.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “How so?”

I lift an eyebrow. “You broke up with your girlfriend of forever. Don’t you think it’s been a weird summer?”

His smile fades. “Yeah. Although, I think the breakup had been coming for a while.”

“Oh, bullshit,” I say with a friendly laugh. “You were all over each other at the beginning of the summer.”

He looks a little surprised that I’m not letting him off easy, but he recovers. “Touché. I guess maybe a part of me knew. A part of me didn’t.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. “I’m assuming the part of you that didn’t know is . . .”

I point at the lower half of his body, and Devon laughs, giving me an incredulous look. “Jeez, Chlo, what’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head and setting my glass on a nearby table. “Too much wine, maybe.”

I head over to the railing overlooking the dark, silent golf course and he comes up beside me. “So I know this summer’s been weird for
me,
” he says. “But how has it been weird for you?”

His question sounds genuinely curious, and it hits me then how little Devon Patterson knows me. I mean, he knows me, the old me. He knows my history and my interests and my personality. But there’s so much he doesn’t know, too.

I’ve always put him in that category of
people who know me better than anyone.

But does he? Really?

“Just . . .” I bite my thumbnail a little, then drop my hand, staring straight ahead. “Guy trouble.”

“
Guy
trouble?”

His voice is incredulous, and I give him a look. He quickly backpedals. “I just . . . I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not. Really. It’s just . . . complicated.”

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “But you’re interested in this guy?”

Oh, God, this is weird.

Devon Patterson is talking to me about my love life. I mean, we’ve talked about guys before, when I had other lame excuses for boyfriends, but that has always been different.

It’s always been my sister’s boyfriend showing a token interest in his old friend while holding hands with Kristin.

This . . . this is
single
Devon. Asking
single
Chloe who she is interested in.

It’s time. It’s the perfect time to tell him.

I’m interested in you. I love you. I’ve always loved you.

But the words don’t come out.

I don’t know if the words are true.

Not anymore.

My hand goes up to my smooth, boring hair. The last time I wore my hair like this was at the bar with Devon and Michael.

I hated it. I’d promised Michael I wouldn’t change.

And yet here I am in a too-tight dress with too-flat hair.

All night, I’ve been disappointed that Michael didn’t show up to the party.

But now I’m glad.

I don’t want him to see me like this.

“Chloe?” Dev asks.

“It was just a little . . . thing,” I say, having absolutely
no
words for whatever happened between Michael and me.

“So you’re not with anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Chloe.” Devon’s hand touches my arm and I jump a little.

He laughs nervously. “Sorry. Just trying to get your attention. You seem distracted.”

I laugh then. I’ve been spending most of my postpubescent life trying to get this guy to notice me. Now he is noticing me, and all I can think about is a dark, angry guy who’s one big ball of damaged.

“Chloe.” Devon is closer now.

My breath catches, and I look up at him. He’s so . . . pretty. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, perfectly chiseled features.

I want to want him.

Correction: I want to want him like I
used
to want him.

His hand moves up, and his thumb brushes against my temple. Gently. Tenderly.

I close my eyes.

Forget Michael. He’ll never want you.

Only . . . Devon hadn’t wanted me, either. Not until . . .

I push aside the warning.

“You look amazing tonight.” His voice is soft. Sexy. “I love your hair like this.”

Mayday
.

He drops his hand but moves even closer, and his face is more urgent now. He frowns as though frustrated by what to say next.

“Chloe, I think I’ve been blind. Really blind.” He laughs nervously. “For like,
years
.”

My eyes go wide as I search his face. “What do you mean?”

His smile is knowing then. The smile of an old friend who knows your every tone, even if he doesn’t know your heart. “I think you know what I mean, Chloe.”

I close my eyes and try to take a step back, but his arm is there, touching my hip. Just barely.

“Devon—”

His other hand comes up, rests on the other side of my waist. “You’ve always been there for me, Chloe. You’re the one I talk with, laugh with . . . you listen. I’m myself when I’m with you.”

I let out a shaky breath. I can’t believe this is happening.

How long had I dreamed of this precise moment?

His hand comes up and he gently touches my cheek, his dear, familiar eyes burning into mine. Desperate. Urgent. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? I think . . . I think you’re the one, Chloe. I think you’ve always been the one.”

I stare at him, waiting for the moment of euphoria to rush over me.

Come on. Come
on
. Swoon, damn it! Tell him you love him!

But I don’t tell him. Instead I ask him. “Devon, where is this coming from?”

He frowns. “What?”

I give him a gentle smile, and reach up to take his hand where it still rests against my face. I hold it between mine. “Well, it’s like you said, Dev. I’ve been here all along. The whole freaking time. And you haven’t seen me. You think it was easy for me to watch you with my sister? You think it didn’t kill me?”

His eyes widen, and I nod in confirmation. “Yeah. You’re hearing that right. You may just now be realizing you were with the wrong girl, but I’ve known
forever
. Since we were dorks together. Before you ditched me to be popular.”

His eyes close and his fingers twitch beneath mine.

“It’s okay,” I say, squeezing his hand. And I mean it. “I get it. We were young. We
are
young. Which is why I have to know. . . . I’ve been right in front of you most of my life. Why are you just now seeing me?”

I wait (patiently, I might add) for him to come up with an answer. And I see the second he realizes what I already know.

Then he gives himself away. His gaze drifts over the new me, the skinnier, glammed-up Chloe.

I give him a knowing look.

He groans. “God, I’m an asshole.”

“A little,” I say, with a laugh. “But I’ll tell ya what. As a nod to our old, and solid, friendship, I won’t hold it against you, K?”

He gives me a sad smile. “But you won’t give me a chance, either, will you?”

I stand on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry. No. I want the guy who wanted me
before
I turned into a swan.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it as he shakes his head. “Yeah. I have no idea what that means.”

“Really?” I tilt my head. “Hans Christian Andersen?”

He gives me a blank look and I sigh.
“‘
The Ugly Duckling,’ Dev. Jeez. That was such a good line. Wasted.”

Devon just stands there, watching me with a sad smile.

I smile back. Equally sad. But also . . .

Free
. I’m free of my crushing Devon obsession.

And I know exactly what cured me.
Who
cured me.

“I’ve got to go, Dev.”

“Yeah.” His voice is resigned. “I know.”

I give him one last peck on the cheek before I walk away.

It’s weird, but I don’t look back. I don’t even want to.

I’m totally
not
in the mood to go back into the party and have everyone ogle “the new Chloe,” so I stick to the outdoor patio, following it around to the front of the club. I head to where I parked the car—far from the front door, mostly to piss off Kristin, who’d ridden with me.

I’ve still got my little clutch tucked beneath my arm, big enough for a tampon, a phone, and . . . that’s it.

“Shit!” My purse is so damn small that I gave the keys to Kristin.

I skid to a halt, tilting my head up to the sky. “Really? Really?!”

And somehow I manage not to scream when an unexpected voice comes out of the darkness.

“Need a ride?”

Chapter 31

Michael

I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

I’ve been sitting in the parking lot for nearly thirty minutes wrestling with the extremely uncomfortable urge to go retrieve Chloe and . . .

Well, I don’t know.

That was the undecided part.

But in all my scenarios, I hadn’t imagined that
she’d
come to
me.

She turns at the sound of my voice, looking me up and down as I lean against my car.

“You know, you’d probably enjoy the party more if you actually went inside.”

I push myself upright. “I was inside. For an hour and a half.”

She frowns. “I didn’t see you.”

I laugh and loosen my tie, only to realize it’s already pretty damn loose. “Yeah, well, it was probably hard to see out from the throng of your admirers.”

I expect her to look flattered, or at least smug, but instead she winces.

“Congratulations,” I say, my voice more caustic than I mean it to be.

“For?” She takes a step toward me, as though trying to see my face more clearly in the barely lit parking lot.

“The love of your life looked downright besotted.”

She purses her lips, and instantly I’m reminded of what they’d felt like beneath mine. Plush. Giving. Hungry. “Well, Beefcake, I guess I should probably give credit where credit is due.”

“Sorry?” I ask, dragging my eyes away from her mouth.

She holds out her hands from her sides. “You said you’d help me get Devon Patterson. Mission accomplished.”

I push away from the car altogether and take two steps toward her before I skid to a halt. My heart is beating harder than it should, my breathing is faster than it should be, and I want to punch something.

This how it’s supposed to be,
I remind myself.
She’s supposed to be with Devon.
You want this for her.

No, I damn well don’t.

“So he’s finally seen the light?” I force myself to ask.

Finally seen
you
.

“Well.” She fiddles with her little purse. “If you must know, it was very romantic comedy back in there. He asked if I wanted to get some air. We went outside. He told me I looked pretty. And then he told me I was the one. That I had always been the one.”

I hear a fierce roaring noise, and for an awful moment, I fear I’ve actually roared my protest out loud.

But no. It’s just my chest. Ripping.

“Sounds like you’ve got everything you wanted,” I say, impressed at the calm in my voice. “But I’ve got to ask. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Well, that’s the funny thing, Beefcake.” She takes a step closer, and my heart is beating triple time now, but for a different reason. “I was all set to get butterflies, you know? I thought the heavens would part. Devon Patterson
finally
wanted me.”

“And?”

“And . . . nothing.”

I clear my throat. Look away. “Okay.”

“Michael.”

I meet her eyes, which are nervous as hell.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” she says, her voice coming out fast. “So I’m just going to tell you what I told him: I don’t want the guy who wanted the swan. I want the guy who wanted the duckling.”

A long moment of silence passes.

Then: “Chloe, I don’t know what that means.”

She stomps her foot. “Seriously? Do mothers not read nursery rhymes to their sons?”

“Well, I guess my mom probably did, but—”

“‘
The Ugly Duckling,’ Beefcake. It’s a classic!”

“The ‘Ugly’—Chloe. Do you think you’re ugly?” My vision goes red.

“Well, not ugly,” she mutters. “But any idiot can see what’s been going on here. Devon cares about me. I absolutely believe that. But it took me losing weight and unsnarling my hair and wearing sticky lip gloss to get him to see me. You know, I almost wish that I had crappy vision so that we could really complete this cliché.”