Fold

I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms. “You're babbling.”

She stops for air and her eyes land on my bare chest before she averts her gaze. “You're not wearing a shirt.”

“I was working out.”

It's not exactly a lie.

The pink of her cheeks matches the ends of her hair. “I knew this was a bad idea. I should have just mailed it.” She shoves the box in my direction. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Kit.” I put the box down on the floor. “You didn't bother me.”

Her eyes dart around the hallway, looking anywhere but in my vicinity. “I should go.”

“You look tan.”

I fight the urge to kick myself. Not only because of the strange look she gives me, but because it's not even close to what I really want to tell the girl standing in front of me.

Instead, I swallow the words that are slowly burrowing a hole in the center of my chest whenever I think about her.

Which is far too often for a man in my situation.

“It's January,” I mumble. “Most people aren't so tan in the winter.”

“I just got back from the Caribbean.” She frowns. “My Na

“That's—”

“A bit morbid? Yeah, I know.” She shakes her head. “I hate going.”

“So why do you?”

“I don't have a choice. At least not until I'm twenty-five.” She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I only turned twenty-one last month.”

I know. “Lucky thirteen.”

“Right.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Look, I doubt it will happen, but if you run into Breslin would you mind keeping the fact that you saw me tonight to yourself?”

I raise a brow. “Why? Is she controlling who you can talk to now?”

She shoots me that angry scowl. “No, not at all. It's just...I was supposed to come back from my vacation tomorrow. And if she finds out I came back early, she's going to want to know why, but she has her own stuff going on and I don't want to—”

“Why did you come back early?” I interject because I don't give a shit about Breslin's issues.

She looks like a deer caught in headlights. “It doesn't matter. I'd just really appreciate you not saying anything to her, or your brother.”

“Kit.” I hold her gaze, refusing to let this go. “What happened?”

A mixture of sadness and animosity crosses over her face. “My Na

Since the door is open, there's only one person it could be. Shit.

When I turn around, it's even worse than I anticipated.

Because there's Becca...standing there in some red lingerie getup.

I look back at Kit, but she's solely focused on Becca. “I came here to drop off some of your stuff.”

Becca's face twists. “You could have mailed it, you know.”

I open my mouth to tell Becca to cut the attitude and remind her that she's the one who hurt Kit, but Becca snarls and says, “Now if you don't mind, my fiancé and I were in the middle of something.”

That's when Kit's gaze drops to her belly and the diamond ring on her hand.

“Sorry. Have a nice night,” Kit mumbles as she turns around, stopping to give me a look of disdain before she's gone in a flash.

Something tugs inside my chest and I can't help but feel like I betrayed her in some way. Which makes absolutely no sense, but nothing I feel makes sense when it comes to her.

“I can't believe she showed up here,” Becca says, but I ignore her because my feet are moving quicker than it takes to process the action or tell myself not to.

I run down the staircase and out the lobby doors, hoping to catch her before she makes it out to her car.

When I see a flash of pink ru

She twists out of my grasp. “What the hell are you doing?”

I ignore the bone-chilling winter wind as I stand there barefoot and shirtless. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She balls her hands into fists. “I knew I shouldn't have come here. I don't even know why I did.”

“Do you still think about that night on the bridge?”

Her jaw nearly hits the ground. “What?”

“The night on the bridge,” I repeat. “Do you still think about it?”

My heartbeat drums in my ears as I wait for her answer.

It's an answer I don't receive because she says, “I think you should go back up to your apartment.”

I disregard that statement. “I've never talked to anyone the way I talked to you that night. In fact, I hate most people and think they're shit. But that—”

“God, just stop.” She gestures between us, her gaze turning hard. “We aren't friends, Preston.”

“We could be.”

“No, we can't.”

She starts walking to her car again, but I grab her wrist where I can feel her own heart beating a mile a minute. “You could have mailed the box, but you didn't. You could have given it to her when you saw her on campus, but you didn't. Hell, you could have given it to Breslin to give to Asher to give to me, but you didn't. You didn't choose any of those options. Instead, you chose the one that led directly to me.”

She tries to wrench out of my grasp. “You're certifiable, you know that?”

I tighten my hold. “Maybe, but you're a liar because we both know the reason you came here.”

She shoves me with her free arm. “Let me go.”

“Give me one good reason and I will.”

“Aside from the glaringly obvious one? Fine, how about three?” She gets close to my face and it's all I can do not to close the distance. “Reason one—the girl you should be worried about is upstairs. Reason two—she has your ring on her finger.” Her lower lip trembles. “And reason three—she's pregnant with your goddamn baby.”

The truth punctures me and I release her, only for her to shove me again. “You're chasing the wrong girl.”

I'm silent as she gets into her car and speeds off, waiting until she's nothing but a tiny dot in the distance to trek my way back to Becca.

“What the hell is going on?” Becca screeches when I open the front door.

Closing it behind me, I side-step her. “Nothing.”

She follows me as I enter the kitchen. “Did you fuck her?”

I reach for a bottle of whiskey, but the sting from her hand across my cheek directs my attention back to her. “I'm not exactly her type.”

My response makes her seethe. “How could you do this to me?”

I open a cabinet and take out a glass. “I didn't do anything.” Ripping a page out of her favorite playbook of deflection I add, “I'm not you, remember?”

She looks sheepish. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of cheating. I'm just trying to figure out why you ran after her.”

“Because I wanted to,” I tell her honestly.

Turns out I don't care enough about Becca's feelings to conjure up a lie and pacify her after all.

“That doesn't make any sense. Not unless—” She gasps. “Oh my God. Are you in love with Kit?”

“I'm not in love with anyone.”

My words hang in the air between us like a terrible secret that was just brought to light.

Her hand flies over her face. “You're such an asshole.”

I bring the glass to my mouth, letting the amber liquid coat my throat before I speak. “Come on, Becca. It's not like you're in love with me, either. Don't act like you were burned when you were the one who lit the match.”