Holding On (Memories #1.5)(18)
Author: Emma Hart

“I’m calm. Who isn’t calm?” I shrug. “My glass is also empty.”

“You held your glass the whole time?”

“It’s Vino. Hello?” I wave my glass, sigh, and place it on the table behind me. I perch on the edge of it. “So I’m supposed to stay in here until you think I’m calm enough to go back out there?”

He nods. “Pretty much.”

“Yep. Because being stuck in a room with you is guaranteed to calm me down. I mean, why wouldn’t it? You are my favourite person after all,” I scoff.

He crosses the room, stopping right in front of me. “You might like me if you give me a chance instead of bitching at me all the time, Jennifer,” he says softly. “That wouldn’t kill you, would it?”

I look up, right into his warm eyes. “Probably not, but I don’t want to take the risk.” He shuffles a little closer, and I swallow. I might not like him, but my body sure as hell does.

Traitorous bundle of blood and hormones.

“What’s life without a little risk?” he whispers, his breath crawling over my cheek. He looks down at me with his dark eyes, watching me carefully. There’s a need and a want in there that I’m sure is mirrored in my own right this second, but I’m not prepared to acknowledge that crazy thought outside of my head.

There’s nothing wrong with a little risk in life. But liking Bing? That’s a risk too big, even for me.

My heart is thundering against my ribs, sending my blood thrumming through my body. I’ve gone from angry at Adrian to wanting Bing in less than five seconds. I’ve gone from wanting to kill Bing to kissing him in even less. He’s just stood there, not touching me at all, but I can feel him all over me. This is wrong.

But I can’t step away from him.

“Jen,” he says softly.

I take a deep breath in, and let it back out slowly. I cast my eyes downward, looking at the teal material of my dress against the shiny blackness of his shoes. The contrast is there, and it’s like looking at the both of us, and the feelings I have towards him.

I really don’t like him. He aggravates the living crap and then some outta me, yet when he’s standing so close to me, I wanna kiss the hell out of him.

His hand touches my face, gently brushing some stray hairs from my cheek. I look back up, letting my eyes meet his again. He shuffles even closer, and through the struggle to control my breathing, I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

Guilt. Want. Annoyance. Lust. Frustration. Need.

I know this is wrong. My head is screaming at me to move, my heart is crying out for a person that’s not here, but my body is frozen in place. I know I should push him away, insult him, and add some sarcasm in for good measure. I should ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. I should tell him to get his ass on the other side of this room and not come near me until we’re back in the main hall…

But as his face tilts towards mine, and my eyes flutter shut, I still can’t step away from him.

And that could be the very thing that is my undoing.

THE END.