CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
COLTON
There are moments. Moments that, for some reason or another, God gives us in order to help move us forward toward our destiny.
She was my destiny.
And somehow I’d missed it—I’d missed her.
Instead of choosing her every chance I was given, I justified the reasons I should walk the other way, or ignored the fact that I was given a choice in the first place. I made excuses and blatantly ignored those precious moments.
The other thing about the moments that are given to us? They’re limited. We don’t get an endless amount. If you miss them, they’re gone. Time machines don’t exist; you can’t go back and fix what’s been broken.
I hated to admit that I was afraid—terrified that because I’d done the wrong thing for twenty-three years of my life, I wasn’t going to be given the chance to make it right.
She was getting married.
To Max.
Though I didn’t want to throw stones, their relationship seemed at odds with itself: one minute they were all over each other, the next they looked—funny, almost like they were best friends more than lovers.
Sighing, I tried to focus my thoughts on the movie.
Not Max.
Not Milo.
And definitely not the fact that the reason I canceled movie nights so long ago—was that I couldn’t control myself anymore.
She remembered things differently—she was innocent.
I, however, knew exactly how things had gone down so long ago. She’d kissed me, and I’d thanked God that she embarrassed herself in the process so I didn’t end up taking her virginity in the basement.
Jason would have killed me.
I would have killed me.
Movie night was never the same. I couldn’t sit next to her without thinking about her soft lips—I couldn’t breathe the same air without her scent floating into my personal space.
It was a living hell and I felt like a sick pervert for being a senior and crushing on a sophomore, and not just any sophomore, but Jason’s little sis.
“Hey, this is the best part!” Milo smacked me in the shoulder as the movie started. She used to make me read the beginning to her because she said my voice sounded cooler.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat as I tried to lean back and relax. Yeah, it was going to be the longest two hours of my life.
Milo reached forward and paused the movie. “We have to go back, you missed the beginning. You’re supposed to read it out loud.”
“Shit.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I tried not to sound tense as I waited for her to rewind the movie. I read as fast as I could, allowing the hum of my own voice to block out the arousal I felt at her arm grazing mine.
One hundred and thirty-six minutes of hell. I knew exactly how long the movie was because, though I wasn’t a fan of math, it was the only thing keeping me from ripping her clothes off.
If she moved one more time I was going to lose my shit. We were at the very end of the movie when things shifted. With a sigh she leaned on my shoulder and tucked her legs underneath her.
I looked down—I swear it was only to see what she was doing.
And saw directly down her shirt.
Shit balls.
She shifted a bit more; I still stared.
I was going to burn in hell.
And the way would be paved with two very perky, very round breasts. There were worse ways to go, right?
“Luke!” Milo yelled, then shifted closer to me; my body hummed as her head rubbed against my chest.
I imagined her screaming my name.
And suddenly developed a not-so-little problem.
Gently I tried to move away to hide any evidence of where my thoughts were going. I sure as hell didn’t want her to think I had a thing for Luke Skywalker or—God forbid—for robots.
“No.” She yawned and burrowed farther into my chest. “I’m comfortable.”
I almost yelled, “I’m dying!” Instead I smiled like an ass and said, “Yeah, me too, this is nice.”
The hell it was.
I could have sworn my body parts were yelling at me as my muscles strained against my clothes. Free me, free me! I shifted again. Take her, take her!
When I didn’t think I could take it anymore—when I honestly contemplated faking a seizure so I could get some relief from her hot little body—the lights went out—along with the TV.
“Sorry!” Mrs. Caro called from upstairs. “My fault! We blew a breaker! Hold tight.”
I was tight all right . . .
The holding was the issue; any holding and I’d make a fool out of myself.
With a sigh I tried to shift away again, but Milo grabbed my hand. “I’m still scared of the dark.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still scared of sharks, so we can still be friends.”
“I hate that word.”
All I could hear was my own heartbeat in the silence. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Sometimes I do too.”
The lights flickered back on. I turned my head and saw that Milo’s mouth was right next to my chin. Damn it, that woman had never understood her own beauty. She was the type of girl who terrified guys. Her features were too perfect, soft where you wanted them, and sharp where it mattered. Her high cheekbones and pouty lips made me nervous enough—add in her caramel-colored eyes and I was basically a man hypnotized.
I was the damn snake in a basket—in more ways than one.
Ah, if only she had a magic flute.
“You guys down here?” Jason called. The sound of his feet hitting the stairway reminded me of a clock ticking. With each step I pulled farther and farther away from Milo, and in return, her face clouded—as she pulled further and further into herself.
Another moment I’d missed.
Another moment I’d purposefully ignored.
My heart clenched as I wondered if that was the last one I was going to get.