Keep

“Stop pacing, the sand ants might get you.” Zane crossed his arms and yawned, while I started jumping into the air and slamming my feet against the sand in an effort to kill them all. “Or you could just scare them, so they willingly sacrifice their lives via a flip-flop earthquake.”

“Are they on me? Are any on me?” I screamed running around in a circle while trying to shake the sand out of my clothes.

“Yeah, like five hundred. We may have to burn your clothes. Well, sorry to say this, Fallon, but you need to strip.”

I stopped and glared. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious.” He winked. “Now where are we on the whole stripping thing?”

I shuddered as I looked down at my arm and of course, one ant, one tiny ant was crawling toward my face, it was enough to make me scream all over again, this time launching myself in Zane’s direction. “Get it off!”

“Whoa!” He backed up while I flailed my arm in front of his face.

“GET IT OFF!” I yelled louder, my arm sailing into his nose, I heard a crunching noise before he cursed and fell to the ground holding his face.

“Oh, no!” I fell to my knees and grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

He tilted his head back. “I’m pretty sure you just punched me in the face over an ant.”

“I think it was…red.” Like my face. Lame excuse.

His eyes teared up as he blinked a few times then narrowed his gaze on me. “You do realize I went from confessing one of my biggest secrets in the world to you, to getting punched in the face, all within the span of three minutes, doesn’t really bode well for this friendship, right?”

“Sorry.” I cringed. “But you were the one who said something about ants!”

“Because the minute I told you I was a virgin you couldn’t get away quick enough!” he shouted back.

“Because that makes you too perfect!” I matched his voice, shoving my body against his. “You aren’t allowed to be a virgin too! It’s not fair! Maybe that’s why I punched you! It’s the universe’s way of getting even!”

“The hell it is!” he roared and then winced. “I’m being punished for having self-control, is that it?” He spread his arms wide and then lay back against the sand. “May as well let the ants take me.”

“That’s suicide,” I joked.

“We had some good times.” Zane closed his eyes and smirked. “But I think I’ll take my chances with the ants, at least they want to touch me.”

“I think any woman with the ability to breathe and at least chase you down, wants to touch you.”

“Ah, the man becomes the antelope, the woman the lion.”

“Yes.” I laughed. “Exactly where I was going with that analogy.”

“Well, at least I like antelope.”

“Have you ever even met one?” I rolled my eyes and lay against his chest. My hand found his, he squeezed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t meet antelope, you discover them in the wild, and I can attest to them being completely friendly. Clearly, it’s the ants you need to worry about. And the local girls with glasses who somehow know how to pack a punch in tiny little bodies.”

“Sorry.” I cringed, ducking my head into his chest further. “But look? I’m lying down with you and the ants.”

“It’s almost like Romeo and Juliet, both willing to die for one another.”

“Yes.” I laughed against his chest. “Exactly like that.”

“Come bitter conduct! Come unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on. The dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark! Here’s to my love. O true apothecary!”

“Thy drugs are quick,” I added in a hoarse whisper as Zane leaned down, tilting my chin toward his lips.

“Thus,” he whispered gruffly. “With a kiss…I die.”

And Zane Andrews kissed me.

Again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zane

I WAS KISSING HER again.

It was becoming a thing, just like casual hand holding, or touching her, my lips had this insane mad desire to taste hers—and I watched myself, the self-control, the insecurity of people using me for their own selfish reasons, slowly slip away with each piece of myself I gave—each piece she took.

Because that’s what kissing was.

Personal.

Intimate.

A very real way to share your feelings about someone without actually saying them—I was a wordsmith, it was my job to make people believe with my words that I was in love with them, that I was in love with love.

But my lips?

They had always been mine.

My virginity, mine.

They couldn’t take it—because I refused to give it.

Nobody should ever feel like they have to give pieces of themselves in order to gain love, security, acceptance, I knew that better than anyone did—because I’d had to grow up without all of the above.

Until finally, I was given it right along with fame.

But like so many things, it was reserved for when my albums sold, when I made people money. It wasn’t real.

Until now.

Now it felt real.

In her arms, it was beginning to feel too real.

“Zane.” Fallon pulled away, her black glasses askew on her face, a few freckles made themselves known, just adding to her cute face. “You probably need to stop quoting Shakespeare and kissing me on the beach if you want to stay friends.”