Not one to back down—no matter how gorgeous the taunting face might be—I raised my hand again, but Colt intercepted it, flipped me off the couch onto my back, and pinned me to the floor.

Cool air hit my stomach as my shirt hiked up toward my bra. Colton kept his hands pressed against mine—which were still pinned to the floor like freaking thumbtacks.

“Easy or hard?” he breathed, lips an inch from mine.

I refused to answer.

“That’s what I thought—for you—always hard.”

I smirked and arched underneath him.

He cursed and looked away. “Right, so I cheated, sue me. At least I apologized, and I’m willing to spend the next two hours watching one, not three, Star Wars movies, so take your pick.”

“You will?” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. When we were little Colton and I had had movie night every night of the summer. Jason always fell asleep so it was always me and Colt eating popcorn, playing games, getting sick off candy.

The two things I missed more than anything in the world while I was away at school? Colton and movie night.

My throat got all thick as I tried to rein in my emotions, but that’s the thing, when you want something so bad that you ache—you can’t help but respond with raw emotion.

Forget wanting the guy to kiss me—those feelings would always be there. But having him as my friend? My lifelong friend who used to do the Chewbacca voice for me so I wouldn’t be scared of Stormtroopers in my closet?

Colton was always there for me when I needed him, maybe that was part of my driving force, part of my desperation. He was everything I’d always wanted.

We fell asleep together on the couch—always.

Until I started to grow up.

And then we sat in separate chairs, until finally we stopped movie night altogether.

“You okay?” he whispered, gently releasing my hands and brushing some hair from my face.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes searched mine. “I’m sorry that the minute we started getting older these things, these moments, stopped. I’m sorry I stopped playing dragon slayer. But I’m not sorry for fighting with you.”

“What?”

His forehead touched mine. “I’d rather fight with you, bicker with you, every damn day of my life than have nothing at all. I’m selfish enough to want any piece of you—even if it’s the bad, the ugly, the ridiculous. So even if you hated me, I’d still die a happy man—because I’d still be on your mind.”

“Yeah?” I said weakly. My heart soared, even though I told it to stop getting its hopes up. Colton wasn’t being romantic, he was just reminiscing about childhood.

“I’d rather be on the receiving end of a black eye from you—than the receiving end of a kiss from another.” He kissed my cheek, his five o’clock shadow rubbing against my skin. “Truth.”

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?”