She’s quiet, and that’s not like her. My plan to steal a few moments alone on the water was ruined by Penelope, so I have no idea where Maren’s head is at. I can only imagine what she must think of me now—her older brother’s best friend who took advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable situation. I never should have invited her into my bed last night. It was a mistake, and I’ll apologize the first chance I get.
Or maybe that’s not the case. Maybe she’s quiet because she’s planning how to tell Wolfie. Or . . . maybe she’s planning when we’ll do it again. Either way, I have to know what she’s thinking. I need to talk to her and make sure she’s okay.
My place is on the way to each of theirs, so Wolfie drops me off first. Outside my apartment, he salutes me from the driver’s side while Maren smiles from the passenger seat.
“Thanks again for a fun weekend, Hayes. It was really sweet of you to have us all over,” she says.
“Anytime.”
“See you bright and early tomorrow,” Wolfie says and rolls up the window before driving away.
I trudge myself and my duffel upstairs, wishing Maren had given me some kind of code to crack instead of a polite, generic thank-you. I still have no idea what she’s thinking, but I know now what I have to do.
Wolfie will be dropping off Maren next. Her place isn’t far from mine, so I’d say I have a good ten minutes before she’s alone in her apartment. I catch up with Rosie for a few minutes, starting to fill her in on the weekend. When the time comes, I excuse myself to my bedroom and dial Maren’s number, unconsciously holding my breath while it rings.
“Did you forget something?” Maren’s tone is teasing, playful. Too playful for her to still be with Wolfie.
“Are you alone?”
“He just dropped me off.”
“I just, I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
She doesn’t respond right away, and I can hear her keys jangling and the door closing behind her.
“Are you okay?” I repeat.
“What are you asking me, Hayes?”
“I mean, did we—did I—I wanted to make sure I didn’t cross a line last night.”
She giggles, but not the light, airy, girlish giggle I’m used to. This one comes from somewhere deep in her throat, somewhere sensual.
“Of course I’m okay.” She laughs a little, and it sounds like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t.
I let out a relieved breath. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
She giggles again. “You know, I’m glad you called, actually. I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come to the fundraiser with me next weekend.”
“Like as your date?”
“No. I don’t know. I just figured since you were so important and instrumental in making it all happen, it’d be nice to have you there with us. But I totally understand if you—”
“I’ll be there.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
We chat a little while longer about a few final details for the fundraiser before hanging up. When I walk out into the kitchen for a glass of water, I find Rosie sitting at the table, painting her fingernails a bright shade of pink.
“You look like hell,” she says, glancing up at me over her glasses.
“I missed you too.”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the lake house? You know, sometimes too much sun can make people do things they don’t mean.”
If you only knew.
I take a sip of water, the liquid cool going down my throat. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. We all had a good time.”
She narrows her eyes. “Well, make sure you drink two of those. You’re probably sunburned under that shirt. No one applies sunscreen properly these days.”
I nod and refill my glass. “I’m exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Love you.”
“I love you too.”
I trudge back to my room and shut the door behind me.
That phone call with Maren should have made me feel better, so why do I feel like a piece of shit that’s just been run over by a dump truck? She might not think we crossed a line, but I’m starting to wonder if we’re both in the wrong here. I might want her, and she might want me, but that doesn’t make what we did right.
Later, I fall asleep, huddled alone under the blankets. Just like I do every night.
12
MAREN
The morning of the fundraiser, I wake up with butterflies in my belly. It’s half excitement, half nervous energy, and my stomach churns because I need tonight to go well.
I reflexively reach for my phone, scrolling through my social media feed in an effort to quiet my mind. Immediately, I land on a photo of Wolfie and Hayes at the beach last weekend, drenched in lake water and sunlight. My brother, ever the stoic one, is frowning. But the huge, genuine smile on Hayes’s face makes my heart swell with emotion.
What happened at the lake house was . . . surreal. Ever since, I’ve spent every night tossing and turning between vivid memories and hazy dreams of Hayes’s lips on my skin, his tongue tracing sensual lines down my body, worshipping my most sensitive spots. When I close my eyes, I can still hear his moan as I fondled his length before coating it with hot, wet kisses.
Are you okay?
When he asked me that question so sincerely, I wanted to blurt, I’m better than okay. But we’re exploring entirely new territory now, terrain left untouched during years of platonic friendship and stolen glances. I have to curb my enthusiasm if I want to stay on Hayes’s radar as more than his best friend’s sister. But I’m not too worried . . . after all, I have a lot of practice at it.
I open my messages and begin drafting a text to Hayes before I can psych
