Her eyes stay on the shingles with each step. I can see the smile wanting to tug her lips upward, ready to scream out her victory.
Her bright emerald eyes shine with pride as she comes near the edge. I’m going to have to eat my words after this, and a part of me is excited for her. I don’t mind pretending that it didn’t matter, when she and I both know the truth.
Her eyes leave the roof and collide with mine. They’re vibrant, and I want to scoop her up and hug her. I have to say I’m damn proud of her. Then her face falls, her eyes grow large, and I instantly know that face. It’s a face that knows something bad is going to happen. Her hands come out in front of her, trying to steady her legs, but they get caught up in her dress. The exact reason I said she couldn’t do it.
It feels like my heart is in my throat as I watch. Everyone is silent, our ice creams falling to the ground unnoticed.
“Danger.” Her small voice shakes, and I instantly know this is my fault. “I don’t think I can go back up.” Her volume is low, but each word is like a punch to the gut.
Her hands collide with the pebbled dark shingles, then her knees, as she slides to the edge. The roof isn’t flat but grows steeper right after the bell. Not once does she cry for help, and my heart splinters.
“Crash, lift me up,” I call out.
He doesn’t waste a second, kneeling down so I can sit on his shoulders. “Epic, be ready to brace us.”
“What about me?” Frankie calls out a little too loudly. There is no hiding how scared she’s feeling.
“Look out for parents.”
“Haven, can you climb back up?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer but violently shakes her head. “Let your legs drop over the edge. I’ll be able to reach them.”
Slowly, as her whole body shakes, she does as I say. I reach up, trying to grasp onto her feet. They’re still too high for me to touch them. “Let go. I have you.” I mean it in every fiber of my being. I won’t let her drop to the ground without me.
I know before it happens it will hurt like hell. I’m willing to take all of the blunt force for her. Her small frame lets go of the hot roof, and she falls into my arms with an oomph. I hold on to her as tightly as I can, cradling her to the best of my abilities. No matter how strong Epic and Crash are, we all fall. I land flat on my back, the wind stolen right from my lungs, with Haven securely on my chest.
No one says a word. I couldn’t even if I tried.
Haven lifts her head and looks at me. Without hesitation, she kisses me right on the lips. I may have told the guys I’ve kissed a lot of girls. But in truth, Haven is my first one. Her lips are softer than I imagined they would be, and it makes my whole body tingle like it could float.
I can hear my cousins laughing at me and starting to heckle us, embarrassing me more than I’d like to admit. “Nice unicorn panties.” I smirk to Haven, covering up how I feel.
Her face goes beet-red and her lip snarls upward. “Danger, you are the meanest boy around,” she says, hitting my chest before she and Frankie run away from us.
Watching HAVEN BEING thrown off the bull has my heart back in my throat. I watch in slow motion as her head hits the saddle, but I’m a few seconds too late to make her safe. Standing over her, I watch as her eyes flutter while closed.
“Haven, you okay?”
She slowly opens her eyes, looking confused. “Did I make eight seconds?”
Relief instantly hits me. I go to pick her up, holding her arms to keep her steady. She didn’t make the eight seconds, but I don’t feel bad for lying to her. “You sure did.” Impulsively asking her to move in with me is both the best and worst decision I’ve made to date. Having the one girl who gets me and is fun as hell in my house, all while knowing she is way too good for me. This is the same girl I’ve been fantasizing about since I was thirteen years old, but have never been able to keep because of my reputation.
She opens her mouth to say something, but instead of words spilling out, everything she’s drank comes right back up, hitting my pants and the ground, making one hell of a mess.
Three
Haven
Groaning, I can feel my stomach tighten and my head throb. “I’m never drinking again,” I mutter to myself, pushing my red hair out of my face. I can’t even bring myself to open my eyes yet. I should have never allowed Frankie to talk me into going out and drinking. I feel guilty and hate how tired I feel.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, roomie.”
My body pauses, and all I can do is smell his crisp, woodsy, naturally masculine scent that my body has memorized to associate with him. As I open my eyes, Danger’s room slowly comes into focus with him staring at me. My eyes widen, and I push more of my crazy hair out of my way, hoping this is a nightmare.
“Damn, you look good in that shirt.” He winks while passing me a water bottle.
Hesitantly, I sit up, accepting the bottle. “Please tell me why I’m in your shirt.” My voice is an octave higher than normal, my heart tripping over itself. I promised myself four years ago that I wouldn’t find myself in his bed again.
“You upchucked all over me and yourself. You owe me a car wash in only a bikini because I was such a great best friend.” He smiles at me sweetly, but he’s serious. There is no teasing in his tone.
My next breath comes out shaky, and I have no idea why he’s looking at me in that way. Like he likes what he’s seeing. He should be disgusted with me. As if in slow motion, the last part of the night comes dancing back in, reminding me of everything.
Rolling my eyes, I groan, before responding, “You’re not my best friend.” The back of my head bumps into his headboard, and my mind forces me to remember how shitty my life is right now.
He’s intently assessing me, making my shallow breaths much harder, and I have no clue why. I wait for him to say something, the air becoming heavy. I never know how he’s going to react, and I hate it. With the amount of time we spend together, how can I not read him better?
His stance is broad, arms crossed over his chest. I allow a slight smirk of a challenge to be seen, hoping to rile him up. It’s the only thing I can do to distract myself from the fact that I’m in his bed, in his shirt, and right now, he’s looking sexier than hell. While I’m all bedhead, hungover, and wishing I could crawl deep under these covers.
“Do you want my bedroom or the spare?”
I have a feeling if I said his master bedroom, he wouldn’t be moving out of it. My heart starts to accelerate, realizing this is it. I’m officially moving in, and this wasn’t some drunk thing he’s going to forget about.
“I won’t put you out. I’ll take the spare room.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t be putting me out either way.” He’s standing relaxed with a sense of ease to him.
The sound of the front door opening and shutting rings through our stare-down, but neither one of us backs down. He’s expecting me to jump up, because I’m in his bed and in his shirt, making it look like something happened here last night. When nothing did. I refuse to let him win. I won’t be backing down. I can easily explain this situation. His head tilts with a slight nod, and my heart does a little twist, feeling his unspoken pride.