Chapter 64: Sadie: Crossed Lines

SADIE

Trey and I have been on different wavelengths. It takes him holding my waist, looking straight at me, and saying he doesn’t care what people will say about Ezra and me for me to understand how different.

I’ve always thought there are lines people know better than to cross. Your ex’s best friend is one. His other friends aren’t much better. His brother should be an immediate no for everyone involved, which is why I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to shut down every thought I’ve had about Trey being attractive.

Sharing an apartment has made that harder than I expected, but I kept trying because I assumed he saw the same line I did.

Even if he wanted to cross it, I thought the gossip would stop him. Now he’s standing here telling me he wants me and doesn’t care what anyone says.

Alarms go off in my head, each one louder than the last. Pull back. Give us both room to think. Remember that we still have to live together if this turns into something we can’t undo. And before I let myself get any closer to him, find out what this even means to Trey.

"But I don’t know what you want from me," I admit.

"I’m—"

The elevator dings open on our floor. I glance toward the hallway, and his answer vanishes from my mind. Short brown hair, a tennis skirt, a bottle hanging from one hand. Dixie is slumped against our apartment door.

Panic hits before I can work out why she’s here. Trey starts to look over his shoulder, and I turn back to him. I have a second, maybe less, before he sees her. Somehow, that’s enough time to make a decision I never thought I’d make. My hands reach behind his neck, and I pull him down, slamming my lips against his.

Trey goes still. He doesn’t kiss me back right away, and the fear that I’ve read him wrong cuts through everything else. I brought him this close. What if he’s about to pull away?

Then his arms close around me. He lifts me so suddenly that my legs wrap around his waist, and my back meets the elevator wall. The doors slide shut somewhere behind him, but his mouth is on mine now, and I lose track of everything beyond the warmth of it. His body is warm against me too, holding me up while he kisses me with a need I can feel in every breath he takes.

It’s desperate. Wanting. As if he’s been waiting years to kiss me like this, though I know that’s impossible.

He slows just enough for me to catch up, for my lips to part and ask him for more. The moment they do, he takes over again. His scent is everywhere, familiar and so distinctly him that I breathe him in without thinking. He tastes like beer, which I’ve spent the whole night insisting I hate, and somehow I want more of it from his mouth.

His hand comes to my throat, the pressure firm but careful. With my eyes closed, I picture him holding me against the wall, looking as good as he did when he came out of the locker room. Then he makes a low, pleading sound against my lips, and the image disappears. I can feel too much of him to bother imagining anything.

His mouth leaves mine and follows my jaw to my neck. I miss the kiss for about a second before his lips find a place that makes my hands tighten behind his head. One palm slides down to my thigh, keeping me close as he works his way back up. His teeth catch lightly at my ear, and my head tips back with a moan I can’t keep in.

His mouth moves lower again, following the neckline of my top. I feel the fabric shift, then my bra, but by the time I realize how much skin he’s uncovered, I’m too caught up in him.

I’ve never felt anything like this. Every place he touches makes me want more, and I become painfully aware of just how wet I am. My hips move against him before I think better of it, and the hard press of him through our clothes makes me do it again. If he stopped now, I don’t know what I’d do with all this wanting.

I’m too focused on the feel of him against me to hear the elevator doors open again. A voice from the hallway is what finally gets through.

"Trey."

I go still. Cool air touches my nipples, and only then do I realize how far my top and bra have shifted. Trey’s face is still between my breasts, and I can’t even begin to imagine what this looks like from outside the elevator.

When I open my eyes, Dixie is gaping at us.

Seeing her horrified makes me feel a tad bit bad. I did pull Trey into a kiss because she was outside. I just didn’t expect to forget about her so completely.

Trey lifts his head with an annoyed groan. He takes a breath without letting me down, then turns toward her. The veins in his neck stand out, and the change in his expression keeps my attention on him as he carries me into the hallway.

Dixie backs away, clutching the bottle in one hand. She’s barefoot now, her mascara is smeared, and her short hair looks like she’s been dragging her fingers through it all night.

Her eyes move from me to Trey and back again, her breathing growing quicker whenever they land on him.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

Dixie’s lips tremble before she points at him. "You said Sadie wasn’t why you were ending things with me. You said she wasn’t!"

I shift in Trey’s arms. Whatever happened between them, this sounds like a conversation they need to have without me hanging on him. I start to lower my legs, but his hold stays firm.

"Trey," I whisper, "you two need some privacy."

"Shut up," he snaps.

I go still. The words come out sharp enough that I’m too startled to argue. He turns back to Dixie before I can decide what to say to him.

"We ended things six months ago," he tells her. "So I’ll ask again. What are you doing outside my apartment?"

Six months ago? I barely knew Trey then. I want to ask how I could possibly have caused their breakup, but I’m still trying to get down from his arms.

"I had the worst night because of her!" Dixie’s eyes cut to me. "She humiliated me in front of everyone. I came here thinking you’d at least care, and instead I find you making out with her?"

That’s a bold version of what happened at the arena. Then again, I’ve done worse things for Ezra, so I’m hardly qualified to judge her for turning up where she isn’t wanted. I can judge her for expecting Trey to comfort her after they ended things six months ago.

"If Sadie embarrassed you," Trey responds, "you probably deserved it."

I turn to him, blinking. I don’t think he’s ever said anything that good about me. I want to enjoy hearing him take my side, but his eyes haven’t left Dixie, and there’s nothing playful in his face.

Before I can look back at Dixie, a sharp crack tears through the hallway. I gasp and shut my eyes. Trey turns with me still in his arms, putting his back between me and whatever made the sound, while something small scatters across the floor behind him.

My breathing is too fast when I open my eyes. Past his shoulder, Dixie is standing empty-handed. The bottle is in pieces around her bare feet. For a moment, I can only stare. She could have cut herself. She could have hit us. What the hell was she thinking?