Page 75 of Sour Notes
Leaning back, I force myself to ignore our moms—who have progressed to hypothetical wedding planning—and relax against Swayze’s chest, staring out onto the water.
Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath, and finally my brain starts to quiet after all the emotional whiplash.
Exhaling, I release all the tension I’ve been carrying with me for weeks.
Swayze's free hand falls to my bare thigh, exposed by the slit in my dress and grips it possessively.
Tonight’s showdown didn’t go the way I’d planned, but at least the awkward first encounter is over. I’ve got two weeks to put Pete in his place.
Right now, I want to try and enjoy this moment.
Eli and Fur’s “Oceanside" starts playing low on speakers around us, adding to the dreamlike vibe that’s taking over.
Swayze’s thumb traces circles on my inner thigh, drawing me in until I’m nestling further into his broad chest to watch the sunset.
His free arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him, as his lips brush my neck, before trailing down to my bare shoulder.
The move makes me shiver.
Despite everything that’s happened, this isn’t the worst way to end the first day.
If anything, it’s almost a little too close to perfect for something so fake.
17
SWAYZE
Punching the limp-dick excuse of a cushion, I toss and turn on the cream sofa for the hundredth time. I probably should’ve sat on the damn thing before offering myself up as tribute.
It’s rock hard. Pure torture.
My feet hang off the end, and it’s not wide enough for me to lie flat without an arm falling to the floor. How the hell am I gonna manage two weeks on this without wrecking my back?
I let out a low groan, shift again, flop backwards, and throw an arm over my eyes, willing sleep to take me.
Mia’s soft snore taunts me like a smug little ghost, as if to say, ha ha, look at me, I can sleep just fine on this huge, comfortable, empty bed.
In my sleep-deprived hell, I should hate her. But I can’t. Not even a little.
Not after what I saw tonight.
I’m pretty sure I left my bleeding heart out on that terrace. My mind hasn’t stopped spiraling since that asshole confronted us, driving me insane with questions I can’t answer.
How did she stay with that guy for so long?
Was he always like that?
What else has he said to her?
Is he the reason she won’t take a chance on me?
I deal with total pricks all the time in my line of work, but tonight’s the first time I’ve ever genuinely wanted to commit murder.
The second he walked over, I knew he was gunning for her from the cold, calculating sneer he sported. Watching his eyes scan her body, the beast in me started braying for blood.
If we were alone, I’d have knocked him out—no question. But I’m not gonna cause a scene in front of both our families and embarrass Mia, no matter how satisfying it would be to see him bleed for what he’s done to my girl.
But fuuuuuck… I still failed her.
