Make Me Hate You: A Best Friend's Brother Romance Page 14

  He was my everything, and had been for months.

  How could I have lost sight of that? How could I have so easily let him slip from my mind, filling that space with the one boy I’d sworn I would forget?

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw myself out the window just to save everyone in my life from the disaster I’d become.

  Instead, I held the note to my chest, closing my eyes and breathing in a promise to Jacob and to myself that I would get myself back on track.

  I’d slipped. I’d made a mistake. I’d gone prying into a past possibility that would never, ever be, and I had to find a way to let it go.

  To let Tyler go.

  When my eyes fluttered open, I spotted a figure down the beach, a white t-shirt and mess of brown hair fading in the distance.

  And I knew without a second thought that this would be the hardest thing I would ever do.

  Later that night, or early the next morning — I couldn’t be sure which — I woke from a dream so vivid it felt more real than the bed I woke up in.

  It took a moment for me to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings of the beach house, to the sound of the waves washing over the shore outside, the soft hum of the fan above me, the scent of the salt and sand.

  My heart was racing, sweat covering me in a thin film as I kicked the covers off of me and let out a groan, covering my face with both hands.

  In my dream, Tyler had snuck into my room, into my bed, and I’d woken with his hand inside my panties.

  The dream that had felt so real was blurred now, cementing the fact that that was all it was — a dream. But when I’d first woke, I’d almost expected for him to still be there beside me, his fingers still wet from my climax, lips still sinking into my neck with soft, pressing kisses.

  I shook my head, dragging my hands down over my face until they flopped onto the mattress at my sides. I needed to go back to sleep. It’d be a long day tomorrow, and I needed rest.

  But the ache between my legs was so strong and insistent that I writhed against it, biting my lip and trying not to think about the fact that Tyler was right next door.

  His bed could be against the same wall as mine was, our headboards separated by only a thin layer of drywall.

  He could be sleeping just a few feet away from me right now, curled onto one side, softly snoring, dreaming.

  Or maybe he was awake, too… his hands in his boxers, back arching off the bed as he moaned, touching himself to the thought of me.

  No.

  I shook my head, mentally slapping myself. If I needed to rub one out to go back to bed, it would be to the thoughts of my handsome, amazing, perfect boyfriend who I’d spent the evening with on video chat.

  I closed my eyes, picturing his face — his deep green eyes that had stolen my breath away the first time we met, his bulging biceps and sculpted abs, the way he seductively bit his lip before pulling me into him…

  I rolled onto my stomach, tucking a pillow between my leg with the movement, and even the softest brush of the fabric against my clit had me sucking in a breath and stifling a moan.

  It wouldn’t take me long.

  My hips flexed, knees spreading wide over the mattress as I closed my eyes and succumbed to the sensation rushing through me like a flood. I was suspended somewhere between being asleep and being awake, my body moving in dreamlike waves and rolls, soft fleets of breath leaving my lips with every pulse of my racing heart.

  I knew exactly how to move, how to rub my clit against the firm edge of the pillow just right. The orgasm was already building before even a full minute had passed, and I picked up the pace, desperate to reach my climax.

  Tingles shot like sparks in my chest, firing through my nervous system to every part of my body. Just a few more flexes and I knew I’d come.

  And as soon as the recognition hit me, my dream assaulted me like a whip, cracking against my back, my inner thighs, my heavy and swollen breasts. The pillow between my legs was suddenly Tyler, and a soft moan broke through me at the vividness of it, at how I could imagine his hands on me, his body under mine, his eyes staring up at me as I rode his thick and throbbing cock.

  That was what undid me.

  My orgasm burst through me like an explosion of powder and flame, filling my chest with black smoke as I cried out and rode it as long as I could. My hips flexed, glutes aching with how much I leaned into the feeling, and I couldn’t be quiet. I moaned and gasped and screamed as quietly as I could, knowing it wasn’t quiet at all, and all with the vision of Tyler beneath me and inside me and surrounding me in every possible way.

  When my hips stilled, the room came back to life.

  I heard how heavy I was breathing, saw how mussed the sheets were all around me, how every other pillow on the bed was on the floor except for the one still perched between my legs. My panties stuck to me, completely drenched, and I rolled onto my back with my chest still heaving, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes until I saw stars.

  “Jesus Christ, Jasmine,” I cursed myself on a whisper, shaking my head. I was supposed to be forgetting Tyler. I’d spent the whole night with Jacob, reminding myself of why I needed to let go of the past, of the fantasy I’d built in my head.

  Of the possibility of us.

  It seemed my sex drive and my conscious were on two completely different pages.

  I sighed, shaking my head and climbing out of bed to clean myself up. After a short, cold shower and a fresh change of clothes, I crawled back into bed having convinced myself that it wasn’t a big deal.

  So what, I masturbated thinking of Tyler. People masturbated to things they couldn’t have all the time — to porn, to visions of their exes, to celebrities, whatever. It was completely normal, and it didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Somewhere between that thought and me slipping back into sleep, I thought I heard a thump against the wall lining my headboard, and a groan of a man giving into temptation.

  But I was sure it was just a dream.

  The next day, my tornado of a best friend transformed into a full-on hurricane.

  From the moment I peeled my heavy eyelids open and found her sitting on the edge of my bed with a fresh mug of tea, she was going full-throttle — talking over plans, going over lists, finalizing this, revisiting that. She stayed glued to my side even as I brushed my teeth and got dressed, not bothering to put on any makeup or do anything with my hair now that we were at the beach house. And after we skipped downstairs, it was time to get to work.

  The biggest part of me appreciated the distraction. I’d spent the evening locked in my room on FaceTime with Jacob, catching up on his week and telling him a little about mine. I needed to reconnect with him, and after three hours on the phone, you’d think that mission was accomplished.

  Instead, I tossed and turned most of the night with a sinking feeling in my gut that told me nothing would ever be the same now that I knew Tyler Wagner once wanted me the way I wanted him.

  And my little midnight romp with my pillow seemed to drive that point home.

  I told myself as Morgan and I worked through her to-do list that it would all come in time. Once I was back in California, back with Jacob and away from Tyler and New Hampshire and everything that made me think of that other life I could have possibly had, I’d be fine again. It was just the scenery playing tricks. It was nostalgia.

  Completely normal.

  To hammer that nail in, I threw myself into every task Morgan laid out for me. Packing up the welcome gifts for all the guests and placing them on their beds for when they arrived? Check. Double-checking the catering order for the big pre-wedding beach day? Check. Helping her finish up her vows and making them shine? Check. Anything she needed, I was her gal, and it was a blessed escape from the dungeon that was my brain at the moment.

  The morning bled into the afternoon, and then into the evening, and as the sun sank lower in the sky, the entire bridal party met on the small stretch of beach where the ceremony would take pla
ce. Morgan wanted to have the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner before any of the out-of-town guests came in so that she could spend time with them and relax in the days leading up to her wedding.

  And so, here we were, lined up on the dock overlooking a gorgeous Cape sunset.

  It wasn’t a dock over water, but rather one situated in the sand. The wood neck of it stretched all the way from the lower bottom of the house behind us, where the bridal party would make their entrance.

  I smiled at the small touches, of which I knew there were plenty still to come. But already, the dock looked fresh and new, the teak wood absolutely stunning against the sand and backdrop of the sun over the water. There was a beautiful gazebo at end of the wood aisle, and I could already picture the chiffon and flowers and twinkle lights that would don that arch in just four days. On either side of the dock was lush, brown sand, ready for the guests to be seated. It was a toes in the sand wedding, as the planner had put it, which fit the bride so perfectly it made my heart pinch.

  “Oh, my girl,” Robert said, pulling Morgan into his side when we were all at the end of the dock. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “You haven’t even seen the best of it yet, Daddy,” she said, reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Just you wait.”

  My heart tensed again at the sight, and a longing for something I’d never had licked at my throat like a cold rush of water. It was a feeling I was beginning to get used to, and when my eyes flicked to Tyler, and he was watching me like he understood exactly what I was thinking, I cleared my throat and pulled my gaze away.

  I hadn’t allowed myself to so much as look at him, let alone talk to him, since our arrival yesterday afternoon. We’d worked on our respective duties while effectively skirting around each other, and that served me just fine.

  I needed to let him go, to let the fantasy go — and the only way to do that was with lots and lots of distance between us.

  The officiant and wedding planner took over then, explaining the timing of the ceremony, cocktail hour, and reception, and taking time to ensure we all understood our place, where we’d be waiting, where we’d walk and stand or sit when it was our time. Then, we did a run-through of the whole thing with Oliver and Morgan standing off to the side to watch.

  When we finished, we all turned to the happy couple, who were whispering amongst themselves while Morgan pointed here and there before hanging her hands on her hips.

  She sighed after a while, stepping back up onto the dock. “I’m just having trouble picturing it, especially for the vows and the lighting of the unity candle and such.”

  “Maybe if you had someone stand where you’ll be standing,” the officiant offered. “We could pretend to light the candle, show you the way it would look from each angle of the audience.”

  Morgan’s eyes lit up immediately. “That’s a great idea!” she said, pointing at the sweet man before her finger landed on me. “Jaz, Ty, get up there and give me a visual.”

  Tyler and I locked hard, no, no, no, please, not us looks before we both looked at his sister.

  “Do you really think this is nec—” Tyler started, but Morgan was already shoving him to stand where Oliver would. She reached over and pulled my arm next, until we were facing each other.

  “I know it seems silly,” she said to both of us. “But you know how I am. I need visuals. And it’s bad luck for me and Oliver to do it before the big day.” She clapped her hands together then, her giant brown eyes tripling in size somehow behind the frames of her glasses. “Pleaseeee.”

  I chuckled as Tyler rolled his eyes, because we were both a lost cause when it came to that girl.

  “We’re already standing here, aren’t we?” Tyler said, sweeping his hand over our general area. He slid his hands into his pockets immediately after, huffing with his gaze stretching out over the water like he couldn’t wait to get this over with.

  That makes two of us, buddy.

  The officiant suggested that we re-do the walk in, just to get the full effect, and so we did. I chastised myself for being so twitchy as I watched Amanda and Oliver’s parents walk out ahead of me, then the wedding planner, who was pretending to be me walking ahead of Morgan. The closer it got to my turn to walk, the more I fidgeted and chewed my lip.

  “Alright, now the bride,” the planner called out, and I took a deep breath, surprised a little when Robert slid up beside me and looped my arm through his.

  “Can’t let the bride walk out there alone,” he said with a wink, and then the doors separating us from the beach opened, and everything came into view at once.

  The sun, setting slowly, casting striking shades of pink and red and orange across the sky.

  The waves, washing in gently behind the gazebo.

  The wood aisle, fresh and new, with family and friends gathered on each side.

  And there at the end of it all was Tyler.

  My heart lurched at the sight of him standing there, waiting for me, but somehow my feet were already moving, carrying me toward him. I held fast to his father’s arm, shaky without even being in high heels as we moved closer and closer.

  And all the while, Tyler just stared.

  His hands were still in his pockets, and he’d been looking out over the water until the doors opened. When he’d turned and seen me, it was as if he could picture what we were pretending — me in a white dress, bouquet in hand, walking toward him to vow to be his wife.

  I watched him carefully as his eyes focused, widening and then narrowing, a thick swallow making his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I expected him to look away, to huff at the ridiculousness of it or roll his eyes again.

  But he watched me, too.

  Our eyes stayed locked on one another, and the seconds seemed to crawl by like hours, until I was at the end of the aisle, just a few feet from him, and a lifetime of words unsaid hung between us like live wires.

  The officiant asked who gave me to be wed, and Tyler’s dad kissed my cheek before handing me to Tyler. He seemed hesitant at first, but then his hand shot out from his pocket, taking mine, and he helped me step up until I was level with him at the foot of the arch.

  I heard a little gasp from where Morgan stood watching, but it felt like it was miles away — like everyone was miles away. Tyler pulled his other hand free of his pocket, and then both his hands were holding both of mine in the space between us, and his eyes crawled over every inch of my hair, my face, my neck, like he was memorizing this moment to lock away forever.

  I let my gaze wander over him, too — noting the way his hair was slightly sandy from his time on the beach, how he was already somehow more tan than yesterday, how his eyes, so deep and dark, held a million different emotions there across from me. He was even wearing a white button-up, the sleeves rolled to the elbow, paired with shorts the same color as the sand. He looked like he could be the groom of a beach wedding.

  And for a split second that struck me like a lightning bolt, I felt like the bride.

  Morgan bounced with glee to my side, already spouting off a bunch of ideas now that she’d seen the full ceremony play out, but I was still watching Tyler.

  He ran his thumbs across each of my wrists, making me shiver so hard my eyes closed with the force.

  Then, he squeezed each hand gently, and he let me go.

  The minute we were no longer touching, I sucked in a harsh breath, turning from him immediately and crossing my arms over my chest. I smiled at Morgan, who was mid-sentence talking through a few things she noticed, and she wrapped me in a hug before dismissing us all to go get showered for dinner.

  Tyler was the first one to bolt for the stairs, but when he was at the foot of them, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  At me.

  He said nothing, but his hand gripped the banister, and he took one step backward, like he was debating running to me instead of up to his room.

  But in the next second, it was like I’d imagined it all. He turned and jogged up the stairs without so m
uch as another pause.

  And again, I found myself watching his back as he went.

  It was too late.

  Those were the words that flashed like little caution lights in my mind as I ran, my legs burning, chest aching, breath coming shorter and shallower with every new step.

  It was too late to be out for a run on the beach.

  It was too late to be out and alone, period.

  It was too late to be awake when I had another full day of wedding activities tomorrow.

  And it was too late to ever have a relationship with Tyler Wagner.

  That last point was the one that mattered most, the one that my brain focused on as I ran, sneakers kicking up sand behind me. The cool evening breeze swept across my damp chest, covering me with chills, but still, I ran.

  It was the only thing I could do after an evening like the one I’d had — packed with emotion and longing and conflict. The war raging on inside my mind, inside my body, inside my soul was invisible to anyone but me.

  And maybe Tyler, but he couldn’t save me.

  No one could.

  I’d woken with the determination to stay far away from Tyler, to let him go, to let the past go. And instead, I’d been forced to walk down the aisle to him, to pretend to be his bride, to let him take my hands in his and stare into my eyes and not say a single word but say everything I’d ever wanted to hear, too.

  It was impossible in that moment to not picture it, to not wonder what it could have been like, what we could have been like.

  And it knifed me open, right down the middle, spilling my guts with irreparable damage.

  I sucked in a harsh breath, running faster, as if that would help me. But as soon as I took three more steps, my mind was wandering again — this time, to the rehearsal dinner, where I’d sat at the restaurant with Morgan and her family, and I’d been a slave to the fantasy of what it would be like to really be a part of it.

  To be Jasmine Wagner.

  To be Morgan’s sister-in-law.

  To be Tyler’s wife.

  I couldn’t escape the whirlwind of what ifs as I sat there, eating and laughing, listening to Morgan tell Oliver stories about me and her and Tyler growing up. Robert teased me. Amanda offered me the last cheddar roll in the bread basket, because she knew they were my favorite. And Tyler sat across from me, his hand around a glass of scotch, a lazy, content smile on his face as he listened and chimed in on our childhood stories.