“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she did.
“I might pick fights, but you run.”
Layne whirled. Starlight traced shadows across his features, and she was glad for the darkness.
“You’re wrong.” She stepped up and poked him in the chest. “You ran from me on the trail.”
He knocked her hand away. “Yeah, after you pulled away.”
He was so close, almost stealing her breath. She fumbled for words. “Well, I didn’t know what you—”
Gabriel kissed her.
Thank god his hands were there, catching her arms, because her knees didn’t feel up to the job of keeping her on her feet. He tasted like coffee and caramel and sugar. She’d always imagined he would be rough, but he wasn’t. He was gentle, cautious, drawing at her lips in a way that pulled a sound from her throat and made her want to press up against him.
Oh. This was what all the fuss was about.
His hands slid up her arms to find her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. His kiss grew more insistent, parting her lips. At the first brush of his tongue, she gasped and knew her knees were going to give out.
But then Gabriel stepped back, his hands braced on her shoulders. She was left shaking there in the middle of the path, wind coming off the water to whip through the space between them.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough, almost ashamed. “I didn’t think . . . after the way that asshole treated you—”
She shook her head fiercely. “No—it’s fine—”
“I should have waited.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Her breath stumbled when the words escaped, and she felt her cheeks burn.
But he smiled. “Yeah?”
She couldn’t move. Right then, she realized he’d been right, about the running. She wanted to run, before his hold on her heart got any tighter.
He leaned closer, until she could see his eyes. The smile was gone. “Do you want me to let you go?”
No. Never. She closed her eyes and nodded.
A hesitation, then, “I think you’re lying.”
She was. But in what freakish world would a guy like Gabriel Merrick be standing with her in the dark, at the water’s edge, sharing kisses and secrets?
He closed that space between them again, until the line of his body just brushed hers. She couldn’t breathe.
“Do you want me to let you go?” he said again.
She swallowed. “No.”
He dropped his head and ran his lips along the edge of her jaw, and the warmth of his breath made her shiver and lean into him. His hands slid down her arms to catch her waist.
She froze and grabbed his wrists.
He went still and spoke against her skin. “Does it hurt?”
Layne shook her head, feeling fire on her cheeks for an entirely different reason. She kept hearing Ryan’s voice. She’s all deformed under there.
God, she hated him. Them. Everyone.
Don’t cry. Don’t.
But her emotions were all over the place, and she could barely keep them contained. She didn’t even realize Gabriel had pulled her along the path until she felt wood planks against the backs of her knees and he was saying, “Sit.”
A bench. She sat. The wood felt rough through her tights, but sturdy. The tears had held back so far, and she said a quick prayer of thanks.
“You should probably take me home,” she said.
He leaned in to brush the hair back from her face, and it felt so good that she wanted to catch his hand and hold it there. But she didn’t.
“Do you really want me to?” he said.
No, she didn’t. She shook her head and looked out at the inky water.
He leaned closer. “Want to play more truth or dare?”
I dare you to kiss me like that again.
“Truth,” she whispered.
“Truth. Hmm.” He stroked his thumb against her mouth, then brushed his lips against her cheek, moving to kiss the curve of her ear. “Who’s a better kisser? Me or jerkoff Stacey?”
It was so unexpected that she burst out laughing. “You,” she said. “Ugh, he was all slobbery and—”
“Okay, okay, don’t need the visual.” He paused. “Truth.”
She sobered. “Do you think I’m a freak?”
“No.” He was playing with the edge of her turtleneck now, running his finger along her neck in a way that made her wish she’d said to hell with the scars and had worn a tank top.
But then she caught his hand again. “Don’t you care?”
“Care?”
Anger had her shifting on the bench, ready to unleash the rage she should have poured into that idiot by the pool. “That I’m all deformed?”
“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you fixed my test, when you stood up to me in the hallway.”
She brushed his hand away. “You have not.”
“Yes. I have. I didn’t even tell Nicky about you, and I tell him everything.” He paused, and his voice found an edge. “Almost everything.”
Layne studied his profile in the darkness. He’d told her this morning that he and his twin weren’t speaking. She wondered what had happened there.
But that edge in his voice warned her to tread carefully. If she asked, he might not tell her, and this tentative trust would be shot to hell. They’d be back at square one.
She didn’t want to turn back. Not now.
“I’ve never told anyone everything.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone any of it.”
Everything felt fragile again. She stared at him in the darkness, wanting to take that final leap, unsure whether he’d catch her.
And then, just like when she was bolting blindly for the water, he did.
“I’ll keep your secrets,” he said softly.
She looked back at the water. “The fire was a retaliation against my father. He’s a good attorney, but he doesn’t win everything. Some guy went to jail, and his friends were mad. I don’t know all the details, because I was five, and my dad doesn’t like to talk about it. Because Simon is deaf, he can’t hear smoke detectors. There was fire everywhere—they’d thrown glass jars of gasoline into the house. When it all started, my mother went looking for Simon. She didn’t know my father had already gotten him out. And she was so busy searching his room that she didn’t even think to check mine. The firemen pulled me out, but it was too late. I’d climbed into my closet, and the wall burned through the back—”
Her voice broke, and she told herself to knock it off. It’s not like she hadn’t lived with this for years. “I remember waking up in the hospital, and my mom was crying. She kept asking me, ‘Why didn’t you get out, Layne? Why didn’t you get out?’ For years, I felt so guilty, like I’d done something wrong. I did everything I could to please her, like wearing the perfect little clothes she’d buy me, or with the horseback riding, going to every perfect little show she wanted. It wasn’t until I was twelve, when everyone was wearing those stupid shirts with the shoulder cut out, you know? I wanted to wear one. I begged for one, and she finally snapped, ‘But, Layne, people will see your scars. What will they think?’
“I felt like such an idiot. All those boots and long-sleeved dresses. Horseback riding, for god’s sake! One of the only sports you have to do fully clothed! I’d been so desperate to please her that I never realized she was trying to hide her mistake. But by then I’d been hiding the scars for so many years that I had to keep them a secret. What eighth grader wants to walk into school and declare she has scars all over her body? But people noticed anyway. I mean, when you wear long sleeves in May, people start thinking you’re weird. But I stopped wearing her fancy clothes. Every time she bought me something, I knew it was a cover-up for the scars.”