NESSA

My mom had a smooth, deep voice. It was the kind of voice that either demanded attention or put a man to sleep, depending on how she chose to wield it.

Her voice was her weapon. And her money-maker. Literally.

Momma Elez was an audiobook narrator.

Which meant I had to be careful when diving into my Audible account for a spicy read. Like hell was I going to listen to my mom describe how some character named Hannah cried out when he hit her just right.

But right now, my mom's voice was driving me up the goddamn wall. There was nothing more irritating than listening to someone else have a voice of reason when you were fucking pissed.

"You can just take the bus on Thursday morning," she said calmly. "I saw there's one leaving around ten. What's wrong with that?"

"Because Thursday morning is Thanksgiving, mom. And Piper and I always watch the Macy's Day Parade." I sighed. Spotting a nearby windowsill, I set my drink on it before turning around to stare at the empty street. I leaned against the siding of Julian Brigg's house. "Not to mention there are creeps on the bus."

"When I was your age—"

"Do not finish that sentence."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, maybe because it's not 1985 anymore."

My mom chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. She was so unbothered, and I was so...bothered.

"Wednesday," she began, and I rolled my eyes again at the use of my full name. "We overbooked ourselves, and I'm sorry. But we can't come and get you tomorrow."

"Why can't dad go to his thing with the Harroldsons without you?"

"Because they're expecting me, and that would be rude."

"I'm expecting you."

Mostly I was annoyed because I'd had my eye on this 2015 Nissan this summer, planning to buy it before coming to Oakland. I knew this would happen, and I wanted to get ahead of it. Unfortunately, scheduling and organization had never been the forte of the Elez family.

But my parents talked me out of getting the car. They said they'd pick me up for breaks and that I should save the money because college tuition was expensive enough without car payments.

"It won't happen again."

That was a bold-ass lie.

"Wednesday!"

Oops, said that aloud.

That was what I got for calling my mom after downing a whiskey-coke. But she started texting about not coming to get me tomorrow, and I didn't even think twice before coming out here and picking up my phone.

"Fine. I'll take the bus home on Thursday," I mumbled, unhappy with the results of this conversation. I'd stormed outside all convinced that I'd get her to change her mind, but I should have known better.

We hung up, and I immediately let out a scream as something brushed against the top of my shoulder.

A low chuckle reached my ears, and I looked behind me to see the curly-haired hipster who I'd met at a party last weekend. Jack? John?

"Hey, didn't mean to startle you," he said, keeping his hand on my shoulder awkwardly.

I looked him up and down quick, taking in the Grateful Dead t-shirt and ripped, black jeans. I was surprised I didn't notice him here before; he didn't exactly fit in.

"Never a good idea to sneak up on a girl alone at night," I replied dryly.

"Yeah, my bad." He said the words without an ounce of remorse for the heart attack he'd nearly caused. "I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't peg you as a football party kind of girl."

I raised a brow. "And I didn't peg you as a football party kind of guy."

Jack—John?—and I sat in his room last weekend for at least an hour, ditching out on the party that his roommates had thrown so we could watch Game of Thrones. This guy was completely my type: nerdy, attractive dudes who have barely an ounce of self-awareness but a whole lot to talk about.

And so I'd enjoyed myself.

Until he tried to get handsy, and it felt off. So I bolted out there faster than Daenerys on her fucking dragon.

I should have known better. Never trust a guy whose name starts with J.

He shrugged. "I got roped into coming with a few friends."

"Where are they?" I asked, shifting on my feet and shrugging my shoulder up to try to get him to drop his hand.

He didn't get the message.

And it was making me really uncomfortable.

Looking into this guys' face—hazel eyes, round nose, protruding lip piercing—I wasn't sure why I'd ever felt comfortable with him to begin with. I supposed it probably had something to do with how I really thought he only wanted to chill when I first met him last Saturday. Like just chill.

And now I knew that wasn't the case.

He jerked his head toward the house. "They're inside."

"Oh," I said, my voice sounding breathy to my own ears. "I was just heading back inside myself."

And then, because I couldn't think of anything else to say, I began to turn around, intending to bolt. Again. Let's ride, Drogon.

His grip on my shoulder tightened. "Wait—"

I cut him off, my voice shaking slightly. "Look, I'm going back inside."

He took a step closer to me, and I instinctively retreated. "Nessa, I just—"

"There you are, baby."

Whipping my head in the direction of the new voice, I spotted those bright white shoes first. Walking toward me with purpose. Wait, toward me? Was he talking to me?

And then I raised my gaze, and I saw his eyes trained on me with unwavering precision.

I opened my mouth, but Grayson cut me off.

"I've been looking for you," he said, murmuring the words with the softest, most endearing tone I've ever heard. And if that didn't shock me into silence, the way he strode up to me, brushed Jack's hand aside, and pulled my body into his arms definitely did the trick.

Two strong hands flattened onto the small of my back, and they tugged me face-first into a hard, muscled wall of a chest. I gasped, and before I knew it, my own hands betrayed me, acting of their own accord and flying up to encircle Grayson's neck.

I blinked up at him, and he was waiting. He was waiting for me to look at him.

Because then he winked.

His cheeky grin quickly vanished as he turned to stare Jack down. "You're not having a problem with this guy, are you, babe?"

Even though he'd glanced away, Grayson directed the question at me, and I ignored the confusing swirl of emotions in the pit of my stomach.

I needed to push Grayson away. I needed to tell Jack off myself. I needed to just go back inside and find Beau and—

"Nessa?" Grayson asked, swiveling back to look down at me again. And holy shit, he had the concerned boyfriend look down. His eyes swirled with warmth, and his attention was wholly focused. On me. He lifted a hand, and a finger grazed beneath my chin. And then along my jaw. "Is there a problem I can help with?" he murmured.

I knew it was fake. But no one had ever touched me like this, and I couldn't help but lean in.

"No," I said, my voice soft. Lost in...something.

"That's good," he replied, just as quiet.

"I was just coming to find you," I said, forgetting my plans to push Grayson away. To stand up for myself on my own. Something possessed me to play along, instead. Grayson might be a pompous jock, but he was a hell of a lot better than dealing with Jack.

He didn't make me feel unsafe. For some reason, it was the opposite.

"You were?" Grayson replied, raising a brow. There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice—almost like he'd forgotten this was all an act. But then it caught up with him, and he chuckled to himself. He ducked his head lower, and his nose brushed against mine.

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly. My brain was too busy trying to calculate all of the places he was touching me right now and why every single one of them felt good.

Alcohol. The answer was always alcohol.

"Oh, that's why you're at a football party," Jack called out. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked backward, retreating to the house again. "You're screwing one of the players. I should have known."

Oh, fuck this guy. Like hell was I going to let his scruffy, hipster ass just walk off after that.

I tried to launch myself out of Grayson's arms, intending to storm over to Jack, but Grayson held tight.

"He's just being a jerk because you rejected him," he breathed in my ear. "Let him go."

But Jack sneered at me from across the driveway, and goddamnit, I wanted nothing more than to kick him in the balls. He was barely taller than me, and he definitely spent more time on Reddit than in the gym. I could take him.

"Nessa," Grayson said, a little more firm this time. He gave my chin a little nudge to get my attention.

I jerked my gaze up to his and did the first thing I thought of.

The first thing I thought of that would piss Jack off.

The first thing I thought of when I saw Grayson's concerned expression.

The first thing I thought of when I felt his hand cup my face.

I kissed him.

Grayson's lips were frozen beneath mine for only a split second before he kissed me back, and I knew immediately this was a terrible mistake. A terrible, beautiful mistake. The hand that had been cupping my face tilted it further, and the arm around my waist pulled me in closer. And suddenly, every part of me was fused to him, to this irritating, handsome football boy.

Skillfully, Grayson coaxed my lips apart, and his tongue slipped in to brush against mine. Shivers erupted across my skin. No, deeper than that. A wave of feeling tore through my chest. And lower, too. I moaned, and it was loud enough that I'd certainly be embarrassed about it later. But right now, I didn't care. Right now, all I cared about was making Grayson moan, too.

I pulled back, pressing my lips to his briefly. Once. Twice. And on the third kiss, I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, and he immediately parted them so I could kiss him more thoroughly. He smelled like woody, smokey cologne and tasted like a combination of grainy beer and a hint of whiskey. My whiskey. And it only heightened my drunkenness.

I didn't even think I was that drunk. Apparently, I was wrong.

Grayson rewarded me with a low groan, just like I'd wanted.

"Fuck, Nessa," he muttered before grabbing both sides of my face and dragging me even closer. As if we hadn't already had each other's tongues down our throats.

But this kiss was my lifeline, and nothing else mattered.

"What a bitch," Jack scoffed.

"Ignore him," Grayson breathed against my mouth. He took a step forward, forcing me back against the side of Julian's house.

"Gladly," I replied before tangling my hand into the short hairs at the nape of his neck and urging his lips back onto mine. Grayson eagerly followed my lead, kissing me like he didn't realize a kiss could be this good.

Or maybe that was me.

I didn't know what was up or what was down, but I did know that Grayson's hips were grinding against mine. And goddamn—

"I'll kick his ass later if you want," Grayson added through heavy breaths.

"It's not worth it."

I didn't give a shit about Jack anymore.

A screen door slammed.

"I think he's gone," I said, breathless.

"I think you're right," Grayson agreed before reapplying his efforts to kiss me. His lips caressed mine twice more before they began to trail off, kissing my jawline. And then beneath it. And then I was arching back, allowing him to lower his mouth even further.

"We should—" I was cut off, gasping as Grayson's lips hit that perfect spot on my neck, sucking lightly. "Stop."

I didn't sound very convincing. I wasn't sure I wanted to sound very convincing.

"Ten more seconds," he said with a pleading groan.

I couldn't help but laugh, and his lips broke away from my skin with his own deep chuckle.

"Sorry." He didn't look very sorry, though. A satisfied smirk had settled on his face as he took a step back.

Shaking my head, I pushed away from the side of the house and tried to regain a sense of—well, any sense at all. Logic, rather.

Grayson didn't really have anything to apologize for. I was the one who'd attacked him. He'd just played along.

It wasn't that I was surprised that I'd done it—I'd had my fair share of impulsive kisses before. It was more that I couldn't believe how much I'd enjoyed it.

How much I still craved it.

My heart was pounding, and it was wild.

I spun around, unable to look at Grayson anymore. I grabbed for my drink, which was still perched on the windowsill where I'd left it. And I was about to take a sip when it was plucked from my hand.

Turning back to the thief, I glared at Grayson. He held my cup with a frown.

"What is it with you and stealing my drink?" I scolded, mimicking his frown and perching a hand on one hip.

God, he was annoying. He just went around doing anything he wanted with that hot swagger of his. Drinking other people's drinks and pretending to be other people's boyfriends.

I couldn't believe I'd kissed him.

And even worse, I liked it.

Actually, that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that it was the best kiss I'd had in a long time.

And not a single part of it had been real.

It was an act. Probably one of Grayson's many plays in his playbook. And I couldn't even be upset about it. I'd jumped right in. Caught the pass he was throwing.

Football boy was just a player, after all.

💗

ahhhh a kiss in the fourth chapter?
This is so unlike me, I can't
🙈

please tell me your thoughts!

ps a few people have asked about where we are at on the timeline right now. so this is right before Nessa and Beau went to visit Madie and Bren at the beach house. hope that helps!
xoxo