Above, Is There Somewhere by Halsey. Below, Wynona in all her formal wear glory, courtesy of Shay Mitchell.

Wynona

Just like that, I'm back for more.

I swear my head and my heart will always be at odds. No matter how many times I try to walk away, he draws me back in with one flawless smile.

It's wrong. Forbidden.

That's why I want it... That's why.

I shake my head in frustration, willing my mind to continue convincing my heart that it only wants what it can't have. Any other explanation is preposterous.

So what if I am lying to myself? The definition of insanity applies to relationships too, and no acceptable outcome is possible for Cole and me. Our futures were written in the stars before we were born, by virtue of our lineage, never to intersect. We're two parallel lines, destined to battle over a flipping commodity that's caught between us like a child torn between divorcing parents.

We will never be.

I wind my hair into a messy French twist and a stray lock falls, brushing lightly over my collar. I need to be ready soon, and I'm trying desperately to focus, thinking of anything besides my blissful encounter.

I was doing a good job of avoiding him. I didn't darken the doors of the gym, and I even ordered room service to avoid the hotel restaurant. Still, he found me. And I caved. Again.

My skin prickles with heat as I recall his mouth colliding with mine in the alleyway this afternoon, his scent still gracing my skin. My pulse races with the memory of his strong hands exploring the curves of my body. The summer warmth only served to intensify our impulses...

I swallow hard, returning my attention to my hair and makeup. I go to tuck an errant hair into place in front of the mirror, when I notice the vibrant crimson glow filling my cheeks.

No need for blush tonight, apparently.

Dammit.

I don't have much longer to get ready for the snooty dinner tonight, where all of the big-wigs of the oil industry will sit around talking about how great they are, and yet I'm still perving over a guy that deserves so much more than the cheap thrills I can offer.

Cole freaking Galloway...

It was a blessing and a curse for us both when his family moved to Tyler in eighth grade. His granddad's funeral sparked a firestorm of chaos without any warning for either of us.

Cole was ushered into the ornate sanctuary along with the rest of his family on the day of the funeral, and I immediately knew who he was. I also knew that he was off limits. Caldwells and Galloways don't mix. Well, they do in public, and it's all lighthearted humor and fun. Behind closed doors, however, is another matter.

That didn't keep me from looking though. His hair was impeccably cut, and I watched the back of his head for the entirety of the service. I couldn't help but be intrigued by the new boy. He'd go on to join me in school at summer's end, only to pursue me with relentless enthusiasm even after he found out who I was.

The senseless feud between our families will never cease to baffle me. I figured that Duke Galloway kicking the bucket would result in some sort of newfound civility. I never would've imagined that Harris Galloway would double down on the level of crazy Duke managed so effortlessly.

Duke's passing was, at first, considered a gift by my grandfather, Rex Caldwell. On the day of the funeral, he appeared to be grieving the loss of a friend, as they were always cordial publically. But privately, he was rejoicing in the circumstances. He believed the Galloway oil empire would limp to its ultimate demise at the hands of Harris Galloway.

Harris and his family lived in Denver at the time. My grandfather was convinced he'd either run the business into the ground from afar in Colorado, or even better, sell it off altogether. Unfortunately for my granddaddy, Harris had a mind for the business, and nothing would change. He moved his family to Tyler, and all hell broke loose. Dealing with Duke was cake in comparison.

But dealing with Harris has its advantages...in the form of Cole.

The formality of tonight's festivities irritates me. I'll be holding my breath throughout the evening in an effort to look my very best in the slinky black gown I've set aside for the event. My daddy'll cringe, if he even notices. Only I don't care what he thinks...

I slip into the smooth fabric, and it melts onto my form like butter. The slit in the gown reaches an inch from too high, revealing enough leg to raise eyebrows. Perfect.

"Dad's gonna kill us if we're late again," Zach groans from the living room of our suite for the week. I'm grateful that we have it to ourselves, and don't have to consider curfews or any of that nonsense.

"Relax," I reply, stepping cautiously into my gorgeous new Louboutin's, while simultaneously hooking some cuffed diamond earrings into place. Somehow, I know the reaction will be worth the discomfort. "I'm ready."

"Correction," Zach says, eying my scandalous attire. "Dad's gonna kill you... or wrap you in a table cloth."

I roll my eyes and reach for my clutch, inserting my room key and lip gloss. "We both know Mom and Dad don't ever really see us at these things."

"True," he agrees, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Cole's gonna love it, if that's what you're trying for." He snickers, and I give him a light shove, failing to stifle the smile forming on my face.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Please, Wynnie," Zach scoffs. "I won't wait up for you."

...

Our accommodations are nothing short of spectacular. We make our way through the resort, and I can't help but notice all of the detail that went into the design. I've had to make a conscious effort not to think too much about how much money all of these families toss at getaways like this when there are so many more useful ways to spend that kind of cash.

I've no qualms with a luxurious lifestyle within reason, but families like mine have done nothing to earn it. They certainly love to flaunt it, though.

When we reach the entrance to the banquet hall, we're greeted warmly by two men in generic black suits. Everyone knows my parents, so one of the men offers me his arm, escorting me to our table while Zach trails behind us. Seated around the table are two other couples whom I've met numerous times, but I still haven't managed to remember their names.

I kiss my mom and dad on the cheek in turn before the hired escort pulls my chair out from the table, waiting for me to sit. As expected, my parents scarcely acknowledged our arrival, but I can't bring myself to care about that anymore.

My eyes immediately scan the room for Cole. I know he'll be here already, and probably has been since thirty minutes before the invitation stated.

Mister Never Disappoint.

I finally spot him a couple tables down, and he's drop. Dead. Hot. He's on his feet greeting the other members of his table, working to achieve what I'm sure will be a hard-won nod of approval from his dick of a father.

Cole's immaculate dark blue suit is tailored to his athletic build, showcasing his body in all its demigod glory. He could easily pass as an Abercrombie model in his thin gray tie, with cognac brown shoes that match his belt, and a pristine white button up underneath his suit jacket.

Goodness knows I could use a cold shower after taking in that sight.

I resolve to stay put. What we did this afternoon can't happen again.

So I behave myself, dutifully sitting at the table with my brother, making small talk with a bunch of stodgy blowhards. I nibble at my dinner, determined to make it through without ruining my dress or my figure.

I'm nodding at a boring anecdote from an old man with wandering hands, seated to my left, and most assuredly not hearing a word he says. This night can't end quickly enough. To preserve my sanity, I scan the room. One peek at Cole won't hurt.

When my eyes meet his, a devilish half-grin forms on his lips. He gives me a slight nod in the direction of the door and excuses himself from his table.

I hesitate. I know better.

"Good! So let's dance then," boring-old-man-to-my-left says, reaching for me.

Wait, what?

"Pardon me," I say, making a beeline for the exit, leaving the old pervert in my dust. My mother mutters something unintelligible, but I'm too far gone to hear any of her disapproval. That old blue-hair made my decision easy.

Outside, I see Cole waiting for me. I approach him wordlessly, taking his hand and leading him around the corner into a long hallway harboring the women's restroom. I open the door to scour the space for any unwelcome inhabitants, and then motion him inside.

Each stall creates its own miniature room with floor to ceiling doors and sides. He follows me into one of them, pushing me against the wall and kissing me with the same urgency I feel. His breath is cool, the icy flavor of mint filling my mouth, followed by his tongue. He presses his body into mine, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest. My breathing quickens along with my pulse as I slip my hands beneath his jacket, tracing the taut muscles of his back. He pulls away slightly, the warmth of his touch still present on my bare skin.

"I thought you didn't want this," he utters, his voice low and ragged.

"I don't," I whisper, pulling him closer and threading my fingers in his thick hair. Our eyes lock, and I know he sees my words for what they are: a blatant lie. He grins, and I'm in over my head.

Forbidden, my ass. I'm still in love with him.

Dammit.

I think I always have been. But I'll never say the words again. It would only cause us both unnecessary pain.

That doesn't mean I can't show him, though. My hands drop to his belt buckle.

He leans toward me, his nose brushing over my jaw en route to my ear.

"I knew you couldn't stay away," he breathes before smothering my neck in hot little kisses.

He's right.

I can't.