“Hey,” he walked over and squatted next to the open door. “You okay?” She nodded but didn’t lift her face away from her hands. “Are . . . Are you crying?”
She didn’t respond at all to that. Almost afraid to, he touched her leg with his fingers but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Why are you here?” She finally asked but still didn’t lift her face away from her hands.
“Because I was worried about you.”
She turned her face, removing one hand to look at him but still cradled her head in the other. Hector couldn’t tell if she’d been crying or if her makeup was just smeared. Somehow even the dark smeared makeup around her eyes made her eyes bluer. “Worried about me?”
“Yeah, you’re my friend, and I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of you. I know what happens at these parties. You do things when you’re drinking that you might not otherwise. Guys like Raul are banking on that.”
She stared at him for a moment, a little too thoughtful. “Were you . . .” she began but then seemed hesitant.
“What?” She’d already said something tonight he’d be wondering about all weekend. He didn’t want her adding more to that. “Was I what?”
“Were you drunk that night?”
She stared at him as his stomach took a dive because he knew exactly what she was asking and why. “No, I wasn’t, not at all.”
“Then why?”
Now he wasn’t sure what she was asking, but he took a guess anyway. “Why did I kiss you?”
“No.” Her eyes welled up fast, and she shook her head, burying her face back in her hands. “Never mind.”
Oh, hell no! “No, tell me,” he said, squeezing her leg now. “Why what?”
She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a tissue, still shaking her head. Dabbing her eyes, she sniffled a little.
Hector slipped his hand into hers. “Charlee, please don’t cry.” He’d seen plenty of drunk girls crying over silliness, but instinct and her expression told him this wasn’t the case. This wasn’t something she was feeling just because of the alcohol. He thought he’d suspected resentment from her before, and now he knew he’d been spot on, but this was more than resentment. She was hurt. Shit.
She still wouldn’t look at him. “Forget it, Hector. You’ve already told me why anyway.” She reached for the glove and grabbed the tissue. “You don’t need to say it again. In fact, I don’t want you to, so please don’t.”
Hector pushed up on his back leg so he could get closer to her inside the car. “Okay, I won’t,” he said so close to her face he could smell the gum in her mouth, feel the warmth of her skin. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he had to. It would drive him crazy if he didn’t. “Why did you say I make you sad?” She closed her eyes and her entire face scrunched in what looked like pain. He grazed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers. “What’s wrong, baby?” her eyes flew open at the sound of that last word, and those beautiful but too sad eyes searched his.
If she asked why he called her that, he wouldn’t have an answer because he had no idea why either. It just came out—felt right. Slowly she sat up a little and touched his face with the tips of her fingers as her eyes traveled down to his lips. A single tear traveled down the side of her cheek, and he caught it with his finger. “Tell me,” he whispered. “Why are you sad?”
“You,” she said then pressed her lips together. Before he could urge her to finish, because he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her this way tonight without finding out what she meant, she went on. “You don’t feel what I do.”
“What do you feel?” The words flew out instantaneously, but before she could say anything, he took them back. “No, don’t tell me.”
“Why?” Her expression was a frustrated one now.
“Because, Charlee, you’ve been drinking and it’s not fair. You probably wouldn’t be saying any of this if you weren’t, even the part about me making you sad. So it was wrong of me to ask you why you had. I’m sorry.”
Charlee dropped her hand away from his face and fell back into the seat. “You’re sorry?” She laughed, but it was hardly a happy laugh.
“Yes, and I’m sorry that I make you sad, whatever the reason.”
He looked away from her when he saw someone walking toward them from the corner of his eye. Drew was already on her way back to them. He leaned in quickly and kissed Charlee on the cheek, making her close her eyes for a moment. He wasn’t that dense. If she was hurt—sad—he knew why. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I won’t let you tell me what you’re feeling, but I’m pretty sure I’m feeling it too.”
She sat up, getting dangerously close to him again. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have asked me to pretend what happened between us never did.”
“It is true, but it’s better if nothing like that ever happens again.”
Her wounded expression made him want to take her face in his hands and kiss her despite what he’d just said. “Because you’re afraid I’ll want more?”
Staring into those beautiful eyes—eyes that could own him with one single request—he frowned. “Something like that.”
It was partly true. If she did want more, as much as he’d be willing to give it her, he couldn’t, but it wasn’t for the reasons she was thinking. She stared at him for a moment before sitting back in her seat and sighing. “You’re right. I would want more.”