Andie had to know, Chase thought. She had to know how he felt. He was sure he saw it in her eyes on Tybee Island, and almost positive he saw it on the dance floor, felt it in the way her body kept gravitating toward his.

He brought his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip. And she had to know that Colin wasn’t right for her, he ruminated, the alcohol in his system beginning to fuel his thoughts. Chase could tell what that relationship was about. She had even said it herself. Colin was her safe pick. Her life was about safe picks, but deep down, he knew she wanted more than that.

That night in South Carolina, as she slept beside him, he had gotten a glimpse inside her mind without her permission. And he knew now that there was much more to her than what she was letting on.

Plus, every time he had pushed her beyond her limit, although she would react uneasily at first, she always ended up thrilling to the idea. Relishing it, even. He wanted to be the one to keep opening her eyes like that, to give her all the things she wanted but wouldn’t admit to anyone, not even herself. He wanted to be the one she experienced things with, to show her that it was okay to just…be.

But he couldn’t. He would never do that to Colin. What was more, he’d never do that to her, to turn her into someone who was deceitful, disloyal.

But God, he could see himself with her.

He closed his eyes and brought his drink to his lips, and this time, as the image of being with Andie played out behind his eyelids, he let it. The alcohol was making him cavalier, and he was tired of fighting it. And so he let himself go in the fantasy, enjoying every last imagined, fabricated moment.

He had almost forgotten about the girl next to him until he felt her shift in her seat, and the next thing he was aware of was her hand grazing his crotch, the evidence of his arousal.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her; she had one eyebrow raised, a wry smirk twisting her mouth. She bit the side of her lip then, no doubt trying to look coy.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “It appears that someone’s enjoying my company.” She smiled then, bringing her lips to Chase’s ear, and he was immediately engulfed in some sort of overwhelming musky perfume. “Let’s get out of here, baby,” she crooned, allowing her teeth to graze the shell of his ear before she pulled away from him.

Chase looked down, running his tongue over his teeth, and he took a deep breath before he brought his drink to his mouth, taking down the last of it as if it were a shot.

Fuck it, he thought, as he slammed his empty glass down on the bar and reached for her hand.

And so he drove them to his apartment, battling thoughts of Andie the entire way. She’s with Colin, he told himself as the girl stripped for him. I’m not doing anything wrong. I have no reason to feel guilty, he assured himself as she eagerly removed his clothes.

And when he entered her right there on his couch, he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the overdone, porn-like sounds spilling from her mouth, the show she was putting on for him. He imagined that the hair splayed out over the cushions was blonde. That the fingernails digging into his back were Andie’s. He disappeared within himself, allowing his mind to revisit his fantasy from the bar, only this time, he allowed himself to feel it. Feel Andie beneath him, feel her breath on his neck, feel their bodies connecting over and over. It wasn’t long before he found himself on the brink, and he grit his teeth together to prevent the word from spilling from his mouth.

Andromeda.

Beautiful.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Andie stood behind the bar at her father’s restaurant, a clipboard in her hand as her eyes scanned the shelves of liquor.

“This is ass backward, you know,” Tracey said, twisting back and forth on her bar stool like a child as she sipped her Cosmo through a straw.

“What is?” Andie said, lifting her eyes for a moment.

“Isn’t the bar patron supposed to be the one spilling her guts? It’s rarely the bartender pouring her heart out.”

Andie leaned over the bar and playfully rapped her friend on the head with the clipboard. “First of all, I’m not tending bar, I’m doing inventory. And second of all, you’re the one milking me for information.”

Tracey smirked. “Yes, and I’ve clearly been twisting your arm. It’s been like pulling teeth getting you to talk about this Chase guy.”

“Shh!” Andie said, her eyes flitting nervously around the bar before she put down her clipboard and buried her face in her hands. It had been two weeks since she’d returned from Florida, two weeks since she’d seen or spoken to Chase, and although she hoped that time would erase the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of him, if anything, it had only made it worse.

She knew part of the reason she felt the way she did was because she’d had no closure. And on top of that, she hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone, keeping what had happened, what she was feeling, to herself out of confusion and guilt. But it wasn’t going anywhere. She knew that now. And she realized the longer she let it go, the more it would fester.

She needed to tell someone.

So she called Tracey as the restaurant was about to close and asked her to stop by. It wasn’t unusual for her friend to come hang out at the bar while Andie was working. But this time, as soon as Tracey sat down, Andie unloaded, spilling the entire story, starting with their initial meeting at Justin’s engagement party over a year ago and ending with the abrupt way they had said good-bye in Florida. If anyone would give it to her straight, it would be Tracey. She was sure of that much. And maybe that’s all she’d need to purge him from her system—a good, strong dose of tough love.

“Why can’t I stop thinking of him?” Andie mumbled into her hands.

“Because you’re a red-blooded woman,” Tracey said, placing her drink on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Fantasies are healthy. You’re only freaking out because you’re so straight-laced all the time.”

Andie dropped her hands from her face, but her eyes remained downcast.

“I know, Andie,” Tracey said, suddenly sympathetic. “I know why you’re like that, as much as I make jokes. But the thing is, you’ve been that way for so long, and along comes this guy who rattles your cage.” She shrugged casually. “Of course that’s going to stick with you.”

“I love Colin,” she said firmly, as if she had to defend the notion. “So why can’t I get Chase out of my head?”

“Because you feel like it’s wrong, and so your subconscious is screwing with you. Which is also normal. Everyone wants what they can’t have. It’s like, a human condition or something,” Tracey said, leaning forward to sip her drink.

“Human condition,” Andie repeated softly, nodding her head, clinging to any explanation that would absolve her of her guilt.

“Think of it this way,” Tracey said, folding her arms on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Your brain is like a teenager from some tight-ass, super-strict upbringing who’s going away to college for the first time. You’ve kept a tight rein on it for so long, and now that it’s broken loose, it’s running rampant like a little drunken whore.”