Chapter Thirty Three.

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*Read note at the end****

Dakota Aniston

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“This doesn’t mean anything.” I murmured, reaching past Dave in order to grab the bottle of tequila from his hand. We were seated on the kitchen floor, our backs pressed against the island in the middle. My heels had been kicked off, piled by my feet.

“What are you talking about?” Dave quirked an eyebrow. I mimicked his movement, keeping eye contact as I took a long swig from the bottle, scrunching my nose as it burned in my throat, swishing until it landed uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach.

Dave’s eyes, which have turned back to their hazel shade, stray away from mine, until back to my face. I clear my throat, my heart constricting in my chest, tearing my gaze away. I hastily take another drink, needing alcohol’s numbing tendencies. I was tipsy, my head beginning to feel lighter on my shoulders, but I need more.

“Dakota.” Dave whispers, his thumb grazing along my wrist. I jerk back roughly, the tequila dripping out the bottle and over my thighs.

“Shit.” I cuss, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. It’s been so long since Dave last touched me. But, that doesn’t mean the affect is any different. He can still do so much to me. Even after two years without speaking, he’s still killing me.

Dave shakes his head. He stands up, coming back a few seconds later with a handful of paper towels in his hand. “Still clumsy, I see.” He jokes. He bends down, softly swiping the towel over my damp thighs.

My skin chilled. “I’ve got it.” I chock out, latching my fingers against his wrist to stop him.

Dave’s hand stills, but doesn’t move from my thigh. The warmth of his fingers seep through the towel and into my skin. “Are you sure?” He mumbles, his eyes slowly dragging up until they rest on mine.

He’s so close. I can clearly make out the indigo swirl around his pupil, and the slight stubble on his chin. His blonde hair curls around his ears, slipping lazily below his chin.

I’m over him, but it’s still so raw.

It’s become silent between us. Our breathing is steady and matching, and his hand still lingers on my thigh. “Dakota,” He mumbles, shifting closer until his knee slid against my hip.

“Stop.” I squeak, my voice catching in my throat. The tangy smell of liquor on his breath washes over my face. My hand presses against his chest, blocking him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dave, we’re over.” I tell him. “We have been for a long time.”

Dave lets out a tedious sigh, his breath once again moving over me. He leans his one hand against the island above me, dipping himself toward me. “Why have you been ignoring me? I’ve been trying to talk to you since the end of ninth grade.”

I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable with his close proximity. I yearned for Elijah. “Because we broke up.”

“No.” He shook his head erratically, blond strands slipping in front of his eyes. I remember how I use to brush them back. With his free hand, his pointer finger dug gently into my chest. “You broke up with me. I still wanted you.”

Bullshit. “You were cheating on me.” I hiss through clenched teeth. I glance away from him, no longer being able to stand him this close.

His hand moved up to the side of my neck, grasping it gently. He urged me to look at him, pulling my face toward him, his fingertips clenching into my hair. “It was one of my biggest mistakes, believe me. Dakota, you were everything I wanted.”

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