“Can we change the subject?” he asked, and I knew that I’d do anything Mac needed me to in that moment. He was hurting, and I wanted to stop it. “Just for a little bit.”

  I’d had no idea that tonight would go this direction, but I didn’t want it to end. I’d never been in this position with a guy before, having conversations that felt like they were life-changing somehow. I hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since high school. Looking back, I realized that relationship hadn’t been half of what this was, and Mac and I weren’t even together.

  “Yep. What should we talk about instead?” I shifted on the bed and tried to think up another topic of conversation that might make him more comfortable and lighten the mood.

  “Why’d you pick silver?” he asked, reaching out for my hair and running his fingers through it.

  “I liked the way it looked on the box. It was either this or this really pretty ice blue. Maybe I’ll do that next.” I smiled.

  “Don’t. Keep it silver forever. I’m obsessed. It’s my new favorite color.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked with a smile.

  “Definitely. What’s yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Favorite color. I told you mine. What’s yours?”

  “Yellow,” I blurted out before I said it was the color of his eyes when the light hit it or something equally as embarrassing.

  He smiled. “Of course it’s yellow. The color of the sun. Just like your name. Just like you. All bright, happy, and warm.”

  I held my breath and pretended like his response hadn’t just shocked the hell out of me when he gave me his answer, “Aside from your hair color, my other favorite color’s blue. But not like baby blue or the crayon. Dark blue. Like the ocean in places where it’s really deep. You know what I mean?”

  Leave it to Mac to give a complicated answer.

  “ ‘The ocean in places where it’s really deep,’ ” I repeated, my mind conjuring up an image of a deep-sea fishing trip I’d tagged along on with my dad once before. I remembered seeing the varying shades of blue in the water and thinking how incredible it was that the ocean could look so different from one side of the boat to the other. “It suits you. That color.”

  “Does it?” he said, his mind still somewhere else, and I wanted to pull him back into the room with me. I was thinking how to do just that when he asked out of nowhere, “What do you want to do?”

  “Huh? Like right now or when I grow up?” I arched a brow toward him, and he gave me a crooked smile.

  “When you grow up,” he said in a teasing tone that I found myself enjoying even though I hated the answer I was about to give him. “What do you want to be?”

  I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d look at me differently once I admitted the truth. “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug.

  “Really? You don’t?” He sounded so surprised, and it made me feel like some sort of disappointment to someone other than myself.

  “No. Why does that surprise you so much?” I asked a little defensively. I hated this topic because I was no closer to an answer at the end of my college career as I’d been at the beginning of it.

  “Because you seem like the type of girl who has it all together. I just assumed you knew what you wanted and were halfway there already,” he explained, and while I appreciated his view, it couldn’t have been more inaccurate.

  “I feel like I’m the only person who has no idea what she wants to do with her life. And I hate it.” I spilled my truth onto the floor between us as my eyes started to water. This topic always made me emotional, and I did my best to pull it together. I felt like an idiot for not knowing, not even having an inkling of an idea as to what I wanted to spend my life doing.

  “You’re definitely not the only one.”

  “Well, you know exactly what you want to do.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

  “How is it not the same?”

  “Because what I want is a long shot. What happens if I don’t get drafted? Don’t get to play baseball for the rest of my life? Then what?”

  My heart cracked with his words. I knew how much baseball owned him and how badly he wanted a future in it.

  “Don’t say that.” I tried to sound reassuring, but I had no idea what it took to make that dream a reality. I knew bits and pieces from living with Danika and hearing Chance talk about it last year, but I’d never been completely invested.

  “I’m not trying to be negative. I’m being realistic. There’s a good chance I won’t get drafted. Then what? Outside of playing baseball, I have no idea what I want to do.”

  He sounded so sad. Like the very idea of baseball not being in his life took a part of his soul away and left him empty.

  “At least you have a goal. Something you’re working toward.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll give you that. What are you majoring in?”

  Mac wanted to steer the conversation away from him and back toward me. I hated it because I wanted to hear more about him and less about me and this particular topic.

  “I was undecided when I got here, and then when they forced me to pick a major, I still had no idea what I was interested in. So, I just picked communications.”

  Mac laughed, and I shot him a look that could kill.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, holding one hand in the air. “You’re just so adorably honest. Have you noticed that no one ever talks about or admits this kind of shit?”

  “Yes!” I practically shouted my response. “Why do you think I feel so alone and avoid this topic if I can? And social media doesn’t help. I always feel less than. Like I’m so far behind all of my peers, it’s not even funny. Everyone looks like they have it all together and knows exactly what they want and how to get there, and I’m sitting here, floundering, without a clue of what even interests me.”

  He angled his body toward me, his knee brushing against mine, and I tried like hell to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his bare skin was touching my own. But when his hand reached out and intertwined with mine, I was a lost cause. I melted right then and there, and he damn well knew it.

  “Mac,” I breathed out, but it was too late.

  His lips were on mine, his mouth opening and his tongue finding its way inside. We’d kissed before, but this was different. Last time, it had been all fun. This time, it felt like it meant something.

  He kissed me with precision, his movements slow and sensual. I felt like I was dying and being brought back to life each time his tongue touched mine or he moved his mouth in a different position, claiming my lips once more.

  Kissing this version of Mac was like a dream, and I never wanted it to end.

  Breaking All My Rules

  Mac

  Kissing Sunny was like kissing a fucking goddess. Every single thing I did with her, I did with care. There was no rushing the moment. No slobbering tongues or teeth clashing against each other in a frenzy of mouths opening and closing too quickly. No. Every movement was intentional. Every swipe of the tongue and bite of the lip elicited more emotion than I’d ever experienced before.

  And Sunny kissed me like she meant it. She poured every emotion and feeling that existed inside her body into mine, and I took it greedily, wanting more. So, it took every ounce of willpower I could conjure up for me to pull back from her, breaking our fused mouths. I would rather kiss Sunny until it killed me.

  What a way to go.

  “Wow.” Sunny’s soft voice forced my eyes to open, and I was thankful that hers were still half-closed as she was lost in the moment.

  “Yeah. So, um, what, uh ...” I stumbled on my words and scooted slightly away from her magnetic pull and the way her tiny frame fit in my hands so perfectly. “What were we talking about before you kissed me senseless?”

  Her beautiful blue eyes opened fully as she looked at me. Her silver hair shone, and if I’d thought she was beautiful before this moment, she was even more so now.

  “Me? Pretty sure you started it,” she said before quickly adding, “I think you were apologizing for not doing that the second you saw me weeks ago, but I could be wrong.”

  That made me laugh. “You’re not wrong. I was an idiot. I should have kissed you the minute I saw you outside my bedroom door. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  Her eyes closed, and she swayed slightly. “You can say that again.”

  “I will.” I reached out and touched her cheek. “I told you I’d say I’m sorry a hundred times if you wanted me to.”

  She cleared her throat. “No. You said three hundred sixty-five times, to be exact. But who’s counting?”

  God, she was fucking adorable. And I was a mess. A mess who wanted her in every way and knew that once I had her, I’d never be able to let her go.

  “You’re right. I did promise every day for a year.” I gave her a wink.

  “I might not get tired of hearing it,” she teased.

  “I guess we’ll see,” I played back.

  “Words are one thing, Davies; actions are something else entirely,” she said, pulling out the last-name card.

  “Oh, last-name use. You must really mean business.”

  “I’m just saying that it takes zero effort to saaaay all the right things. The real effort is in the action. The doing. The following through.” She tried to sound all nonchalant about it, but I knew there was conviction behind her statement.

  “I know. You want me to mean the things I say to you. And I do. I’ll show you,” I said, and she smiled so big that her whole face lit up. I got lost, just looking at her. “But you know what? I think we were actually talking about your major,” I reminded us both as I tried to sound like I wasn’t picturing her with no clothes on, waiting naked for me on my bed. What a fucking sight.

  I kept staring at her lips, all swollen and begging me for more even though they were currently frowning. She did not want to talk about this subject.

  “You’re majoring in communications, but you don’t want to be a communicator?” I asked like a smart-ass, and she leaned over to swat my shoulder.

  “Why did you bring that back up? Now, I’m depressed again.” She pouted.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I’m helping you pick out your future profession,” I said with confidence, like this should be easy and could be decided on a whim in my bedroom. “I do remember you baking some fantastic-tasting cookies once or twice before. Think you might want to do that someday?”

  Her mouth twisted into a small snarl that didn’t suit her face, and I wondered how that question had garnered that reaction from her. “I don’t think so. Danika used to say that all the time, too, but I bake for fun. I think if it was my job and I was forced to do it, it wouldn’t be fun anymore.”

  I nodded along with her assessment because it was logical and made perfect sense. I had thought along the same lines before in regards to baseball, but I knew it wasn’t really the same thing. Playing ball was already work, and I considered it my job. I’d been on a sixteen-year interview that was finally coming to an end.

  “I get that.”

  “Really?” Her expression shifted, her snarl gone. “Danika always told me I was crazy and that if I loved something, I should do more of it. She never understood how I couldn’t want to bake for people.”

  “I mean, she’s not wrong about loving what you do. But baking is a hobby for you. You do it because you want to. And you do it whenever you want. Everything’s on your terms right now. It would completely change if it was your everyday job. Nothing would be on your terms.”

  “Exactly!” she said, her eyes wide. “I would be baking because I had to. And I’d be fulfilling orders because people made me and were relying on me to bake the perfect cookie. I don’t think I’d like it. I think I’d be miserable, being told I had to bake every single day.” She started fanning herself. “Is it hot in here?”

  I huffed out a small laugh. She was getting riled up for all the wrong reasons. “All right. No cookie store for Sunny. I can see that now.”

  “Nope.” She shook her head once, her chin high. “No store.”

  “But you’ll still bake for me, right?” I batted my eyelashes at her and gave her a small pout.

  She reached out, her hand still able to touch my face even though I’d moved away from her. “Always.”

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat as so many emotions swirled around inside me. I wanted to run into her arms, and I also wanted to run away as fast as possible.

  A knocking sound both relieved and irritated me as I averted my gaze from Sunny and toward my bedroom door.

  “Expecting guests?” Sunny asked with an uncomfortable look on her face.

  “Mac. Open up.” The voice hit my ears like a sledgehammer.

  I thought for a second that I might actually throw up. Hayley wasn’t someone I wanted Sunny around, but I didn’t know how to avoid this confrontation or make Hayley go the fuck away without opening my door.

  “Who is that?” Sunny asked, trying to be calm with the fact that some girl was at my door, but she was struggling.

  “My ex.”

  Sunny looked at me, her face paling slightly. I wasn’t sure what to do or say exactly, but I knew I’d messed up when she pushed herself off my bed and stood up.

  “I’ll just go.” Her tone was a mixture of too many things that felt like tiny pinpricks to my heart.

  I was hurting her without even trying. I didn’t want her to leave, but before I could tell her to stay put, Hayley started pounding again.

  “Mac!” Hayley yelled.

  I walked to the door and opened it, Sunny right behind me. I felt the disappointment rolling off of her in waves.

  “Finally,” Hayley breathed out in annoyance before even noticing that Sunny was trying to move past her and failing. Hayley was blocking her escape.

  “What do you want?” I said, pissed off that she was at another baseball party when I’d specifically told her not to come anymore. I was going to have to tell all the guys that she wasn’t allowed in our house. “Why are you here? Spit it out.”

  “I thought that you could help me.”

  “Help you?”

  “Yeah. With our class.” She propped out her hip. “I know you got an A on that quiz, and I failed it.”

  Before I could say anything, Sunny started talking, “Sounds like a personal problem. Not sure why you’re making it Mac’s. Now, can you please move, so I can get the hell away from whatever this is?” Sunny wagged her finger between me and Satan’s soul mate.

  “Who the hell are you?” Hayley gave her a once-over, like Sunny wasn’t worth her time, and that single look snapped me out of whatever idiotic trance I’d momentarily fallen under.

  “It clearly doesn’t matter,” she answered Hayley’s question but stared right at me as she said the words.

  “You said it, not me,” Hayley snarled.

  Sunny let out a sound of disgust before shoving her out of the way, almost making Hayley lose her balance. Twice tonight, Sunny had been a badass when it came to other girls being bitchy to her.

  I started to go after her when a hand gripped my shoulder, stopping me short. “Let her go. She wants to leave.”

  “No,” I argued. “I don’t care if you fail the class. Now, leave me the fuck alone and stay away from me,” I said before slamming my door and running after Sunny like a madman with no agenda, no plan, and no idea what the fuck I was doing.

  Pick a Personality

  Sunny

  I grumbled the entire way out the front door and toward my car, my keys jingling in my nervous hand as I fought back tears of frustration.

  What was I thinking, just forgiving and kissing Mac like that?

  And then his ex-girlfriend showing up in the middle of it all! It was like a bad movie I couldn’t stop watching, but it was my life we were talking about here, not some poorly written screenplay for the masses.

  The fact that she was the girl I’d seen walking out of Mac’s room that night wasn’t helping things. The way he had chased after her should have told me everything I needed to know. They had history, and it showed. But now that I knew exactly who she was, it irritated me even more. Because whenever I’d seen that girl on campus or at other parties over the years, she’d always acted like a complete snob. She had an entourage that followed her around like she was royalty or something, and I remembered her “accidentally” knocking a tray of food out of someone’s hand once in the student union. Basically, the chick was a bitch. And Mac had liked her, dated her, called her his girlfriend.

  The look on his face when he’d heard her voice almost made me sick. Why were guys rendered stupid whenever it came to a pretty face and a nice body? Didn’t they want more? I shook my head as I stalked through the warm night air, convincing myself that they didn’t. Guys didn’t care if you were funny or smart or kind; if you weren’t a total smoke show, they moved along. All they cared about was having the hottest girl on their arm regardless of whether or not she had a heart. And that female back there was a heartless harpy—I’d bet money on it.

  “Sunny!” The sound of my name in Mac’s voice made me slow down and eventually stop.

  I turned around to see him running toward me.

  “Sunny, wait,” he said again, but I’d already stopped moving.

  “I am waiting,” I said, my tone coming out a little bitchier than I’d meant it to.

  The gravel kicked up under his feet as he reached me, and he leaned over, his hands on his knees as he sucked in a couple breaths.

  “Overdramatic much?” I asked as I watched his arms flex. Curse Mac Davies and his ridiculous biceps.

  “I couldn’t make it out of the front door, so I had to sprint around the back and hop the fence to get you before you left. And I ran to the other parking lot first,” he explained, and I felt like a jerk.

  But why was he chasing after me when he had Giselle Bunch-whatever back in the house, waiting for him?

  “Did I forget something?” I asked because maybe I’d left something in his room and he was just being nice and bringing it out to me.