Into You Series: The Complete Collection

37. Nia

CHAPTER 37

NIA

“ N ia,” Ian calls after me. His steps echo across the wooden patio.

I lean against the fence separating the resort pool from the ocean sand. I needed to feel the cool air and listen to the rush of the tide. I needed to get away from the stifling bar, but Ian followed me.

His steps slow as he gets closer. I turn away from the ocean. Ian is walking apprehensively, most likely testing how close he can get before I break down in tears.

“Say what you need to say, I guess,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest, and a smile stretches from one side of his mouth then spreads across his entire face, a slow shift from concern to genuine satisfaction. “What?” I ask.

“This feels wrong.” He chuckles. “You should be mad at me.”

“But I’m not.” This only makes him laugh more.

“But, that’s us, right?” he says, moving closer, feet away from me. “I’m irritating and you get angry because you know you’re too good for me.”

“I’m not too good for you,” I say through gritted teeth.

“But you are. You definitely are, and it’s an absolute privilege to be near you.” Following his words, he places a hand on the fence, caging me in on one side.

“You’re just putting me on a pedestal,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million times. I’m sorry. I know things are rough. I know that was a hard thing for you to go through—to still go through—but you’ve got to believe me.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hard-working, beautiful, so smart…” He trails off. “I’m sorry, Nia. You do deserve better than me. I was so quick to judge?—”

“You have your reasons,” I interrupt. I tighten my grip on my own elbows as I pull my arms into my chest. If I don’t, I might be letting him pull me into an embrace.

“You like me.”

“Maybe,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It’s ridiculous, really.”

And it is ridiculous. Because it’s true.

I like Ian. I have for years.

“Sometimes life is ridiculous.” He chuckles. I look up, not having realized just how close he’s gotten. His lips hover near my nose. I try to keep my head down, but he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face to meet his.

Our lips touch, and all the tension running through my shoulders and spine releases. His mouth is soft, warm, and right . He tilts my chin higher, allowing himself to take more of me, and I let him. I lift onto my toes and deepen it. I can’t uncross my arms. They’re stuck, petrified into place, but I’m not mad. I’m not even irritated.

Still, with every passing second, my nerves struggle to stay contained. They’re bouncing from point to point—my fingers, my shoulders, my chest, and into my throat, where I let out a small hum.

One kiss. That’s all I can take.

I pull away, lowering back down on my heels. His eyes open, and there they are: the beautiful blues. I wonder if they could be mine forever.

“Let’s just get through the wedding tomorrow,” he says. I smile and slump against the fence. It’s hard to maintain any form of resolve when he looks at me like that . He removes his hand from the fence and pockets it.

“Sure,” I say.

“I believe you, Polly.”

Out of habit, I respond, “Don’t call me that.” But the nickname doesn’t spark the usual hatred or catapult my blood pressure through the roof. It’s almost a comfort, and the word spears through my chest, warming my body.

His hand reaches up to caresses my cheek, my jaw, then my neck.

“How about Apollo, then?”

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Just maybe.”