Silver Heart by Victoria Green Page A

as I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Why?”
    Preston took a moment to contemplate his response. “I suppose because it’s the next, logical step in our…” he trailed off.
    “Our what?” I took another shot from his hand.
    His shoulders tensed. “You know,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably.
    No, I didn’t. That was the problem.
    I threw back the second shot. This time, my throat didn’t sting as much, though my stomach lurched angrily. “The next step in what , Preston?”
    “Our…relationship.” The word sounded foreign on his lips.
    If you have to mumble it, it doesn’t count, I wanted to say. Instead I looked over at the remaining drinks, “This proposal…is it your idea?”
    “Yeah. Kind of.” He gazed at the floor and swayed slightly, reminding me of a little boy getting caught in a lie. “Your mom was talking to my mom and they both think it would be good to get engaged before you’re off to school. They’re starting to ask questions about our lack of contact, so it just makes sense.”
    Again, my stomach rolled. My head throbbed, seemingly pounding to the beat of the music. Being the future med school student that I was, I soothed both of my ailments with a third shot of tequila.
    Preston was reluctant to let go of the glass, but then simply shrugged and let me have it. Maybe he thought that if I was drunk, I’d be more likely to accept his proposal. Most guys tried to get girls drunk to seal another kind of deal, but Preston Stonewall was all about business. And he and I both knew this sudden proposal was exactly that—just businesses.
    “When I told your brother about it, he agreed that it was the practical thing to do.”
    Practical. How romantic is that?
    “What about you?” I asked. “What do you think Preston?”
    “I think it’s a good idea. It’ll make our parents happy. My mom keeps asking why we don’t see each other more often. If we were engaged, it would quiet her down for a while.”
    He thought it was a good idea to spring a proposal on me after five months of barely speaking. As I was buying tequila shots. And getting pushed around by underage drinkers. Even though he knew that I didn’t love him. Even though he also didn’t love me and never would. Just because it would quiet down our parents.
    Romantic didn’t even begin to describe it.
    As the alcohol surged through my veins, I gained more confidence. “Do you love me?” I asked.
    His eyes widened, but then he quickly collected himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “What we have is an arrangement that works, Dylan,” he replied. “I love that.”
    The hurt reflected on my face had nothing to do with his words. It had everything to do with the fact that I was angry at myself. I was disappointed for having carried on this charade for so long, saddened for thinking that I didn’t deserve better. I mourned the years I’d spent as a coward, not allowing myself to indulge in so much more.
    The “more” that I should’ve had all along.
    Misinterpreting my look, Preston softened and added, “I really like you, Dylan. More than any other girl in the world.” He gently touched my shoulder. “We’re one of a kind—dedicated to our careers, devoted to our families. You know that we’ll never find a better suited deal.”
    His words cut through me like knife. Agreeing to his proposal would basically mean signing the death warrant to my happiness. Bile rose up in my throat and my ears popped. There was a loud whoosh of air, and I suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. My pulse raced; my breathing quickened. The walls began to close in on me.
    I needed to get out. Now .
    I pushed past Preston and headed straight for the door. I didn’t even bother to grab my jacket. The moment I stepped out into the cold night, the frigid air slapped me awake. I bent over, placing my hands on my knees, trying to stop the world from spinning out of control.
    Fuck, fuck, fuck…
    Maybe Preston was