The longer I stay here, the clearer it gets—I’m falling head over heels for Garrett Flint. Maybe we couldn’t have had anything back ten years ago, and that’s fine, because maybe our time is now.
?
Garrett
I shouldn’t be here.
Not at his table.
Eating his food.
I choke down another bite of spaghetti that has somehow turned out sweeter than it ought to. I was there at the store with Ali, helping her pick out the sauce, which was a $3 jar of Ragu. How could she get it so wrong?
And that’s not taking into account the noodles, which are overcooked mush. Still, it’s better than that gawd-awful chicken and dumplings.
I glance up at Ali again. It’s as if she’s some kind of magnet that I’m powerless to resist for long. I’m enchanted, bewitched, and completely incapable of making sound decisions.
Her offer sounded so good, a sweet summer fling, but the moment Prim knocked on that door, common sense hit me like a freight train. I should not be encroaching upon Hank Carter’s little girl.
Whatmore, if she had me up in her loft right now, there’s no way I’d be able to deny her. Her words steal my good sense, rendering me incapable of denying her anything.
You don’t deserve her.
My shoulders slump. I try like hell to twirl another strand of spaghetti onto my fork, but I’m all thumbs tonight, and my fork goes crashing onto the table, then to the floor.
Everyone looks at me awkwardly before going back to their plates.
I retrieve my fork, attempting again to secure a fork-load of pasta when my eyes are drawn to Ali again, but this time, I realize I’m being watched.
By Eva Crosby.
They’ve been pictured together on tabloid sites at beaches, parties, and even award shows. She was with Ali during that fateful night, drawing her attention to the doomed bartender. Her parents are supposed to be a big-shot Hollywood acting couple, though I’ve never heard of them.
Seeing her in the flesh and not posing with duck lips in a selfie gives me a very different take on her. She has pageant-pretty looks, well-manicured and not a strand of her lush chestnut-brown hair out of place, which is in stark contrast to Ali, who, although is considered a great beauty, looks much more natural.
Eva’s dramatic gaze is fixed on me, and when she notices I’m staring back, she licks her impossibly-full lips slowly, not at all discreetly.
I’m a little taken aback by her forwardness, and when she casts me a wink, I dart my eyes around the table, my gaze falling on Prim, who looks panic-stricken as she watches the artificially-enhanced beauty.
Dammit, as if my life wasn’t complicated enough.
I look away fast—too fast, and I draw attention to myself, which I was trying to avoid.
“Maybe you can show Eva what Bons is like?” Norma Jean says.
No, no, no!
Ali swallows and looks around the table. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to the Bons, I don’t want to intrude.”
“What’s a Bons?” Eva asks.
“Country kids from neighboring towns get together to hang out. It’s a mix of high schoolers and adults. Every once in a while, Ma and Pa come along,” Jake says.
“A party? Well, count me in!” Eva says in elation.
“It’s more…neighborly,” Prim interjects. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m like a chameleon. I can fit in with just about any group.”
