“You were a junior in high school,” I revealed. “Eliza Smith, the head cheerleader.”
His jaw slacked. “How the hell do you know that, Ava?”
I laughed along with everyone else at his flabbergasted expression.
“You were at our house, in Ethan’s room. She called you, and you had the phone on speaker. She was very appreciative of your skills.”
“Alright, that's enough.” He playfully put a hand over my mouth, which sent me into another fit of giggles.
Lincoln removed his hand, but I didn’t move. I was still leaning against him, breathless from laughter, my cheek brushing the soft cotton of his shirt. His arm stayed curled around my back, warm and steady, as if he didn’t want to let go. I looked up, and he was already watching me. His smile had softened, the teasing edge replaced by something else.
The longer we held eye contact, everything and everyone around us faded. There was a familiar spark between us. It was similar to the one that flared twelve years ago, when he visited from college after three years. I’d always had a crush on my brother’s best friend, but that night I’d felt something more than a simple crush. Something that left me dazed and breathless. There was something new about the old spark, however. It was more potent. My amusement was replaced by a flutter in my chest.
Lincoln’s gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You’re trouble,” he murmured.
“You like trouble,” I whispered.
The other ladies watched our interaction with silly, half-inebriated grins.
But it was Mia who said, “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Your chemistry is off the charts. Like,off. I feel like I need sunglasses just to look at you two.” Her little snigger after her comment was followed by a hiccup.
Michael chuckled. “You are so drunk.”
She gave him a lopsided grin.
“Alright, I think you’ve had enough,” he said. “Bed. Now.”
“Ooh, like in a sexual way?” Mia slurred.
Everyone laughed—most of us were just as tipsy as Mia was.
Michael whispered something in her ear that made her cheeks glow and her pupils dilate. “Goodnight, guys. We’re out of here.”
One by one, the other couples excused themselves.
Spencer blew out a breath. “Well, I know what they all left to do. I should leave you two lovebirds to do the same.”
“You don’t have to go,” I told him.
He glanced at Lincoln. It seemed they had a silent conversation because he smirked. “I’m turning in. Good night, guys.”
Once we were alone, I turned to Lincoln. “Did you two just communicate telepathically or something?”
He laughed. “The guys and I are close, but not that close. Spencer just knows how toread the room.”
It was quiet now, with just the sound of the ocean and the echoes of our past. Of our summer together. There were so many nights when we found a beach and sat together, stargazing, just like this. Everything was so simple back then. I wanted that kind of simplicity again.
After a while, Lincoln said, “Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Every so often, you go into this pensive mood. You can hide it from the others, but not me. Are you thinking about your story?”
I let out a sound—something between a laugh and a sigh. I never could hide much from him. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I confessed, “I spoke to my boss.”
“And?”
“I pitched the story. Told him I had something real. He shut it down before I could even explain. He even suggested that if there really was a story, I should hand it off to another journalist. After all ofmyhard work. He doesn’t think I’m good enough.”
