Ten years later, that night and that kiss was a distant, embarrassing, long-buried memory for both of us. It was almost like it had never happened.
Almost.
Except for moments like this one.
I’d brought up the big, fat elephant in the room. The reason for my ultimate humiliation all those years ago. So why wasn’t he freaking out? Why hadn’t the name Will English invoked pure, unadulterated panic from him?
“Who cares what Will thinks? We’re adults, Eliza. Your brother can go fuck himself if he has an opinion. He didn’t ask my advice about Lola. Did he ask yours?”
“No, obviously not. Will isn’t the guy who asks for permission.”
His expression twisted with outrage. “And you think I am?”
I could see—too late—I’d offended his sensitive masculinity. But I wasn’t quite sure how to walk back from what I’d said. Hewasthe kind of guy who asked for permission. Okay, maybe not permission per se. But my experience in this exact situation was that anything dealing with Jonah and me was strictly off-limits.
But instead of dragging up the past, I boldly held his gaze and said, “I didn’t say that.”
He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t get it, Eliza. I slept here. I didn’t flash you or force you to watch UFC. Why are you acting so weird?”
Why was I acting so weird? Why was I dragging up all that nonsense from the past and projecting it on him now?
If I was brave enough to be vulnerable with myself, then obviously the night of our kiss and his subsequent rejection hurt me. Deeply. But I’d decided to get over it a billion years ago. So why was it coming after me like some deranged night of the living dead?
I covered my face with my hands and let out a slow, measured breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m about to start my period or something.”
The silence that followed my statement was exactly what I hoped it would be. For as modern and feminist as Jonah could be, period talk scared the living shit out of him.
And honestly, out of all the men I knew.
And I wasn’t above using it to get me out of whatever jam I didn’t want to be in. A couple months ago, I’d used the excuse every single week. Unless I had some sort of issue that should be checked out by a medical professional, it was literally impossible for me to be on my period four weeks in a row. But did any of the men in my life realize that? No. They didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
But in my defense, Charlie had started seeing someone he was “really” serious about. And I actually knew her from high school. She’d been the worst then. And she was still somehow the absolute worst. And I had just needed to wait out the storm.
I’d binged at least three full shows on Netflix and caught up on my favorite murder podcasts. Charlie had eventually been dumped—like I knew he would be. Will and Lola had been forced to double date through that nightmare. And eventually, life had returned to normal, and I’d come out of my period-induced exile.
“Eliza, seriously,” he finally hedged, “are we okay? You keep getting mad at me, and I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong. But if I have done something, please tell me.”
The sincerity in his voice was enough to pull my hands away from my face. One look at him had my heart balling up into a squeezed grape. He was clearly repentant. All sincere gaze and tight jaw. The tension between us had been wholly in my head. And the ghosts from our shared past were mine to slay. “You haven’t done anything, Jonah. I’m being stupid.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you sure? You’d for real tell me if I was a jackass to you?”
I slid my tongue over my top lip and shook my head at him. “You’re literally always a jackass to me. But no more than usual lately.”
“Thanks for letting me crash here last night. I was too out of it to drive home. Work has been kicking my ass lately.”
“I was an idiot this morning. But you’re always welcome here. You know that.”
He made a face like he wasn’t sure if he knew that or not. Which was fair after how insane I’d acted this morning. He dropped his empty mug in my sink and said, “Well, I think I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of an episode, so there’s probably a lot of sleepovers in your future.”
“You know, you’re allowed to watch it on your own. I’m not going to stop you.”
His eyes bugged out of his head when he spun around to face me. “And rob you of a proper high-fantasy education? I would never do that to you, English. I care about you too much.”
I snorted at his sarcasm. “Well, then maybe see if you can buy me some kind of study guide so I know what the hell is going on next time.”
He stepped closer and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a crushing hug. The last of the awkward tension between us dissipated in his tight squeeze. I let my cheek rest against his chest, noticing how normal it felt in the light of day.
Last night’s memory was tangled up in an after-dark mystery and buried implications. But this morning, with the sun shining in through the tall windows and caffeine flowing through my veins, I realized nothing about this was weird. Jonah and I always hugged. Not always this close and for this long. But we hugged often. Just like this. A sweet old bear hug—the kind neither of us had gotten during childhood.
