What I initially thought of Rush’s parents, that they were judgmental jerks, falls to the wayside. They’re good people who took the unexpected and made it into their version of success—a big house with an extra garage for Jack’s car collection and an airstrip so he can fly himself to whatever he does in Seattle, on the other side of the state.
Jesus, I’m a horrible person for thinking the worst of them when I don’t even know them.
Is that also my situation? Are they whispering behind my back that I’m strange and unapproachable because I’m holding back from getting to know new people? My shyness and quietness are my shield, but maybe it’s time I lower it and wave the white flag so others know I’m not as scary as they think.
It might take me a little bit to warm up to them and trust their intentions, but I could give it a try.
“Go make yourself comfortable.” She tips her head to the living room, where a fire is burning in the fireplace.
“Do you need help?”
She places her hand on my arm. “The table is set. Water glasses are out. There are bottles of sparkling cider on the table. Jack will be in soon. We’re good, Sorrow, but thank you for the offer.”
She pats my arm. I smile before following Rush into the living room. What is Trace up to? Is he okay? Of course, he’s not. The hurt on his face when I told him I regretted the kiss . . . I’m a jerk. Trace isn’t an unfeeling guy just because he likes to compartmentalize.
Didn’t our kisses and making out prove that he is full of feelings? Didn’t jealousy and anger roll off his body like steam when the sun hits the pavement after the rain?
I lower onto the fluffy, soft beige couch next to Rush and cross my legs. The ceilings are high. The ceiling fan circulates the warmth from the fire. Surprisingly, I’m not cold. I’m comfortable. Large picture windows give us a view of the trees surrounding the house.
“There’s a heated pool out back. One of these days, you’ll have to go for a swim with me.”
Trace’s parents have a heated pool too. Trace has never invited me for a swim with him.
I’ve been secretly in love with him since before the fire. Leigh showed me a picture of her now boyfriend, Seven, and his friends, Malice and Trace. Football stars. Sought after by all the girls in the school. Leigh said Malice and Rue had a love–hate thing going for them. Trace? Trace was single, but not.
Leigh said she heard he was a commitment-phobe, but he was always nice to her and was the life of the party with his wild antics fueled by too much alcohol. It made me want to know more about him. The kindness in his eyes and his smile had me falling in love with him—a complete stranger.
Rush likes me. I don’t have to think back through my romance books or movies to know he’s interested. I never want my heart broken, so why should someone have to go through it if I can stop it?
“Rush?”
“Hmm?” He shifts his body so that we’re facing one another.
Sighing, I give him the truth. “I’d like for us to be friends. I’m thinking of moving to Alexandria after graduation, and it’d be nice to have a friend close by.”
He blows out a breath. “It’s Trace, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a jerk, Sorrow.”
I want to tell Rush that Trace is my jerk, but I don’t. “He can be a bit much.”
Rush scoffs. “The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
I can’t dispute that. I also find Trace Saints utterly panty-melting hot.
“I’ve known him all his life. You’ve known him for a few months.”
I tip my chin. “But I’ve kissed him, and you haven’t.”
Rush’s eyes widen, and then he breaks out in laughter.
“Fuck me,” he says in a low voice, “you have it bad for him if you’re admitting that you swapped spit with the manwhore of the town.”
I curl my hand until my nails dig into my palm. “Take that back.”
“No.” He crosses his arms.
