“Aren’t you a little young to be principal?” Harvest asks, picking the conversation back up where she was last included. I wonder if her voice sounded this nasally all along. “You must have worked yourself to theboneto get where you are.”
Brie chokes on her pasta. My eyes cut to Harvest. She flutters her eyelashes at me.
Unruffled, Dev leans back in their booth with a placid smile, but I notice his arm is no longer draped behind her.
“The man works hard,” he says like the wingman I don’t want. “I heard you earned your masters while teaching. Before that, you got your degreewhileyou were on active duty? You were a SEAL, right?”
Brie’s head snaps to me. “You enlisted?”
“Wait.” Harvest shifts her gaze to Brie, a wide grin pulling at her mouth. “How do you not know? I assumed you guys were dating,” she nods toward my plate. “Sharing food?—”
Brie’s gaze snaps between our plates, eyebrows knitting. For a second, I wonder if she’ll hurl the linguini back at me.
I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I cover her hand with mine in her lap. She tenses for one strained moment before determination takes hold of her, and she brings our hands up to rest on the table. A message to Harvest. I know she’s doing this for Dev, I know she probably hates to see him snubbed by his own date, but I’ll take it.
For his part, Dev looks as happily sedate as ever.
“—holding hands,” Harvest finishes with an arched eyebrow. “I thought you two were together.”
Brie tightens her hold and scoots closer to me. Our thighs press together. Her smell wafts toward me. I’msimultaneously the most content I’ve ever been, and so keyed up I could flip over a car.
Brie smiles at Harvest. It’s so saccharine it comes around to being venomous. When she rests her head on my shoulder, I make the mistake of peering down. Her shirt looks stretchy. I shift uncomfortably as my jeans try to strangle my dick.
“We didn’t keep in touch while I was away,” Brie replies. “But we made quick work once I came back.”
Dev laughs, completely obtuse. “Brie hated Sawyer in school.”
Brie and I stiffen, but he doesn’t seem to notice. How was I ever jealous of this guy? He’s a complete bonehead.
“Seriously?” Harvest breathes, hungry for drama. “Why?”
I grind my molars. There are things I did that I’m not proud of, behavior I’ve had to work through with my therapist to understand they were all in response to my own demons. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe I’m not that guy anymore.
When neither of us answers, Dev does. “Lots of reasons.” He turns to Brie, guffawing. “Remember when you wore heels in ninth grade?”
Brie’s spine goes ramrod straight. She tries to pull her hand away, but my hold is strong.
“What happened?” Harvest prods.
“Halloween, Brie was dressed as some twenties flapper?—”
“Holly Golightly,” I correct. “FromBreakfast at Tiffany’s.” Fuck if I know why I’m helping Dev tell the story.
“Right. I wasn’t there,” Dev continues, “but Brie walks into math class?—”
“Art,” Brie and I say tensely together.
“Sure,” Dev says, giving zero shits about veracity. “So she walks into art class, and Sawyer throws a bunch of marbles at her feet.” He bursts out laughing. Before I can cut in, he adds, “So there she is, in front of everyone, swinging her arms around, trying to stay upright. Like a giraffe on roller skates or something!”
Brie’s body tightens even more beside me, which I didn’t think was possible. “Colored pencils,” she says, trying so hard to keep her voice steady it’s almost monotone.
“I didn’tthrowthem at you,” I mumble weakly.
She twists her hand out of mine, truce over. “I loved that dress. I found it with what was left of my mom’s things, and I’d never felt so elegant walking into school that day. Like Audrey Hepburn.” She shakes her head, and almost to herself adds, “I was so stupid.” Her eyes harden when they find me again. “And of course, you proved exactly how stupid. It took you just a split second to ruin something I was excited for all week.”
My stomach lurches.
I remember it all perfectly, but it didn’t happen in a split second like she thinks.
