The parking lot is emptier now, the rows that were packed earlier sprinkled with empty spots. I click the unlock button on my keys as we reach my car. We climb in, the doors closing with a thud that seems to echo.
Once I start the engine, its soft hum fills the silence betweenus.
For a moment I say nothing, my hands on the wheel. Should I put on a playlist? Should I drive in silence?
Too many decisions, if you ask me.
In the end, we do drive in silence, the dark streets of our small town familiar yet somehow different tonight. The streetlights are a blur as we go past, and I find myself relaxing in the comfortable quiet we’ve settled into.
It’s nice like this.
“Um,” I finally say. “I can’t remember where you live.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us there.”
Easton guides me from street to street until we’re at the entrance of what must be his neighborhood, and I slow to a near crawl, drawing out our time together so it lasts longer.
I’m greedy like that—not that you blame me.
The Westermanns’ yard is dark and quiet as I pull into his driveway. I put my car in park but don’t cut my engine. I let the low sound of it idling fill the space between us.
“Do you wanna come in?”
“Inside yourhouse?” I can hardly believe my ears.
“Yeah, inside my house.” He laughs. “To hang or whatever.”
OH MY GOD, are you kidding me?!YES!my brain screams. Yes! OF COURSE I WANT TO GO INSIDE YOUR HOUSE.
OBVIOUSLY!
Being inside his house—just the two of us alone, without our friends—feels like athing. Like a step into uncharted territory that I don’t know how to navigate, different from being alone with him in my garage.
Intimate?
Fear of the unknown gnaws its way into my gut and I shake my head.Big scaredy-cat.
“No, I th-think…” My voice wobbles. “I think I should probably head home.”
For a moment we sit, Easton nudging the bucket of popcorn with his foot. He doesn’t disagree with me or attempt to sway my decision, but a part of me thinks he looks kind of disappointed—as if maybe he was hoping I would say yes.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says at last, deep voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course.” I cringe inwardly at how buddy-buddy I sound. “Anytime.”
I fiddle with the hem of my denim skirt.
After another few beats of stillness, Easton shifts in his seat and turns to face me, seat belt straining against his muscles.
“Harper.” There’s something new in his voice that makes me meet his gaze rather than avoid it as he says my name.
“Hmm?”
He’s leaning toward me.
I think.
Are his eyes searching mine?It looks like they are…but it’s also dark in here and there are shadows? It could be shadows. Yeah. That must be it.
