My boots stick on the linoleum floors as I thread my way through the crowd. The bar is so close that I can practically taste the crispy coconut, but right as the owner, Ethan, makes eye contact with me, Philip’s group moves to block my path. I come to an abrupt stop right on the edge of their huddle, then step to the side, trying to get around them, but with tables bracketing the group, I can’t get by.
“Which bridesmaid should I go after, man?” Chad/Brad/Ben—something like that—asks, beer sloshing over the edge of his glass and plopping to the ground.
Philip shifts to stand in front of me, not looking my way. “Don’t care as long as you stay away from Kate.”
The room narrows around me. Iwatch the side of his face for a beat, trying to remember what I liked about him. But under the yellow-hued bar lighting, I can’t recall a single thing.
All I remember is four months of sneaking around and to-go containers and back roads. He wanted our situationship kept a secret, and I’m ashamed to admit I willingly went along with it, hoping that maybe his attention meant something. If the mayor’s son had an interest in me, then surely I wasn’t a complete failure. Right?
While his group gets even louder, I keep staring, willing him to acknowledge me.Good to see you, Fablewould be simple enough. It’s a hello and goodbye all wrapped into one.
Instead, he looks over me, around me, everywhere butatme.
“Fuck you. I’m not going after your sister, you idiot.” Chad/Brad/Ben pushes Philip right in the center of his chest.
Suddenly, his broad shoulders seem closer, and he’s stumbling back toward me. Ibarely have time to register what’s happening before I lift my hands to stop his momentum. But the effort is futile.
The overbearing scent of his cologne hits me first. Then his back collides with my hands, and the force of it knocks me off my feet. I’m toppling sideways like a bowling pin, Philip falling with me, and I’m sure we’re about to land in a heap on the floor.
But instead.
A strong arm snakes around my waist, tugging me off course. With a startled yelp, I land on a firm thigh and watch as Philip crashes at my feet. He’s a pile of khakis and red polo, groaning on the linoleum in a puddle of his own spilled beer, and I can’t help grinning down at the sight.
My grin falters, though, when I realize there’s a hand on my hip and a heady scent in my lungs. Like the woods on a warm summer afternoon. It flashes me right back to sunshine and childhood and sticky Popsicle-covered fingers and splashing into the pond at the farm.
My traitorous brain recognizes it immediately, and I turn to find a pair of gorgeous mocha eyes on me.
The sight of Theo Nikolaou wrenches all the air from my lungs.
“Hey there, Fabes,” he says, his deep voice practically vibrating through me. A dark gray baseball cap sits backward on his head, his chestnut hair peeking out around the brim, and a blue plaid flannel stretches across his broad shoulders, rolled up to his elbows.
The loud bar muffles to a faint murmur as an arrogant, lopsided smile curls slowly over his lips. Dimples pop out on his tan cheeks, and my heartbeat goes annoyingly unsteady.
That’s the smile that makes me feel like I’m ten years old again, whirling on a theme park ride until my stomach flips. It’s the same smile he had when he beat me by one vote for president of the Ecology Club in eleventh grade. The same one he flashed when his baseball photo was plastered on the front page of theschool paper. And the very same cocky smile he’s worn anytime we’ve seen each other since.
Sometimes I want to slap it right off.
Other times... well, other times I don’t know what I want.
The space between us crackles with years-worth of tension until an annoyed grumble echoes from the floor, and Theo’s attention snaps in that direction. He reaches around me to fist the collar of Philip’s shirt. “What the fuck?” he growls sharply. “You could’ve hurt her, you fucking asshole.”
“Let go.” Philip tries to swat his hand away.
My heart rate jumps at the flicker of Theo’s jaw. The flare of his nostrils. The darkening of his eyes.
“Hey.” A calm voice murmurs from across the table. Theo’s best friend, Maddox, places a hand over Theo’s fist. “She’s all right.”
Maddox’s eyes don’t leave Theo’s as a silent conversation passes between them. It looks like one they’ve had before, no words necessary. Then, slowly, the fist in Philip’s shirt loosens.
Theo blinks a few times and tugs me closer, as if to keep me from falling. His chest rises with a deep breath. “You okay?” heasks softly.
There’s a commotion beside us as Chad/Brad/Ben helps Philip to his feet, but I can’t pull my attention away from Theo.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because right now I don’t know much ofanything. Basic math skills would be a challenge. One plus one equals Theo’s dimples.
His gaze sharpens, and he wraps his free hand around my elbow. “Are you hurt?”
I open my mouth to answer, but my focus drifts to Philip as he stands beside the table.
