“No reason,” Cole mumbles. “Do you ever get a feeling Baywood ishiding something?”
I think about our ridiculous little town. The Bloom sisters and their gossip, Earl with his dramatic flair, Ann-Sabrina’s sharp edges, and Steve’s inability to read the room.
I think about the invisible but unbreakable line between Baywood’s two residential areas: Bay Hollow, where Xaden’s from, and East Bay, where Cole and I grew up surrounded by comfort we didn’t even consider comfort.
“I haven’t really thought about it, but I’m pretty sure every small town hides something. Maybe Baywood covers its secrets with cinnamon rolls and good coffee.”
“Yeah,” Cole sighs into his coffee. “Maybe it does.”
CHAPTER 44 – ANTONIO
Maria pulls over in Caspian’s driveway. I step out of the car in a huff, cheeks flaming. My sister is a menace. She talked about safe sex as if I was a clueless teenager who would eat the sex ed banana instead of putting a condom on it.
My stomach dives when I see the front door open. Caspian is alreadywaiting for me. He leans against the doorframe now, graceful and gorgeous.
“Hey,” he says. One word and my knees almost betray me.
“Hey. Hi. Um.”
I stand there clutching my groceries, failing to function. The memory of ourkiss sends sparks all the way to my fingertips. I’ve been thinking about it somuch.Guinness World Recordslevel of reliving the moment.
Our first date was so perfect that I’m terrified to have another one. I want it too much. The more I want it—and all the dates after—the more scared I become.
I live a very quiet life. I don’t party, I don’t have a hobby, and I don’t socialize.
I read. I read for school and I read for fun. Caspian might have said on the beach that he finds it attractive, but the novelty will wear off.
The novelty of me will wear off.
He will realize I’m a yawn for a person and he will leave me.
“Hey,” he says again, gently prying the grocery bag from me. He sets it on the floor, then pulls me against his chest.
I breathe him in, trying to be discreet about it.
“I’ve never been this excited about a sandwich in my life,” he informs me. He looks serious.
“It’s an ordinary sandwich,” I mumble, my forehead resting against his chest.
“A phenomenal sandwich,” he says, brushing my cheek.
“Don’t say that. You’ll be disappointed. It’s a very boring sandwich, nothing special about it,” I explain in an embarrassing rush.
I pull away. “You’ll take one look at it and decide it’s not worth your time.”
He waits until I stop pacing in front of him like an emotionally fragile gladiator.
“That sandwich is turning my whole world upside down.”
Flustered, I march past him to his kitchen and start unloading my supplies on his spotless kitchen counter.
“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind,” I insist.
“I won’t.” He waits for me to look at him. His gaze pins me in place. “I’m very committed to this particular sandwich.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“In that case you’re even weirder than I thought,” I say, but I’m smiling now. “You are obsessed with bread.”
