“Nothing.” She says innocently, stretching her long arms with a yawn. “So where’s your boy?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Who, Echo? How should I know?”
“I figured he’s probably busy with something.” She says, shrugging as she grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on our coffee table. “He’s usually attached to your hip.”
“No, he isn’t.” I insist, scowling at her. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, he is.” She says, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. “You just don’t notice because you like him being there. You might even actually like him.”
“I do not like Echo,” I grumble, but even I don’t feel any conviction behind the words.
Fallon laughs. “Whatever you say, D.”
I glare at her. “You’re so annoying.”
“But also kinda right, right?”
I want to argue. I want to list all the reasons she’s wrong. But I can’t think of a single one that doesn’t sound like a lie.Fucking hell.
Seeing the frustration on my face, Fallon’s smug expression softens. “It’s not the end of the world if you do like him, you know.”
“I know. But we’re just friends.”
At least, that’s what we’re supposed to be.
“Well, if your feelings ever change, just know he has my stamp of approval.”
I frown. “Yeah, about that. Why do you like him? You usually don’t like any of the guys I date.”
Fallon takes a bite of her apple and responds mid-chew. “It’s not that I don’t like them. I just see through their bullshit.”
“I get that. But how is Echo any different?”
Fallon sets her apple down and turns to face me.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” She says, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “His intentions just seem… good.”
I eye her suspiciously. “You got that from talking to him for like five minutes total?”
“Nooo.” She says, tilting her head. “People can easily feed you bullshit with their words, so I never trust whatcomes out of their mouth. I got that from the way he looks at you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Explain.”
Fallon sighs and looks up, like she’s trying to choose her next words carefully.
“Most men look at women they’re attracted to and immediately start thinking about what they want to do to them.” She says. “And if you pay attention, those thoughts are written all over their faces.”
I nod my head and grab one of the throw pillows to start fidgeting with one of the tassels.
“When Echo looks at you, it’s like he’s thinking about what he could doforyou. He watches you. He adjusts to what you need. And yeah, I know that sounds intense, but I think a part of you can sense that too.”
My fingers still on the tassel, and I look up at her. “What makes you think that?”
“Because when you’re around him, you don’t hold back. You don’t explain yourself. You don’t apologize for existing like you’ve done with other guys you’ve dated. You just… let yourself be.” She pauses. “You never do that with anyone. Not even me.”
I work the muscles in my throat.
She’s right. I don’t explain myself to Echo. I never have. I don’t apologize for being sharp or guarded or too much. I just... am. And he never asks me to be anything else.
