I roll my eyes. “You sound like Zara.”
“Zara doesn’t like Maisy either?”
“I thought you said she’s just notyour type of girl?”
Liam smirks, leaning over me. He’s got the bag in one hand, a cooler in his other. His voice drops incrementally. “You forgot Bristol, baby.”
My body is a volcano. Simmering. Teeming. Waiting for the permission of a tectonic shift to combust.
“I’ll leave it in the car, so the water doesn’t overheat.”
His gaze lingers on me, all amusement. “Paige. I have a cooler.”
“What’s in it?”
“Your favorite beer from Wicked Weed.”
“Ha ha.”
His eyes narrow. “Not joking. I liked it at the party that night, too.” With that, he pushes past me and heads for the gate.
I grab my water bottle from the rolled-down window. My phone vibrates.
Maisy:Does Evan know you’re hanging out with another guy?
She still doesn’t know we broke up. Maisy and I don’t hang out as much as we used to, even compared to this time last year. I was going to tell her tonight, but I’ve been dragging my feet for weeks. She was so happy for me, with Evan. I type out a quick response.
Paige:Liam and I are just friends.
Maisy:If that’s what he’s telling you, he’s playing a long game to get in your pants and then never speak to you again.
The accusation unsettles me because of course it does. Liam and I almost kissed the same day I told him I was single.
I put my phone in my sports bra and walk to where he’s waiting for me, holding the gate open. “Maisy thinks you only want to be my friend as a long game to get in my pants and then never speak to me again.”
He barks out a laugh, his smile going crooked. “That is factually incorrect.”
I study him. “Promise? Because I’m starting to like you, and so is Zara.”
“You’restartingto like me?”
“Fine. I already like you a lot. You mean something to me.”
Liam’s expression softens, his smile turning down three watts. Dimmer now, but still warm and glowing. “You mean something to me, too, Paige.”
He blinks twice, eyelashes whirring. My defenses start to crumble, as if the hinge points keeping my limbs in place are giving out.
“We’re just friends,” I say.
“If you say so,” Liam says.
“Ifyousay so!” I almost wail. “That’s what you wanted!”
“When it was the only option,” he counters. “And to be clear, my admitting that is in no way the same thing as admitting I want to get in your pants and never speak to you again.”
“So you want to get in my pants, and then stay friends.”
He considers, says, “More or less.”
