The table isn’t wide. If I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, I could. But I’m not going to.
August leans toward me. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”
“Not when I’m stuffing my face with food.”
“But you’re cute when you’re hungry.”
It’s always been tough for me to accept a compliment from anyone. And even though August and I aren’t close like we once were, he continues to make flattery his job.
Heat settles across my face, and I can only hope that it isn’t red while my stomach does summersaults. “Stop it.”
I feel something tap at the front of my heel, and withouthaving to look up, I know it’s August trying to reel me back in.
“What?”
He leans in closer, his forearms braced on the table, causing his biceps to strain through his shirt. My eyes flit from his arms to his eyes.
“Like I’ve said many times before, you’re cute when you’re annoyed at me.”
“Is that why you never leave me alone?”
“That and amongst other things.” He tilts his head and grins. “But seriously, I like what you did with your hair. I think it’s become my favorite.”
I bite back my smile attempting to not give in. I’m saved when our server comes to the table with a large cake. Sparklers spread along the top, gathering attention from other patrons and their curiosity.
When it’s set down in front of him, the sparklers circle around a photo of a toddler wearing Power Rangers underwear and large, pink high heels that swallow his feet.
“Who gave you this picture?” Rowan shouts and looks at Addie.
His sister starts singing along with the five servers who surround our table. Ellie gets up from her chair, rounds the table and kisses his cheek. She wraps her arms around him, whispering something in his ear.
My heart swells from the adoration and love they give each other.
I watch August, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, forcing himself to look happy when all I see is sadness. Is he having the same thoughts I’m having? A scary thought that makes you wonder if you’d ever find that same kind of love. Or if you’re worthy of that love.
Every day, I question if I’m worth having a love thatdoesn’t make me question if I’m good enough. The kind of love that when I’m given a compliment, I believe it to be true.
It’s my fault.
I've ruined the image of love for him, all because of my parents and their messed-up relationship. He grew up in a household that had nothing but love, but he was so swept up with me that he let my doing influence his choices and thoughts.
If he can give up on the idea of receiving that kind of love, who’s to say he’ll give up on me? The thought of that alone terrifies me.
THIRTEEN
AUGUST
“Woo!” Beau picks up another shot glass.
That makes five.
“Are you sure you don’t want to slow down?” Addie asks, drinking through her colorful straw; the hues imitate a lava lamp. “We have the rest of the night ahead of us.”
Beau turns to Addie and gestures his hand along his body. “Look at me.”
Addie tips her head back to meet his eyes.
He raises his eyebrows in question. “I’m six foot five and two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle. Do you know how much it takes for me to get just slightly buzzed?”
