He looks up and smiles. That easy, devastating smile that feels like it’s reserved just for me.
“Hey, you.” His breath brushes my ear as he reaches past me for the bowl of nuts.
“Hey yourself.” My voice comes out softer than I intend, a smile pulling at my mouth. I silently hope it distracts him from the way my hands still tremble in my lap.
Lydia bounces over with her notepad.
“How come you never smile atmelike that?” she teases.
I stick out my tongue and she flips me off without missing a beat.
“I’m gonna tell Heath you’re harassing guests,” I warn with a grin.
She scoffs. “Butyouare not a guest. You’re part of the staff, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes. “Semantics.”
Lane and I both order the breakfast plate—becauseof coursehe loves breakfast food as much as I do. It’s nice to have someone who understands my love for the most superior meal of the day.
I like how things with him feel so easy and uncomplicated.
Not that IhaveLane. But I’m trying really hard not to overthink all of this for once.
We hang out and sometimes we kiss. I like being around him and we’re having fun. That’s all that matters.
Our pace is slow and unhurried as he walks me back, like we’re both trying to make the moment last as long as we possibly can. Our shoulders brush once, then twice—pretending it’s accidental when we both know it’s not.
“So…” he says, kicking at a rock. “Do you have plans tonight?”
I glance up at him. His hands are buried in his pockets, gaze fixed on the ground. The muscles in his jaw tick like he’s holding something back.
He’s usually confident, a little cocky even, but right now? Something’s off. His eyes flick to me before settling on the ground again.
Is he nervous?
“Nope,” I say. “No plans.”
Lydia texted me earlier asking ifwewere going to Lucky’s tonight.We. As in me and Lane.
I told her I wasn’t sure whatourplans were. And even thinking that—our—sent my brain into a spiral.
Because are we even awe?
I pause outside of the breezeway as a few summer guys pass us hauling hay.
Lane nods at them, casual, but I can still see the tension set in his shoulders and it makes me nervous. I tug at the hem of my shirt, waiting.
Finally, he turns toward me, eyes bright beneath the brim of his Longhorns hat.
“Good,” he says, clearing his throat. “Because I want to take you out tonight.”
I blink. “What?”
“On a date,” he says, grinning.
“A date?” I echo, because apparently, I’ve lost all ability to form thoughts.
“Yeah,” he says. “Only if you want to, of course.”
