“For a Schnauzer? No. Tank is something you name a dog with muscle. That dog was all rolls, and no muscle.”
Holden laughs, warm and easy, and it settles something low in my chest. God, I love this. How easy it always is with him.
“Marley was…” My voice fades, the memory aching. We both loved that dog so much our parents let us claim co-custody of him just so we could take him back and forth between houses for weeks at a time.
“He was something,” Holden offers.
“Yeah. Something.”
On screen, a bomb explodes. Neither of us looks.
“Hey, do you still talk to Mrs. Alvarez?” he asks, like it just occurred to him. He’s probably remembering the many times Marley escaped my yard and went to hers.
“Sometimes. She still thinks you’re the reason her garden died.”
“Whatever. I watered those plants.”
“You drowned those plants.”
“They were thirsty.”
“Some of them were cacti, Holden,” I say, biting back a laugh. “You watered them like they were tomatoes.”
He groans. “Okay, in my defense—”
“Nope. Don’t even try it.” I lean over, bumping my shoulder into his. “Just admit it. You gave a cactus root rot.”
“I was nine!”
A laugh slips out. “Still!”
Holden’s cheeks go a little red. “You were there too, you know.”
My fingers freeze around the carton of ice cream. The tone in his voice lands… weird. All soft and strangely affectionate. Like he’s recalling that memory differently.
I push back, ignoring it. “I was only there because someone had to keep an eye on you. You were committing plant murder.”
He huffs a laugh, but he presses his shoulder into me. “Well, whatever. If I’m guilty, so are you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
That soft smile grows, touching his eyes. “Hey, do you remember when…”
His voice trails off in my head. I’m too distracted by how we’re suddenly leaning into each other, arms and sides pressed close together. How did that happen? Or rather, why am I noticing it? It’s not new. We’ve sat like this a hundred times. A thousand, even. So why is my brain catching on it like it means something now?And why is my heart racing?
I turn back to the TV. Holden shifts on the couch, switching legs on the ottoman. It draws us even closer. I suck in a breath.
His voice cuts off automatically, and he looks down, as if realizing how we’re basically plastered together, shoulder to hip. He flicks his attention back up, gives me a cheeky, carefully guarded smile as he swallows. For a moment, nothing else exists. I can feel the heat of him through the fabric of our clothes, and then his smile morphs into the softer, shy one I’ve seen so many times—the one that says he’s in on a secret.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m fourteen again and about to kiss Connor Rhodes. My gaze drops to his lips.
Fuck.
What am I doing!
Like a cord is ripped from my back, I pull away.
“I gotta… yeah. Bathroom,” I say, already pushing to my feet like I’ve just remembered something urgent.
