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He struggles to keep the façade and simply spins away from me and Zoey.
Good.
“Let’s just rewind,” Zoey says. “Parry, Parry—let’s talk it out—”
“No,” I cut in.
Zoey scans me up and down like I’ve been inflicted with a mortal wound since she’s been gone. Like there must be a perfect explanation for my frosty shift. And I love her for seeing morsels of good in me—even when I think they aren’t there.
“I’m fine,” I say pointedly.
“You’re both—”
“Not friends. None of us are.” I glare at her—I hate that I’m glaring. Hurt crests her beautiful face and punctures my lungs.
She rocks back. “Kenobi?”
I hate that I’m pushing her so far away.
It’s what I deserve.
“We’re fine,” Parry interjects to Zoey, and his gaze goes gentle on me. Parry! I could shake him. He’s undoing everything we’ve done. The charade we’ve created—what if they question us now? But I could also hug him.
He’s not letting me torch the bridge between Zoey and me.
God, Anna is blatantly observing us now. So is Aunt Effie and Uncle Milo. They’re all whispering to the other four members of the town council. And I find myself speaking stiltedly to Zoey. “We’re whatever you want us to be.”
Two town cynics.
Zoey needs to know all of my suspicions, and this goes further back than this year or the last.
“We need to talk,” I add quickly.
“…okay?” Confusion furrows her dark-blonde brows.
“Like now.” And I catch her hand and then rush towards the stairs. She trails behind my quick, agile pace. When she trips, I hook an arm around her hips—keeping her upright. Keeping her with me.
The town council is watching as I leave the beach just how I arrived.
With Zoey Durand.
CHAPTER 17
Zoey Durand
We need to talk. Four words no one wants to hear. But at least I’m not dating October and this isn’t some epic breakup. No worries about that.
With my heart somewhat intact, I’ve left the beach with her. We need to talk is also code for in private. Heavy conversations surrounded by gossiping townspeople is a recipe for disaster. And I am a certified walking disaster.
I can’t believe I ruined Parry and October’s fake fight on the beach. She explains all the details on our way to a more private locale.
I’m an utter idiot.
“You’re not an idiot,” October tells me for the third time.
“I kinda miss when you call me an idiot,” I admit with a smile.
She eyes my upturned lips. “You shouldn’t like when anyone calls you an idiot.”
“Not even you?” I say with a teasing pout.
“Especially me.” She rolls her eyes after a beat. “You’re driving me mad, Zoey. Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Flirting, you idiot.”
I touch my heart that nearly convulses in love. “I think you struck me with an arrow. Are you sure you aren’t cupid?”
“Shut up and open the door.” Her lips have risen.
I gasp. “She’s smiling! Call the fucking press.” I yell outside of The Drunk Pelican—at literally an empty parking lot, “Celebrity Crush! Come here, come here! October Brambilla is smiling! Put that on your front page.”
October goes for a playful shove, but the shove is more of a grip on my black sweater, which turns into me clutching her waist. We sway together, and suddenly, her fingertips are skating down my forearms with slow, electric tension.
Hairs stand up on my neck.
“October,” I breathe, an ache in my heart.
She instantly retracts.
Shit.
Why does she keep pushing me away?
“We need to talk,” October reminds me. “It’s serious.”
This is serious too, Kenobi. But I’m under her spell and do as I’m told. “Okay,” I mutter, and I use my key to unlock the back door to The Drunk Pelican. It fits like butter.
She gives me a pointed look. “Breaking and entering already?”
“Is it really breaking and entering if I have a key?” I ask as I push open the door with my shoulder. I whirl the keys around my finger and think aloud, “Jeez, Brian and I really must be related because he’s definitely an idiot or lazy or both and never managed to change the keys in the last six years I’ve been gone.”
October peers inside, not moving yet. “You think Brian will be pissed?”
“I think he won’t find out. Free alcohol and food are on the beach. He won’t be back until the party is over, which gives us time.”
She nods, convinced enough. We both try to enter the doorway at the same time and our shoulders get jammed, our hips bump. “Sorry,” we say in unison—like we hadn’t just touched earlier. Tension mounts between us, and then it happens…again.
My cheeks heat.
She flushes. “I’m going first,” she demands.
“Bossy.” I end up taking a step back.
She saunters through the open doorway. “It’s so you can watch my ass.”
I already am. She has a great ass. Only slightly bigger than mine, and I dream of skating my fingertips along her feminine curves like she’s done to me. Biting my lip, I mention, “And you told me not to flirt.” I lock the back door behind me and follow her into the main bar area. Blinds are drawn shut and the “closed” sign is up.
