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He walks over, wearing a T-shirt that rests against the outline of his pecs. His hands twitch as he approaches like he’s thinking about doing all the stuff we’ve spoken about on the phone in real life.
He pauses near me, so close I can smell the scent of his sweat. He smirks, but his mouth tremors, like he’s suffering silently in some way.
Then it hits me. He’s holding himself back the same way I am.
I want to reach up, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him.
“Your mom asked me to take you to a laundromat around the corner when you arrived.”
“What?” I say, shaking my head slowly. “Why there?”
“Maybe she didn’t want to have this talk at work,” he says, voice grim. “I don’t know.”
He gestures toward his car.
“Shall we?”
“Uh… will you be able to give me a ride home after? Or is that insanely rude?”
He smirks. “I’d love to give you a ride home, Hallie, but….”
“What if mom doesn’t want us to see each other ever again?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Then she’ll have to give me a ride,” I snap, spinning and walking across the parking lot, wishing Hayden wasn’t dad’s best friend for the millionth time.
Lila lowers her window. “Is everything okay? Did you have an argument?”
“No, nothing like that. He’s going to give me a ride home, so you don’t need to wait around if you don’t want to.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I nod, my pulse coming quickly, my world feeling bright and full of possibility… and, at the same time, feeling like nothing’s ever going to work out, or was never going to work out, as though Hayden and I were doomed from the start.
“I’m sure.”
Returning to Hayden, I remember what he said during our first phone call about how he never cared for women…because of what happened to him when he was a kid and what he saw.
But….
And that was when Lila interrupted.
He walks a few feet away from me as we approach the car, looking at me every few moments.
“This is way more difficult than I thought it’d be,” he says.
“What is?” I ask.
He looks at me intensely over the roof of the car, his silver hair catching the light, his strong jaw shaped around a grimace.
“Being near you,” he says passionately. “It’s like this pull inside of me, Hallie, like every part of me is telling me to kiss you right now.”
“We could always run away,” I joke as we climb into the car.
At least, I meant for it to come out sounding like a joke, but there’s too much tension in my voice and genuine want.
He looks over at me from the driver’s seat, his steely gaze moving down to my legs and back to my face.
He looks at my lips, into my eyes, truly seeing me in a way nobody else ever has.
“It’s tough to remember our phone-only rule here,” he says.
“I know,” I whisper, returning his gaze.
In my mind, he leans over and crushes his lips against mine. My mouth gets warm just thinking about the first kiss like phantom pleasure is moving through me, a tempting memory that should be more than a memory.
Suddenly I want to climb into his lap, mount him right here, and lead the way.
But then I think of the virgin issue.
And the fact we’re literally sitting in the parking lot of dad’s doctor’s office.
Hayden looks at the office and then back to me.
“Let’s go,” he says. “Just…try not to be so beautiful all the time, okay? You’re so tempting.”
He ends that with a smirk, making my cheeks flush with delight, with the sheer disbelieving thrill of Hayden Hunter complimenting me.
As we make the short drive, my pulse starts to race, hammering, my world flipping over.
As childish as it sounds, I keep thinking about how unfair this is.
That’s nonsense, of course. We’re doing the unfair thing, Hayden and I, inflicting this on dad, inflicting this drama on mom and Lila.
But I can’t shake the feeling.
I don’t even know how Hayden really feels about me, and now it’s going to end.
“Wait,” I murmur.
We’re driving down the street, the familiar laundromat at the end. I remember when dad first started working here, and Lila and I would sometimes wait here after school, roaming the neighborhood, needing nothing but each other.
Hayden pulls the car to the side of the road.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning to me.
I don’t know how you feel. I don’t know what you want from me.
I want to ask him, plainly, if this is a fling or something more.
All his comments have been about the physical… okay, that’s not fair, but most have. I try to summon the words the way Lila would. I need to force them out so I can hopefully get to the truth.
But I can’t bring myself to do it.
Then I get an idea.
