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“You don’t have to buy me things to get me to like you, Easton,” I say.
“I’m aware.” He laughs, letting me go. “I want you to have certain things.”
I walk over to the charm and quickly loop it onto my necklace before changing into a t-shirt and shorts.
I climb into bed first, and he follows, pulling me flush against his chest. Staring into my eyes, he toys with strands of my hair, and I inhale his scent.
“We need to find a new meetup spot for our weekends at some point,” he says.
“What’s wrong with your dad’s offroad shack?”
“The ‘For Sale by Owner’ sign isn’t there anymore. I think someone bought it and he hasn’t told me yet.”
“No, no one bought it.” I shake my head. “I stole it and tossed it into a dumpster so no one can call about it anymore.”
“You know that’s a crime, right?”
“Are you planning to report me?”
“I might.”
He laughs. “Hypothetical question. If you got arrested for something you did, but the police were convinced that youdidn’tdo it and let you go, what would you do next?”
“Go about my life.”
“You’re supposed to wait for three options before responding, Scarlett.”
“Not when I already know the answer.” I smile. “What wouldyoudo?”
“Probably the same thing.”
We both laugh, and he slides his hands under my body, rolling me on top of him.
I wait for his kiss, but something next to me catches his attention.
Stretching his arm, he grabs a sheet of crumpled yellow paper.
“No, don’t look at that!” I try to grab it from him, but he keeps it away and unfolds it.
“How the hell did you get an ‘F’ on a Sex Ed quiz?” He laughs. “Everyone gets an ‘A’ on these things.”
“Maybe with the old teacher.” I groan. “This new lady wanted us to write down our inner-most thoughts about sex, and I told her I was reporting her to the principal.”
“So, this is a retaliatory ‘F’?”
“It’s a ‘You’re being dramatic and you have two days to redo this assignment, or else’ F.”
He laughs. “Would you like some help?”
“No…I’ll just write, ‘I think about Easton Rush going down on me and screwing me in the back of car his all the time’ and see what she says next.”
“You should’ve told me that a lot sooner,” he says, trailing a finger against my mouth. “I think about tasting other your lips all the time, and I wish you would hurry up and let me…”
His fingers leave my lips, and I feel bereft.
We stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever, communicating without saying a word, wishing—like always—that things were different between us.Easierbetween us.
My phone buzzes at midnight, and I lean over him to turn it off.
