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Her expression changes to one more sympathetic. Like she’s reading my struggle.
“You don’t have to explain,” she says.
I stare at her. She probably has no idea, but no one’s ever said that to me before in a situation like this. People that aren’t around me on a regular basis are always pushing my buttons. Trying to get more information. Waiting for some long elaborate story or reason. Getting too personal.
It feels different to have someone I just met clearly state that I don’t need to explain myself. She recognized so quickly that it was something I didn’t want to have a conversation about.
A strange comfort washes over me. One simple little sentence and I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a long time.
I tilt my head and squint, studying her.
“How about a drink instead?” she perks up and suggests.
Without answering, I walk to the fridge and open it up. It’s an old vintage one complete with a shiny silver handle and olive green exterior. It was here when I first moved in and it keeps the beer cold so we just never got around to replacing it with something newer.
“We have bottled beer. Beer in cans. And… a couple tall boy beers,” I chuckle. Not much variety around here I guess.
“I always hated tall boys,” she scrunches her nose.
“Oh yeah?”
“The beer doesn’t stay cold. By the time I get halfway through, it’s already warm ya know?”
“Makes sense. Or maybe you’re just drinking it too slow,” I smirk.
“Fair enough,” she says and there’s that laugh and those dimples again.
Make it stop.
I turn back to face the open fridge, adjust myself below the belt, pull a few long necks out, and pop the tops. She takes one from me and our fingers brush.
Is it cold in here? Because I’m pretty sure she just shivered.
“These towels on the floor smell like they came from a hockey team locker room!” Keanna yells from the bathroom. “I need a clean one!”
I take a big step back when Warren bursts through the door with their bags.
“Guys? A little help here?!” Keanna shouts again.
Blythe wraps her slender long fingers around the cold bottle of beer and brings it to her lips. I need to look away before Warren catches me staring.
“There’s some clean towels in the dryer. I’ll grab them for her,” I say.
I disappear into the hallway and distract myself by digging through the clean laundry for a towel.
Is there some sort of switch I can flip in my brain that will keep the heart eyes from showing up in my irises while she’s here?
It doesn’t matter how beautiful she is or how addicting it was to touch her for even a few moments. She’s my best friend’s sister. And I can’t be into a girl I just met less than ten minutes ago, right?
Chapter 6
Blythe
Being able to fit all of my clothes into one suitcase seemed like a smart traveling decision. But now that I’m staring down at a pathetic assortment of stretched-out T-shirts, leggings, a few pairs of jeans, and several hoodies? I wish I’d thrown in some more options that weren’t so comfort-coded.
I wasn’t expecting to go out the first night we were here and I certainly never planned on needing a cute dress or two. Not that I’m trying to impress anyone.
Idefinitelydon’t care what type of outfit Gage would drool over.
