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He pushes off the fence and approaches me, a wide smile on his face. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”
I shake my head, hiding a smile of my own. “So you waited out here, on the street, in the dark, just in case I showed up?”
His cigarette is burning, but he doesn’t bring it to his mouth, instead letting the ashes fall and drift away on the warm breeze. He wags his brows. “That’s how I roll, baby.”
I snicker. “I see that.”
I’m pleased, and flattered, but I have to remind myself he’s just teasing. He went out to smoke and happened to see me passing by, that’s all.
“Want to go for ice cream?” He drops his cigarette and steps on it, crunching under his heel. He steps closer, and his aftershave smells of something oceanic. His smile is blinding white. “It’s too warm.”
I can’t think of a reason why not. Not even sure why I’m looking for a reason. “Let me tell Mom I’m back first.”
“Sure thing,” he says as I open the gate and walk up the path to the house. “Hey, I saw you talking to that bearded guy at the garage. You work for him?”
I stop, turn back around. “You were there?”
I don’t remember seeing him.
He nods, runs a hand through his curls. “Sorry if I seem indiscreet. He looks…” He huffs.
“Like a hermit?”
“I was going to say like a dick.”
I laugh. “He is kind of a douche.”
“I knew it.”
The breeze brings his scent over to me, along with the smell of cut grass and blossoms. We smile at each other, sharing our understanding of Matt Hansen.
Then I think of how Matt grabbed me as I fell in the drugstore and defended me at the garage, how he put his head in his hands today.
How he stood beside me, smelling of man and strength and despair.
My stomach knots up. I hurry into the house, and stop for a moment in the cool interior, just breathing, battling the confusion I shouldn’t be feeling.
This is an easy one, Octavia. Between the douchebag and the cute neighbor, you really shouldn’t have trouble choosing the right one.
The question is, the right one for what?
With orders to bring back a family-size tub of chocolate chip ice cream for Gigi and my mom, and mint for Merc, I set off with Adam.
The town is quiet. Some kids play football in an empty field. A dog is barking. The main street isn’t very far, and it’s a perfect evening for a stroll.
That’s what I tell myself, trying to quell the voice in my head insisting it feels too much like a date.
So what if it does?
I glance at Adam as we walk by rows of houses with peeling fences and overgrown lawns. He’s talking about his job as online marketer, which apparently allows him to settle pretty much anywhere where there’s an internet connection—but which doesn’t explain why he’d choose to live in the backwater that is Destiny.
He’s waving a hand as he talks, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright. Again I examine the cut of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders.
He’s undoubtedly handsome. Objectively cute.
He obviously likes me—at least well enough to talk to me and take me for ice cream. Oh, the glamour!
Still. Not like there’s much to do around here, and it’s sweet of him.
