Page 16 of Passing Notes

Was it planning something? Perhaps it was. Its beady little eyes tracked my movements as I spotted a glass on the bedside table to trap it with. I grabbed the glass and chugged the water inside before carefully lowering it over the bug’s shiny black body.

I called out to Clara, “You can come in now. I need something to slide under your glass. I don’t want to squash it on your bed.”

“Oh god, oh god, ew, ew, ew,” she chanted as she crept along the wall toward the hallway. “I’ll get a piece of cardboard or something.”

Once she got near the bedroom door, she wasted no time running through it. The sound of her feet dashing down the stairs made me laugh as I pressed the glass deeper into the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.” The little shit glared up at me from beneath it. If this fucker were any bigger, we’d all be dead.

She returned with a few pieces of junk mail. I snagged one and carefully slid it under what had become our mutual enemy.

“I have to get going or I’ll be late,” I muttered as I lifted the glass.

“Yeah. I appreciate this. I’d offer to bake you some cookies or something as a thank you, but I don’t do that. Maybe I’ll buy you a plant. Sasha told me your yard is boring.”

I let out a chuckle. “That would actually be perfect. Sasha is determined to have a porch just like yours. She would love that.”

“She’s a sweet kid. They both are, Nick.” Her eyes drifted to the floor. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. I—can we talk? Not right now,” I clarified. “I have to get to work.” She turned toward the hallway, and I trailed behind. “But can we, um, maybe be friends at some point? I don’t like this feeling between us. I feel like I’m missing something?—”

I followed her downstairs, keeping my eyes on the bug in the glass and not her perfect ass in her purple silk pajama shorts that did nothing to hide the luscious bounce after each step.

When we reached the bottom of the staircase, she whirled on me. “Friends?” she snapped. “Okay, sure, we can be friends. Have your people call my people and we’ll schedule a lunch meeting or a Zoom call or something.”

“Clara, please, I didn’t mean?—”

“The door is over there.” She threw out an arm in the direction of her foyer. “I’ll give Sasha her plant next time I see her. Or better yet, I’ll have it delivered.” Her eyes were as hollow as her voice sounded.

Regret burned through me like acid. Somehow, I’d fucked up. “Clara, I?—”

“I don’t feel like talking.” She threw the door open.

The spark of hope that had unexpectedly started to blaze in my heart extinguished in an instant. I crossed the threshold and tossed the bug into the bed of flowers that lined the edge of her front steps. “I understand and I’m sorr—” I tried to catch her eyes again after I turned back to her, but she was not having it.

“Goodbye, Nick. Thanks for...” She gestured to the flower bed, snatched the glass out of my hand, then slammed the door in my face.

I turned around just in time to see Mr. Neal, the cranky old librarian at the school, back out of his driveway. He waved to me when he passed with a knowing smirk on his face as I headed home in what looked exactly like a walk of shame—shirtless, wearing only my pajama pants.

Shit.

CHAPTER 6

CLARA

Momma will be out of town for the weekend. Thank god for bake-offs and her mean-ass competitive streak. Feel like making out in a lavender field? - HB

The. Audacity.

He had made me feel stuff—mushy stuff, nostalgic stuff. I was having feelings for him when the only thing I should be feeling for Nicholas Andrew Easton right now was rage. Frickin’ Nick.

He hurt me.

He broke my damn heart.

So what if it was a long time ago? A woman doesn’t forget her first real heartbreak that easily. Even after a decade and a half, damn it.

I wish I had kept that damn note so I could find it and read it again. Apparently, I needed a reminder of how he had broken my heart.

We’d planned out an entire future together, and he’d thrown it away like it was nothing.

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