Page 64 of Until Then

At the reminder that this thing with Izzy—living together, working together—is temporary, I find my shoulders curving upward.

I should be looking forward to the day she moves on.Instead, the thought of being by myself again is more than a little depressing.

I’ll get over it, though.

I have to.

I was fine before, so I’ll be fine again.

Even if “fine” is a sad state of existence.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh?” I cock my head and peer down at her. Izzy isn’t short. She’s probably five-six or five-seven. Even so, she’s small in comparison to me.

We’re at the edge of the beach, millimeters from the sand. Music blasts, some catchy, sugary-sweet pop song that Lili probably loves.

Her smile falls. Only a fraction, but knowing I’ve disappointed her feels like a massive kick in the gut.

“Never mind,” she says, her voice bright. She’s generally a happy, bubbly person, but this brightness is pure fabrication. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

She grasps my arm, using it to hold her steady so she can take her shoes off.

And when she loops her finger through the back strap to carry them, I shake my head. “Give them here.”

“I’ve got it,” she says, opening her bag.

She won’t look at me.

Dammit. My stomach sinks.

What did she say?

What did I do?

Maybe the better question is, whatdidn’tI do?

Now, without her shoes, she surges ahead onto the beach.

I catch up to her easily, shoving my hands into my pockets. “The sun should be setting soon if you want to watch it.”

“That’s okay.” Her tone is clipped and unfamiliar. “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

“I’m good, but I can get something for you. What do you want?”

She flashes me a sharp-toothed smile. “I’m capable of grabbing a drink myself. Wait here.”

With a thick swallow, I dip my chin and stay put like a chastised dog.

I keep my eye on her, watching as she walks up to a small group of guys at the cooler. She points, and one of them grabs a beer from the ice, pops the cap, and passes it to her. She laughs at something he says, touching his forearm when she takes the beer.

I look away.

Red-hot jealousy pierces through me. A jealousy like I’ve never felt before. One filled with anger, and with sadness, because I want her laughing and touching me.

But that’s ridiculous. This guy is clearly closer to her age. It makes sense for her to chat and flirt with him.

I’m too old for her. Despite my growing feelings, I have to remember that.

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