Page 14 of Sneak Attack

Our place.

The huge boulder I’d stumbled upon two days after Cole Buchanan changed my flat tire on the side of the road in the pouring rain only two days after my family moved to Marysville my senior year of high school.

It’d be lit by fireflies and the distant floodlights from Cole’s parents’ backyard, so I doubted it’d be dark.

I’d avoided looking in that direction when Marley and I walked that way my first morning, but now it was my only focus.

I stumbled over brush and leaves and broken twigs, the path we’d worn down as teenagers was now overgrown and bramble from blackberry bushes—largely overgrown, scraped my skin more than once. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the brutal August heat and humidity, still thick and making my skin slick with sweat before I pushed through the path.

Only to realize I wasn’t alone.

I’d know the shadow of that bulky figure anywhere as he sat down on the boulder, both feet propped on the front of it, forearms to his knees, head aimed straight toward the lake beyond the small, still perfectly clear swimming beach area Cole’s dad had made when Cole and Graham were kids.

He’d filled out over the years, and I’d noticed every part of it—both online, watching him succeed and find a way to fulfill the dreams he’d had since he was a child, and in person. Not like I could miss it when he’d stormed into Marley’s house last week.

His anger, the way he’d looked at me and demanded that I stay away had me debating. Turning back would be easiest. Better for us both, but when it came to Cole and me, we’d always played with fire.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I said, alerting him to my presence, but like so often happened, he didn’t react.

“I knew you’d come out here at some point.”

That almost caused me to stumble. Had he…no…

Cole wouldn’t be out here, in the dark, waiting for me, not unless he wanted to yell at me again in private.

“I can leave.”

He turned then, and I noticed the water bottle between his hands. He definitely noticed the wine bottle and glass in mine before looking away and back to the water.

“No need.”

Except now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay.

I’d found this rock on accident, days after he changed my tire, that first time we met. I’d gone on a walk to explore the woods, and my parents had let me wander just telling me to make sure my phone kept cell reception. At first, I’d stayed to the edges of the water but then I’d noticed a path behind Marley’s house and explored.

It took me straight to this enormous boulder, flat on top, with a perfect view of the lake and rolling hills in the distance. It’d also taken me straight to Cole, who’d been lounging on it, on his back, one arm draped over his face. I’d made a sound, my teenage self surprised to find a boy out there—ashirtless boy with all those muscles—and he’d jolted up.

“I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“It’s all right. How’s the car?”

And that was how we became friends. He scooted over and threw on a shirt, a silent invitation for me to join him. I had, mesmerized by the fact he had the body of a man and the smile of a boy. He asked about Wisconsin, why we moved there—my dad’s job at a college in Nashville—and he’d prepared me for starting school at the high school a week later. Told me about the best teachers. The ones everyone groaned at when they saw their names on their schedules. He told me if I brought Mrs. Akers, the front receptionist, a Dr. Pepper and green apple, she’d usually excuse showing up tardy and hand me a pass.

We’d somehow managed to find each other every day after that, him alone, always seemingly brooding or thinking deeply, but when I showed up, that all washed away.

Two days before that first day of school, he’d held my hand, pressed his thumb to my chin and tilted my face toward the brilliant blue sky and his magnificent sapphire eyes and kissed me.

And then I found out about Hilary.

“I’ll go.” I turned to leave, because Cole at the rock, the place that had become ours, the place where we cried and screamed and laughed and came so close to kissing again but never did, were memories I couldn’t allow to resurface.

My back was to him, my feet at about the tree line when Cole called out, shaking the ground beneath as fierce as an avalanche.

“I don’t hate you. Never did, but I can’t forget either.”

I turned to him, the moon and the floodlight from his yard shading most of his face but I’d know his features anywhere, the tenseness in his body. The scowl. The furrow of his dark brows and those lips that were still so damn perfect. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked, breaking me out of the vortex he sucked me into.

“I can’t forget either.”

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