Page 40 of The Edge of Summer
“About the other?—”
We both speak at the same time. She lets out an awkward chuckle.
“You go,” I say.
“Oh, um, okay. I was just going to say that this—” She gestures between us. “Doesn’t have to be weird.”
I arch a brow. “Weird?”
“Yeah.” Her head bobs on a nod. “You know,weird. We’re both adults who can recognize that what happened the other day was just a little…blip.”
In other words, a mistake.
This should be a relief. Itisa relief. All she’s doing is putting words to everything I’ve been thinking since that day. So why does it feel sowrongto hear?
“A blip?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
I scowl. “Explain.”
She rolls her eyes. “You may be someone’s boss, but you certainly aren’t mine, so you can tone down the attitude.” I cross my arms, trying not to give away how much I enjoy her putting me in my place. “Yes, ablip. We both got caught up in the moment, and we said and did some things that we normally wouldn’t have. But it’s not a big deal, so let’s not make it one. You can go back to mildly tolerating my existence and that’ll be that.”
That’ll be that.
She seems like she has it all figured out. However, I’m not so sure I want this role I’ve been given. I can’t be with her—can’t kiss those lips I’ve been dying to taste again—but Idon’t like her thinking that I hate her. I need to get a better handle on myself. Maybe then I won’t act like an asshole when I’m trying to keep myself from doing something I shouldn’t.
I can be nice. Ishouldbe nice. On top of being Clara’s friend, she’s my parents’ employee. The expectation is that I’mnota complete douche. For all the reasons why I shouldn't care what she thinks of me, there are a million more for why I do.
“Alright,” I agree, “it was a blip. But mildly tolerating your existence isn’t going to work for me.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You don’t like me at all.”
I hum. At this point, I won’t be able to convince her of the truth, so I ask, “What if I said that I changed my mind?” Her eyes narrow on me in response. “Counter offer: we forget the kiss?—”
“The blip.”
“We forget theblipand carry on like two civilized people who are going to be in each other’s lives for the foreseeable future. Think you can handle that, Shutterbug?”
She grins. “Oh, I can take it, Chief.”
The words are innocent enough, but the gleam in her eye certainly isn’t.Ah, fuck. I should have known she wouldn’t make this easy on me.
Thankfully, she averts her gaze a moment later to check on Sophia. The little girl is climbing the stairs of the play structure to get to the spiral slide on the opposite end. This gives me time to think about anything other than the heat in Delilah’s eyes.
When her attention is back on me, I jerk my chin towardthe camera slung over her shoulder by the strap. “So you’re a photographer.”
She rests a protective hand on the device, like my talking about it might make it disappear. “It’s mostly just a hobby. Pretty amateur stuff.”
Something tells me that’s not entirely true. From the way my sister was acting, it seems like Delilah is stuck on selling herself short.
“Have you thought about that photography contest?”
She looks a little surprised that I asked, though she schools her expression quickly. Her cheeks, however, turn pink. “What photography contest?”
I raise a brow. “Carole’s contest. The one you got all flustered about when Clara suggested you enter.”
“Oh,” she says halfheartedly. “That one.”
