Page 41 of The Jilted Lovers Club
Grace bumps me, and I almost skid my paintbrush across my canvas. “Hey!”
“Sorry. But yes, Ashton.” She gives me a pointed look. “That guy has been a somber train wreck since Sasha took off, barely even talking to any of us anymore. But you show up, and suddenly he’s whistling while he’s picking up supplies at the feed store, or smiling and staying to chat when he delivers produce to the restaurants. Everyone is talking about how you two were paddle boarding down the river, and I don’t think I’ve seen him do that since he first showed up around here. Then at the gallery, the way he was looking at you.” She fans herself, but I just feel confused.
“What way?” Everything they’re saying is sparking hope in my heart that feels both exhilarating and dangerous.
“My god, don’t you see it? That man could not take his eyes off you.”
I roll my eyes at Grace, then look at Michael. “And how doyouknow anything? It’s not like you’ve seen us together.”
“No, but everyone else in this town has, and girl, you’re the buzz. Now that people have moved on about the whole storetakeover, they’re onto bigger and better things. Namely, how you landed the most unavailable bachelor in this town.”
Despite myself, I can’t help laughing. If Ashton could hear them talk right now. “According to Ashton, everyone here has tied him to Sasha and expects him to remain single for the rest of his life.”
“Are you kidding?” Grace shakes her head. “That guy would see he has a line of women begging for him to give them attention if he would just look up.”
“Guys too,” Michael pipes in.
I give him side eye, and he shrugs. “What? The man is fine. You can’t tell me you don’t think so.”
I bite my lip, dying to cave to the gossip but also not wanting to feed it. “It’s not like it matters. I’m leaving in a few weeks, and his whole life is here.”
Grace groans and pretends to slither out of her chair. Michael just shakes his head.
“Nothing is so permanent it can’t be changed for the right circumstance.”
“Or the right person,” Grace pipes in. “Come on, tell me you don’t feel something whenever you’re around him.”
I say nothing. Instead, I take a sip of my wine, and my eyes stay on hers—which become saucers—and then she bursts out laughing.
“I knew it! You like him! You might even loooove him.”
“I do not,” I say, smacking her arm. “I’ve known him all of ten days.”
“Fine, but in those ten days, how many times have you thought about jumping his bones?” she asks.
I bury my face in my hands, then peek at them both. “Way too many times,” I groan.
Grace nearly falls to the floor laughing, while Michael offers a smirk and a raised wine glass. I tink my glass to his.
“It’s about time, bitch,” he says.
“What are you talking about? It’s been ten days.”
“Ten days of you two eye fucking each other, according to everyone in this town. It’s like watching a slow-motion rom-com with no kissing.” He looks at Grace, who nods.
“Infuriating,” she said. “But also kind of hot.”
“You two are the literal worst.”
But even as I laugh, it gets me thinking. He hasn’t said anything to me. Hasn’t even tried to make a move. I haven’t seen half of the things Grace and Michael—and apparently the whole town—are saying. But I have seen Ashton’s small glances. The way his eyes shift. How he’s so careful around me.
What if this really isn’t a one-sided crush? What if he feels the same way I do, and is hiding it—just like me?
But do I even want to open that door?
The Crooked Jellyfish
Ashton
