Page 54 of One More Shot
Cash rolls his eyes as he starts untying the bow tie around his neck. ‘Sure.’
‘We are,’ I insist, much as I hate to admit it. My mind jumps back to that evening. To our kiss. To the way Eliott felt in my arms. To how my heart sank to the pit of my chest when she pulled away. I shake my head. ‘Trust me. There’s nothing going on there. And don’t worry, I’m not jeopardising your wedding or anything.’
Cash laughs at that, but it’s not his normal laugh. It’s kind of like the laugh you do when someone tells you something ridiculous, but they haven’t realised it themselves just yet. ‘I’m not worried about the wedding.’
‘You’re not?’
‘Nope.’ Cash’s grin widens. I don’t think I’ve seen him look this happy since the day Bailey accepted his proposal.And then he gives me a look. It’s the kind of look you give someone when you know something that they don’t.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Nothing,’ Cash says, still grinning like a madman. ‘Nothing at all.’
Chapter EighteenELIOTT
I know something is up from the way Sasha slides into my bedroom. She’s either here to ask for a favour or she’s fishing for something.
‘You look cute,’ she says, a deceptively innocent smile on her face as she plops down onto the bed. ‘What’s the occasion? Ah!’ She pretends to tap her head like she’s just remembered something incredibly important. ‘That’s right. You’re hanging out with Dane tonight, aren’t you? I’m starting to wonder if I should feel jealous.’
‘Jealous?’ I snort and drop down onto the bed next to her. ‘Why?’
Sasha gives me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and exasperation. ‘Eliott, babe. Come on.’
‘What?’ I ask, genuinely confused.
The expression on her face switches to something else.
She looks almost hurt. ‘Since when did we start keeping things from each other?’
‘You popped a pimple on my ass last night,’ I remind her with a raised brow. ‘There’s literallynothingyou don’t know about me. Our relationship is actually probably a bit unhealthy.’
‘Fair,’ Sasha concedes, before waving an accusatory finger in my face. ‘But that’s what I’m talking about. You’ll let me pop your ass pimples, but you won’t tell me that you and Dane are fucking?’
I freeze and stare at my best friend incredulously. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I know we had that talk and you were like, “no, no, Dane is off-limits”. But you don’t have to be embarrassed if you changed your mind. I’m not gonna judge you.’ She looks genuinely upset. ‘I was the one who said you should give him another chance in the first place, so I don’t understand—’
‘Sash—’
‘And you’re not even doing a good job at hiding it,’ Sasha continues, completely oblivious to my attempt at an interruption. ‘You guys are always messaging, and you’re always rushing off to meet him randomly. And I don’t thinkwe’vehung out together on a Friday night in weeks.’
I frown. That can’t be true.
I comb through my memories of the last few weeks. It hits me with a jolt when I realise that she’s right. Ever sincethat night with Nan’s kitchen, I’m pretty sure Dane and I have done something together every week.
I haven’t thought twice about it.
Spending this time with Dane has become natural. Second nature. When an artist I’ve loved for years announces a one-off gig, Dane is the first person I ask to see if he wants to come with me. His response is an immediate‘of course, babe’and I don’t even have the chance to load up Ticketmaster before he’s sending me a screenshot of the ticketshejust bought for us.
When I get a new camera – a beautiful vintage Olympus model that reminds me of the camera Grandad used to use when I was younger – I don’t hesitate to ask if Dane wants to wander around the city and be my model for a few test shots. He agrees without hesitation and takes his role as my model seriously, right up until we get to my last two shots of film. That’s when he insists that I jump into the shot with him and we spend ten minutes awkwardly trying to prop the camera up on a wall so we can get a shot of Dane resting his chin on my head, his arms wrapped loosely around my waist.
When I’m heading back from a late night wedding down dark and unfamiliar country roads, I don’t think twice about calling Dane to keep me company on the long ride home. He stays on the call for three hours straight, and doesn’t hang up until I close my bedroom door behind me and he knows I’m home safely.
When did Dane become that person for me?
It was always Sasha who came with me to gigs when I didn’t have anyone else to go with; Sasha who acted as my model whenever I ordered some new film or wanted to try a new technique; Sasha who always dutifully stayed up and kept me company on the phone when I drove home late at night.
When did that change?
