Page 109 of All This Time
When I look up at him, I see his eyebrows rise. “You have a crush? Is it someone at school?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Do I know him?”
I nod. “You do.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Then tell me. Maybe I can talk to him, tell him to run in the other direction.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “You wouldn’t dare!”
He laughs. “Nah, I wouldn’t. In fact, any guy who’s got your attention is one lucky son of a bitch.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between his. “God, you’re so blind.”
His boyish smile almost makes my knees buckle. “That’s not true. I can see very well. Now tell me…who is this boy you have your sights on?”
“He’s a man, not a boy. High school boys aren’t worth my time.”
“You’re damn right about that.” He reaches forward and pinches my ribs, making me squeal. “Spill, Laney.”
With a shaky hand, I reach up and brush his hair from his face, lowering my voice. “I can’t believe it’s not obvious to you.”
His eyes bounce between mine. “Use your words, Laney.”
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, thankful for the liquid courage I consumed earlier, I whisper, “After all these years…you honestly haven’t noticed how I look at you?”
His smile falters and, for a moment, I regret it all—Imust have misread this.
Licking my lips, I prepare to bolt, but when his hand cups the side of my face, I freeze. A pinch in his brow forms, and then something shifts in his gaze. Determination? Permission?
Whatever it is, his spine straightens from his newfound confidence, and then he whispers, “Fuck, Laney. I—”
“Fletcher!” A guy I don’t recognize calls out from the other side of the house. “Come on! We need you for beer pong!”
He glances over his shoulder and takes a step back from me. “I’ll, uh, be right there!” he calls back.
Disappointment races through me as he creates even more distance between us, brushing his hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. “Christ,” he mutters before meeting my eyes again, so many thoughts swirling in his.
But I cut him off before he can make this more awkward. “It’s fine. Go.”
His brows draw together again. “Laney…”
Smiling, I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing…”
“Fletcher!” The guy calls again.
And before Fletcher can say another word, I walk away, willing my heart to calm down as my pulse hammers relentlessly.
“Laney!” he calls after me, but I don’t turn around. I need space, I need time to deal with his reaction because it wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t a rejection either.
When I enter the kitchen again, I find Dilynne pouring herself another drink. “Hey, where have you been?” she asks me as I bump my hip with hers.
I get as close to her as I can before whispering, “I was talking to Fletcher.”
Her eyes widen. “And? Did you do it? Did you tell him—”
“Shhh!” I hiss, cutting her off. “And sort of?” I say, even though it comes out more as a question.
