Page 42 of All This Time
“I think so,” I say, trying to picture it.
“The house would have these giant picturesque windows, kind of like the ones we have in our living room, but I could set up a desk right in front of them and write, staring out at the town full of cherry blossoms in spring, admiring the snow-covered peaks when winter comes, and watching the gorgeous sunsets that come late in the summer.”
As she describes the image, I can see her there too. “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into it.”
“A little,” she says with a shrug. “But I’m also a realist.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m going to get my degree in English so I can teach while I work on my novel. Or… I’ve always wanted to own a beauty salon.”
“Those are two very different things,” I reply, which makes her laugh.
“I know. I feel like a little kid when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, and they tell you an astronaut, the president, or a ballerina.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’m all over the place.”
“That’s not a bad thing. It’s good to have other interests. Sometimes I wish there was something else I wanted more than making it to the NFL.”
“You don’t have a backup plan? Something that would keep you in Blossom Peak at any point?”
“Nope. I want to start somewhere fresh, even if it isn’t playing football for a living. But if I do make it to the NFL, I’ll have to live in the city of whatever team drafts me.”
“True.”
“But if not? Well, I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I haven’t lived here all my life like some people in this town, so I don’t think it will be as difficult to leave.”
“Yeah, this is the kind of place that’s hard to leave when it’s all you’ve known.”
“Rhonan wants to leave, though,” I counter, remembering for a moment that my friendship with him is the reason I met her in the first place… And also why I shouldn’t be lying in her bed.
Laney shrugs again. “For school, yes, but he hasn’t said that he wouldn’t move back when he’s done.”
“Yeah, I haven’t really talked to him about it. Maybe I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”
Laney grows quiet. “Does—does Rhonan know that you’ve been sneaking into my room?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine.
“Probably not.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I reach out and stroke my hand up and down her arm, loving how soft her skin is, admiring her freckles and the way her pulse is thrumming when I reach her wrist. “I don’t think it’s any of his business.”
“But weren’t you looking for his room that first time?”
My heart pounds harder as I look at her, our eyes locked. “I was, but I found yours instead.”
Her eyes dip down to my mouth and then back up. “You did.”
“And I’m glad.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, hearing her breath hitch. “You’re my angel, remember. You saved me.”
I watch her tongue dart out to lick her lips, and I struggle not to reach out and pull those lips to mine.
“And what am I saving you from, Fletcher?” she whispers, throwing a bucket of ice water on our heated moment.
I take my hand back and avert my eyes from hers. But she grips my jaw and forces me to look at her again. “How did you really get that bruise on your ribs? Because I know damn well it wasn’t football, and you thinking that I’m that stupid just pisses me off.”
