Page 19 of The Secret We Keep
Morgan’s cheeks flame brightly. I practically see my reflection in her ocean blues before she slams them shut. “I know! God, I’m sorry. I…” Her palms slap her face. “I need to get back. It was nice seeing you, Paddy.”
She darts past me, and I watch her go, a swell of regret that I may have embarrassed her reaching fever pitch.
“Morgan, wait.”
She keeps her pace fast, her silhouette fading into the dark.
Catching up with her, the distance between the warm glow of the house and the only streetlamp at the top of the lane is too far apart for me to see her properly.
“Wait.” I reach for her elbow, forcing her to turn and look at me. There are a lot of questions I want to ask right now, none of which make sense to me.
I have to strain my eyes to see her expression, my fingers tingling from the contact with her. “I can walk you.”
Morgan pulls away from my hold, looking down at the lost connection.
She feels it too?
Her arms then curl around her middle. “I’m fine.”
“Not even for old time’s sake?” I’m clutching at straws, but there’s a familiarity to my words. A comfort, even.
You don’t grow up in such a tight-knit community and simply forget everything. You don’t just not remember the other kids you grew up around and spent every hour with. They become a part of you, and by some weird extension, they always feel like more than friends.
I change tact. “Tell me about what you’re up to now. I heard your dad was telling my mum about a holiday. Did you all go?”
One eyebrow raises, and her lips purse. “Do you really want to hear about my holiday with my parents, Paddy?”
The corners of my eyes crinkle with my grin. “No, I don’t really care about your parents, but I do want to hear what you got up to. Come on. Spill.” I step around her.
“I didn’t get up to anything.” She lifts her shoulders quickly.
“Nothing? Mum said you went to Spain. Plenty to do while you’re there.” My feet begin small steps backwards, and Morgan follows.
“And I suppose you’re also going to scold me for not shagging hot Spanish guys?”
I freeze. “No. I’m glad you didn’t,” I throw at her before I can register what I’m saying.
Why? Why am I glad?
Morgan’s face twists into a look of confusion as I cringe internally. “If you must know, I read my book and sunbathed.”
“Could have fooled me.” Because Morgan does not look like she recently spent time in the sun.
“At least whatever tan I have is real,” she answers quickly, speaking louder than usual.
I balk, pointing to my face. “You think this is fake?”
She may sound angry, but Morgan’s trying hard not to smile as her cheeks redden, and her lips curve in a playful pout.
“I wasn’t implying that you don’t look glowing.” No. Her skin is smooth and ivory, highlighting the round windows to her soul which are now fixed on mine.
I wouldn’t say it’s awkward, but a silence lands between us. The only way I know how to move past it is to start moving again.
I make it a few paces before Morgan speaks. “I know what you’re doing,” she says incredulously.
“What?”
Looking over her shoulder, she tips her chin at my car. “Wouldn’t that be quicker?”
