Page 30 of Rival Summer

"Yeah." He stopped walking, and turned to face me, the streetlight casting him in a glow that made his blue eyes sparkle. "It's like... she's so caught up in her own problems that she forgets I've got my own. Forgets I might need her."

"That’s awful, Boston."

"It is what it is," he whispered. His vulnerability made my heart twist. "She’s got bigger things to worry about than how I’m doing."

I wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, that he never would be, but I knew some assurances didn’t need words—they were felt in the squeeze of a hand or the steadiness of a presence.

Reaching out, my fingers curled gently around his firm forearm, feeling the heat of his skin seeping into mine. I leaned into his side, resting my head against his bicep. "But I worried," I whispered. "Even when we weren’t talking, I worried."

Boston's gaze slowly shifted, meeting mine with such intensity that a shiver ran down my spine despite our closeness. "I know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was confiding a secret meant only for me. "Chandler, it wasn't you I was avoiding. It was everything—the world."

I tipped my head back to look at him fully, searching his face for any sign of the boy who used to be so full of light. "Why did you want to shut the world out?" I asked, my thumb absently stroking the prominent vein running along his arm.

"Sometimes," he said, "when bad things happen, you don't want to pull other people down into the darkness with you. It's easier to just... disappear for a while."

"Even from me?" The question came out faster than I intended, betraying the ache of being shut out.

"Especially from you," he said, his voice sharp. "You deserve better than to be dragged into this."

"How about you let me decide what I deserve?" I responded, pausing before continuing. "And don't even try to argue. You're not off the hook yet—you've still got a lot of making up to do," I said, trying to lighten the moment.

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely," I affirmed, crossing my arms for emphasis.

"Fair enough," he conceded, and as we reached Willow’s front yard, he stopped and turned to me. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my cheek as he whispered, "Trust me, Chandler, I haven't even started yet."

The kiss he pressed to my cheek was gentle, fleeting, but it sent a shock of electricity through me. My heart was racing, both from his touch, and by what he meant with that statement. And suddenly the butterflies that had gone dormant began to stir once more, reminding me of the unfamiliar ground we were stepping into.

"I’m holding you to that," I managed to say despite the swirl of emotion. "Because I'm keeping score, Boston Riley. Tonight you earned one point."

Boston responded with a heart-melting smile. "One point? After tonight, that's all I get?" His eyes twinkled. I could tell he was on the brink of laughter.

"Rules are rules, Boston." I shrugged. "I don't make them."

"Oh, how convenient," he said, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. A moment later, he stepped back, hands tucked casually into his pockets as if the gravity between us wasn’tshifting. "But let's not forget, I'm very competitive… and I’ll do whatever it takes to win."

Stepping onto the porch, the wooden boards creaked under my weight and I paused to glance over my shoulder. "I can't wait to see what that entails."

"Chandler, wait up a sec." Boston's voice came out low and teasing. "I keep thinking about it."

"About what?" I asked.

"When I put your hands on me." He looked away, almost as if he was making sure no one else was around. "You surprised me."

His smirk was dimly lit by the glow of the porch light, casting shadows that danced across his sharp jaw. I couldn't help but mirror his expression, though the blush on my cheeks betrayed me.

"Yeah, guess I liked what I felt," I breathed out, the flirtation coming more naturally than I expected.

He nodded, smiling ever so slightly, a hint of mischief there. "You have no idea how good it could feel."

"Guess we'll have to see about that," I countered, feeling another wave of those rebellious butterflies.

"Uh huh," Boston nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good night, Chandler."

With one last lingering look, I turned and went inside, shutting the door behind me.

TWELVE

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