Page 70 of Come Break My Heart Again

“Higher?” I lift an eyebrow. “You an adrenaline junkie now or something?”

“Or something.”

I lose the battle not to drop my attention, my focus falling farther south than I was supposed to look.

Elle’s blue eyes are amused when I meet her gaze again. She tilts her head, dark strands spilling over her shoulder and slipping between the curves of her breasts.

And … fuck. I’m checking her out again.

I can feel the eyes on us. We’re drawing attention from both our respective groups, standing here together and talking.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my board shorts, rocking back onto my heels and deliberating if the eyes on us should bother me. I thought they’d bother Elle. But she seems oblivious to the interest aimed this direction, her posture poised and relaxed as we stare at each other.

I nod toward the tire. “Go ahead.”

“Were you asking or overhearing?” she says.

It takes me a second to realize what Elle is referring to. The blue bikini she’s wearing is partly to blame. The rest is just … her, infiltrating and overwhelming all my senses. Muddling my thoughts.

“Does it matter? I askedyou.”

I care, is what I’m admitting. She broke up with her boyfriend, and I care. I’m hoping I’m not foolish for thinking it had something to do with me.

“You’ve also been avoiding me,” she says.

Avoidingis a strong verb. I haven’t made any effort to approach Elle since the Friday night I borrowed her car because I was certain she’d wake up on Saturday and regret every word we exchanged. Because I was sure any forgiveness was proof she no longer cared. Because she had a boyfriend.

“Something wrong with the swing?”

Elle breaks eye contact and glances behind me. Her posture stiffens, barely, but enough that I notice, shoulders tensing and chin lifting an inch.

Reese stops right beside me, propping a hand on her hip.

“Seems fine,” I answer.

“What’s the delay then?” Reese asks. “You usually move pretty fast, Ry.”

I glance at her, but Reese isn’t looking at me. She’s focused on Elle, who’s staring right back. I have this weird urge to step between them while also feeling like I’m stuck in the middle already.

I clear my throat, wishing it were a louder sound that might cut through the tension that’s appeared out of nowhere. “You know Elle?”

“Not really.” Reese’s tone is cool. “And I didn’t knowyouknew her.”

She’s expecting me to deny it. An awkward silence lingers when I don’t.

“You jumping?” I ask Reese.

“If you jump, Jack.”

I smile. Reese has a thing for classic films and has roped me and Tucker into watching plenty. Last night was a Hitchcock marathon, butTitanicis her all-time favorite.

She smiles back, proud I caught the reference.

“You chicken out, James? It’s gotta be, what? A five-foot drop into calm water?”

I snort as Tuck completes our usual trio, his curious gaze landing on Elle the same way Reese’s did. Minus a lot of antagonism. Like I told Elle, he’s always taken theus versus themmentality a lot less seriously than the rest of our neighborhood. Unless they give him a reason not to, he gets along with everyone.

“Hey. I’m Tuck.”

---