Page 5 of From Now On

That’s all he says—my name. Nothing else.

Because Ben knows.

He knows I don’t want to live in a small town in Maine. He knows I don’t want to do long distance. He knew this was where his decision would leave us.

Our relationship already shattered. You can’t glue broken glass back together.

No matter what Ben says—now, next week, next month—it will always be drowned out by the sound ofI’m not sure we’re forever.

“Goodbye, Ben.” I turn and continue down the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“Walking home,” I reply, my steps adding more distance between us.

I can’t get in his car and let him drive me home like every other one of our dates have ended. Everything’s changed, and I won’t pretend it hasn’t.

“Eve! Eve, come on. Just let me drive you—” The rest of Ben’s words get lost in a gust of wind.

I tuck my chin into the collar of my coat.

Ben calls my name again, but that’s the only sound he makes. There aren’t any footsteps. He doesn’t chase after me, and I can’t remember if he ever did or if we always stood in the same place.

Three blocks later, my legs are completely numb.

So I call my best friend, and she answers on the first ring.

CHAPTER TWO

HUNTER

“Do you want to share the spaghetti?” Holly Johnson asks me.

“I’m going to stick with pizza,” I respond, same as I have the last five times she’s suggested we share an entree. I’m rapidly running out of ways to sayI already decided, get whatever you wantin more polite terms.

Either Holly’s extremely indecisive or she has someLady and the Trampfantasy of us sucking noodles during this date.

Twin lines appear between Holly’s eyes as she leans forward. The neckline of her top gapes, showcasing a clear view of her cleavage. She’s also donethatseveral times since we sat down. Intentionally, I think.

My knee bounces beneath the table. I wince when my shin bangs against the metal leg, swallowing the swear that wants to slip out.

Her frown deepens. “Is everything okay, Hunter?”

“Great,” I answer quickly. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

I must be a better actor than I thought, because Holly’s concern clears.

“Me too,” she says sincerely, reaching out and resting her hand on top of mine. Her fingers drag along the back of my hand in lazy circles. “And you’ll be evenmoreglad later.”

The suggestive lilt to her words and enticing touch would work on most guys. Itshouldwork on me. Instead, it has me running through exit strategies and fighting the urge to knock her hand away. It’s ticklish—like a spider’s crawling across my knuckles.

Holly winks before settling back in her chair and scanning the menu for the thousandth time.

I keep the smile fixed on my face in case she glances up suddenly. And tug hard at the tight collar of my dress shirt, trying to let some heat out. The back of my neck feels like it’s being blasted by a furnace. Winter hasn’t left Somerville—I think the high today was thirty—so the radiators in here are cranking.

Plus, I sweat when I’m uncomfortable, and I’m rather uneasy right now.

Holly’s undeniably gorgeous. I’ve thought so since the first day of our shared International Affairs class. Before then, I’d seen her at parties and around campus. We’d never really talked, not until she took the seat next to mine back in January, flashed a megawatt smile, and immediately intrigued me. We usually make small talk before and after class, and once the season ended, I decided to ask her out. Mostly because I couldn’t think of any good reasonnotto ask her out, which I’m learning now wasn’t exactly solid reasoning.

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