Page 51 of Over the Edge

I risk a glance up at him and his eyes are trained on me with a brutal intensity. “Yeah?”

“If anyone ever makes you feel like they’re simply ‘putting up’ with you, walk out of their life. They don’t deserve you.”

A knot catches in my throat. Does he really believe that? Or is he just being nice after helping him today?

“Don’t worry. I won’t walk; I’ll run.” I dart toward the car, tugging him behind me. I like that he never lets go when I do this. It’s something small but I like the possibility that I might be worth holding on to.

When we reach the car I turn and we almost collide at my sudden stop. His front presses against me and my hands land against his firm chest.

“Hey there,” I say, but the words lack my usual confidence.

“Hey, yourself,” he mutters.

In the streetlights his brown eyes burn bronze behind the lenses of his glasses. Instead of pulling back, I run a hand up the hard line of his chest so it lands at the collar of his shirt and I play with the seam with my fingers. He melts into my touch. For the longest time I’ve gained satisfaction from drawing reactions from him because it was something I felt only I could do. This is nearly the same. I want him to react because it’s me, because I want to mean something to him.

There’s that cliff’s edge in my mind, one we’ve been inching closer toward. This moment feels like taking another step closer to discovering what’s waiting at the bottom.

Garrett’s face tilts down toward mine and he closes the gap. My breath catches and my fingers freeze, tangled in the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t think we should kiss,” he says in a husky voice that makes me want him to be saying the exact opposite. “We don’t need to go that far.”

The heat building in me fizzles and sparks before I can form a response. Yes, he’s talking about the Barlowes who are watching from the sidewalk.

“I guess not.” I don’t want to confront the tinge of rejection that makes me feel like I’m shrinking. I pull my hands back so they land on the car.

The pad of his finger brushes against my cheek as he guides a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He unexpectedly leans closer, causing my heart to launch into my throat. Did he change his mind? He should have given me some warning. I suck in a breath and close my eyes as his chest brushes against mine, the friction prompting my nipples to pull tight against my borrowed sweater.

There’s a click and then a kiss of night air.

“The doors unlocked for you, didn’t want to make you wait,” he says.

As my eyes flutter open, I find him holding up the keys when I look to the side then pull at the handle. I’m rewarded with the door hitting the back of my legs.

“Thanks,” I choke out through my embarrassment.

Once we’re both in the car and he starts the engine, I turn up the music on the radio. An old Willie Nelson song that oncefinished bleeds into Billy Joel, but neither song is loud enough to drown out my racing thoughts.

Later, when I’m tucked in bed, I pull out my phone to scroll through the photos. Prompted by my earlier thoughts, I swipe my finger to select all of the ones we took then send them to Quinn. If this were last year, it’s exactly what I would do. I would call her and we’d spend hours talking that would end up deciding to meet up for drinks. I’d tell her about Garrett and the almost kiss and she’d roll her eyes and say I should have just gone for it.

Evelyn

You’d love it here.

It’s late and I don’t expect her to respond, but a few minutes later a notification banner pops up at the top of the screen.

Quinn

Cute

You look happy

Evelyn

I am

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