Page 88 of Summertime Friends

I didn’t think he noticed that.

“I notice everything about you. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

I roll my eyes and try to push past him again, but he doesn’t budge. The electricity consuming my body is evolving from desire to frustration. Why is he doing this? Why does it matter that I made a joke? Would he have been jealous if I had wanted Callum back then?

So I ask him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean that my entire being isn’t consumed by you still. It’s a bad habit I’ve had for years. Every thought of my every moment isyou. Your contagious laugh, the way you squish your nose when you are embarrassed, your intelligence and ability to read a person’s needs, how you try to order different things at a restaurant and then hate it because you are a picky eater. Shall I go on?”

My grasp on control is slipping. I’m starting to lose control of my heart—again—when he says things like that to me.

I can’t speak. I can’t stop Liam, nor do I want to.

There’s power in knowing you are the source of someone’s every thought.

“Even now, I can’t seem to escape the thought ofyou.”

My breath hitches.

He holds my chin where I can’t look anywhere but him. A firm, warm grasp that might melt the skin right off.

“This whole time, I knew somehow, somewhere, we’d find each other again,” he continues. His gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth. Mine matches his. Liam rests his forehead on mine.

“Tell me you feel the same. We’ll figure it out. Questions answered. No more hurting. I’ll tell Natalie. It’ll be over.” His voice is pure desperation.

I’m frozen. I think my heart stopped beating because I feel nothing and absolutely everything simultaneously.

After several moments, I open my mouth to speak.

“Emerson. . . ?”

36

LIAM

Now

It’s a female voice.

Sirens go off in my head.Great, it’s probably Natalie. This is one way to blow up things, Liam.

They said Emerson’s name quietly enough that it might have been Natalie. It’s dark enough where they stand that we are all outlines of each other.

I’m praying it’s not Natalie, or maybe I want it to be her. I want to end all of this here right now. I’m no longer hiding that I’m crazy about the girl standing before me, and I won’t ever be able to feel the same about anyone else.

I push off the wall, releasing Emerson from my grasp. Her fortress wall snaps back into place.

I hear their footsteps get louder as they inch closer to us. The dim hallway light acts as a spotlight when they step into it.

Chloe.

“What the hell is happening here?” She demands.

“Nothing—” Emerson tries to say.

“Uh-huh. Sure looks like nothing is going on.” Chloe turns to face me. “And I was just learning to warm up to you. I suppose you don’t want to explain why you have the wrong girl pushed up against the wall, your face a misstep away from hers.”

Wrong girl—she’s not the wrong girl; she’s the right girl, wrong time.

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