Page 62 of Secondhand Smoke
“I wasn’t avoiding you . . . exactly,” he finished.
Nell was confused now. “Then why wouldn’t you look at me during your rehearsal?”
“I . . .” He studied her, his eyes jumping back and forth over hers. It was almost too dark to see them, but when she was mere inches from him, it was hard to miss. “I was distracted by you. I needed to focus, or else Toni was gonna have my balls for messing up.”
Nell’s throat caught.
She hadn’t expected that, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“I’m sorry.”
Barrett huffed under his breath, amused. “You know what? I will take an apology this time. It’s your fault you’re so damn pretty. Can’t you try a little harder to be easier to ignore?”
Once again, Nell couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t the burning panic she was used to. It stuck in her throat, creating an unrecognizable mix between a squeak and a gasp. And it was every bit as pleasant as the rush throughout her entire body that left her light-headed and dazed.
“You wanna know a secret?”
Nell couldn’t find any words to spill her own, so she nodded.
“I had a small crush on you a few years ago.”
He had to be high. She’d assumed he was the most sober of the group, but he had to be completely stoned. And this was his quirk: being flirty.
“You did?” She wished she still had her head against his chest because she was dying to know if his heart was beating as quickly as hers.
“I have an affinity for beautiful things that’re out of reach.”
Nell didn’t feel particularly out of reach. Not when his arm was still around her waist, holding her against him.
Did that mean he didn’t have an affinity for her anymore?
Asking would be the reasonable course of action.
But she imagined something far worse: finding out that his crush was long gone, right when hers was starting.
It was enough to keep her quiet.
23 - Barrett
Would it be a horribly terrible thing to kiss her?
Yeah. It had to be.
As delightful and captivating as her wide blue eyes were when surprised, she was in no state to be kissed. Ten minutes before, she’d been bawling into his shirt. The wet spot where her face had been pressed into him stuck to his shoulder right above his heart.
Which, by the way, was threatening to escape him or cease working altogether.
He’d confessed. Kind of.
He’d considered telling her that his “small crush” hadn’t been small at all and had spanned from her freshman year and his junior year until now. Those kinds of crushes, even if you hadn’t seen the person for two years, sparked back quickly and with frightening force when given the chance.
No one had taught him that. He’d figured it out all on his own.
The only thing holding him back from spilling the beans was his future self, who would give him a proper beating when he woke up sober in the morning.
She shivered.
Barrett frowned. “Are you cold?”
