Page 12 of The One Who Got Away
He plucked them out of my hands. “After dinner.” He traded me for the bag full of wine.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I heard the hiss of starch boiling over and ran for the rice.
“Can I help?”
“No, I got it.”
He followed me into the kitchen that could barely hold one person let alone two.“I’ll take care of the wine then.” He slid his hand over my hip to get to the drawer where we kept the corkscrew.
I could feel the heat of him behind me and my breath caught when his nose brushed over the little curls that had escaped my flat iron.
“You still smell like cherries.” His voice was a little rough. “Like the good ones soaked in bourbon.”
My nipples tightened.
Holy crap.
Then he was gone, corkscrew in hand. “I had no idea you were back in town.”
I gripped the edge of the stove’s handle to steady myself.
What the hell was that?
“Definitely wasn’t in the plans,” I managed to say.
“What happened with your parents?” He brushed by me and my skin buzzed as he grabbed a pair of glasses from the cabinet over the stove.
The fact that he still knew where everything was left me off balance as much as this ridiculous awareness. It had to be because my immunity to him had been compromised with all the time away from one another.
It had taken some time, but I’d been able to settle into the friend zone. I’d followed his lead there during our freshman year. I’d hoped he might be my first kiss, but instead he’d spun tales of my future.
A future far away from Indigo Valley.
Away from him.
“You’re going to get out of here, El. You’re gonna take over the game world.”I could still hear his voice. The way his dark eyes had been so intense as he supported me when no one else had. My mother assumed I’d go to a state college and live home.
But I couldn’t stay under her watchful eye forever.
Gus had known that.
And so, we’d been friends. The best of friends. He’d held my hair the first time I’d puked from drinking. He’d show up with chocolate and gummy bears when my period kicked my ass. He’d decked Rob, the lacrosse captain, who had cheated on me in my junior year. And he’d helped me pack for Northeastern.
Then he’d left for a job in Montana the night before I left.
Maybe he’d felt it too. The inability to actually say goodbye.
I’d driven to Boston with a lump in my throat the whole way.
“El? You gonna get that?”
The timer finally dented the nostalgia fog. “Yeah, sorry. Was thinking.” I pulled the rice off the stove and set it to rest, resetting the timer.
“Was it that bad?” He held out a glass of white wine to me.
I hid behind the bowl of the glass for a moment. The light pinot left behind a crisp zing. I raised my brows. “Wow. You a wine guy, Gus?”
He gave me that lopsided grin that ruined me. “Sometimes. I’m partial to rum after spending a few years in Costa Rica, but I met this old guy in San Jose--Roland, was his name. He talked about wine like it was a woman. He made learning about it fun. Besides, there’s only so much rum you can drink before you get in trouble.”
