Page 67 of Be Your Anything
I snap a look at her and narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”
She just shakes her head. “You know, I love you a lot, Lucas. But I’ve never felt so disappointed.”
I continue to sit mutely in the hot tub.
“I told you other people are impacted by the choices you make, and now here you are, sitting in a hot tub with your girlfriend while your fuck buddy watches from the wings.”
I clench my jaw. “Will you keep your voice down?”
Paige’s nostrils flare. “Is that all you care about? That someone might find out? Because like I told you,everyone already knows, and the only person suffering the consequences is Lennon.” She shakes her head. “At the very least, I thought you were her friend.”
My heart pinches, and something must show on my face, because Paige’s expressions softens.
“You’re not a bad guy, Lucas,” she whispers. “Please, don’t turn into one.”
Then she walks away, heading over to where Eleanor is sitting next to a snuggled-up Wyatt and Hannah. My eyes track back to Lennon, sitting alone and giving off a don’t-talk-to-me vibe.
“Here we go.”
The water sloshes slightly as Remmy climbs back into the hot tub, her hands above the water with two bottles.
I smile at her. “Thanks.”
I crack open the bottle, take a few sips, and then set it on the side, draping my arm across Remmy’s shoulders. She follows my lead, snuggling into me.
Paige is right. I’m not a bad guy. I didn’t do anything wrong. But, I should be more focused on Remmy and whatever is coming next for us.
AndRemmy’sright that Lennon has a real chance of getting hurt at some point, though a small voice inside whispers that I might get hurt, too.
Just then, the first firework pops into the sky over the pier, cracking loud and exploding brightly, illuminating the crowd of people still out on the beach on towels and blankets for the show.
Remmy’s head tilts back and her mouth opens with delight, enraptured by the display. I watch her for a moment, and then her face blurs as my eyes focus on the person behind her, seated on a lounger on the edge of the roof.
Lennon isn’t watching the fireworks. She’s watching me, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t look away when my eyes connect with hers.
I’ve never seen her look so small before.
Lennon’s fairly short with a tiny figure. Though she’s never been incredibly outgoing, she’s always held herself with this sort of confidence that lets everyone know she isn’t someone to mess with. My only guess is that the Roth family blood running in her veins has produced that self-assurance in spades, because she’s had it since we were kids.
Tonight, she looks like a shell, like her backbone is missing as she sits hunched on the lounger, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin on her knees.
I watch her for as long as I can before I can’t handle the look of vacant despair in her eyes.
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“Huh?” I say, before I can sensor myself.
Remmy’s looking at me, and then she turns her head to look over her shoulder in the direction I was staring, at Lennon sitting in the corner. Then she looks back at me, her eyes scanning my face.
She looks back up at the fireworks, and I see her throat move, her swallow hard and awkward.
“I said, which firework is your favorite?” she asks again, keeping her eyes on the bright show in the distance.
“The one that looks like a willow tree,” I say automatically. “It shoots out in every angle and then everything falls down, like a willow.”
We watch for another moment before one like what I described pops across the sky, filling my eyes with gold extravagance.
“It definitely looks like a willow tree.”
