Page 51 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
I eye Three sideways.
Bristol has no idea how cute he actually looks right now. Especially after that sweet confession about how much he cares about his students. A smile plays on my lips thinking about what he said.
“Is it your mom?” he asks, licking a strand of cheese from his mouth.
“Nope,” I say just as a second text comes in.
Bristol
Call me anytime you need extra convincing. I love you more than Three Fuller ever could.
Oof. Bristol’s right, so I’ll definitely have to call her later tonight, before Three and his cheese-licking cuteness completely wears me down. For now, though, I shove my phone back in my pocket. I’ve got a sandwich to finish scarfing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sara
Twelve Years Ago: June
I’m back in Abieville!Yes, that’s the sound of me jumping up and down with excitement. But can you blame me? I’ve been looking forward to this summer since last August, and let me tell you, Three was worth the wait.
I’ve only been here with him for two days, but those forty-eight hours were already better than the roughly half a million minutes I missed with him this year.In fact, I may have so much fun this summer, I forget all about this journal.
We spent the first half of today tubing on the lake with Ford and Nellain their Uncle Cubby’s boat. Then Three had a lifeguarding shift over at The Beachfront Inn, so we went swimming over there. This guy named Carver met us. When I realized I’d left my towel on the boat, he offered me his.
Three blew his whistle at us, just like he does whenever kids start roughhousing in the water or kicking up sand around other people. He was just kidding around, pretending to be jealous. But Nella likes Carver, so I’d never go after him even if my heart wasn’t already obsessed with Three.
Oops. That’s my mom’s calling me for dinner, but I think I’m too happy to eat. I just hope she and my dad won’t be too upset when I tell them we’re all meeting up at the lake for a bonfire tonight. And I hope Three and I get some alone time.
I’m already dying to kiss him.And I kind of wish he got jealous for real.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three
I keep telling myself it’s none of my business.
Like, really. Not even a little bit. I have no right to be possessive. But I sure am dying to know who just texted Sara, and if it was the same person who messaged her. Twice. She looked at her phone, and she smiled.
So now I can’t stop wondering if those texts were from a man.
Is this a side effect of a concussion? Because I’m definitely fog-headed and sick to my stomach. See also: jealous.
Sure, Sara just finished telling me she’s been too busy with school and internships and studying to have time for relationships. But a woman as beautiful and wonderful as Sara is—not to mention someone as generous and caring—doesn’t go unnoticed. And now I’m imagining her with somebody back in the city. Maybe evenseveralsomebodies. If she doesn’t have time to get serious, maybe she just keeps things casual and dates multiple men.
I hate that thought too.
The truth is, I haven’t gotten around to asking Sara about herrelationship status, mostly because I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Especially not after I saw the way Carver looked at her. At the time, I rationalized that my instinct was because Nella has a thing for Carver, and that I was just looking out for my sister. But the truth is, I didn’t want Carver seeing Sara as a single woman who’s available. So I put my body between them. Fast.
This has got to be some side effect of the concussion, right? I’m being totally ridiculous, not to mention unfair. I can’t keep Sara away from other men forever. She deserves to be happy. To find love. And I don’t want to be the guy who keeps her from that.
Irefuseto be that guy.
I’m a grown man with a reputation for being even-tempered, hardworking, and dependable. I’m not a violent person. So how come my hands balled into fists when Sara smiled at those two back-to-back texts?
Yeah, I know. She’s been out of my life for almost a decade, and whether or not she’s had time for a serious relationship, she’s definitely been asked out by plenty of men since then. She’s kind. Smart. Hilarious. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Of course she’s gotten attention over the years. And from more than just Carver Townsend. So I tried to follow Nella’s advice. I was being myself. Listening to my heart. Making us grilled cheese. And then?—
“Hey.” She pokes my shoulder, and I lift my eyes from my plate. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not dizzy or anything?”
