Page 225 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
The memories hit me fast, making it impossible to keep a straight face.
“Wait,” Dean says from behind us, and I only then realize all eyes are on us. “What the fuck do you mean ‘our’ bucket list?”
37: JED AND ETTA
HART
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SHIT. FUCK. DOUBLE shit.
The campfire goes silent as Dean’s words echo.
It would be nice if we could stop right there and never mention the topic again. Of course, I know that’s not how it’s going to play out.
On another topic, is it too soon after only forgiving each other this morning to lift her finger into my mouth and lap the marshmallow clean off?
The answer is yes.
I know that.
But it doesn’t stop me from thinking it. And today, I don’t have to scold myself for the thought. I don’t have to pretend that I don’t feel it or want it, because we aren’t the same as we were twelve years ago. There’s a whole world of opportunity for us now, and we have time.
Dean’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Like, both of you? Together?” He grins like he’s just discovered the juiciest tea to share.
“That does explain how accurate his guess was,” Celi says. “We probably should’ve put that together.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Bronx crosses his arms, chewing on a toothpick, looking more curious than rattled. “That’s gonna take a minute to sink in.”
“Wait.” Hannah twists in her chair to look at us. “When did you two ever spend enough time together to make a list?”
Jade glances up at me. “We might’ve hung out for a year.”
I’m surprised she admits it, and everyone’s reaction is exactly how you’d expect. They all shoot out questions without giving each other a turn or waiting for an answer.
Ayear? Like, a whole year?”
“What year?”
“What does hung out mean exactly?”
“How did no one know about this?”
“When did it start?”
“Where were we during all this?”
“Did mama know?”
“Holy shit,” I roar, silencing them.
“Y’all pissed off the big bad brother.” Bronx chuckles, enjoying the show.
“Last year of school,” Jade answers. “Started pretty early. In September.” She looks at me as if for reinforcement.
“September seventeenth.” I would never forget the day.
