Page 35 of Every Thought Taken

The four of us… we’re our own little family. Bonded for life.

Under the table, Anderson leans his leg against mine, but he doesn’t otherwise shift his posture. He remains hunched over his paper, scrawling in his notebook, a hint of a smirk on his lips. I peek across the table from under my lashes, where neither Lessa nor Mags take their eyes off their own studies.

A tornado of warmth and energy swirls in my chest and I stop breathing. No matter how often I feel this with him, his touch always affects me the same. Like each press of his leg or grip of my hand or stroke of my skin is new. Unique. A first.

A big part of me wants many firsts with Anderson. We’ve shared so many already, but none of them have felt like this. Potent. Powerful. Something more than friendship.

Is that what we are now? More than friends. Is that what I want? What he wants? I honestly don’t know.

But I am willing to find out.

CHAPTER18

ANDERSON

“Ugh.” Ales slurps the last of her root beer float. “I’m bored already.” She shoves the tall glass mug to the side, plucks several french fries from the shared plate in the middle of the table, dunks them in ranch, then devours them on a moan. “Can we please do something?” she asks with a hand over her mouth.

Next to her in the booth, Mags sips hot cocoa. “The cinema has a movie marathon in one of the theaters.” She looks at Ales then across the table to Helena. “Buckets of popcorn, boxes of candy, some liquid sugar, and ten hours of theTwilight Saga.” Fishing through her purse, she pulls out her phone and taps a button to light the screen. “Started thirty minutes ago, but it’s not like we haven’t seen the first movie a gazillion times.”

Helena grabs a fry from the plate and slathers it in barbeque sauce. She pops it in her mouth then elbows my side. “You up for a day full of teen angst, vampires, and werewolves, Ander?”

I have zero feelings about the movies. Truly.

Until a few years ago, I’d been somewhat oblivious to the franchise. That’s when the first two movies hit our small town in Washington. That’s when every school-age girl in Lake Lavender went gaga over Robert Pattinson, including my sister and Mags. Helena showed excitement for the movies, but not to the same degree as Ales and Mags. Those two earned their Twihard title all on their own.

Although I have no desire to spend my entire day watching the saga, I will say yes. I will sit in uncomfortable seats, listen to every girl in town talk over the movies, and pretend like I’m interested. All because of the girl next to me in the booth.

“Yeah. Sure.” I drink the last of my Dr Pepper. “Probably should let the parents know.”

Ales whips out her phone and taps the screen with quick fingers. “On it.” She pauses and looks up. “Anyone need money? I have enough to pay for me and Baby A.”

Helena digs into her front pocket while Mags riffles through her purse.

“Been saving my allowance and still have leftover birthday money. I’m good,” Helena states.

“Me too. Since it’s fall break, Mom gave me play money,” Mags says.

Ales claps and startles us all. “Let’s go.”

We settle the check and leave the diner. We weave through the crowded sidewalk on Main Street and I instinctively reach for Helena’s hand. Lace my fingers with hers and breathe easier from the simple contact. I tell myself it is so I don’t lose her or let her get trampled by people shopping for Thanksgiving.

Those are half-truths.

If I am honest with myself, I want her hand in mine more often than not. Holding her feels right. Perfect. Like home. Her touch, innocent as it is, revives my heart. Chases away my demons and warms me in ways I never thought possible.

Does she feel the same? A constant desire to be close, just the two of us. A magnetic pull when we exist in the same space. An unmatched level of comfort. If I were to spill all my secrets, it would be with her. Is it the same for her? Or does she hold my hand for a different reason? To appease my need to touch her. Out of pity, to ease my sadness. She doesn’t have a boyfriend that I know of, and I am familiar and easily accessible. Like family. A brother.

The tightening of her fingers in mine snaps me out of my introspection. I drop my gaze to our hands for one, two, three steps before I meet her waiting eyes. The light green of her irises is darker, edged with concern. Her lips part, voiceless words on the tip of her tongue, then she snaps her mouth shut.

I stroke the pad of my thumb down the length of hers. “What is it?”

She freezes on the sidewalk and I jerk to a stop. Looking up the street, Ales and Mags are a few storefronts ahead of us. If we don’t catch up before they reach the cinema, they will wait.

“Did I do something wrong?” Helena asks.

My attention swings back to her. Uncertainty wrinkles her brow. The fingers of her free hand fidget with the front pocket of her hoodie. And her eyes… she won’t look up.

I step into her, crowd her, a death grip on her hand. “No.” Her eyes still downcast, I inch impossibly closer. Invade her every breath. Bring my other hand to her chin and lift her gaze until we are eye level. “No,” I repeat, tone firmer. “Never.”

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