Page 29 of Just Friends

I tear my gaze from his, looking around the convenience store, but it looks completely unfamiliar. Or familiar in the way that all gas stations look the same. Sticky floors and fluorescent lights, unnaturally bright colors located down white rows and behind chilled coolers. But there’s nothing that sticks out to me.

“Really? When? How do you remember that?”

One of his shoulders lifts in a shrug, and he taps a single finger on his temple. “I’ve got a mind of steel.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

His brows bunch together as he stabs a red straw into his slushie and takes a sip. “Mind of steel.”

“My mind is asteel trap,” I clarify, following him toward the registers.

“Same thing.”

A little laugh escapes me. “No, it’s not. Mind of steel means resilience.”

Alex looks offended, pressing a hand to his broad chest. “You don’t think I’m resilient?”

“Yes, you’re resilient,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “But you were talking about your memory.”

“I have an excellent memory. I’ve got a mind of steel.”

His eyes light up like Christmas lights, twinkling and glittering, and I realize he’s messing with me, talking in circles to get me riled up. I shove my palm into his shoulder, unable to hold back my giggle.

“You’re the worst.”

He leans down until we’re almost nose to nose, a brilliant smile playing on his lips. “But you love me.”

I bite my cheek to keep from grinning. “Yes, I do.”

Something changes in his expression, his eyes turning a deeper shade of brown than I’ve ever seen them, bleeding into the pupils until they’re fathomless.

“Is that watermelon or cherry flavored?” Ellie asks, sidling up next to her brother, breaking whatever spell was cast over us.

My hand presses to my stomach, hoping to stop whatever peculiar sensation is riling there.

“Watermelon,” Alex answers. “Want me to get you one?”

Ellie’s smile is as bright as his. I think it must be in their genes. A little bit of pixie dust that makes them sparkle a little more than the rest of us.

“Yeah, thanks,” she tells him.

Alex’s gaze fastens on mine. “Do you want one too?”

“I’ll just have a sip of yours.”

His mouth hitches, tugging upward. “That’s what I thought.”

But when he hops in the back seat of Cam and Ellie’s SUV a few minutes later, he’s balancing three slushies in his hands, one for Ellie, one for him, and one for me.

FontanaRidgeiseverything—nestledin the mountains, more idyllic than Mayberry, prettier than a postcard—and I always forget how much I miss it until I’m passing the welcome sign and taking in the way the sun crests over the treetops and glints on the lake.

Today, the town is already decked out for Trail Days. The streets are crowded with more visitors than the town residence year-round, even though the actual festival doesn’t start until tomorrow. Time-worn banners hang from streetlights, and shop windows boast sales on hand-painted signs. As we cross over the bridge, a rainbow of tent colors pinpricks against the green backdrop of the campground.

My hand finds Alex’s corded forearm, squeezing in excitement. “Welcome to Fontana Ridge.”

Alex’s nose is almost pressed to the window as he observes our surroundings, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s beautiful.”

I catch Cam’s eye in the rearview mirror. “It’s my favorite place in the world,” I say, and I can tell he echoes my thoughts.

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