“Too obvious?” I ask, grinning up at him where he’s hovering over my shoulder.
He paws at the clip I’ve been using to hold my hair in a messy pile on top of my head, and soon my face is covered.
“Hey!” I swat at him, grabbing for the clip.
He laughs, patting my head. “You need to come by the diner tomorrow. I want you to meet Eva.”
“Oh, lord, here we go.” Luca is perpetually in love or trying to fall in love or thinking about how he might fall out of love so he can fall in love again.
“It’s not like that,” he says.
I smirk at him.
“Okay, maybe it’s a little like that, but only because she’s really pretty. But life just crapped all over her. Half the time I don’t know what to say or do. She needs friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yes, friends. You know. Conversation. Time spent in each other’s company. Inside jokes. That sort of thing.”
I growl at him. Literally.
“Easy, tiger.”
I growl louder.
“You don’t have to be her bosom best friend—?”
“Did you just say bosom?”
He inhales deeply through his nose, a sure sign I’m annoying the hell out of him. It’s so damn fun. Plus, I’d rather not go down this path. It’s not that I’m opposed to new friends. Okay, maybe I am a little opposed, at least historically. And then there’s the fact that I haven’t told Luca I’ve already met her. I’m not sure why. Our whole interaction on the beach just felt sort of . . . I don’t know. Sacred. I got the impression that Luca and Emmy didn’t know she was weeping on a usually secluded beach, so I keep my mouth shut for now. Besides, it was just a few moments. Not a friendship.
“I’ve got to go,” he says when I don’t say anything else. Setting the guitar-string creation on my desk, he picks up my bottles of nail polish, base and top coats, and ragged nail file, and places them all in the little taco-shaped contraption.
I smile at him.
“You going to be okay?” he asks.
I look away. “I’m always okay.”
He frowns.
“Luca, I’m fine.” I stand up and stretch. “Just tired.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
After he leaves, I wait a good five minutes, listening for human sounds in the house.
Nothing.
I crack open my door and peer out. The hallway is clear and glowing slightly blue from the moon shining through the big living room windows. Jay’s door is shut and no light peeks out from the crack near the floor.
I run to the bathroom on my tiptoes, clicking the door closed behind me as softly as possible. I flip on the light and rest my palms on the counter, breathing in deeply through my nose. A laugh bubbles up as I envision myself skulking through my own house just to take a piss.
I wash my face with cold water. After I brush my teeth, I snap off the light and fling open the door, moving fast through the hall toward my room.
Except I run into a wall that reeks of Calvin Klein.
“Ugh, dammit, Jay.” His hands reach out to steady me, but I back up before he can touch me.
“Sorry.”
“Sure you are.”
“Grace, don’t make this weird.”
I peer up at him in the half-light. He peers back down at me, his dark eyes intense.
“I’m not making anything weird. I’m not making it anything. Because it’s nothing. You’re nothing and I’m nothing. In fact, this”—?I wave my hand between us—?“isn’t even real. Let’s just mind our own business, okay?”
I go to move around him, but he stops me.
“Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that whole Tumblr thing.”
“Jay. Don’t. Just don’t.”
“It was a joke.”
“Ha-ha.”
“No one cares about those dumb texts.”
“I care.”
“You do, huh?”
Lightning fast, he reaches out and hooks a finger through my belt loop, pulling me closer.
“Let go of me,” I say, trying to untangle his finger. “If you rip my pants, I swear to god—?”
“Come on, Grace. We had some good times. Don’t ruin my memories.”
“You’re the one who ruined it, you asshole.” I finally get my thumb under his finger and twist it free. He releases me, his mouth bending into a sort of sad-looking smile that makes me feel completely off balance. I cover it up with a string of obscene insults.
The sad smile vanishes. “You’ve got such a dirty mouth.” Then he’s back in his room, a door and air and dozens of feet between us that feel like they’ll never be enough.
My entire body hums from where his fingers brushed my hip. And not the good kind of humming. God knows, Jay’s fully capable of the good kind, but this is all wrong. That sad smile felt like some sort of slap in the face. Coupled with the almost-aggressive finger-in-the-belt-loop grab, I feel dizzy. But Jay’s always been a little confusing. One of those guys who knows he’s hot and can hook a girl with one lazy grin. But when we had sex for the first time, I was the one who initiated it. He asked if I was sure so many times, I snapped at him to shut up and kiss me.
When I get back to my room, I flop onto my bed and inspect my fingernails. As I expected, my forefinger is smudged from prying Jay’s claw off my shorts. I’m about to get up to fix it when I hear a tap.
I sit up, holding my breath and listening until I hear it again.
Tap, tap, tap.
I turn my head toward the window and nearly scream when I see a face peering back at me on the other side of the glass.
A girl’s familiar face.
Chapter Eight
EVA GESTURES TO THE LOCK ON THE WINDOW. Instinctively, I flip it free, out of curiosity more than anything. She pushes the window open and then blinks into the sudden brightness spilling into the yard.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask as she folds her body through the opening.
“Emmy sent me over for a dozen eggs,” she replies. She tumbles onto my bed and looks around, legs crossed underneath her like I invited her over for a freaking slumber party.
“I’m assuming that’s a joke.”
She grins. “Yes, Grace, that’s a joke.”
“Ever heard of the front door?”
My tone comes out a little harsher than I intended, because her face falls and she looks down, picking a tiny hole just starting to form in the knee of her black jeans. She’s wearing black-framed glasses, a fitted black T-shirt, and black Chuck Taylors. It’s like she’s on some sort of hipster spy mission.
“Sorry, I’m just really tired,” I say, sinking onto the bed next to her.
“You did unlock the window.”
“Momentary lapse of judgment.”
“I’ll use the front door when I leave.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I wanted to ask you if I could see the lighthouse.”
“You saw it.”
She smiles. “I mean from the top.”
I lean against my headboard and rub at my sleep-desperate eyes. “Oh my god, who the hell are you?”
“Didn’t we already establish that?” She points to her chest. “Eva.” She points to me. “Grace.”