Thoroughly seduced and his lips just inches away, my pulse quickens as he pulls the damp hair away from my neck and blows. Closing my eyes, I try to inhale some restraint, refusing to look his way.
“It’s starting,” I rasp out, nodding toward the street, Captain Obvious diarrhea spewing freely.
Easton continues to sweep his thumb along my back as the cowboys make a small show of lassoing ropes overhead and begin to usher the massive steers onto the street. The parade lasts only a few minutes, and I frown before turning to Easton to see his face equally drawn up in confusion. A second later, we burst into incredulous laughter.
“That was so fucking anticlimactic!” I huff as we head back to the table. “Glad we didn’t come out of pocket for that.”
Easton shrugs. “I think it was just about the experience of seeing something so Old World in the new one.”
“I get that, but,” I look around and wipe my brow, “maybe not worth sitting in Texas hellfire for two hours to wait for it.” I lift my hair and wave a hand to cool my neck off.
“But you had fun, didn’t you?”
Our eyes meet and hold. “I always have fun with you.”
“Good,” he murmurs before reaching out and scooping me into his lap to straddle him. Shocked by the public display, I quickly glance around and am stopped by his gentle palm when he cups my face. “I can fucking do anything with you as long as you’re looking at me the way you are right now.” His expression arrests me, keeping me immobile as his voice and words reverberate through me.
“Easton,” I manage to breathe out as the world around us inevitably fades away in contrast to him.
“I called you the second time because I remembered how this felt, and I wanted to feel this way again. It’s that simple.”
“It’s so not simple,” I argue breathlessly as I move to get up, and he pins me gently with his palms covering my thighs.
“Then it’s time for a fight,” he declares roughly.
“We don’t have to fight, we agreed—”
“No. You decided. I allowed it because you could have turned me down flat yesterday, but you didn’t. You didn’t turn me down knowing full well that I would want to—and try to—kiss you…touch you…fuck you.” He grips my chin tightly before lifting it to brush his finger along my neck. “I don’t have the urge to call my friends and share my highs and lows. I don’t miss them with an ache so deeply etched inside that it keeps me awake at night, and I sure as fuck don’t drive for hours in hopes they’ll spend a few days with me. And I definitely don’t jerk off to the image of them coming on my cock. I don’t feel this way for my friends, Natalie—close or otherwise—so I dare you to call me your close friend again,” he warns. “I fucking dare you.”
“It’s all we can be, okay?” I whisper with a clear shake in my voice.
“Well, if friendship is all you’re offering, you’re a shitty friend to start with because those I claim as friends would have at least answered the goddamned phone.”
“I explained this before I left Seattle. You didn’t read the emails—”
“You mean the emails that are nearly three decades old and might not even hold any relevance to any of us here and now?”
I shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It still haunts me. Every day. Maybe if you read them—”
“It’s history, Natalie.”
“It’s our parents who almost married each other’s history, Easton.” I fire back. “If you would just read them—”
“I look at you, and honestly, I just don’t give a fuck. It physically fucking hurt me when you slammed that door on me.”
“It hurt me, too. But please understand, I still can’t do this with you.”
“You can do this with me, but you won’t. There’s a difference, and I would drop it, but I know how you feel about me. You don’t want this limited to friendship any more than I do.”
“Don’t presume to tell me how I feel,” I snap.
His nostrils flare as he lifts us both, his eyes wreaking havoc even as he gently sets me on my feet. “I don’t have to fucking presume shit. You already told me, and even if you hadn’t, I’d still know.”
“What do you mean?”
He takes a step away before pulling out his wallet and tossing a few bills on the table. Eyes cast down, he lingers where he stands for a long beat, seeming to focus on the pattern of the tiles on the table before he slowly lifts his gaze back to me. It’s strikingly hollow. The distance between now and seconds ago has my stomach dropping. There’s not a trace of warmth to be found. He’s checking out. “Fuck it, let’s go.”
“What do you mean fuck it? Or are you really saying fuck me?”
He swipes the keys to the SUV from the table and turns abruptly, his biting words stinging repeatedly as I softly call his name. Ignoring me, he rips open the chipped blue fenced door to the patio and stalks through, striding away in the direction we parked the car. Feeling condemned, I follow him to the parking lot, juggling our bags until he relieves me of them before shutting me into the truck.
The ride home is painfully silent, aside from the blaring music. We’re now in this horrible place—at such painful odds, which has me panicking because our time is once again running out. The panic increases with every mile we get closer to reality and my window alone with him is cut short. Because tomorrow, I’ll be stuck in the same place I was two months ago—replaying our time together, obsessing over him, his touch, the way he looks at me, his whispered words, mourning what could have been. A cycle that I can’t bear to think about repeating but can’t do a thing about.
I’m certain I’ve been lying to myself in thinking I was trying to get on with my life after returning from Seattle. While my head tried to convince me that was the truth of it, my heart was still holding out hope for the chance to see him again. He’s here, now, and still within reach. He’s validated every feeling I had about us that I chastised and ridiculed myself for. He’s telling me he missed me. Telling me he wants more, that he wants us to be real, and I’m once again forcing the door closed on us.
Shadows that weren’t present yesterday darken his features as I remember the light in his eyes when he picked me up, the ease in his posture, and the easy smiles he so freely gave.
God, was that just yesterday?
With no traces of that Easton to be seen, I mourn that loss more than anything and turn down the radio. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about you,” I deliver my admission that feels much too late as his face remains like granite, his eyes fixed on the road. “The days I’ve spent with you are some of the most unforgettable days of my life, Easton, but my stance hasn’t changed, and it’s only because I can’t hurt my father this way. I know that’s not a good enough reason for you, and I wish, so much, that I could make you understand.”
He bites his lip, his features tensing as his phone rings and Joel’s name flashes on the screen from where it buzzes in the console. I lift it within reach for Easton to answer, and he takes it from my hands and tosses it on my floorboard. It’s then I know the fight is over for him, and my words are useless. I’ve lost him. Dread settles in my chest as I speak up one last time. “I’ll see myself home after the show.”
STAY (Faraway, So Close!)
U2
Natalie