“Not so much,” I said.
We walked closer to the ocean and sat in that magical place that was dry on our butts and wet on our toes. Gray loved that place best, and it was my habit to do what he liked without thinking about it. Without asking, he untied my tennis shoes, slid them and my socks off, and set them behind us.
I didn’t comment, but I didn’t stop him. I tugged the edge of my shorts lower and waited on whatever it was he had to say.
He derailed a crab from crawling our way and then asked, “You talked to Gina?”
“Not since the other night.” I let my eyes slice him a few times before I asked, “Have you talked to Gina?”
“We’re still friends, Sadie. You should try it.”
“I did. Didn’t work out so well.” Which wasn’t completely true, but it felt good to say.
“Jeez, lay off us, will you? I’ve told you a million times it wasn’t like that.”
It was like something.
“Gray, why are you here?”
He slid his hand closer to mine in the sand until we were nearly touching. “Gina said you and Max were . . . I dunno . . . together. I wanted to check in, I guess.”
“Max and I are . . .” I didn’t know the term for what we were. “Close.”
Gray exhaled. “I wish I could go back and do so many things over.”
His voice dripped with earnestness. All of my firsts were with Gray Garrison, and I remembered them now as if they were a Pinterest board of images. The first time I thought he was cute. The first time I realized he liked me. The first time I realized I liked him back. The first time he’d held my hand. The first time we’d found the perfect make-out place. The first time.
From a distance, he resembled most guys. The kind you might walk by on the sidewalk, but if he was playing volleyball, sandy and shirtless, you’d turn around and watch. Up close, Gray was somewhere between pretty and handsome. A solid cute. He didn’t have cool hair or expensive clothes, but he had a sexy voice, long eyelashes, and a curious smile. Thank God for those uneven ears. Those slight imperfections kept him humble. Kept him from thinking every girl wanted him, even though plenty did.
If I leaned in, would he kiss me? I didn’t want him to; I wanted him to want to.
He turned toward me. His lips were so close.
“You still think about us?” he asked, eyes on the sand.
“Not anymore.”
Such a lie. I’d written Forgive Gina and Gray in the sand for months.
“I effed up everything, and I can’t even really explain it.”
“Give it a try.”
“It’s complicated,” he said.
“What isn’t?”
“Can I just ask you a question?”
“Sounds like you just did.”
He threw a handful of sand at my leg. “You’ve been mad at me and Gina for . . .” His voice fell away. “But have you ever considered that I might have felt the same way? Before. That sometimes you and Trent looked—”
“Gray, I’ve told you before that there was nothing between me and Trent.”
“But there was,” he argued.
“He was practically my brother.”
Gray grabbed my hand. “He told me stuff, Sadie. He said he was going to break up with Gina. Hell, he half told me it was for you. Like it was a warning. The day of the . . . accident, when I brought it up, you said they wouldn’t, but that was a lie, and we both know it.”
Trent, dammit, why aren’t you here? Why did you leave me to deal with this? “You’ve got it all wrong,” I said.
“That’s what he said.”
“Well you misunderstood.”
“Maybe you’re lying now.”
In a way I was.
“And now you’re with Max?” he asked. “That’s as effed up as me and Gina. What gives?”