Brynn nodded. “Far enough away for me to see you but close enough to know you’re still here.”
Jamie knew she was talking about her vision, but she may as well have been talking about them and the unspoken distance they’d created in the last ten years. Despite staying friends, there’d been so many times he’d wanted to address that summer, to tell her again how sorry he was. But she made him promise not to bring it up again, and the least he could do was keep his word, even if it meant this thing was always hanging between them.
But something felt different now, like being on the road suspended them in an alternate reality or a parallel universe. Maybe here he could break the rules and get away with it.
Now, Jamie. Tell her now. She just gave you an opening.
But he paused a second too long, and Brynn took the initiative to fill the silence.
“Think Spencer will like me in my specs?” she asked. “That was my last pair of contacts, or I’d have had Holly send those, too,” she said. “I don’t get it. I’m an excellent packer. For me to not only forget to order new contacts but also neglect to pack my glasses? It’s not like me.”
Jamie knew this was the place where he was supposed to say something comforting, reminding her that she’d be in great shape after her glasses arrived, but he was having trouble getting past her first question. Think Spencer will like me in my specs?
Spencer was human, and Brynn was Brynn, so of course he’d like her in her goddamn specs. Jamie loved Brynn in her glasses, because something akin to a transformation took place when the contacts came out and the glasses went on. Brynn morphed from her day-to-day, high-strung self to someone almost relaxed. Almost.
“Jamie? Did you hear anything I just said?”
His gaze met hers, and he realized he’d zoned for longer than he thought. He reminded himself this was about choice—Brynn’s choice. And so far, she hadn’t chosen him.
“Huh? I mean, yes. Of course he’ll love bespectacled Brynn. He writes books, right? You’ll look more…readerly.”
Readerly? Shit. Things were bad when he started making up his own vocabulary. It was either that or tell her that even though the lenses of her glasses were thicker than a Coke bottle, she looked more herself when she wore them, more comfortable in her skin. And when Brynn was comfortable in her skin, she was stunning.
But he wasn’t about to call his best friend stunning, not now that Spencer had used that word for her, and especially not when she was concerned with what some other guy thought of her looks.
“Readerly, huh?” she mused, then sat up. “I know I should be tired. I mean, it’s been a long day…”
“It’s only nine o’clock,” Jamie interrupted.
“Are you tired?” Brynn asked. “You did all the driving. I can drive some of the way tomorrow if you want. Once I’m bespectacled.”
While Jamie could appreciate the sincerity of the offer, he also knew that Brynn was confident he’d never let her behind the wheel of the truck. Just because she somehow passed her driving exam didn’t mean anyone should willingly let her out on the open road. She wouldn’t argue this, either.
“You know I like to drive,” he said. “I’m good to keep going.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said, and they both laughed.
“And I’m not tired, either,” he lied. If he got back on that bed and put his head on the pillow, he’d be out until morning. The driving, the drama, the energy it took to keep everything he was really thinking and feeling bottled up—it all took its toll, and he wanted sleep, welcomed it even, but not at the price of losing time with Brynn.
“Well,” Brynn said. “Watching a movie is out. Although I could listen. We could play more Truth or Dare…”
She broke off in mid-thought. Jamie figured if he was going to stay awake, the only thing that would help was something cold and on tap.
“There’s a bar on the main floor. Buy me a beer?”
She swung her feet over the side of the bed and planted them on the floor.
“Only if you buy me one,” she said.
He strode to her side and helped her put on her boots.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Her hair was up in one of her messy buns, and the day had worn away any makeup she’d been wearing.
“Perfect,” he said, and felt something in his chest constrict at the word. “You look perfect.”
“Good answer, Mr. Kingston. Now let’s go have a pint.”
…
When they made it into the Campbell Lounge, Jamie uttered a low “Whoa” under his breath.
“What’s up, Keanu?” Brynn asked, her hand linked with his as he led her through the door.
“I’ve read about some nearby breweries, and it looks like the tap beers here are local brews.”
Well, Brynn thought. That settled it. Jamie was never going to leave this place.
“A kid in a candy shop,” she said. “Okay, expert. You get to pick what I drink.”