“Because my friends think it’s moving too fast, so it’s been exactly the thought running through my head all day.”
Easton nodded, simultaneously feeling a little thrill at being talked about to Bella’s friends and a slice of disappointment that maybe Bella agreed with them. “Mine, too. I was actually going to bail on coffee tonight.”
“So was I.”
That sat there, grinning widely at each other. “And what do you think?”
Bella seemed to take a moment. Easton watched as her unique hazel eyes scanned the coffee shop but never stayed on one thing. When the gaze came back to Easton, it was soft. Almost tender. Bella tilted her head a little and said, “I mean, what’s fast?” She shrugged. “Think about it.” She took a sip of her coffee. “We’ve been on one official date, we’ve had coffee a few times, you happened to see me at the school Monday, but that wasn’t a planned thing.”
“We’ve only kissed once,” Easton added, hoping there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.
“And that right there is a downright shame,” Bella said, arching an eyebrow in an expression that was sexy enough to send flutters of excitement through Easton’s body. “We should remedy that.”
“I agree.”
And that was how they ended up outside in the parking lot, having a heated make-out session in the almost-dark, Bella pinned between Easton’s body and her own SUV.
It was different this time. Easton could feel it. She couldn’t pinpoint how or why, but she could feel it. When they’d kissed outside Brie, it had been wonderful and hot, but also a bit tentative. They’d been feeling each other out, testing the waters, learning a bit about each other. This time, though…this time was deeper and slower. Easton took her time, letting herself feel every nuance. The warmth of Bella’s mouth, the lingering, creamy taste of coffee, the softness of her lips, her velvety tongue as it pressed gently, then more firmly into Easton’s mouth and Easton pushed back. Bella’s body under Easton’s hands was soft but firm, feminine, and Easton could feel the strength, absently wondered if Bella worked out.
When the need for air became vital, they broke the kiss but stayed in each other’s arms, breathing the same air, foreheads touching. They stayed that way for several moments.
“Wow,” Bella whispered as she lifted her head to look Easton in the eye.
“Even better than I remembered,” Easton said, truthfully.
“We certainly do that well together.”
“There’s no question.” Easton hesitated on a second before continuing with, “Is it bad if I say I wonder what else we’d do well together?”
Bella’s snort-laugh made Easton grin. “God, no. Why would that be bad?”
Easton lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. The too-fast thing?”
Bella’s voice dropped. “We hashed that out, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
And they were kissing again.
Oh, my God. I could just stay right here, doing this, forever. For the first time in ages, Easton closed everything else out of her mind and focused solely on one thing and one thing only: Bella.
The next time they wrenched apart, Easton had zero idea how much time had passed. It felt a little darker, but that could’ve been an illusion. She and Bella stood in each other’s arms, breathing ragged, faces flushed. Easton could only speak for herself, but she was so incredibly turned on, she could barely focus her vision.
“Yeah,” Bella said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “We’d be so good at other things.”
Easton nodded, feeling the heat in her face, hearing the pounding of her own heart in her ears. “I think we should plan on finding out. Soon. I’d say now, but I have an early meeting that I’m not even close to prepared for.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “God, I really want to say now.” Shondra would kill me. Dead. In a heartbeat.
“I know,” Bella said, and pressed her hand to Easton’s chest, firmly, but without pushing. Attempting to keep distance between them? Easton wondered. “Me too. But…there’s no hurry. Right?”
She was right, and Easton smiled and took a deep breath to steady herself, as she felt strangely off balance. “There’s no hurry. No.”
“You busy this weekend?” Bella asked then, her eyes hopeful. It was an expression Easton decided she loved.
“Emma and I are going to visit my grandparents.” The disappointment in her voice was clear, but she did nothing to alter it. She wanted Bella to know that’s what she felt in the moment: disappointed.
Bella nodded and looked off into the darkening parking lot for a moment, then turned back. God, those eyes of hers. They could do things to a girl. “Next weekend?”
Their bodies were still very close together, Easton almost leaning on Bella, their faces still close enough that the tips of their noses almost touched. “Next weekend would be good,” Easton whispered. Oh, my God, had she ever wanted somebody more? How would she possibly make it through an entire week?
“Great.” Bella nodded some more, blinked rapidly a few times, and Easton heard her swallow.
“Are you okay?” Easton narrowed her eyes, a sliver of worry creeping in.
But Bella reassured her with a slow grin as she said, “I’m terrific. Haven’t been this good in a long time. But you’re gonna need to take a step back from me now if you plan on keeping your clothes on in this parking lot.” When she looked up at Easton then, her eyes had gone so dark, a soft gasp escaped Easton’s lips, and a wave of arousal washed through her.
“Okay,” she said quietly, and with a quick nod, took a step backward, as requested. The crisp night air rushed to fill the space between them, and Easton felt goose bumps break out on her arms.
Bella reached out then. Lifted her hand and stroked Easton’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, and it somehow felt incredibly intimate to Easton. The goose bumps multiplied. “Text me?” Bella asked.
“I will.”
Bella grasped her chin, gave her a quick peck on the lips, then turned away quickly and got into her car.
Easton gave her a small wave and then headed to her own car. Once safely inside, she blew out a long, slow breath and rested her head against the steering wheel. Her lips still felt kiss-swollen, her blood was still racing. There was a buzzing in her head, and her underwear was uncomfortably damp.
“This is so bad,” she whispered into the quiet of the car. “This is really, really bad.” Then a grin burst across her face and she chuckled to herself. “In a really, really good way.”
***
Framerton High, 2004
The holidays had come and gone and Easton was actually grateful to be back in school. She was a girl who liked routine, and being on an unknown schedule and having no solid plans made her feel untethered and a little anxious. At least at school, she knew what to expect, where she had to be at any given time, what was due when.
She’d hoped that while school had been out for almost three weeks, the relaxation would help ease her mind. Her dreams. Her confusion. Her uncontrollable urge to stare at another girl. The second Kristin Harrington passed her in the hallway, she knew that hadn’t happened. Hadn’t come close to happening. In fact, the urge to stare was worse, and it was accompanied by both an equally strong urge to follow her just to be able to smell her perfume and an overwhelming curiosity about what was under Kristin’s sweater. Easton found herself looking at her new schedule to see when PE was, wondered if she’d be in the locker room at the same time as Kristin, if she’d maybe be near her when she undressed…
“You okay?” Connor’s voice yanked Easton back to reality and she realized with alarm that she’d been kind of obvious in her staring. When she glanced up at Connor, his gaze was on Kristin as well. “That’s Christy, right? You know her?”
“Kristin,” Easton said quickly as she reached to spin the lock on her locker. “No. I don’t know her well at all.” The simmering near panic in her gut made her hands shake, and she made a fist before trying her lock again. G
oddamn it. What was wrong with her? Staring like that? Connor was still looking at her oddly; she could feel it. She spun the lock a third time.
Laughter from down the hall drifted toward her, and when she looked up, the new girl—who wasn’t new any longer, but that was still how Easton thought of her because she couldn’t remember her name—was hurrying in her direction, books clutched tightly to her chest like a shield, head down so her dark hair obscured her face.
“Hey, Easton!” Tara called from where the laughter had begun. “Here comes your lesbian admirer!” She sneered the last two words, loudly, and Easton heard Connor chuckle.
The perfect opportunity had been handed to her on a silver platter, and when the new girl glanced up at her, Easton pursed her lips and blew her a kiss, then waggled her eyebrows.
The girl’s eyes went wide—did they fill with tears?—and any color that might have been left in her face drained quickly so she was simply a pale skeleton who picked up her pace and skittered around a corner.
It seemed like the entire hallway had broken into laughter, and though Easton managed to smile, it didn’t reach her eyes because she didn’t feel it.
What she felt was horrible.
***
So, nothing had changed.
I don’t know why I’m surprised.
Izzy made it safely to the girls’ bathroom before the tears came. It was the one restroom in the school that was kind of off in no-man’s-land, at the end of a hall that wasn’t used a whole lot. Therefore, it was often empty, and for that Izzy was forever grateful. It had become a sanctuary of sorts for her.
She went to the farthest stall, shut herself in, and slid to the ground, letting her books drop from her lap as she sobbed.
Izzy was angry. Not so much at her torturers, but at herself. Over the holidays, she’d read books on sexuality. She’d found a couple of chat rooms for people struggling, and while she didn’t participate in any conversations, she followed along. It was interesting. And frightening. And real. She’d spent a lot of time reading about the experiences of others her age, how they’d learned to deal with / ignore / fight back against their tormentors, and she’d taken all of it to heart. She’d practiced in the mirror the things she’d say the next time Tara Carlson opened her fucking mouth.
As expected, it had happened. Instantly.
And instead of hitting Tara with both barrels, Izzy had hurried away in tears, the laughter of her classmates echoing down the hall after her. She’d stood up to Tara once, sort of, but apparently, that was all she was allowed.
Izzy swiped at her nose with her hand, and suddenly, all her anger evaporated like fog on a summer morning. The only thing left was sadness. A deep well of sadness and loneliness and pain that sat way down inside her. She’d been an idiot to think she could banish it so easily, just by reading some chats.
“God, I’m so stupid,” she whispered, as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks.
She didn’t know how she would survive another five months.
***
The drive to Framerton took roughly three hours. While it had started out rainy—Easton hated driving in the rain—the weather had gradually cleared the farther east she drove. By the time she’d pulled into her grandparents’ driveway, the sky was blue and the sun shone brightly. The house stood, large and welcoming, as it always had. It was the only house her grandparents ever had, the same house where her father and his siblings grew up. Stately was a good word for it, white siding with black shutters and a big red door that opened onto an open front porch that ran the entire length of the house. Easton’s grandmother loved flowers, and her tulips were in full bloom along the front, bursts of red and yellow and orange giving the house a welcoming, springlike feel.
Now Emma was running around the enormous backyard with Skippy, her grandparents’—and by “grandparents’” she meant “grandmother’s”—Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Her giggles carried through the air to the screened-in back porch where Easton sat in a wicker rocker next to her grandfather.
“I can’t believe how big she’s getting,” Mya Evans said with a smile, as she watched her great-granddaughter through eyes as big and blue as Easton’s. Her blond hair was on its way to a rich-looking silver and her figure was trim. Easton had always admired her beauty, hoped to give off such confidence and class when she was seventy-three. Mya set down a tray with three glasses of white wine and a plate of homemade shortbread cookies, Easton’s favorite. “Every time I see her, it’s like she’s grown six inches.” She took a wine glass and then sat in the rocker on the other side of her husband.
Stephen and Mya Evans were fascinating to Easton. They always had been. They were an incredibly interesting mix of open-minded modernist and old-school traditionalist. The fact that they were in their seventies made it that much more intriguing. Easton’s grandfather had worked insane hours most of their marriage to get his practice up and running and then to keep it so. Mya Evans had a degree in engineering but hadn’t ever used it, choosing to stay home, raise the four Evans children, including Easton’s father, and run the household.
“Emma!” Easton called out as her daughter watched Skippy squat in the yard. “You know where the shovel and bags are. Clean that up.”
“Mooooooom,” was Emma’s reply in three very long syllables. “It’s gross!”
“Yes, it is. Clean it up, please.”
Quiet chuckles rumbled through the porch as the three adults watched Emma literally stomp toward the shed on a very loud sigh. “So dramatic,” her grandmother said.
“Just like her mother was,” said her grandfather.
“Hey!” Easton said in protest, then laughed when they both turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. “All right, fine. That’s true.”
There was more chuckling at the expression on Emma’s face as she scooped up the poop, grimacing and muttering “yuck” under her breath the whole time. Once it was in the bag, she held it up with a questioning look on her face, nose still wrinkled.
“Tie it up and put it in the garbage can next to the garage,” Mya directed. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“Welcome,” was the response. Then a whispered, “So gross, so gross, so gross…” as she tromped off to the garbage.
“How’s work?” Stephen asked, then took a sip of his wine. “Oh, this is good, Mya. Did you taste it?”
Mya nodded. “Jeannie recommended it. She had it at her luncheon last week.”
“Is that your friend who works at the winery?” Easton asked, following suit and sipping her own wine. It was delicious, not sweet but not dry, with a hint of vanilla and a tang of citrus on the finish. “Oh, wow. That’s awesome.”
“Yes, and she gets all kinds of inside information on new wines that are hard to get.” Wine tasting had been one of the many things Mya had taken up once her children were all gone from the house and she found herself with more time. She had a million hobbies and Easton envied her, wished she could bottle her energy.
“Is this one? Hard to get?”
“Oh, yes.”
Stephen snorted. “Do I want to know how much it costs?”
“No, you do not.” Mya winked at Easton.
Stephen shook his head, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Easton had come to believe that he not only approved of his wife’s many extracurricular activities but enjoyed them. “Back to my question, Easton. Tell me about work. Going okay? And what about this conflict thing?”
Easton watched Emma run around with Skippy in the lush green of her grandparents’ huge yard, her giggles bringing a smile to Easton’s face as she told her grandfather about her new position. Then she went on to explain the issues with the current staff and why upper management had sent them to Bella’s class. “While I know I don’t really need a conflict resolution class—I think three of the six of us fall into that category—I’ve actually learned some good stuff. I’m not even sure I realized it until I put it into practice.” She told the story of Brandi White, he
r initial—and continued—disrespect and obvious annoyance, and Easton’s own frustrated reaction to it. “Then, earlier this week, she handed her reports in on time. Came to my office to tell me so.”
“Ah, interesting,” Stephen said, nodding. “She’s starting to come around. And how did you respond?”
“I had to take a moment,” Easton admitted. “But I heard Bella’s voice—she’s the class instructor—and I just stayed completely positive. I thanked Brandi profusely, told her how happy my boss was going to be, and I smiled the whole time.”
“And?” Mya asked.
“We sort of stood there blinking at each other. I think we were both a little surprised at such a pleasant exchange. We’d never had one. It was like neither one of us was sure what had just happened or what to do next. It was amusing.” She recalled that moment, and it actually made her feel lighter. “I think it’s going to be okay.”
“That’s fantastic,” Stephen said, scratching at his face. “Dealing with a new staff can be hard in general. It can’t be easy to have them all resent you.”
“It’s not. But Brandi’s been the worst of them, so if she’s coming around, maybe that means the rest of my salespeople will, too.”
“And how about your love life?” Mya asked, focusing those blue eyes on Easton as she sipped her wine.
“Subtle, Mya,” Stephen said with a chuckle that rumbled up from deep in his chest.
“Wow, Grandma. No easing in gently, huh?”
“Sweetheart, when you get to be my age, you don’t have time for preamble. You’ll see.” Her cheerful face sobered a bit. “Your grandfather told me your divorce is final.” She kept her voice low, presumably so Emma didn’t overhear.
Easton nodded. “Yeah. That was a strange feeling.”
“I’m sure it was. But it’s been over a year.”
“Almost two. And I’m the one who left, so…” Easton let her voice trail off, that same feeling of guilt settling on her shoulders. “I don’t really have the right to feel any sadness around it.” Repeating that to herself didn’t seem to help, though. She was still sad.
The Do-Over Page 16