“Are you cold?” Landon asks, already shrugging off his sweatshirt.
“I’m fine,” I say, and then I shiver.
“Take it,” he coaxes and holds the sweatshirt out.
He’s playing the part. Or maybe he’s just genuinely nice and cares that I’m frozen. It’s not because he necessarily wants me to wear his sweatshirt.
“Thanks.” I take it and pull it over my head, realizing my mistake immediately. Soapy, wonderful, Landon-ness surrounds me, making me want to melt, just like one of his perfectly toasted marshmallows. The fabric is still warm, too.
Then, just to top it off, Landon wraps his arms around my middle and pulls my back to his chest, blocking the chill. I feel like a sparking live wire, but Landon’s all loose and relaxed.
He should go into acting—he really should.
I rest my head back because I would be a fool to pass up this kind of opportunity. Landon shifts, tugging me closer, and sets his chin on top of my head. I’ve never dated someone tall enough to do that.
Or not dated…
“Ew,” Hunter mutters, rolling his eyes.
Mr. Tillman tosses a marshmallow at his surly son.
“Don’t waste the marshmallows!” Mrs. Tillman exclaims, exasperated.
I’d assure her again we couldn’t care less, but I’m practically floating above the fire, not capable of simple conversation.
And though I don’t mean to—or even want to—my brain can’t help but compare Landon to Thomas. It’s nothing major, just little things, like the way it feels to be in Landon’s arms, how tall he is, the way his sweatshirt feels and smells.
It hits me that I don’t remember those small things about Thomas as well as I thought I did. He never lent me his sweatshirt or a jacket. I don’t even remember what it’s like to kiss him, not really.
Naturally, that thought leads to an imagined scene in Misty’s hayloft involving Landon—a place that’s marked with metaphorical flashing warning lights and bright yellow tape. We can’t go there. And I’m sure Landon doesn’t want to—not with the breakup still so fresh in his mind.
Do I want to though?
No.
No.
Maybe?
It doesn’t matter.
“Do you care if I film a bit for the vlog?” Mr. Tillman asks.
I freeze, and I’m afraid Landon can tell.
“We don’t have to,” Landon says quietly.
I shake my head. “No, it’s all right.”
Mr. Tillman asks the rest of the guests, and they all agree. From my cozy spot in Landon’s arms, I smile for the camera, feeling like a fraud. All the while I’m wishing, maybe just a little bit, that we weren’t just pretending.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After staring at my closet for far too long, I end up in a pair of jeans, a cute, blousy top, and a pair of impractical ballet flats that I rarely wear.
Because the night is casual, I’ve pulled my hair up in a high ponytail again and curled the ends. Hopefully, I won’t get hay caught in it.
Don’t go there.
Thoughts of kissing Landon in the hayloft have consumed my week. This morning, I poured salt in my coffee. It tasted so awful, I ended up spitting it across the table. Mom looked at me like I sprouted another head and asked if I stayed up all night watching videos again.
The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts. I’m so edgy, I almost hide in my closet. I can’t do this.
I hear the front door open, and Mom greets Landon.
“Lacey,” she calls after a few moments. “Landon’s here.”
Standing tall, I give myself a silent pep talk in the mirror. It’s going to be okay. It’s just a lame party.
I walk into the living room, trying not to think about how much this feels like a date—a real date. Landon smiles when he sees me, and my breath catches. He’s lounging against the doorjamb, arms loosely crossed, making small talk with my mother.
“Ready?” Landon asks.
“Yep.” Thankfully, no one seems to notice the fake cheer in my voice.
“Have fun!” Mom says, clasping her hands and watching us with wide, happy eyes. Her enthusiasm doesn’t make the situation any less awkward.
Landon jiggles a pair of keys when we step out the door. “I actually get to drive you somewhere.”
The Tillman’s Suburban is parked right next to my Jeep in all its shining, brand-new glory. Landon opens my door and flashes me a smile that makes my stomach flutter.
Not a date. Not a date. Not a date.
Landon, however, doesn’t seem uncomfortable. He effortlessly keeps up the conversation as he navigates down the winding mountain roads, taking turns as I direct him.
We pull onto Misty’s drive in about twenty minutes. Judging from the number of people outside, we arrived neither too early or too late. Every pair of eyes latches onto the Suburban as Landon parks.
Hoping Landon doesn’t notice, I take a deep, calming breath, preparing myself for the inquisition. I know these kids, grew up with most of them. They’ll see right through me.
I open my door, but Landon meets me before I hop out. Leaning close, he sets his hand on either side of my waist and quietly says, “It’s going to be fine.”
Our eyes meet, and I wonder if I should lean in and kiss him for the sake of appearances. The thought makes me warm, fluttery.
As if reading my mind, Landon’s eyes drop to my lips. I hold my breath, waiting…hoping.
After a moment, he swallows and shifts back, giving me space to think. He takes my hand the moment I close the door, and we amble toward our hawk-eyed spectators. They hastily continue their conversations, only shooting us sideways glances, pretending they weren’t gawking a moment ago.
Paige appears, and she pulls me into a greeting embrace. Softly, so only I will hear, she says, “Oh. My. Wow. What was that?”
“Too much?” I ask, breaking away as Jarrett introduces himself to Landon.
“Don’t even pretend that was a show,” she murmurs, smiling as she turns to the group that’s joined us. Tanner extends his arms, and she steps into them, practically purring.
Jarrett glances at them for only a moment before he looks back at Landon. He’s doing a decent job pretending it doesn’t bother him that his cousin is dating Paige, but I can tell from his tight expression, it does.
I glance around, noticing the music, and turn to Paige. “Where’s the movie?”
“Apparently Gia suggested we just do music this time. Misty actually went with it.” She widens her eyes, showing her incredulous shock.
“So…no kid movie?” I ask, starting to panic. Cartoon bunnies were the only thing keeping this faux date from feeling a little too appealing.
“No kid movie,” Paige confirms.
“Where’s Misty?”
“In the house. Her only rule is no alcohol or ‘being stupid,’ which I guess she figures covers a whole array of things.”
“Fun things,” Tanner says, nuzzling Paige’s neck.
She giggles, and I look away, slightly repulsed. I don’t know if I dislike Tanner, or if I just don’t like him with Paige.
Or maybe all these years, I’ve been rooting for Jarrett.
The two laugh about something, and then Tanner tugs my friend away, leaving us so they can mingle. I shake my head as they disappear and scan the party.
There’s only about thirty of us, ages ranging from about sixteen to twenty. There are only a few faces I don’t recognize. Besides the local kids, visiting cousins mill about—regulars who we see every year. Though the group is small, it’s still a good turnout for one of Misty’s parties. Word must have gotten around that Gia somehow managed to veto the movie.
The sun sinks behind the mountains, but the perimeter of tiki lights circling the front of the barn does a decent job of keeping the mosquitos and gnats away. Someone turns up the music, and people begin to dance, which seems odd.
Dancing is usually relegated to school functions with a neig
hboring high school in the next county, and it takes place in a stale-smelling gym, not surrounded by firelight under a blanket of stars.
Without the singing cartoon animals and princess-themed cookies, Misty’s acreage is proving to be a rather romantic setting.
“Come on,” Landon says, taking my hand.
I let him guide me into the small throng of people, hoping my discomfort doesn’t show. When he stops, I step into him and let my hands loop around his neck, school-dance style. Though it seems weird to dance in jeans and a T-shirt, it’s somehow better, more impromptu.
“I don’t suppose you went to many dances?” I ask him, hoping to fill the limited space between us with small talk.
“I managed to make several, actually.” He moves his hands from my sides and clasps them behind my back. The move nudges us closer, but in a sweet way, like an extended embrace. I want to bury my nose against his T-shirt, breathe in the clean scent of laundry detergent and the smell of his soap.
“We made it back home for homecoming both my junior and senior year,” he continues, watching me carefully. “But prom just my junior year.”
He’s telling me something, something he doesn’t want to say with words.
My stomach drops when I realize why it was important he went back—it was because of his girlfriend.
“How long were you and Evie together?” I ask, moving my gaze to his shoulder when the eye contact becomes too uncomfortable.
“Three years.”
“Three years?”
He laughs, but it’s not a raw sound as I might expect. “We were next-door neighbors, grew up together.”
I want to groan—neighbors? Practically in love since they were children? How am I supposed to compete with that?
Wait—no.
There is no competition. This isn’t real.
Landon looks up at the sky. “We fought all the time. I always thought it was chemistry—you know, passion.” He rolls his eyes. “But in truth, it was nothing but exhausting.”
The passion part makes my skin crawl, even though he says the word in a scoffing voice, but I try to hide my revulsion for Landon’s sake.
“She ended up cheating on me before we broke up,” he says softly. “Gave me the “it’s me, not you” line when I found out.”
I meet his eyes, understanding completely. It’s a horrible thing to be cheated on, makes you feel like you’re meaningless. Trivial.
“Enough about Evie,” he says, rolling his shoulders, physically shaking off the somber mood. “The last thing I want to do is talk about the guy you dated, so I doubt you want to hear about her.”
Over his shoulder, Gia pulls someone into the center of the party. “Thomas.”
Landon nods. “Yeah.”
I stare at the boy standing next to Gia, and a cold, slimy feeling settles in my stomach. Hearing about Landon’s ex-girlfriend is bad, but it’s nothing compared to this.
“No,” I say, pulling my gaze from Gia to meet Landon’s eyes. Then I nod to the side, directing his attention to the table of refreshments that Misty provided. “He’s here.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Is that him?” Landon asks, almost as surprised as I am. Almost.
“Yeah,” I focus on Landon’s shirt though all I want to do is run back to the Suburban, beg him to take me home.
I knew I’d have to face him again, but I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’d ever be ready.
“What’s he doing?” I hiss at a whisper. “Has he spotted me? How does he look?”
“He looks short,” Landon says mildly, readjusting his hold on me.
“You know what I mean.” I give Landon a rueful look. “And besides, you’re at least six two. Most everyone is short compared to you.”
Landon’s lips quirk in a wicked half-smile. “Six-two and a half.”
“And proud of it,” I tease, though my heart isn’t into the playful banter at the moment. I peek at Thomas, trying not to be obvious about it.
“Hey, Lacey?” Landon asks.
“Yeah?” I probably sound distracted because I’m searching for Thomas’s girlfriend. According to Paige, she’s supposed to be in Gray Jay too.
Landon waits before continuing, apparently wanting me to look his way. Feeling his eyes on me, I finally give in and transfer all my attention to him.
He leans close. With his breath tickling my jaw, he asks, “Do you want me to kiss you? To make him jealous?”
I open my mouth to say something—I have no idea what—when Landon winds a hand through my ponytail, caressing his fingers against my neck in the process.
“O…okay,” I finally manage.
It’s a show—I know that, but I find myself forgetting about Thomas. Landon moves closer, tilting his head, his eyes locked on mine. His breath is fresh, minty, and I absently wonder if he planned this.
My stomach tightens at the thought, and my pulse jumps.
“How’s this?” Landon whispers just as his lips tease mine.
“Fine,” I murmur.
“Do you think he’s noticed?” Landon’s free hand is on my waist, nudging me closer but giving me the freedom to step away. But I don’t want to step away.
I shift closer, mimicking Landon’s unhurried approach even though every inch of me tingles with anticipation.
Still, he doesn’t kiss me, not yet.
“Well?” I ask, my voice more breathy than impatient. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Landon groans, and his fingers gently dig into my sides. It’s a soft sound of restraint, but it lights a fire in my chest, makes me want more. I breathe in his clean scent, forgetting about the people around us, focused only on Landon and his hands and lips and mouth.
Kiss me already.
“Lacey!” Gia calls, her voice as sweet as syrup.
I close my eyes, loathing her more than I ever have in my life—which is saying something.
With a small smile—perhaps even a frustrated smile—Landon pulls back and turns to Gia and Thomas. He keeps me close, gently tugging me to his side, and he wraps a sweetly possessive hand above my hip. The move is so perfectly executed; I almost believe we’re together.
This is a dangerous ruse.
“Thomas,” I say, working up a great big fake smile. “Hey.”
He and Gia walk our way. My ex looks decidedly uncomfortable, which I rather like. But even though we didn’t part on good terms, I’m willing to pretend it’s all water under the bridge if he is…which is a lot easier to do with Landon’s arm wrapped around me.
“This is Landon,” I say.
Landon gives Thomas a cool nod—not rude in any way, but not exactly friendly either.
Gia shifts her weight, eyeing Thomas. What’s she doing with him? He played her just as much as he did his girlfriend and me. Maybe it’s easy to be quick to leap back in when your heart was never involved—and judging by how quickly she started dating after Thomas left, I think it’s a safe bet to say her heart never had anything to do with it.
If she has one. Which I’m not convinced she does.
“So, you’re back,” I say to break the uncomfortable silence that falls over us like a thick, fleecy blanket of awkwardness.
Thomas looks exactly as I remember him—dark hair, fair skin, delicate complexion that makes him appear aristocratic and a bit haughty. He’s striking.
But now I see him through Landon’s eyes, and I’m noticing things for the first time. He is sort of short—only a few inches taller than I am. His blue eyes are pretty, but they’re usually scrunched in a way that makes you wonder if he’s looking down on the whole world.
It’s obvious he thinks Misty’s party is below him, so I have no idea why he decided to show up.
“Every year,” he answers, crossing his arms, studying me. “How are you?”
I give him the usual spiel—work’s good. Mom and Mark are fine.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” I eventually ask, tired of the small talk. If the question
makes him uncomfortable, so be it. Maybe he’ll leave, and Landon and I can get back to…whatever Landon and I were doing. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Thomas says. At least he has the decency to look embarrassed. “Haven’t for a long time.”
A long time? About ten months? Maybe when she surprised him during his summer vacation and found out he’d been cheating on her?
But what about the girl Paige said Gia saw him with?
The question burns in my stomach like an ulcer, but I don’t dare ask.
Gia tucks herself against Thomas’s side, staking a claim on a boy I don’t want. “His cousin Leia is with them this year,” she says.
Yep, that explains it.
The message Gia sends is unspoken but loud and clear—Thomas is single, and she wants him. Well, that’s peachy. She’s welcome to him.
“Sounds fun,” I say, unwrapping myself from Landon’s patient arms and taking his hand. “Well, have a good time.”
Landon follows, no questions asked.
“Lacey…” Thomas calls and then trails off, probably unsure what to say. Maybe it should go a little something like this: “I’m sorry I used you to cheat on my girlfriend and then started cheating on the both of you with Gia.”
It’s the kind of thing you have to say in person because they just don’t make greeting cards for that sort of apology.
Without waiting for Thomas to get his thoughts in order, I give the pair a curt, indifferent wave and pull Landon into the barn.
“Where are we going?” he asks, lowering his voice as if the darkened atmosphere means we should whisper.
“Away from them.”
I cried countless tears over Thomas. I imagined our first meeting all this time—looked forward to it with equal amounts of dread and eagerness—and pictured all the things I would say and do. But actually seeing him again was somehow anticlimactic, unmemorable even.
With Landon obediently trailing behind me, I climb the ladder to the hayloft. It’s not completely dark. Firelight from the tiki torches shines in through the large front window, which is open to the night. I glance around to see if anyone is up here, but it looks like we have the loft to ourselves.
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