We tell each other we love one another all the time. How could we not? We’ve lived next door to each other since she was five. Our parents are friends. Her older brother used to work on our farm. Our families have always been close—we’ve always been close.
But is the love we verbalize the same kind that makes my blood boil whenever Ian flashes a smile at her? Or when he grazes her arm, or touches her even for a millisecond? Is it the same kind of love that makes my eyes devour her like she’s the only woman left on Earth—the only oxygen left to breathe? Or how my body heats up like she just set it on fire with a single look?
Yeah, that kind of love is intense.
Terrifying.
Unpredictable.
“No,” Dad says, breaking me from the heavy realization growing inside of me. “He doesn’t know.”
He doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know.
Nobody knows anything. I sure as hell don’t.
“Can I ask you a question without you going all postal on me?” Ian asks, taking a fry off my plate and dipping it in mayo.
I make a face at the combination. Mayo and French fries should not be a thing. I mean seriously, what a perfectly good waste of carbs.
I perch my feet on the vinyl booth next to him, admiring my neon orange painted toenails. It’s better than watching him destroy fries for me forever by ruining them with the wrong dipping sauce.
Tearing a piece of cheese off my sandwich, I pop it into my mouth. “I guess. Don’t expect me to answer though.”
He rolls his eyes and leans forward. “I’m not trying to be an ass here, but I’m curious. Why aren’t you and Will together? I figured you two would end up together eventually. Even lost fifty bucks to Dylan when we got back and found out you’re not.”
My brow quirks up. “You bet on my love life?”
It should surprise me, but it doesn’t. The guys used to make bets on me all the time when we were younger, because I was the odd one out of the group. I was the shy, introverted nerd who liked taking pictures and observing over being part of the fun.
He winks. “At least I was getting in your favor. I don’t remember everything that night at Dylan’s grad party, but I do know some of the stuff we talked about.”
I glance down at my half-eaten Rueben. “I was drinking, I shouldn’t be held accountable for anything I said.”
“You nursed one beer, and didn’t even finish it.”
What? Was he watching me longer than I thought?
I internally sigh. There went my excuse. “Whatever. Your point?”
“My point,” he dawdles, “is that you admitted you had a thing for him. I could tell you didn’t mean to admit it. Hell, you didn’t mean to feel it. But you did on both accounts.”
I remember perfectly, but he didn’t understand everything that played against my silly crush.
There are too many people crushed together and dancing in a way that would put Miley Cyrus’s MTV Award performance to shame. Seriously, if this is what they want me to do, I’m going to pass.
I look around for Will, still holding the red solo cup of beer in my hand. I can see the top of his head, and know it’s him because Sheri’s unnatural curly red locks are right next to him, using his body like a stripping pole as she grinds against him.
Watching them makes me squirm, seeing her use his body like that. She always has to put on a show to claim her territory. It’s nauseating. So, I turn away, trying to find a quieter place to hide out until he wants to leave. Considering Dylan was adamant about me attending, since it’s his big bash before he heads out with the rest of Relentless, I haven’t seen him once.
Of course, the blonde he’s usually plastered to is probably the reasoning.
Just as I turn the corner, I bump into a firm chest, my room-temperature drink sloshing over the rim and onto my hand.
I look up and see Ian Wells smiling down at me, despite the fact I just plowed into him. He’s probably used to that sort of thing by now though.
“Sorry,” I say loudly, taking a small step back. There are a group of people behind me, so room is limited.
“Don’t worry about it,” he practically yells over the music playing. It’s some techno music with a heavy bass beat. Not really my thing.
Of course, when you’ve got mostly Taylor Swift music on your playlist, music like this doesn’t really compare.
Some people criticize that girl for dating so much, but I praise her. How else would she write the music she does? I say, dump them all.
“Want to head somewhere quiet?” he asks, gesturing toward the door behind us with an off-limits sign taped on it. I think it leads down to the basement, but I’m not sure.
I shrug, figuring it’s probably better than standing around awkwardly pretending to have a good time up here. I know Ian well enough that it seems like a safer choice than just lounging around a bunch of strangers who are drinking. After all, I spend at least a couple times a week at his house with Will and the guys.
Not that I say much, or anything, but still.
When we’re downstairs, I gape at the man cave set up. There’s a huge leather sectional in front of the biggest entertainment system I’ve ever seen. In the corner is a pool table, a dart board, and a little reading nook off to the side. In front of us is a mini fridge on a table, apparently full of different drinks based on the water Ian pulls out.
“You didn’t look that comfortable up there, Tessa,” he notes, gesturing for me to follow him over to the sectional.
Hearing him say my name still makes me feel weird. Not giddy like I’m harboring a crush on him, but weird in the sense that he and I are not on the same level. I mean, I’m Will’s other friend, so of course he would know my name. But we’ve never held much of a conversation before. Ian is one of the popular guys in town. Well-liked by everyone, respected because of his dedication to music. Compared to him, I’m nothing special.
I sit a good distance away from him, my eyes trained on the drink in my hands. The amber liquid doesn’t smell great, and tastes even worse. I’ve never been a beer person. Or drinking person. Really, I don’t know why I bothered showing up.
“Want something else to drink?” he asks, seeing the distaste on my face.
I shake my head, setting the cup down on the fragile looking glass table in front of us.
I scope the room out again, seeing pictures of random scenery hanging on the walls. Next to where the flat screen is hanging on the wall, is a stuffed deer head.
“Are we allowed to be down here?” I question, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. It’s just a basic black one that tapers in at the waist and flows just above my knees. It’s cap sleeve, light weight, and minimal effort.
Will told me I looked beautiful. I blushed.
Then Sheri showed up, giving me her fake, toothy smile and telling me she loved my dress. It was a fake compliment. A show for Will. She only wears expensive brand clothes from the mall. I’m sporting a Walmart ensemble.
I hate her with all my guts, and not just because she’s with Will.
Nine times out of ten, she’s fake. Two faced even. When he isn’t around, she warns me away from him, like I’m ready to pounce when she’s not looking. She even felt the need to tell me when they slept together, an admission that still makes me cringe.
It seems like everyone is having sex but me. What kind of eighteen year old heads off to college as a virgin?
Sheri made me feel bad about my status, like what I am is a bad thing.
“You saw me pull out the key,” he says simply, taking the gold key out of his pocket to show me. “Dylan lets me and the guys use it to get away. His parties can be pretty crazy.”
“Oh.” That’s all I can think to say.
He sips his water. “You don’t look happy, Freckles.”
My brows go up. “Freckles?”
He reaches out, tracing the line of freckles that spackle my pale cheeks and nose with the tip of his pointer finger. His finger is
warm, his touch gentle yet ticklish to my skin.
I hold in a breath, eyes wide at the contact.
“You’ve got freckles here,” he informs me, as if I don’t already know. “Seems like a decent nickname for you. It’s cute. They’re cute.”
My fingers brush my cheeks. He thinks my freckles are cute?
I shift on the couch. “So, uh, you didn’t like the party?”
He shrugs. “Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to all. Plus, the host went upstairs to show one of the Willis sisters a good time.”
My cheeks heat up. Don’t say oh again.
I just nod.
“You’re red.” Amusement is thick in his tone.
Biting down on my lip, I shrug. I can’t deny it. I feel the fire in my cheeks. Kind of hard to tell him I’m not blushing when it’s evident that I am.
I opt to go with the truth. “I’m just not around people who talk about sex a lot. I mean, I joke about it, but …”
He nods. “But you’re a virgin.” It’s not a question.
“I don’t want to be,” I whisper, the admission only causing my cheeks to burn more.
“You and Will never talked about doing it?”
“He’s got Sheri.” My voice is more bitter than I intended it to be.
“And you’re not okay with that?”
I’m lucid. Readable. Vulnerable to the truth.
I shrug. “He likes her. She’s … okay. Sometimes.”
He snorts, drinking more of his water. “You, my friend, are a terrible liar.”
I go to defend myself, but I don’t. “I know.” I sigh. “I like him. Will, I mean. Obviously, I’m talking about Will. Who else would I be talking about? God, sorry, I’m babbling. It’s just … he always told me he liked Sheri, and then they were dating. It seemed like my crush on him was stupid. He’s my best friend, of course I’d like him. We spend a lot of time together. It’s probably just my emotions thinking I like him like that. The fact he’s with her means there’s nothing to hold onto.”
He seems to soak that in. “But you still do.”
“Maybe a little,” I admit. “It doesn’t matter. It’s obviously just a crush, and crushes never last. I just need to move on.”
“And how are you going to do that?” he asks with interest.
I don’t know why I blurt it out, but the filter I usually have isn’t working. “I’m going to sleep with somebody and prove to Sheri that I’m not after Will. That she has nothing to worry about.”
Ian chokes on his water, some dribbling out of his mouth. He wipes the escaped droplets with the back of his hand. “You’re going to do what?”
I take a bold nod. I can kill two birds with one stone tonight. Losing virginity, and the pesky Sheri off my back.
It seems reasonable … at least to me.
Ever since I noticed boys, I’ve noticed my best friend. Will is always there, always an option. But never one that reciprocated anything. He likes Sheri, and before her were plenty of other girls he pined for. Girls that aren’t me. Why stay hung up on somebody who can’t notice me the way I want?
I take a deep breath and stand up, knowing damn well that if I don’t do something about it now, I’m going to chicken out. Everyone says that your first time should be special. But why? Why can’t it be something I choose to make a one-time deal? An experience that I control? If it’s supposed to hurt like everybody says, then why waste it on someone you like?
Ian quickly stands up, too. “Whoa, Freckles. Don’t you think you should think about this?”
Is Ian Wells, playboy extraordinaire, telling me not to have sex?
I cross my arms on my chest. “I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, and why not now? Will has Sheri. I can’t wait for him forever. We’re young. It’s stupid for me to believe he’ll ever be with me.”
The silence between us makes me want to cringe. My chest becomes heavy with panic, like admitting this to him was a stupid move. Guys talk about losing their virginities like it’s no big, so why can’t girls?
I know Ian was one of those guys, so the look on his face shouldn’t be so shocked.
Letting out a heavy breath, he looks me in the eyes. “If you’re that determined to lose your virginity, then why not stay here with me?”
Heart. Failure.
“W-what?” I ask in a breathy tone.
He rubs his jaw, shrugging. “We know each other enough. You know I won’t hurt you. If you go up there and scout for a guy, who knows what you’ll get? If you want this that badly, then just let me help.”
Let me help.
Oh, my God. I’m going to have sex with Ian Wells.
The memory fades quickly after a fry comes flying at my face. It smacks me right under my eye, hitting my cheekbone, mayo and all.
I glare at him. “You could have hit my eyeball!”
“Well it would have snapped you out of it. What were you thinking about?”
Instead of answering, I pick up my sandwich and take a bite.
He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t press. “You still like him. As more than a crush, that’s my point. So why not finally tell him? It’s been years. You’re still close. Seems like a done deal.”
I can’t give him the real reason, because he won’t understand it. Why describe what it’s like to feel the way I do to somebody who won’t understand?
“You need a push,” he states, brushing the crumbs off his shirt.
“What kind of push?”
“You need to make him jealous,” he declares.
“Jealous?”
He nods. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that men hate when women they like are being adored by other men. It’s like watching a dog peeing on your territory.”
My nose crinkles. “Uh, I don’t want to be peed on.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry, no golden showers will be necessary.”
I lean back, staring at him. He seems confident that this will work. I guess since he’s a guy he would know what makes other dudes tick. But if it works, if Will becomes jealous, what does that mean? I’m not sure I’m ready to let somebody in my life as more than a friend.
Not even Will, as much as part of me wants that.
I shake my head. “You think you’re so smart, huh?” I pop another fry into my mouth.
“Oh, please,” he chortles, “I’m so swift they call me Taylor.”
A laugh bursts out from my lips. “Did you really just say that?”
He grins. His eyes flash toward the window out front, but before I can see what’s he’s looking at, he’s across the table with his lips pressed dangerously close to mine.
My heart just about comes out of my chest, but not in a good way. My personal space is something that I cherish, and he is invading it in too many ways.
I squeak, panic rising in my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Just go with it,” he says quietly, tilting his head farther to the side. His lips aren’t on my skin anymore, but his breath is still tickling my cheek.
“What are you doing, Ian?” I demand, ready to push him away.
There’s a pause. “There was a group of girls heading by the window and they saw me. Figured if they thought I was on a date with someone they’d leave me alone.”
I roll my eyes. “Well did it work? Are they gone?”
To my surprise, he chuckles and pulls away.
“Yep. They’re definitely gone.”
I look at his devious, up to no good face. My eyes narrow at him as he takes his last fry and eats it.
“Finish up,” he tells me. “We’ve got stuff to do. Places to be. I’m going to help you get Will once and for all.”
I gulp. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“Just leave that up to me, Freckles.”
And just like I always do, I trust him.
I wanted to talk to Will about what he thought about me taking Ian’s offer on the photography job, but ever since movie night, he hasn’t talke
d to me.
It’s been over a week.
Three texts were left unread.
Two phone calls left unanswered.
One voicemail left unheard.
After day two, I was ready to storm over to his house and demand he tell me what his problem was. But just as I was, Mom told me that his family is going through a rough patch with their farm. Again.
The first time, Will came to me. He talked to me, worried about what his parents were going to do. I helped him through it, comforted him. He told me he was glad I was there for him.
I guess he doesn’t want me to be there now.
And that hurt more than it should. Why should he have to come to me? I shouldn’t expect him to. I guess I just thought that’s what friends did. They helped each other through the hard times.
I reason with myself on the issue. Will needs space, so I’ll give it to him. I mean, what other reason could he have for avoiding me? He seemed fine when we watched the movie together. He even texted me the next day.
Then … nothing.
Radio silence. Zilch.
What he’s going through has to be hard.
Give him time, I chant.
But no amount of cat therapy could save me from boredom, and the more I waited around for Will, the more bored I became. My mother’s not-so-subtle hints to find a hobby finally pushed me to just leave and head to my apartment.
The problem is, everywhere in town reminded me of things Will and I did.
It’s not like you’re dating him, an annoying voice points out.
Even though we’re just friends, it feels like he broke up with me. When he goes away on trips with his dad, even if it’s for days, he sends me at least one text. Hell, when he leaves for a class we don’t share together, which was never often since we signed up for at least two classes together during the semester, he would leave me a note taped on my door with a horrible hand-drawn picture of a cat.
It shows he’s thinking of me.
That he misses me.
I can’t even find pleasure in watching Batman movies, because he’s not here to criticize me about it. And talking to Ollie like he’s human is no fun without Will around. He would engage in conversation, pretending to be Ollie by talking in a voice that I should have found creepy.
The Summer We Changed (Relentless Book 1) Page 12