Chapter 4 #2
“What do I want?” I murmur, tapping my lip. “I want someone loyal. Someone kind in the quiet ways, not just when people are watching. Someone who shows up when it matters, without needing to be reminded.”
My head tips back against the wall. I watch the ceiling fans spin until they blur. The alcohol makes everything feel a little floaty, but the truth stays sharp.
“Someone who lets me be wrong sometimes. Who doesn’t make me feel stupid for it. Who listens when I ramble and doesn’t rush me.” I huff a quiet laugh. “Someone who makes me feel chosen. Not in a grand way. Just…steady.”
I lower my chin, my voice softer now.
“And…” My cheeks warm. “I want him to look at me like I’m the only woman in the room.”
“Gracie,” Kirsten whispers. “Open your eyes.”
I do.
He’s there.
Standing across the room.
Beck.
He lifts his eyebrows. It’s his are you okay look. He’s been giving me that look since kindergarten. Across playgrounds. Across classrooms. And now, across this bar.
I give him a small nod. I’m fine.
His shoulders relax. He flashes me a quick smile and turns back to the table with our friends.
“You know the guy you just described?” Kirsten says softly.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Beck. He’s all of that. At least to you.”
“Don’t,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
Kirsten straightens. Steps closer. Her cheeks are flushed, and is she…mad? She never gets mad. Even when we argue, it’s calm. Logical. Controlled.
“Gracie Ann Smith.” She grips my shoulders and gives me a small shake. “We graduate in three months. We’re not kids anymore. I will not stand by while you throw away the one man who’s loved you your entire life.”
I try to pull back. She doesn’t let me.
“Listen to me,” she says, holding my gaze. “You are going to lose him if you keep this up. Beck.” Her voice drops. “And it’s going to be the worst mistake of your life.”
Panic flares, sharp and sudden.
She can’t be right.
Beck’s been with me forever. He always will be.
Except…not the last couple of months.
When he stopped taking my calls.
Barely texted back.
And for the first time tonight, I let myself wonder what happens if this, this distance, this drift, isn’t temporary?
What if I’m actually losing him?
What if it’s my fault?
Beck
Present
I settle back into my seat, forcing myself to breathe. Gracie’s fine. She’s talking to Kirsten, not the ten million men who’ve been orbiting her all night.
I’ve been watching it happen, even when I shouldn’t have.
Even when I was out on the dance floor with Trish, her hands on my shoulders, her laugh too close to my ear, my attention kept slipping back across the room. Over the tops of heads. Between bodies. Always finding Gracie.
Like I’m a compass spinning and she’s my true north.
I told myself I should focus on Trish. That it was rude not to. That she deserved my attention, since I was the one who said yes to dancing with her.
But my eyes kept betraying me.
Every time someone stepped too close to Gracie. Every time a guy leaned in like he belonged there. I tracked it all without thinking, counting drinks, reading body language, noting who lingered too long.
Old habits.
Protective ones.
The guys near the bar buzzed around her like bees to honey, laughing too loud, standing too close, waiting for an opening. Like she hadn’t been handling this her whole life.
She can take care of herself. I know that.
Still, my chest tightens every time someone looks at her like she’s something to be won instead of someone who gets to choose.
She’s talking to Kirsten now. Relaxed. Safe.
I make myself look away.
I should be used to it by now.
Gracie has always been like this. Beautiful, yes, but that’s not even the whole thing. She’s smart in ways I don’t understand. Not just academically. Socially. Effortlessly. She can talk to anyone, pull a smile out of the grumpiest stranger, collect admirers without even trying.
I don’t have that.
I never did.
When we were younger, the only thing I was good at was her. Making Gracie laugh. Making her eyes light up. With everyone else, I mumbled. Stared at the floor. Forgot names five seconds after hearing them.
My social skills have gotten better since then. Mostly because I watched her. Copied the things she does without thinking.
Smile here. Joke there. Eye contact. Confidence.
It works.
Just not well enough to fool me. Not well enough to make me believe I’ll ever be on her level.
I used to think she needed me. To protect her. To watch out for her.
But tonight, I’ve seen it.
She doesn’t.
She can meet any man she wants. Make them fall in love with her without even trying. And, eventually, it will happen. It almost did with Brandon. Even though that didn’t work out, it’s only a matter of time before she falls in love, gets married, and moves on without me.
When that truth finally settles in, my heart breaks a little.
Because if she doesn’t need my protection anymore, then maybe I’m not her constant, her safety, her person.
Maybe I’m just standing in her way.
Trish is talking, sitting way too close, her hand brushing my thigh like it’s an accident, even though I know it isn’t.
Gracie slides in on my other side. I can feel the heat of her body, close enough that my body reacts before my brain does. My heart does that tripping-over-itself thing. I go still. Not even daring to breathe.
On one side, Trish—obvious, easy, flirting like it’s a sport.
On the other, Gracie—quiet in a way that sets my nerves on edge.
I don’t know where to put my hands. Or my eyes.
I shift, trying to give everyone enough space without making it obvious.
It’s impossible.
Trish’s knee presses into mine. Gracie shifts, resting her arm along the back of the booth, close enough that I can feel the brush of her sleeve when she moves. Every inch of me goes alert, hyperfocused, like I’m standing between two open doors and choosing neither.
Gracie glances at Trish’s hand.
Just once.
Her mouth tightens. Not jealous exactly. Guarded. Like she’s putting something away before it can hurt her.
I’m panicking, sweating, unable to bear the tension.
“How’s the one-night stand thing going?” I blurt out, so loudly that half the table turns to look at us.
Gracie’s cheeks redden, and I instantly wish I could take it back.
“Yeah, Gracie.” Trish leans around me. She’s been drinking nonstop, enough that her words slur and her blinks are long, like it’s hard for her to focus. “Did you find a himbo yet? Someone to take home and bang.”
Gracie swallows, stares at the table, and I can’t stand it, seeing her discomfort.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Her gaze flicks to mine and then over to Kirsten, who nods. “It’s okay. I—I’ve kinda abandoned that idea.”
The words hang there, fragile.
Abandoned.
Gracie looks up at me, her eyelashes catching the light and turning golden. “I guess I realized that’s not me.” Her breath hitches slightly. “I mean, no judgment to the people who do it, but, at least for now, that’s not who I want to be.”
My relief is instant and overwhelming. A smile tugs at my lips. I lean closer and whisper, “Good choice, Gracie Ann.”
She smiles at that old nickname, the one I used to tease her with.
A roll of her eyes. “Thanks, Oliver.”
She throws out my real first name, which is exactly right. We went through an entire summer, when we were twelve, calling each other Gracie Ann and Oliver. Heck, we still call each other those names sometimes.
I smile at the memory and bump her shoulder with mine. “You only call me that when you’re trying to sound serious.”
“And you only use my full name when you’re feeling smug,” she shoots back.
“Accurate.” I chuckle.
Her smile lingers a second longer than it should. Something quiet settles between us, easy, known, warm. Like slipping into a rhythm we never forget.
For the first time all night, my tension eases.
“Hey, Beck.” Gracie twists her entire body my way and looks at me, her eyes searching.
“Yeah?”
“Remember how you were telling me about that job offer you got, a couple of months ago, at that small environmental science firm. You know, the one in midtown Manhattan?”
“Yeah?”
“So?” she presses. “What’d you decide?”
We’d talked about it months ago. About how Manhattan would put us an eight-minute cab ride apart. How easy it would be to see each other. That was before Brandon. Before rings and plans and futures I wasn’t part of.
Now Brandon’s gone, and I don’t know what that means. If it changes anything at all.
Probably not.
Most likely, we’ll stay like this, circling each other until Gracie finally steps into her real life. The one without me.
Maybe I should leave first.
Spare myself the pain.
It’s a selfish thought, but not a stupid one.
“I got two offers,” I say finally. “That New York job offer and another one, here in Boston.”
Gracie blinks at that. “Which did you choose?”
“Neither. They gave me time.”
Her brow furrows. “What’s going to decide it?”
You.
I don’t say it. Instead I shrug. “I don’t know. Money. Retirement.”
“Retirement?”
“The Boston job has a good 401K, with matching.”
Beside me, Trish giggles. I flinch. I’d almost forgotten she was there. “I have no idea what any of that means.” She hiccups, then, being bolder, slides her hand up my leg. “Maybe you could teach me.”
My stomach drops.
Gracie’s gaze snaps to Trish’s hand. Horror flashes across her face, mirroring exactly how I feel. Even Kirsten looks appalled.
“Stop manhandling him,” Gracie says sharply, knocking Trish’s hand away.
Trish gasps like she’s been wounded. “What’s your problem, Gracie? You said you didn’t want him. I asked.”
The words hit like a gunshot to my chest, shredding every vital organ.
Gracie’s face drains of color. “What? No, I—um…”
I’m already standing, mumbling, “I gotta go.”
Pushing past the booth. Past Gracie and Kirsten. Past the night I let myself believe, just for a second, that something might be different.
I need to leave this table, this bar, possibly this planet.
“Beck, wait,” Gracie calls out, half-standing. “That’s not what I said, I mean it is, but not—not like that.”
I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I head for the hallway that leads to the back exit, lungs burning, heart pounding like I’m trying to outrun myself.
You’re an idiot, I tell myself.
For ever thinking you had a chance.
For forgetting your place.
I was never the guy she would choose.
I was the neighbor. The friend. The boy with glasses who she protected.
For one brief, shining moment, I hoped maybe I could be more.
Now I know better.