Chapter 4 #3
Once I got there, I quickly slammed the door, locking it for good measure like I was barricading myself from a zombie apocalypse. I pressed my ear against the wood, trying to hear what was going on out there.
Muffled voices. Laughter. Footsteps. More laughter.
Traitors. Every last one of them.
I couldn’t do it. I’d been coaching myself since Paige had called to tell me about this magical Christmas wedding. I’d gone full Rocky montage, complete with mirror pep talks and themed playlists, telling myself this wasn’t going to be a big deal.
Lies. All of it.
This was a big deal. It was a fucking big deal.
I needed Nerds Gummies. Where were my emergency Nerd Gummies?
Or vodka. I’d even take the cheap peppermint kind someone always brought to college parties and called festive . Anything to numb the growing flood of oh no , oh no , oh no , currently rising in my chest like I was about to barf emotions everywhere.
I pushed away from the door and started pacing in a crazed circle, trying to figure out what to do while also avoiding the boxes my mom had all over the room because, obviously, she didn’t love me anymore and was trying to erase all evidence by making my room into a storage facility.
I finally stopped, hunched over, bracing my hands on my knees like I’d just finished running a marathon—or maybe like I was trying not to throw up. Either way, I was seconds away from a full-fledged meltdown.
I couldn’t face him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
My gaze darted to the window.
Oh no.
No .
But also…yes.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was sliding it open with a sharp squeak and pulling one leg over the sill, adrenaline pumping as I prepared for a good old-fashioned sneak-out.
Just like I used to do.
Just like I used to do for him .
Because we’d been so disgustingly, stupidly in love that twenty-four hours in a day had not been enough. I would sneak out in pajamas, barefoot, just to lie on the hood of his truck and talk about life. Or climb into the passenger seat of his beat-up Ford and drive until the road ran out.
Fuck. He really was everywhere in this house. In this town. In my godforsaken, traitorous head.
This was not acceptable.
With a frustrated grunt, I grabbed onto the window frame and hoisted the rest of myself out of the house. The ground didn’t seem that far. I’d just land gracefully like I had a few years ago and slip away before anyone even realized I was gone.
Except…I didn’t.
I slipped on the wet grass the second my feet hit the ground and went flailing, arms and legs pinwheeling until I crashed into the thorny, overly aggressive bush just below the window.
Branches scratched my arms, something distinctly slimy grazed my ankle, and I was pretty sure a bug flew into my mouth mid-yelp.
I was still flailing when a deep, maddeningly familiar voice cut through the night air.
“Need a hand?”
The voice froze me mid-struggle.
No. No, no, no.
But also, kill me now. Why wasn’t he in the fucking house already? That knock had been ages ago. Hadn’t they all just been laughing and stabbing metaphorical knives in my back?
I looked up through the tangle of leaves and regret, and there he was .
Easton Maddox.
Just standing there. Like a fucking Calvin Klein ad, or whatever other kinds of ads movie stars were doing nowadays. His hands were in his pockets, his dark hair tousled, an unruly grin on his ridiculously handsome face. His green eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in my predicament.
Why had he gotten hotter over the last couple of years? Why wasn’t he at least pretending not to be perfect?
Hadn’t life heard of karma?
A wart. That’s all I was asking for. A wart. Or a receding hairline. Or one of those unfortunate chinstrap beards.
Even bushy eyebrows would have been nice.
Or something.
Not the overwhelmingly delicious specimen that I suspected no one was ever going to live up to for the rest of my life.
I knew I’d been right to compare every man to him.
“Oh, for the love of…” I muttered, trying to untangle myself without giving him the satisfaction of helping me.
“You know,” he said, his tone far too smug, “most people use the door.”
I glared at him as I struggled to untangle myself, my cheeks on fire as I tried to ignore the fact that my panties were suddenly soaked from him muttering one sentence.
It was the Hollywood effect. I was sure of it. They probably gave their actors magical powers that somehow gave them a direct line to a girl’s pussy.
“Why are you here?” I finally growled, trying to discreetly pick out the leaves and twigs that were currently tangled all over my hair.
“Levi invited me,” he said, crouching down so we were eye level. “But you already knew that.”
I scoffed, because he sounded like he used to when faced with my antics—attractively amused, like I was some charming hurricane he’d just been waiting to get caught in again.
Absolutely unacceptable .
“Not here, here ,” I hissed. “Like, here at this exact moment.” I attempted to discreetly flick a beetle off my sweater. “Watching me fall out of a window.”
He grinned wider, leaning forward like he was enjoying every second of this. “And miss you making a dramatic…exit, Trouble? I would never.”
My stomach flipped. Trouble . Heaven help me.
“Ugh, don’t call me that. Just go inside and pretend this never happened.” I groaned, finally freeing myself and scrambling to my feet. What was with these people and old nicknames?
And why the fuck did I feel something every time someone called me one of them.
Easton didn’t move. Just stood there, watching me with that same maddening, handsome smirk. “Not until you say please.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Notice I’m not laughing.”
“Only thing I’ve noticed is that you’re covered in leaves,” he shot back, brushing a twig off my shoulder. His touch lingered for half a second too long, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine.
“I hate you.”
“You used to say that a lot right before you kissed me.”
I scoffed, ignoring the bolts of thunder spreading through my thighs.
“And how beautiful you look. I’m definitely noticing that,” he muttered suddenly, a pained expression crossing his freakishly hot features as he took me in. “Pretty hard not to notice that when you’re still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”
Oh hell no.
Fuck. It was happening.
I was swooning.
Someone call 9 - 1 - 1 . This was not supposed to be in the picture. He reached up to touch my hair again, and I quickly stepped out of reach, almost falling back into the bushes in the process.
I was spiraling. Full-on, sparkly, emotionally destabilizing spiral. The kind where your brain whispers, Just one kiss for nostalgia while your body yells, Jump him ! Feel those hands … and that dick for a second for old times sake …
This was bad.
Really, really bad.
Look, I was a pretty confident gal who believed the sight of me should be celebrated by all mankind…but having him stare at me with those green eyes that I’d possibly fallen in love with the moment I’d seen them…
Well, I was in a danger zone.
I’d wondered if there was something wrong with me the past two years, if every guy I’d met was just not doing it for me because I was building Easton up in my head. Making up a picture of him that wasn’t real.
But standing in front of him right now, it was obvious that my head had been just fine. What had been wrong with me was that I happened to date the gold standard for all men in high school, and now every guy I met would never measure up.
Fuck me.
Why did Paige have to find true love and decide to get married?
This was really inconvenient.
I had to get out of here. Now. His radiuses were going to be trouble all week, though. I wasn’t sure that I could get far enough to escape his sexiness.
“I need to go,” I muttered, sidestepping him and nearly tripping again in my haste.
“Where are you going?” he asked, laughing now. The sexy laugh. The one I used to feel all the way down to my toes.
I didn’t answer. Just power walked like I was on a mission, muttering curses under my breath as I made a beeline for the side of the house, determined to avoid him—and everyone else—for the rest of the night.
I climbed the rickety wooden ladder one careful step at a time, the familiar creak of the boards beneath my weight bringing a weird kind of comfort.
I would think about the fact that I’d been reduced to hiding in my childhood treehouse at a later date. For now, I was just going to be hiding.
The treehouse had been here since I was little—Steve had built it when Paige had insisted on one in sixth grade—but of course, as was my nature, I’d taken it over from her, and it had become the sacred space for every big feeling I’d had growing up.
Joy, heartbreak, anger, confusion—this place had seen it all.
I hoisted myself up through the hatch, brushing the dirt off my jeans as I stood inside and celebrated the fact that I’d made it to the top without dying or thinking about his arms wrapped around my waist.
It smelled like old wood and memories.
Unlike my poor room, which had been taken over by my mom’s random stuff, everything up here was just as I’d left it. The worn cushions on the floor, the small desk in the corner with my name carved into it from the summer I’d been obsessed with carrying around a pocket knife.
A weird stage, admittedly, but I’d made it cool.
Dropping onto one of the cushions, I let out a deep breath and pulled my phone from my back pocket. I needed my people. Well, my people minus Ophelia, who was morally opposed to technology unless it was mirroring Matty’s phone like the gorgeous little stalker she was.
Me: Mayday. Mayday.
Casey: This sounds serious.
Riley: As serious as I am about these Nerds Gummies.
A second later a picture of her and Ophelia eating a bag of them popped up on the screen.
Me: Focus. And tell FiFi hi.
Me: Actually, maybe I should get some gummies, too. They would probably make this situation tolerable.