Snapshot

3. Reese

Winnie Lewis hasn’t changed a bit. Her ginger hair is longer, nearly to her ass now, but everything else is the same as I remember. I can’t see much of her face, but her side profile is just as beautiful as the rest of her. I can’t help but smile as she debates between the flavors of Pop-Tarts. Her button nose scrunches as she examines one box but smooths at the next. She places that one carefully in the green basket hanging off her arm, and I smirk. She looks so fucking cute shopping. It’s easy to think of us shopping together and what that would look like. She would ask for something, and I know the moment she flicked those big brown eyes on me, my answer wouldn’t be anything but yes.

Pinecove is a good-sized college town, but I knew Winnie and I would find our way back together once she moved here. I just didn’t expect it to be today. Glancing down, I take in my appearance, and a cocky smirk tugs at my lips. Winnie might look close to the same as the girl I grew up knowing—with tits now—but I don’t. I’ve grown another inch or more, got a good haircut, and all the hours I’ve spent working off my frustration in the gym have paid off. Women yearn for my attention constantly, which is part of being on the hockey team. Winnie’s opinion is the only one I care about, though, and I’m not sure how easily she will be persuaded in my favor after everything.

“There you are.” Zoey walks up, complaining like always.

Winnie pays us no attention, and after dropping another box in her basket, she turns the opposite way.

“Reese?”

Winnie freezes, and my heart fucking soars. I still have some kind of hold on her if she’s stopping after hearing my name. It might not be a big one, and I’m sure once she turns and sees who is next to me, it will probably be even less, but it’s there.

Slower than ever, Winnie glances over her shoulder. Everything stops when our gaze collides. All the nights I spent looking into her big brown eyes flash through my head like a train speeding past, here one second, gone the next. The last time I looked into them comes roaring up, and guilt hits me like a brick.

Her focus flicks to Zoey, and that guilt turns to complete dread.

“Winnie Lewis?”

“The one and only,” Winnie jokes as she reluctantly saunters our way. She’s too nice; normal people would walk away as quickly as possible with our history, but not Winnie.

“Hey, Zoey.” She passes a quick look my way, but it doesn’t linger. “Reese.”

“Winnie.” My voice is rough, and I will her to look at me again, but she doesn’t.

The navy tank top and light jean shorts do nothing to hide the goosebumps covering her freckled skin. At least she still has some kind of reaction to me. Not that it holds a candle to mine. Fuck, she’s more beautiful than I remember. From far away, she looks as she always did, but up close, she’s older, matured. Her tank top frames palm-sized tits, and her waist is small but juts into slightly rounded hips. Her eyes are as big as ever. Brown and so warm. Like a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Even her forced smile is beautiful. Flashing bright-white teeth. It’s good to see that one crooked tooth on her bottom row. I’m glad her retainer did nothing to fix that.

There aren’t many—if anyone else in the fucking world—who cause my heart to beat faster with just a look. Winnie Lewis has always been my weakness.

As a college athlete, I get a lot of—usually unwanted—attention. But I’ve learned to work with it. Some guys on the team fuck any chick who gives them attention, but I prefer an innocent flirt with no expectations.

Except when it comes to Winnie Lewis. I’d gladly tumble with her—again. That night two years ago wasn’t what it should have been. I was nervous. I’m not much more experienced now, but confidence goes a long way. I’ve grown up just like she has.

Treating Winnie how I would any other girl definitely won’t get me what I want, and what I want is her.

Zoey slips her arm into mine, but I haven’t a fucking clue why. I’ve told her numerous times not to fucking touch me. Still, I don’t tell her to get off like I normally might because seeing Winnie’s soft eyes fill with rage is like a drug. She’s the addict, and I’m the thing she wishes she could quit.

She should hate me. And maybe she does, but I don’t think so. Winnie isn’t capable of hate—not real hate, anyway. She might be scrunching her nose in disgust, and it might be pointed at me, but I’ve seen her make the same look at bacon. So it really is irrelevant because I know bacon is fucking amazing.

Standing in front of Winnie right now feels like the first time I ever stood in front of her. Like we are five and eight all over again.

Her brother was playing street hockey. Curiosity got the best of me, and I wandered outside to see if I could play too. The neighbors before them were an old couple, and the only time I saw them outside was to get the mail. This was the first time there was someone on my street I might be able to play with.

Elijah gladly accepted my offer, and a little bit later, out wandered a little girl in yellow rain boots and pigtails, holding a camera in her hands.

It’s wild to think about how our relationship has changed since then. Constantly twisting, turning, and growing. But it blew up in our faces two years ago.

I hated myself for a while after that night. She was young, and I shouldn’t have accepted her advances, but I’ve never been able to say no to Winnie. Especially when the last thing I wanted to do that night was say no. Though we danced around the tension for a while, a boy only has so much willpower. Besides, the thought of someone else taking Winnie’s virginity while I was at college was like a hot knife to the chest.

Same with thinking about who might have come after that night when I left without a goodbye.

“Nice to see you.” Her voice pulls me from my head, and when it does, she’s no longer in front of me. Instead, she’s behind me, heading for the front of the store and yelling over her shoulder. Since she’s not looking, I flick Zoey’s arm from mine and scowl down at her.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Zoey. You know why you’re here, and it’s not that.”

I know my words hurt her. I wish I could say I care, but I don’t. Zoey lost any chance for “us” to be a thing years ago, but somehow, she still has it in her head that I’ll change my mind. I wasn’t into her the first time she came onto me, and I’m not into her now.

The only reason I’m still around her is because her dad is my assistant coach, and it’s kind of important I keep the peace with him if I want to continue playing and want any shot at going pro. That doesn’t mean pretending to like her when her father isn’t around, though.

“It could be,” she tries, for what must be the five-hundredth time in the last year since she started college at Emerson U. No matter how many times I tell her no.

“You know how pathetic it makes you going after a guy who would never give you the time of day?”

“About as pathetic as you thinking Winnie Lewis would ever give you a second chance after what you did.”

Bitch.

“That’s more likely to happen than us ever being anything.”

Her arm snaps out as soon as I take a step toward the front of the store, halting me.

“You can’t seriously be wasting your time.”

“Winnie has never once been a waste of time. Now stop fucking touching me before I have to tell your dad you’ve been fraternizing with a player. Again.” He has a very strict rule on no players dating his daughter—not that anyone would try. Most of us can see through her bullshit. But it doesn’t stop her from throwing herself at us—me specifically—for whatever fucking reason.

After glancing around, I spot Winnie at the self-checkout, still scanning her items. A relieved breath tumbles from my mouth, and I pause to take her in for a moment. I can’t believe she’s really here.

I adjust my hat, then shove my hands into my jeans and approach her. “Hey.”

She jumps but quickly recovers, scowling at the box of stuffing in her hand. There have been many times Winnie would eat nothing but a box of stuffing for dinner. I always found it weird, and the same is still true today.

“You still like stuffing that much?”

Her auburn eyebrows twitch as a look of discomfort twists her face. Probably because I remember that detail, or maybe because I’m bringing it up.

“I do.” She looks behind her like she’s waiting for something. “Why are you here?”

“I go to school here, Win.” I smirk, and she scowls.

I’m a confident guy. Good looking enough. Killer in hockey. But Winnie has always been able to see through me. To strip me down—metaphorically, of course. But it’s been years, and I’m not used to her heavy stare anymore. The kind that makes me feel like she can see my heart and the contents it holds. Like all my deepest, darkest secrets are on display.

I know she’s biting her tongue when her reply is clipped. “Obviously, Reese. I mean here. Bothering me.”

“Bothering?”

She nods. “That’s what I said.”

Ouch.

I clutch a hand over my chest where my heart lies below. “You don’t honestly mean that. You love me being around.”

Her eyes narrow, and I know I fucked up.

“Win.” I reach for her arm, but she pulls away. “I’m sorry. I’ve just missed you, and now you’re here. It feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

She scoffs an angry huff. “Hardly.”

Her familiar sweet smell wafts through the air and straight into my nose when I step closer. The overhead music fades, and I relish being so close. I cup her hand in mine while she scans the item. “It could be.”

Our bodies aren’t touching besides my hand on hers, but the heat radiating from her small frame is enough to drive me mad.

She shivers, but I don’t think it’s from the AC blowing above. “Are you on drugs or something?”

I laugh, only because I know she’s being serious, and step away. If I stay that close to her, I’m going to end up with a boner I can’t hide. “No, I’ve just grown up, Win. I know what I want.” Making sure she sees me look up and down her body, I slap on a smirk. Normally, girls would giggle or flirt back. But I should know better because she’s not like that. Easy and Winnie are two terms I’d never use in the same sentence. Unless I was saying loving her is easy, because in that case, it’s more than accurate.

She jams her card into the machine, completely ignoring me. Her bags rustle when she grabs them with more force than necessary and shoves past me, and I let her exit, watching the sway of her hips. Conflicted between hurt from her cold attitude toward me and turned on from the same thing, I stare in her direction for a few beats after she disappears through the automatic doors. The expectation of our reunion wasn’t high, but Winnie has never walked away from me before.

Shaking my head, I rush to follow after her, but I’m stopped by an older man stepping in my path. He crosses his arms and cocks an accusing eyebrow at me.

“Are we going to have a problem?”

“What?” I say, confused.

He nods his head back. “The girl who all but ran away from you.”

Oh. I chuckle and scratch the back of my neck. “Girlfriend. Gets moody when she’s hungry.”

Whatever tension he was holding leaves his body, and he chuckles. Probably should have asked me more questions, but the longer I’m standing here, the more time Winnie has to drive away before I even make it outside.

“I know the feeling all too well. Go get that girl some food, and remember—happy wife, happy life.”

My lips curve up, and he slaps my shoulder on the way by like an old friend.

Imagining Winnie as my wife is bittersweet. I never considered getting married; it’s not like I grew up with a great example. But if I were going to get married, I’d want to be standing at the end of her aisle.

It takes a few minutes to find that old blue Bronco after I step outside. I knew she would still be driving it. She will most likely drive it until it quits, and even then, she will do whatever she can to make it run again.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dealt with anxiety, but that has never trickled into Winnie. She was the only thing that ever eased it. But now she’s back in my life, and what are we? I’ve never had to question what we were before because we just… were. She was my right hand. My shadow. My best friend. When I found out she would be attending EU, it was like a weight had been lifted, but now that she’s here—and hates me—that weight is back tenfold.

I jog toward her, not wanting her to pull away before we can talk.

There’s a window between us, but it’s still comforting being this close. There were a few times over the last two years that I wondered if I made Winnie up in my head; obviously, that isn’t the case.

Looking at her isn’t enough, though. My hands itch to touch her—hold her. I’ll tell her anything she needs to hear to make it right between us again because there is no way I can be in the same town as Winnie Lewis and not be with her. We touched a lot when we were younger, but it was always innocent. Until it wasn’t. After that, I knew those innocent touches would never be enough again.

I was obsessed.

Then I left.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I focus on what’s in front of me. I’ve only thought about the past for years, but now it’s crucial I focus on here and now. Prove to Winnie I’m not the piece of shit she probably thinks I am.

Winnie flips through the same CD case she’s had since she turned sixteen. It’s always been important to her to have the perfect songs playing while she drives, even giving herself enough time to pick music for the shortest trips. It’s her little quirks like that I’ve missed the most.

I’m not at all surprised when she slips a disc into the player and “Gives You Hell” by The All-American Rejects blasts from her speakers, rattling the entire vehicle.

She grins, happy with herself, and I can’t help but match it with my own at how proud she is of her selection.

Ready to go, she glances around and then screams when she notices me, but it’s muted behind her window and the music. The song cuts off as she jams her finger into the pause button and cranks her window down.

“What the hell are you doing just watching me, you freak?”

A couple walks by at the same time, and they tug their son past quicker than before. I have to bite back my laugh because Winnie is obviously pissed, and laughing at her isn’t going to help anyone.

“You didn’t notice me.”

“Yeah, most people knock on the window and don’t just stand there like a weirdo.”

“Am I a freak or a weirdo? You called me both.”

Her auburn eyebrows bunch as she frowns. “Both, probably.”

“Hmm.” I tap my chin, putting on a show as if I’m really thinking about it. “I don’t know if either fit. Why don’t you pick a new word?”

Her eyes blaze with anger. And I love it. They say hate and love are neighbors. Right now she is the hate, and I am the love, but I bet with a little time, I can convince her to love me again. She did once. Surely, she could again.

“How about liar?”

My smirk falls, and any happiness I was feeling follows right behind. I could have predicted this side of things, but knowing that’s how she feels about me fucking blows.

She throws the car in reverse, looking behind her as she backs out, and I let her drive away because the truth is, I don’t know what to say. I know why she feels that way, and she has every right to, but I really wish she didn’t. I’m not so delusional that I thought a smirk was going to make her forget everything. And I’m sure seeing Zoey with me today didn’t help anything.

I see Elijah around periodically and have to embrace his glares, but we don’t run in the same circle anymore. He quit hockey, quit basically everything, and became a hermit. The only time I see him around people is at parties, and he’s not just there for a good time. I see the little bags of whatever he passes around.

The Elijah I knew before would never be doing this shit. He wouldn’t be in the corner; he would have been in the center of the room, partying it up with the rest. I was always the recluse, but losing his dad really fucked him up, and he never recovered. Not like he had a best friend to help him through it.

Now Winnie is back on my turf, going to the same stores, maybe even parties, and a friendly hello in passing won’t ever be enough for me. I can’t ignore her like I can mostly ignore her brother.

I need her. All of her.

My mind goes crazy thinking of ideas. Suddenly, the best plan—that I can come up with right now, anyway—pops into my head, and I pull my phone out.

Me: Throw a party tonight.

Message bubbles pop up almost immediately, to my surprise. Sawyer is never a fast replier. If there was an emergency, he is the last person I’d want to call.

Sawyer: Oooo, yes!

Me: Amy?

Sawyer: Ew, no. Emma!

Me: Oh, what’s up? And where’s your brother?

Sawyer: Bathroom! Probably pooping.

Me: TMI, Emma.

There’s a long pause between texts, and my impatience grows more with each passing moment.

Sawyer: Sorry. My sister was using my phone.

Sawyer: But why can’t you throw the party?

Me: Can’t explain. But I actually need a favor from Emma. Can she text someone for me and invite her to the party?

Sawyer: …her?

Sawyer is my best friend on the team, but I’ve never mentioned Winnie or her brother. He caught Elijah glaring at me once and asked about it. I told him he was a druggy and probably cracked out. It fucking sucks lying about a guy I considered a brother at one point, but keeping Sawyer out of my Winnie business is easier than having to admit what went wrong.

Me: Get her to the party and I’ll explain.

Sawyer: Send her number.

Me: Idk if it’s the same, but I’ll send what I do have. Her name is Winnie Lewis. She’s a freshman. If the number doesn’t work, tell Emma to look her up.

I send the number and wait impatiently for a reply. It takes way longer than I’d like, and I probably look like an insane person pacing the parking lot. Someone even had to honk at me when I didn’t notice them trying to back up. This is the chaos she brings to my life. I fucking love it.

Finally, his name pops up, and he’s calling me.

“Cute girl.”

“Easy,” I growl.

His laugh is deep in my ear. “What’s the deal with her?”

“Did Emma invite her?”

“Yep,” Emma squeals in the background. “She actually picked up when I called. Most people don’t pick up random numbers.” That is a bit concerning, but not surprising.

“Well, is she coming?”

“Yep! I said something about freshman orientation, and she bought it.”

Either Winnie is more naive than I ever thought, or she really wants to go to a party. Neither sit well.

“Okay, sweet. Thanks, Emma.”

“Don’t mention it! But if you want to pay me back, set me up with your hot roommate.”

Rustling sounds on the other end, followed by Sawyer’s muffled yells.

“Fucking hell, that girl is a pain in my ass.”

“I think sisters are meant to be.”

“It was easier when she didn’t talk.”

“I’m sure. She’s into Schmidt, though?”

He groans loudly, and I can picture him dragging his hand down his face, which he does a lot. “She saw him getting the mail this morning, and you know he never—“

“Wears a shirt, I know.” Seeing Schmidt with a shirt on is weirder than seeing him without. We are going on three years of being roommates, and in those years, I’ve probably seen him in a shirt in our place less than five times because it’s gone as soon as he steps through the door.

“I heard her telling her friend his abs are lickable. So, naturally, I have to kill him.”

Having a little sister sounds stressful as fuck. Winnie was the closest thing I ever had, but obviously, the sister feeling didn’t stick for long, and I never had to deal with her liking boys who weren’t me.

“Fine, but find me a new roommate to occupy his room. Preferably one who can cook.”

“Deal. Pick up some snacks for tonight. I’ll get the kegs.”

“Send Schmidt to get the liquor since he gets a family discount.”

“Shit, that’s right. Okay, see you soon.”

I shove my phone away and head for the store. Winnie might be surprised when she walks into the party and I’m there, but that’s fine. She always did like surprises.