Chapter 18 Past
The oppressive Alabama heat enveloped me, but My hands were still frozen from scooping ice cream, and the warmth felt like it could sink into my bones.
Music drifted from the jukebox through the open windows, mixing with the faint scent of fried food from the diner next door. Somewhere beyond it, I thought I heard my name.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I turned. Paul was sitting on the picnic table like he’d been waiting for me all night.
Like the ice cream I’d been scooping for the past two hours, I melted at the sight of his smile. Sun-kissed skin. Blonde curls shifting in the lake breeze. A plain white shirt and worn jean shorts — simple, but on him, perfect.
The bruise on his face was still there, softened by the halo of neon spilling from the shop window. His voice was warmer now, richer, carrying across the parking lot like it belonged there.
“You done for the night?” he called, leaning just enough to look casual. “I wanted to take you home.”
I froze mid-step, the heat in my cheeks entirely unrelated to the Alabama evening.
“I get off in an hour,” I said, trying not to sound as giddy as I felt.
His mouth twitched like he couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be here.”
He leaned back on his elbows, one leg stretched out, the other tapping to the beat drifting from inside. Like waiting for me was the easiest decision he’d made all day.
That hour refused to move. I mopped floors while Taylor counted the till and Jane topped off sprinkle jars, stealing glances toward the door, toward the shadow I imagined was still out there.
When we finally finished, Taylor locked the door behind us. Jane and Taylor exchanged a knowing smirk as I headed in Paul’s direction. He caught it too, his eyes flicking toward them before settling back on me like they’d never been there.
He reached for my hand — warm, certain. My fingers were still cold from the freezer, and his thumb brushed lightly over my knuckles before letting go.
His car was parked off to the side. The top was up tonight. He opened my door with an easy, almost old-fashioned courtesy, and I slid in.
Reaching to open his side, I stopped short — wilted honeysuckles rested on the dash, their faint sweetness catching in my chest.
I tucked my reaction away as he climbed in, but he was watching me. Always watching.
“You always smell sweet somehow,” he said, buckling his seatbelt.
The words landed before I could process them. He must’ve seen the surprise in my face because he added, softer, “Usually like honeysuckles. But tonight… sweet cream.”
I became suddenly aware of it — the soda shop clinging to me like syrup.
“Perks of the job, I guess,” I said, my laugh a little too quick.
We traded small talk, but my mind kept circling back to Carol. He noticed — his eyes narrowing slightly, fingers tightening on the wheel.
“Something wrong?”
I hesitated. “Had a fun little chat with Carol.”
His jaw tightened just enough to notice. “Oh.”
“So, you like cherries, huh?” My tone came out sharper than I meant, and his brow lifted slightly — not offended, just reading me.
“Don’t let them get to you,” he said after a beat. “Carol and I went steady for a year. Before you moved here. My dad and her mom worked at the courthouse. He thought it would be good for me to date her. I stayed because he wanted me to.”
“Why would he—” My voice trailed off.
“It was nothing. The moment I could end it, I did.”
I nodded, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. He studied me for a beat, like he knew.
“Want to know a secret?” His grin turned sly.
“Hmmm… what’s that?”
“I hate cherries. Every time she gave me one, I pretended to eat it — then spit it out when she wasn’t looking.”
I laughed, the knot in my chest loosening. “You poor thing. A whole year of cherries and her.”
We both laughed, and for a moment the air felt light again.
Then he shifted toward me, his voice dropping. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever actually wanted to be with,” he said. “The first one I chose.”
It felt genuine. I leaned slightly toward him, half-hoping he’d take my hand. Instead, he did something unexpected — more intense.
His left hand rested loosely on the wheel. The other bypassed mine and came to rest gently on my thigh, right where the hem of my dress met bare skin.
My stomach flipped. I tilted my body toward him — a subtle invitation. His grip softened, confidence threading into his touch, and his smile deepened when he caught my expression.
I traced the lines of his face with my eyes, but when they lingered on the cut beneath his eye, the air shifted.
“So,” I asked softly, “do you want to talk about it?”
He hesitated, then tried to lighten the moment with a smile. “Nah, not really.”
Then, with that same quiet certainty, “I want to enjoy this right now.”
I nodded. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow?”
His hand tightened slightly on my thigh. That grin — the one from the night we almost kissed — returned.
“Why wait until tomorrow?”
I held my breath, my thoughts spinning.
How does he make my heart race and slow at the same time?
We didn’t say much on the way to my house. Between the feel of his hand and the thought of his lips, I scrambled for a believable way to get more time with him.
Just before the driveway, he killed the engine. The glow from my house spilled across the yard.
“Wait here,” I said, slipping out.
I jogged up the driveway, schooling my expression before stepping inside. Mom was still awake—barely—slouched on the couch, eyes glassy from the pills.
“Hey, Mom.”
She looked up with a crooked smile, voice slow. “Bristol Ann…”
“Do you mind if I stay at Molly’s?”
She gave a half-coherent nod. “Be careful, honey. Watch out for snakes.”
I lifted her feet onto the couch, draped the throw blanket over her, and kissed her forehead. “Love you,” I whispered.
Upstairs, I changed quickly into a peach tee and jean shorts, glanced in the mirror, and slipped back outside.
Excitement and nerves tangled in my chest. I ran down the driveway, trying to slow into a walk, failing miserably.
Paul leaned against the hood of his car, moonlight turning his hair to gold.
When I reached him — breathless, grinning — I said, “I’m yours for the night… Where do you want to go?”
With a laugh, he swept me off my feet.
“I know a place.”