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I stay back. Nervous I suppose. It’s been so long I don’t even know what I’m going to say to her or if I can even speak.
Will words even come out if I try?
A rush of nerves works through me and I’m regretting the alcohol. I’m not in control of everything around me and it’s terrifying. With my heart hammering in my chest, I wipe my hands on the front of my jeans, breathing in and out slowly.
Don’t freak out. Just calm down.
“Jesus, Frankie, ease up!” Evie gasps as Frankie squeezes her tightly. She tries to push her off but Frankie clings to her even tighter.
“I’m soooo proud of you,Evieeeeee. You were amazing out there! I can’t believe how good you sounded! Did you see Gr—” Ethan cuts her off by elbowing her in the side.
At least someone is trying to keep the little shit in check. “You son of a bitch,” Frankie snaps at Ethan, who’s wiping a towel across his face. “That hurt.”
“See who?” Evie tugs on the hem of her dress, shifting uncomfortably. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe you made me wear this. I can see my ass cheeks.”
My eyes immediately drift lower. Sadly, she’s exaggerating. While it’s high, you can’t see her ass cheeks.
“Gra—” Ethan cuts her off again, slapping his hand to her ass. “You, fucker.”
“Josh and Kelly, they’re back,” Ethan clips, abruptly glaring at Frankie.
“Ethan, honey, babe, love chops, can I speak with you in private?” Frankie grabs him by the arm. He staggers back. “Now!”
Frankie pulls him by the arm about three feet closer to me. “You fucking elbow me again, asshole, and I’m going to fuck you up.” Frankie flicks her hand to Evie, who remains standing next to the stairs leading up to the stage. “She’s going to find out sooner or later. He’s standing right there—”
He doesn’t let her finish. “Let him find her on his own. He’s a grown man, Frankie. Let them be alone.”
I can’t take it any longer. I step forward out of the shadows. Frankie squeals when she notices and bolts toward me.
“Come on!” She tows me with her. “There she is.”
I’m exactly two feet from her now. So close that if I reached out, we’d be touching.
“Evie?” I whisper, hoping it causes a spark. She notices me but doesn’t smile. Stunned maybe? There’s no reaction at all. It hits me. Like a bullet to my chest. This girl, I don’t know her anymore and I’m not sure she even recognizes the man standing before her.
I’m not the boy who broke her heart by leaving without saying anything. I’m the man who’s going to beg for forgiveness.
8
EVIE
I’m dreaming. I have to be. There’s no other way because that can’t possibly be him.
Can it?
The man, definitely not a boy, comes into view and my heart stops. My breathing hitches into what can only be described as broken shudders.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I know those eyes and I know that voice.
Nervousness pricks at my skin and I choke on my breath. The ruggedly handsome man standing before me is vaguely familiar. He looks, different. Strong and rigid, as if he’s nervously gauging my reaction; he’s not the boy I once knew. “Grayson?” I finally ask.
“Yeah.” He smiles, dimples forming in the corners of his mouth. He steps forward, coming closer into the light of the stage behind us, the silhouette of his lean frame appears. At first, I don’t believe it. I just stand there staring at him, probably with my mouth open. He looks like he stepped off aGQmagazine cover and into our small town. Wearing faded stone-washed jeans, a few holes in them, and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His unruly wavy dark hair is artfully messyand a scruffy jawline draws my eyes to his plump kissable lips. Running a hand through his hair, he smirks, his face perfection. Glistening with the humid air, his skin glows underneath stage lights. They cast a yellow shimmer over him. I want to reach out and touch him but resist. Unaware of anything surrounding us, we stare at each other for what seems like forever, the moment drawing us both speechless, but really, only seconds before Frankie intervenes.
“Well, give an old friend a hug!” Frankie pushes us together. “Don’t be shy.”
Chest to chest, I gasp and reach up, hesitantly wrapping my arms around his neck. He gently returns the gesture, his arms snaking around my waist to draw me closer to him. Oh, wow. He smells like cinnamon, pine and soap, but also the distinct Grayson smell that I missed all these years. It’s similar to honey and dirt. Believe me, it’s a delicious combination. Awkwardness roots in my bones and I’m not sure what to do. Had he wanted to hug me or did he do it because Frankie made us? Easing out of the embrace, I place a chaste kiss on his cheek. My lips brush against the rough stubble of his jaw. “Am I dreaming?”