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I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. It settled over me like a warm blanket. And I lingered there, in that moment, believing that maybe he did want me as much as I wanted him.

“Hey, Grey,” I eventually said. I opened my eyes to him, and I was right. His eyes were already on mine. Communicating something that definitely didn’t equal just friendship.

So, I went for it. “Listen, Greyson. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t like you. Like,really, stupidlylike you, so…are you actuallyoblivious to my ridiculous attempts at flirting with you or have you really not noticed me making an ass out of myself?”

The corner of his mouth hitched up the tiniest bit. So, he hadn’t been oblivious, that much was obvious. “Listen, Jess,” he turned the tables on me. “I’ve already told you I’m into you, but I can’t give you anything more than friendship right now.”

“Right now?” I latched onto those words mischievously.

“Jess,” he warned, a little exasperated. But if his smile had anything to say about it, he was also kind of amused. “Friends. That’s all we can be.”

“Butwhy,” I whined.

“Because Jaymes—”

“When are you going to get that Jaymes and I aren’t together?” I interrupted. I was so sick of Jaymes and his stupid claim on me.

“He says he loves you,” he offered.

“Ha!” I laughed. “Is that a joke?” But his face said that it wasn’t. “Okay. Wow. That’s ridiculous. You see that, right? What he does every night? With all those girls? I don’t know much about love, but that…that isnotit.”

His eyes lingered on mine, hanging on my last words. I could see the way he was turning them over in his mind, deciding what they meant. To him. To me.

“And what about me? What about how I feel?” I pushed.

He took a deep breath, quickly releasing it. There were words on the tip of his tongue. Words I could tell he was holding back. “I still can’t do that to him, Jess,” he said instead, forcing an alternate set of them forward. “And like I said before—Jaymes is a really good friend of mine, and I owe him a hell of a lot better than that. I couldn’t do that to him, genuine feelings for you or not. So again, friends are all we can be. Take it or leave it, I guess.”

I’d be lying if I said his offer didn’t crush me. Just a little. “That’s not fair,” I said quietly.

“Life isn’t fair,” he shrugged.

And touché. Because didn’t I know a thing or two about that.

Twelve After

“JESS?” HE STEPScloser, this grown man version of who Greyson used to be. He’s taller, older, wiser. There’s no way I could actually know that just from looking at him, but somehow, I know it’s true. This man in front of me knows things he didn’t all those years ago, has lived things, seen things too, maybe.

And he is definitely,definitely,leaps and bounds sexier than I remember him being.

It’s almost too overwhelming to handle—his familiar eyes, that same tilted smile, the angular line of his scruffy jaw, and above it all, the fact that he’s even here, inmyhometown, inmycoffee shop.

I watch him, and he watches me, and neither of us says anything for far too long. I think it’s because we’re both in shock.

He looks good.Really good.

His hair is buzzed short on the sides, the top longer and thrown back in a perfect mess. It’s no longer bleach-blond. Just dark. Black, black, black. His army-green tee perfectly fits the form of his sculpted arms and broad chest, and he’s wearing these dark shit-kicker boots, and ripped black jeans, and is clenching and unclenching hands that have touched and healed and broken so many different parts of me.

Emotion lodges itself in my throat. I want to run out that door and launch myself into his arms all at the same time.

I don’t miss the way he studies me as intently as I do him, a flood of emotions raging behind his eyes that match the ones playing in mine—fear, joy, excitement, regret.

“How are you?” he asks.

So, this is going to be the point where we start talking and using all of the words. Okay. I can do this. And because I’m an adult, and I’m Zen as fuck, I can totally,totallyhandle it.“I’m good. How are you?” See? Piece of cake.Liar.

“I’m good.” He smiles, glancing down at the floor.

I duck down just a bit and catch his eyes. “You still smile the same way,” I say softly. That was such a stupid, vulnerable thing to say. But I’ll own it. Because he does. And I’ve missed that smile. So much more than I’ve allowed myself to believe.