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“You know, maybe I will. That’s not a bad idea.”

Owen unlatches from around my neck and dances in the direction of Jenny, a pretty brunette with curves I did enjoy wrapping in my rope. For a moment I second guess my decision but know it’s for the best. I still have things I need to take careof before I go and only have six more days to do them in. I can’t have any more distractions trying to stop me from leaving.

It's nearly midnight when I decide it’s time to call it a night. I’ve had my drinks and my fun and am now ready to head home and hit the sack. Since I rode with the now vanished Owen—maybe he managed to convince Jenny and Lexi after all—I’m going to be walking home.

I have no idea when Izzy and Bambi left, but they’re nowhere in sight when I start making my way out. I guess they must have taken off earlier and I didn’t notice. Losing sight of Izzy and James is one thing, they leave together all the time, but not saying goodnight to Bambi is another.

I’ll check her place overTheBook Vaulton my walk home. Maybe she’ll still be up, and I can say a proper goodnight. Why I feel the need to say goodnight when I’ll most likely see her tomorrow, I don’t dwell on. It’d be too much for me to admit to myself and tonight is the last night I need to start deep contemplation.

I leave the bar and zip my coat around me, protecting me from the majority of the cold wind. It feels good against my heated face and neck after being inside the crammed bar all night.

It only takes me about ten minutes of walking before I’m passing byTheBook Vault.Bambi’s apartment is directly above the store and has street facing windows. I check them for any lights. Nothing. All the windows are dark, no sign of movement beyond.Damnit.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of her store I stare up at the dark windows far longer than I should, hoping to see movement. There isn’t any. She must have gone to bed already.

Ignoring the disappointment in my chest, I resume my walk home.

Chapter 3: Raelyn

I literally have nothing left to lose

Leaving without saying goodbye to Warren to drive Gigi home, probably wasn’t the most mature move but it’s the one I made. Watching him enjoy himself all night and listening to people talk about him leaving, just made me sadder, to the point I didn’t want to be there anymore. So, when Gigi asked me to drive her home, I jumped on it.

I had planned on driving back to my apartment and returning her car tomorrow but apparently, I’m really into self-torture and decided to sit on the back porch like a stalker and wait for Warren to come home. If he comes home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the opportunity to be with a girl tonight. We all know how popular he is with them around town. Always available for a night or two, never more though.

Watching him go home with women was hard enough. I couldn’t imagine what watching him with a girlfriend would be like. He’s never had one. Nothing past a few dates in high school at least.

The wooden porch swing Warren made for Gigi years ago, sways under my weight. The bright blue ropes holding it up in an intricate pattern of knotting I wasn’t aware Warren knew how to make. I run my fingers along the fibers worn smoothfrom excessive use, picturing his callused strong hands tying the beautiful pattern.

I’ve often found myself in this very spot, mind wandering while I stare out at the softly lapping waves of the ocean water against the rocky shore. It’s always been my peaceful place to think or not think and just let my mind go blank. There’s not much of a beach to speak of in this area but that never stopped us from enjoying the water when it gets warm enough. Jumping off the end of the dock was more than sufficient.

Picturing the four of us as kids, running from the back door and racing to see who would be the first to the water, has me smiling to myself. I never won but that didn’t matter to me. Being with my friends is what mattered. Sitting on the end of the dock with our feet dangling while we ate popsicles, laughing until we cried watching the boys wrestle till they fell in, having whispered giggle fests with Izzy, and realizing I was sexually attracted to Warren the summer I turned fifteen while watching him dive into the ocean shirtless, that’s what matters.

Once again, like it has a few times before, the thought to tell Warren how I feel about him makes its way to the forefront of my mind. I’ve considered it in the past but always talked myself out of it. Always picturing his rejection and disgust, then the following awkwardness until I finally became a hermit and never went out into public again.

But now…

Now he’ll be leaving in a week. Now, there’s no risk of awkwardness or breaking up the group, because he’s already breaking it up by leaving. If he rejects me, I only have to avoid him for a few days. I literally have nothing left to lose.

If he were to leave and never return, I would be forever regretful for not at least trying. For putting it out there to see what happened. It would always be a ‘what if’ lingering in the back of my mind. I already compare every guy I’m with to him—even though most of it is hypothetical and based on nothing but my imagination—at least this way I could move past him if he rejected me. He would never be the one who got away because I would have at least tried.

I’ve dreamed of kissing Warren for years. Wondering what his lips would feel like against mine. If he would be a heavy, hard kisser with lots of tongue, or a soft kisser using light touches to entice. I can imagine him doing both and wouldn’t mind either. Just as long as I could experience it once in my life. That’s all I want. Just once.

But when could I possibly attempt this incomprehensible feat? At our next dinner with Gigi? On our last group outing? Perhaps while standing on the dock waving goodbye? I could just smack a kiss right on him without warning and no time to react. None seem like an ideal time. Like all other times I would chicken out and be right back where I started.

Tonight maybe? I could wait till he gets home then go talk to him alone, under the cover of darkness and with a little liquid courage still in my system and him more amenable with liquor in his.Maybe I could even get that kiss.

Half past twelve is when I start to think he has gone home with someone and won’t be coming back to his boat tonight. My built-up courage dwindles with every minute that ticks by.

I should probably head inside. Go to bed. Forget all about confessing my long-concealed crush and just accept it’s never going to happen. It’s only getting colder, and although I’m wrapped up tight inside a heavy quilt I helped Gigi make for the county fair years ago, I can’t stay out here forever. I’ll just end up with pneumonia or frostbite.

Before I can conjure up the energy to rise and go inside, I hear footsteps crunching on the gravel drive. Either it’s a burglar come to rob me, or it’s Warren.

I sit perfectly still waiting to see who rounds the back of the house before freaking out and calling the cops. A shadowed figure appears and bypasses the stairs to the back porch, hands in pockets, and heading straight for the dock. I’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Warren strides down the length of the wooden wharf, a slowness to his steps. I watch as he approaches the bow and slows to a stop. He stares out at the water before pivoting to stare back up at the house.

Ah fuck. He’s totally gonna see me watching him.