Page 41 of All I Have Left

EVIE

A s soon as we walk into the bar, it feels right. The bass vibrates through me with the country music blaring.

Frankie leads the way to the far-right corner where we usually sit. We’ve been sitting in the same booth since we convinced Quinten, the owner, to let us in The Point when we were thirteen.

I usually like to get a drink in me, and people watch before dancing. But when you’re with Frankie, that’s usually not possible. She’s shaking her ass the moment she enters the bar.

Between lingering stares of those around me and feeling like I shouldn’t be here, I stay close to both Frankie and Kelly when the guys disappear.

Once we’re seated, Summer, one of the bartenders, takes our orders.

Not wanting any hard alcohol, I order a Coors Light. Kelly gets a rum and Coke, and Frankie a Long Island iced tea. She loves those things and I can’t stand them. They taste like a garbage dump of different alcohols together.

I scan the bar, looking for Grayson. I haven’t seen him since we walked in.

Heat courses through me at the thought of his words in the truck and his hand he had on my leg the entire drive here.

Not only is it hot in the bar, but I think my body is begging for more from him.

Mentally, I’m not ready for anything, but physically, that’s another story.

Near the door, the owner, Quinten, opens the folding wall that leads to the stage, providing a cool blast of summer night air into the bar.

Breathing easier, our drinks arrive and I’m so thirsty I down the beer in two minutes.

Kelly laughs. “Thirsty?”

“It’s really hot in here,” I yell over the music.

“Yeah, I know. Now, where did the boys go?” Kelly asks, looking around.

“Right here.” Josh slides into the booth next to Kelly.

Through the break in the crowd, I spot Grayson and Ethan leaning against the bar, talking with Quinten now, more than likely warning him about Shane.

I’m on my second beer when I gain enough courage to attempt dancing.

“Oh, I love this song!” Kelly screams when “Down On The Farm” comes on.

I let her lead me to the dance floor, swaying my hips when I feel two hands on my waist.

I knew it wouldn’t take him long. My eyes flutter closed when he turns me, his left hand on my hip, the other in my right hand. Grayson knows how to dance, product of two older sisters and a mom who insisted he know how to treat a lady.

Leading me effortlessly, his smile is a tad crooked.

He takes a firm grip on my waist as the song picks up speed. We laugh and before I know it, the song ends. I rise up on my tippy-toes, my mouth at his ear. “You haven’t lost your touch, have you?”

He stares at me, practically panting as he leans in, his breath blowing across my face. “Don’t do this with me unless you’re ready,” he warns, pulling back to watch my facial expressions. “ I’m getting in deep here and if I’m not what you want, I need to know now.”

He has every right to say that to me. If I’m not ready, I have no business leading him on.

The thing is, deep down, I am ready. I can’t think of a better way to move forward with my life and forget about the pain.

And I want to do that with Grayson. It’s not like I’m jumping into a relationship after one ended so brutally.

I’ve known Grayson my entire life. There’s history here, familiarity, and love.

This guy, the one begging me to see not only that he’s falling for me, but that I’m worth it.

I deserve to be loved, not because of what I can give men, but because of what I give myself.

The approval to move on. I’m ready for him, I’ve always been ready.

The expression he holds onto is something I’ve never seen before in him. He’s very much a man now, no longer the boy I grew up with. And he’s giving me an out if I want it.

His eyes, solemn, offer me a reminder of what’s at stake this time. If I act on this, if he does, this time there is no walking away. This… is forever.

He hesitates before doing so, but he pulls me closer, his mouth at my neck. “I don’t say that to freak you out. I just… I don’t want to be just friends anymore, and this feels like more.”

“I… need air.” That’s my reply. Stupid.

With a nod, Grayson leads me out to the stage. What’s usually filled with music equipment on the weekends, is extra seating on the weeknights.

Quietly, we stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the railing on the deck.

I have no idea what possess me to do what I do next, but in the confines of the night, out of sight of everyone else, I kiss him.

I push my whole body flush against his and smash my face to his.

He freezes, probably surprised by my sudden boldness.

Without waiting for his response, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again.

This time running my tongue over the seam of his lips, begging for more .

And then it happens. His body relaxes and he spins around to hold me securely against him and the railing. If I could capture the feeling it gives me to have him do this, I would as the sensation sings through my veins. It’s like coming home.

He breaks the kiss and stares at me, and before I can say anything, ask him if this is okay, his lips are on mine—desperate, hungry, frantic with his need.

I nearly faint at the sensation of his lips seducing my mouth, so soft and warm.

When his tongue finally meets mine, I can taste the beer on him and remember a little more from years gone by.

A Friday night baseball game, the lights, the wet grass and dusty, clay-soaked knees. Behind the dugout, my back against the fence, our bodies pressed together. I remember our first kiss at fourteen, two people fumbling with feelings they didn’t understand.

Maybe it’s the kissing, or maybe it’s my mind trying to keep up, but I can’t breathe. I work my hands between us, on his chest and push.

He stops immediately, stepping back from me.

“Sorry,” I tell him, touching my fingertips to my lips. “I… had to kiss you.” Ugh. I had to kiss you? I sound like a teenage boy.

Grayson laughs, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m not complaining.”

“Wanna get a drink?” I ask, nodding behind him.

Without words, he takes my hand and leads me back to the bar. We stand there a few minutes, waiting for the bartender to come our way. I can feel Grayson’s eyes on me the whole time.

I’m too embarrassed to look at him, afraid of what he might say.

What if he’s having second thoughts?

What if he thinks he’s some kind of rebound?

Every time we’ve been together like this, there has always been someone else. The thing is, there has never been anyone but him.

“Relax, Evie. It’s me.” Grayson smiles, his arm around my shoulder. “Nothing we do comes with expectations. We take this at your speed.”

I lean into him. “Thank you.” I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. For a girl who’s become used to love with conditions, these words are everything.

The rest of the night passes in an alcohol-induced blur and I don’t think I stop smiling once. I swear we dance to every song and I have no complaints. I can’t get close enough to him.