Page 16

E aston and I dance and dance and dance. Oh, do we dance—to new stuff, eighties tunes, nineties grunge, and a bunch of songs we used to rock out to ten years ago.

Finally, exhausted and hot, even though I lost the hoodie a while ago, leaving me in a thin T-shirt and leggings, I plop down on the sofa.

Slouching down till my head’s resting on the back, I declare, “That’s it. I’m done. I think I’ve burned off ten thousand calories in the past couple hours.”

Laughing, Easton lowers the volume on the portable speaker we’ve been using and sits down next to me, slouching in the same way.

Again, though, that damn throw pillow is between us.

How did it even get back up here anyway?

Oh yeah, we almost tripped over it when we started jamming, and I tossed it onto the sofa.

“If you burned ten thousand,” he says, “I think I did twenty.”

I nod. “Probably. Your air guitar was pretty wild, especially when you jumped up on the coffee table.”

“Hey,” he replies, shrugging, “you got to give the masses a good show.”

I laugh, as it was almost like we were putting on a concert. Once we moved the coffee table and two chairs out of the way, we had a lot of room to work with for our performances.

And we had a bunch of song choices.

We connected Easton’s iPhone to the speaker first. And when we ran out of tunes we liked on his, we synced mine.

“That was a lot of fun,” I say softly.

“Just like old times,” Easton replies.

“For sure.”

He smiles over at me, and for a beat, I’m lost in his blues, leading me to blurt out, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but you have the coolest color eyes.”

“Thanks,” he says, chuckling. “But you know what? I kind of like yours too.”

“Nah.” I wave my hand around. “Mine are old boring hazel. You have nice icy light blue.”

Sitting up straight, he declares with passion, “No way. Your eyes are not boring at all. There are little flecks of gold and green in them. They’re super pretty. Claire.”

I bite my lip.

Wow, I had no idea Easton ever really paid that much attention or that he felt so passionately about my eyes.

But I am flattered, so I murmur a quiet “Thanks.”

He flops back against the sofa, and this time he closes his eyes. “Claire,” he breathes.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He opens his eyes and turns his head toward me.

“Oh, come on,” I press. “You’re clearly thinking about something.”

“All right. What the hell.” Looking up at the ceiling, he runs a hand down his face. Then he says, “Is there anything about our past that you regret?”

Okay, we’re moving into serious talk here.

But I’m up for it. There are things I want to share with Easton, just thoughts about all those years ago. Like things I think he should know.

I don’t plan to divulge everything tonight, but there is something I’ve been meaning to tell him about for a while now.

“I have some regrets,” I reply honestly. “But probably one in particular that weighs on me.”

Looking over at me with deep interest, he asks, “What’s the one that weighs on you the most?”

“Nope. No way.” I shake my head. “You brought it up. You go first.”

“Okay.” He blows out a breath. “Here goes one—I regret that I never asked you out back then.”

Holy crap!

Softly, I say, “I didn’t know you ever felt that way about me.”

Chuckling, he gestures over to me. “Come on, Claire. Look at yourself. You’re beautiful, and you always were. It would have been weird if it had never crossed my mind.”

Ahh, so he was attracted to me.

But that was back then , I remind myself. Not now.

Though could it still be?

“Claire?”

Easton’s voice breaks me from my reveries. “Yeah?”

“What’s your big regret?” he asks.

Oh boy, now I wish I’d never said that I have one.

But I can’t back out now.

“Uhhh,” I begin, sitting up straight and crossing my arms. “It kind of fits in with yours in a way.”

He leans forward as well. “It does?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “It definitely does.”

“So, spill it, girl.”

Oh hell.

“All right.” I scrunch up my face and say in a rush of words, “I wish you had been my first.”

“First?” He looks confused. But then he gets it. “Ohhh… Wow, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

He winces. “Was it that bad?”

I nod. “It sucked.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. But to be honest, I wasn’t that good back then. I can’t say it would have been much better.”

I laugh. “I’m sure it would have.” But then I realize something about what he just said, and my eyes widen. “Wait a gosh-darn minute. You were doing it back then when we were seventeen? With who? Not that Lori so-and-so chick?”

Why do I feel a spike of jealousy?

And why am I relieved when, chuckling, he says, “No, not back then. And I never would have done it with Lori whatever, anyway. She was so not my type.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I say. “You do know she had a huge crush on you, though, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, I never knew that. Still, it wouldn’t have changed anything. In fact, I didn’t have sex until my first month of college. And about me not being that good from the start, I was just saying it took me a few times to get…you know…skilled.”

My face warms, and, aww, he’s blushing too.

“We are so weird,” I say to lighten the mood.

He laughs. “Yeah, but that’s why we make such good friends.”

See, he views you as just his friend.

Stop with the dreamy thoughts .

Standing, he holds out his hand. “Ready to go to bed?”

With you, yes , my mind says.

My body agrees.

Good thing my mouth is in control, as I take his hand and reply, “Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“Same,” he says as he helps me up.

He lets go of my hand, and we head upstairs, where we go our separate ways at the top.

A part of me would like to turn around and follow him into his bedroom.

But no, this is for the best.

I’m just sleepy and not thinking straight.

But still, I have to ask myself—is this one of those weird moments we have, or is that what I really want?

Well, it’s not going to be answered tonight.