Page 30 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
I take in a shaky breath. “Not really.”
A thousand aching questions swirl between us.
“There,” I say, my voice close to breaking. “We did it.”
When his eyes go a little softer, my throat threatens to close on a sob. I swallow hard, forcing down every word that wants to spill out of my mouth. Every memory that wants to come back. Every hurt that ripped open the second he said my name.
He’s studying me closely now. “This is hard for me, too,” he says gently.
Tears do spring to my eyes then.Damn it. He was always so disarmingly honest. I loved that about him. I think I still do.
I force out a shaky “Yeah. I’ll just… go.”
We can’t even get through a conversation. Why did I think he’d want to see me this weekend? That he’d let me film him? Interview him? I was right before, I should’ve stayed home.
But as I walk by him, he reaches out and closes a hand around mine. “Wait.” He squeezes his eyes tight and exhales. “Shit.”
We hover. My hand in his.
The urge to fold myself into him and feel the press of his body against mine is so strong it’s a physical pain in my chest.
He swipes his free hand across his forehead. “I didn’t expect to see you—I didn’t know you were…” He trails off, gesturing to me.
“What? Here? I still live here, Reid. Never left.” My voice is piercing and defensive, bordering on bitter. We notice at the same time his hand is still wrapped around mine. He releases it and meets my eye again.
“Filming,” he clarifies. “I didn’t know you were filming.”
A self-conscious flush burns my cheeks. “Oh. Well. I’m boring.” I point to myself, trying to make a joke. “Remember? Hates parties. Loves trees. Films to avoid people. I haven’t changed.”
His eyebrows come together. “You would’ve had to.”
My expression must convey that I don’t get what he means because he goes on. “You were never boring. Tough. Fun.Nerdy.” The corner of his mouth lifts again, the barest hint. “But definitely not boring.”
The distance between us hurts, but this hint of sweetness from him is agonizing. Because now I’m clinging to those words and stuffing them into my mind to turn over later.
“Are you working on something for CAFA?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head quickly and can’t quite meet his eye. “I’m taking a break from all that.”
I rush to fill the awkward pause by telling him about my run-in with Principal West and the video for the banquet. My voice sounds nervy when I say, “I’m supposed to interview every Legacy.”
Reid and I have drifted closer. So close I can see the scar under his chin from when he fell off the swings in kindergarten. So close I could reach out and grip his hair in the way that used to make him hum.
So close I can really see just how different and unsure he seems.
Reserved. Or dimmed in some way. He’s always had too much weighing on him.
While I know Principal West could insist that Reid participate in the video and I originally thought filming together could be a good thing, I realize how unfair it is to not give him the choice. He deserves that.
“I know an interview is a lot to ask after—” I cut myself off, afraid to bring up anything that will make this harder than it already is. “I just mean you don’t have to.”
He opens his mouth to respond when the sliding glass door opens and Kenji bursts out onto the deck, his guitar strapped across his back and fluffy blankets spilling out of his arms.
“There you are!” His eyes bounce between us, a scheme plain on his face. “We’ve been looking for you two. C’mon, we’re going to the field.”
Reid and I exchange an awkward glance.
He clears his throat. “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out—”
