That Thing You Do (Crystal Lake 2)

Nate looked at Molly, but she was staring across the fire at Brad.

“No big deal, really,” she said, but he caught something in her voice, and it made him feel like shit. “It’s not like I was his first choice. He only asked me because Zach made him.”

“That’s not true.” Nathan looked at her. “I took you to prom because of that douchebag Brett Smith. He made you cry. I didn’t need Zach to tell me to ask you.”

She glanced up at him, shadows flickering across her face, and shrugged. “Either way, you ended up banging some girl from who knows where, and I went home early.” She looked at the guys. “Can we change the subject now?”

Brad reached for his guitar and began strumming. He slowly found his way to the old classics they all knew, songs by Pink Floyd, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and The Eagles. By the time they got into “American Pie,” they were in fine form and sang every word of every verse. None of them would ever be able to earn a living singing, or playing guitar for that matter. But out here with only their ears to listen, it was enough.

“I miss this,” Nate said, staring into the flames.

“Cheers, boys,” Zach said, holding up his beer.

I miss her already.

He looked at Molly bundled up against the chill, smiling as she chatted with Mike about some of their classmates and where they’d ended up. He wanted to pull her into his arms and keep her close, inhale her scent and kiss her until she begged him to stop. But with the guys here, he knew she wouldn’t allow it.

He looked at his oldest friends and felt a hint of resentment—they were the barrier keeping him from the one person he most wanted to be with tonight. Something was missing, and that something was Molly. He’d give anything to have her to himself right now.

A few hours earlier, she’d told him she didn’t want anything to change, and while it was a nice notion, Nate realized it was all wrong. It was too late.

Everything had already changed.

Chapter Nineteen

Molly barely slept. She’d gotten home from Pottahawk at nearly four in the morning to find Janelle smack dab in the middle of her bed, hugging every pillow she owned. She’d tugged one of the pillows from her cousin’s grasp and flopped on the sofa, where she stared out the window into the darkness until streaks of gold, red, and yellow chased each other across the sky.

She wished Nate was here with her, but with Janelle in the house, she’d told him it wouldn’t be a good idea. He’d followed her home, and they sat outside until it was too cold, talking about nothing that mattered, if only to hold on to the last remnants of the week. After tomorrow morning, he’d be gone, and things would get back to normal.

At least that was what she told herself when he kissed her goodbye, smiled that devil of a smile, and told her they’d spend Saturday night together even if it meant heading to a hotel in the neighboring county, since everything in Crystal Lake was full up with out-of-towners for the Malone wedding, two separate golf tournaments, as well as the finals for the men’s fastball, and a dog show down at the fairgrounds.

She’d nodded, said nothing, and waited until his vehicle disappeared down the road before closing her door. Then the Janelle situation and her bed happened, which led to no sleep and more coffee consumption than was healthy.

She was on her fourth cup when her cousin came downstairs, sleep still heavy in her eyes, her hair a mess of tangles. Janelle proceeded to spend the next hour complaining about the job she quit (didn’t lose like Molly’s mother had claimed), her bastard of a husband she left because he didn’t make enough money (Molly had no idea where Starbucks girl fit into that), the state of the economy, the color of the dress she’d brought for the wedding--chartreuse if you can believe it, what on earth was she thinking? The lumpy mattress she’d spent the night on, sheets that definitely didn’t have a high-enough thread count, and then she felt the need to point out that Molly had no food in the house.

“Seriously, you look sick, Molly. Do you have an eating disorder?” Janelle’s round face puckered a bit as she frowned and her blue eyes narrowed. She was a curvy girl, and if she wasn’t such a negative Nelly, she’d be attractive. Her personality was a drag and Molly thought that her ex had maybe dodged a bullet.

“No,” Molly said, forcing a smile. “Just a high metabolism.”

“Ugh. I wish.” The woman proceeded to regale Molly with her decade-long struggle to diet and lose those damn twenty-five pounds she’d gained after getting married. She’d tried everything. Keto. Atkins. The Paleo diet. Weight Watchers. Blah. Blah. Blah. Molly’s eyes glazed over. She’d never heard anyone complain as much as this woman did.

“Why don’t you try walking every day and make yourself a healthy meal plan? There’s tons of information on the internet. You just have to take the time and search for it.” Molly got up from the kitchen table because she couldn’t take this anymore.

“That’s easy for you to say with your high metabolism.”

“No, it’s just kind of what you should be doing.” Molly was just about done with Janelle.

“I suppose I could try, but I hate walking. It’s so boring.”

Some people couldn’t be pleased. Molly looked at her watch, grateful she had a legitimate excuse to leave. She was meeting the girls at the salon downtown for hair and makeup, and if she didn’t leave soon, she

’d be late.

“I’ve got to go, so…” Molly sidled past her cousin. She pointed to her hair and face, thinking it was enough of an explanation.

“Are you coming back here afterward?”

“No. I’m going to Mom’s to get dressed, and then we’re leaving for the country club.”