Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

“Leaving so soon? We’re just getting started.”

“I help you. Then we shake hands, and I go. Take it or leave it.”

“What about me makes you want to run, Fallon?”

Everything.

“I hate running.” I sidestepped him, making sure to brush off his physical advances, and found a spot on the couch without running into the coffee table. “I like the second part. I think you need to slow down though, make it more romantic.”

“Like this?” He sang again, this time, the song was slower, more methodical. The low notes spoke of pain, not love, not that I was a musical prodigy or anything, but something about the song was just…off.

Like he was trying to sing about love.

And instead was singing about loss.

“Your face.” Zane stopped singing. The couch dipped as he came over and sat, then braced his hand over the back. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon. It’s a bad look.”

“I…” I didn’t want to offend him. Then again, he’d been doing nothing but offend me since we’d met. “Okay, d-don’t take this p-personal.”

“Stop being nervous.”

“E-easier said than done.” I regained control of my thoughts and tried not to force the words. Geez, I’d been on a roll too! “It just, i-it s-s-seems…”

“Fallon.” Zane laid his hand on my arm. “I won’t get mad. I swear.”

I exhaled and counted silently to myself then took a deep breath. “It’s sad. You’re singing about love, and it makes me want to cry.”

“Love is sad.” He said in a gravelly voice.

“Love isn’t sad. I mean, not all love.”

Even though I could barely make out his face since my eyes were straining too much with the large glasses, I could tell he was pissed. He wasn’t smiling, and Zane was always smiling.

With a curse, he got up from the couch. He returned with an entire bag of marshmallows and started stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in years.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Another marshmallow found its way into his mouth. He chewed and then clicked his tongue. “So, got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He stopped chewing. “Seriously?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“That you got a boyfriend between today and yesterday, yes. It is.”

“I could have had one yesterday.”

“You wouldn’t have been so eager to stick your tongue down my throat had you had someone waiting on the side.” He offered me a marshmallow, and this time, I took it. At least it gave me something to do with my hands and my mouth.

“Maybe I fell in love, maybe I’ve been pining over someone from high school for the past four years, and he just now finally noticed me and declared we were going to get married.” Yeah, I’d probably just taken it too far.

“What does your grandma say about getting married at nineteen?”

“She’s dead.”

He froze, marshmallow in mid-air. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Is there a difference?”

I shrugged and chewed off another piece of the marshmallow while Zane watched.

Finally, I huffed out, “What now?”

“You’re eating it wrong.”

“There’s a wrong way to eat a marshmallow?”

He nodded.

“And let me guess, I’m doing it?”

Another nod.

“Why don’t we focus on your song?”

“The way you’re eating makes me itch, and not in a good way, not in an ‘oh, baby right there way,’ but in a way that makes me concerned I’m going to develop a rash solely based on stress and the way you’re taking small bites of a food that by all means should be eaten whole.”

My stomach recoiled. “Whole?”

“Watch.” He popped one in his mouth and lifted up his hands. “Easy.”

“I can’t believe we’re having an argument over marshmallows.”

“Fallon…” Zane leaned in, his breath caressing my face. “Is this our first lovers’ quarrel?”

I pressed my hand against his face and shoved him out of the way, he laughed, while I tried to tell my body to calm down, hoping like hell he couldn’t tell how deeply he was affecting me.

“There.” I popped the marshmallow into my mouth and chewed, nearly choking since he’d gotten the large campfire ones. Once I swallowed a bit, I faced him. “Now, let’s work on your love song because I have things to do.”

“Name one.”

Why hadn’t I been blessed with the ability to lie?

“I…” Mags was going to kill me. “I have a date.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

“What? Is that so hard to believe?”

He eyed me up and down, a smile curving around his lips. “Yes and no.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or just curious. His smile was wide. He stood, grabbed his guitar again, and sighed. “Maybe I just need some inspiration.”

Wide-eyed panic was my only response.

Naturally, it made him laugh. “Not that kind.”

He turned on the TV.

And that was how I found myself watching How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, with one of the hottest stars on the planet.

With a bowl of marshmallows separating our thighs.