hat was all it was for both of us, curiosity.
“He’ll love it.” She claps her hands together, a wicked gleam dancing on her face.
“Who?” Confusion laces my tone as I cock my head and stare at my best friend.
“Gavin,” she says, looking at me as if I have two heads for questioning her comment. “He is the reason you’re trying this on. Right? I mean, I know you’re unique in many ways, but no woman tries on lingerie like this unless she has a reason.”
Of course she is right, but I will not admit it. Not to her and not aloud. Geez. When did I become such a hot mess of confusion? Oh, I know. Since the moment I heard his voice drift into that banquet room. The logical side of me gets up in my face and screams. She tells me to finish this shoot and act as if he never stepped foot back in Florida.
But the rest of me… she is off traipsing along the beach, holding hands with the only person she has ever loved. The only person who stripped her bare and shattered her to pieces.
No, I refuse to be that lost, melancholy girl again. Downright refuse.
“Get out,” I mutter. “I need to change.”
Shelly registers the shift in my demeanor and steps out of the fitting room. When the door clicks shut, I take one last look at the siren lingerie on my body before stripping it off and tossing it to the side. After I redress, I leave the room and hand the lingerie to the attendant, thanking her.
“Not buying it?” Shelly asks, a sorrowful look aimed my way.
“No. I have no reason to.”
And that sad, lonely truth hits me harder with each step as we exit the store.
Chapter Eighteen
Cora
Fifteen years ago
Three weeks have passed since the first time Gavin sat next to me under the oak tree at school. Three weeks and we had become friends. Good friends. So good, we spend time together outside of school.
Gavin has even become a close runner up in the best friend department. Shelly will always take the lead. But after the first day, after he saw me adding his frame to my loner girl drawing, it had been nothing except uphill.
Besides hanging at lunch, we saw each other in art and English. Our conversations started off basic, discussing our family life and what we liked doing outside of school. Gavin seems to love art as much as I do, but swears his talents are nowhere as amazing as mine. Only time will tell that truth. We also like similar genres of movies.
By the end of the first week of school, I learned about his love for fish tacos, the beach, music, and sunsets. He told me a great day involved all four and the thought makes me smile at how easily they could be done together.
I lean against the wide trunk of the oak tree. Our tree. Retrieving the baby carrots and hummus from my bag, I start snacking as I flip through my book and wait for Gavin to join me. A page and a half later, he sits beside me and grumbles under his breath.
“You okay?” I ask and pause reading my book when I notice the firm pout on his face. His pouty face is kind of cute.
“Yeah. Just a little turned off by this tuna noodle casserole they’re serving today. It’s gnarly looking.” His pouty face resumes and I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“News flash, Gavin. All the cafeteria food is gnarly looking. Why do you think I bring my own food?”
He pokes his fork at the pale, goopy casserole and pushes it to all corners of the tray. As if spreading it out will magically make it more appealing.
“I might have to start waking up ten minutes earlier, so I can make something. Or…” He peeks over at me with a shit-eating grin. “You could always make lunch for both of us. I’ll pay you instead of the school.”
I toss a carrot at him. “I’m not your mama, boy,” I tease.
He catches the carrot, sets his tray on the ground, and pops the snack in his mouth. But what I don’t expect is when he starts reaching for more of my food, play fighting with me as I try to push him away. This happens for a couple minutes—him trying to steal my food, me defending my territory. We both laugh and taunt each other.
But then something shifts.
His playfulness stops when he knocks me to the ground and hovers inches above me. Carrots forgotten. Steely-gray eyes pierce mine and my breath hitches. If he lowers himself a few more inches, his lips would touch mine. And this fact heats parts of me I didn’t know existed. Like I have a new organ named Gavin.
I want him to kiss me.