freshly washed hair, but these hugsâtheyâre everything.
This is the Matt I fell head over heels for last fall. This is the guy I agreed to date. This is the guy who makes the bad days manageable.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. Grabbing my hand, he leads me to the cheapo lawn chairs set up around the fire. He plops into one with a grunt before pulling me into his lap.
âYouâre late,â he says. His blue eyes meet mine over the brim of his cup as he takes a sip. âYou missed half the night. And my killer keg-stands. I kicked Randyâs ass.â
âI texted you.â
âDidnât get it.â
âNot my fault.â
His mouth curves into a smirk before planting a quick kiss on my lips. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans, relaxing against the back of the chair as he scrolls through. Leaning against his chest, I scan the crowd. Sara Stringer is a fixture on Blake Thompsonâs lap, and I guess theyâve forgotten that trucks are a thing that exist, because Iâm 99 percent certain his hands areâ
Yes. Yes, his hands
are
under her skirt.
âHarris!â Lance, one of the other baseball guys, appears behind us, slapping Mattâs shoulder. âReady for this year, bro? More homers?â
Matt hit the home run that won last seasonâs state championship, making him more of a baseball god than heâs ever been in this town. That game was freaking amazing. Which he never lets anyone forget.
Mattâs eyes are glued to his phone, reading whateverâs there. He lets out a laugh, one thatâd pass as lighthearted for Lance. But itâs a laugh Iâve heard plenty of times before, one thatâs fake as all get-out. One that triggers a scattering of goose bumps down my arms.
Mattâs championship ring catches the light of the bonfire as he fist-bumps Lance. âIâm gonna bring a whole new level of kickass this year, man.â He shoves his phone back into his pocket, his gaze trained on the fire while Lance stumbles off.
And the anxiety burn is back in my stomach. That look on his face? That look is the reason for the bruised and stomped-on heart currently racing in my chest. If heâs Dr. Jekyll, itâs the look that always precedes Mr. Hyde. And Iâm getting so, so tired of recognizing the switch.
Randy sinks into the chair beside Mattâs with an
oof
, but this time, my boyfriend doesnât ignore me for his best friend; his gaze shifts to me. And though his eyes are glazed from a night thatâs been chock full of cheap beer, his voice is clearer than ever as he says, âWhereâd you and Perry go tonight?â
Crap.
My face must sink right along with my stomach, because that smirk of his returns. âJust saw your text. Came in right after Jaredâs. He said he saw you leaving Joynerâs together.â He takes another sip of beer. âDid you fuck him? Because you know Perry loves to fuck people.â
Randy snorts from beside him, no doubt eavesdropping. I shoot him a glare. He holds up his hands in surrender, but says nothing.
âI gave a friend a ride home,â I say, though Iâm not even sure Eric and I count as friends anymore. For some reason, when Matt and I started dating, Matt made this huge deal about Eric and me even talking, let alone hanging out. Seeing Eric was enough to send him to extremes, whether it was red-faced jealousy, or the total-shut-down silent treatment.
I used to think that the jealousy was flattering. That it meant he cared. But now, Iâm not sure Iâll ever forgive myself for letting him come between me and the guy who once gave me a piggyback ride so I wouldnât have to walk through a flooded ditch in the woods.
âIâm with
you
,â I tell him. âIâve been with you for five months. You really think Iâd screw my neighbor in the backseat of my car or something?â
He shrugs a shoulder.