“What does that mean? People like me.”
Cedar stopped sketching, lifted her head and looked Sarah right in the eyes. “Unimaginative sheep who only wear what everyone else is wearing.”
Sarah gasped. Cedar added, “Go be outraged elsewhere. You’re blocking my light.”
I saw the look and was prepared to intervene when Sarah reached for Cedar’s notebook again, but just that fast, Cedar grabbed her wrist tightly, by the wince of pain that moved across Sarah’s face. Cedar’s voice dropped, low enough that I leaned in to hear her. “I let it go the first time. You don’t get a second.”
She dropped Sarah’s arm and went back to sketching. Sarah’s face was bright red, her eyes a little bright. Her focus shifted to me, and I couldn’t help it when I said, “That didn’t go the way you were hoping, did it?”
It was only then that Cedar turned, her green eyes landing on me. Then she smiled. Not grinned, but smiled. The sight hit me right in the chest and pulled a matching one from me. Her eyes drifted to my lips, her tongue appeared, the tip running across her bottom lip. I didn’t think she even knew she did it, but fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Neither of us saw, as Sarah ran from the room.
Chapter Three
Cedar
The craft store was having a sale. I bought my body weight in colored glass and rhinestones, even bought a soldering gun and iron, so I could try to fashion my own accents for the shoe I was designing. I had several bags that were a bit cumbersome, but I managed.
I was distracted as I walked down Main Street, my thoughts turning to Brock. For three years, he had avoided me, so what changed? He had been right behind me in study hall, and I’d been there first. I couldn’t lie I liked it, but I didn’t understand it. He’d witnessed the scene with Sarah. I didn’t usually let people get to me, but when confronted with blatant douchiness... Hearing Brock taunting her that her plan hadn’t worked, it made me smile, knowing he saw through her bullshit, too. A part of the boy I knew was still in there.
One of the bags was slipping, so I stopped at the bench for the bus to get a better handle on my packages.
“You want a ride?” My head jerked up, hearing the familiar voice. Brock was leaning over the passenger seat, those gray eyes smiling at me.
I didn’t answer him, just stared, because Brock was offering me a ride. He drove. I mean, I did, too, but I’d never driven with him. Well, not when he was legal.
When the silence dragged out for a few seconds, he grinned, my eyes moving to his mouth when he said, “Cedar?” He climbed from the car. My eyes followed him as he walked around the back of it, watched as he stepped up onto the curb, my head tilting back, as he came to stand at my side. He was tall. Those gray eyes looked greener. His lips tipped up on the one side.
“Let me drive you home.” He didn’t wait for a response, taking some of the bags and putting them on the back seat. He then reached for the passenger door and pulled it open. Brock then waited.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
It was like the last three years slipped away. I cocked my hip, my hands resting on them. “It’s been three years and now you’re offering me a ride. Why?”
“Why not?” He said and chuckled.
“I didn’t miss your evasiveness,” I muttered.
“But you missed me.”
I thought he was teasing, but one look at him, and I knew he wasn’t. “Of course I missed you. I wasn’t the one who changed what we were. That was all you.”
Silence followed.
I climbed into the car; he closed the door and walked around to his side. His scent lingered, a subtle spicy scent that made my mouth water. He glanced over at me then put the car in gear and pulled from the curb. I couldn’t stop looking at him because I was surprised we were here. We were older, but it felt like us. That easiness we’d had from the beginning. Studying him, his face had matured. He had an amazing profile: full lips, a nose that wasn’t quite straight but the small imperfection only made him look sexy as sin. I watched as those lips curved a bit, knowing I was blatantly staring, but I didn’t care because I was sure whatever this was would be short lived.
“What’s in all those bags?” he asked.
Bags? What bags?
He turned his head, and I got, not only the grin, but also those eyes. “Cedar?”
“Hmmm.”
“You with me?”
I was with him. I was sitting right next to him. In his car. I was having my Jake Ryan moment. I should be recording this.
He chuckled.
“Why are you chuckling?” I asked.
“I forgot you did that.”
Those words hurt a little, a reminder of all the time we lost. “Do what?”
“Drift somewhere.”
He used to drift there with me, always coming along for the ride. I missed that and him.
“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.
“The craft store was having a sale.”
“For designs not intended for unimaginative sheep.”
I grinned because I had said that. “Yup.”
“She deserved that,” he offered. A warmth settled comfortably in my chest. I liked that he said that because he was right.
“Yeah, she did.”
“So the plan is to design clothes?”
“Yes. I had a brief stint at wanting to be a botanist,” I offered.
“A botanist. Why?”
“Because it’s a cool word,” I said then asked, “What about you? You still want the cottage on the beach?”
I didn’t miss the knot at his jaw or the whitening of his knuckles that held the steering wheel. “Not sure, but getting the hell out of here…fuck yeah.”
I wanted to ask about his dad, his home life, but it
