Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(73)

Right now.

His face lights up the screen, and I smile, despite myself. He’s walking on the beach, wearing a tight-fitting tank top, and I can see his cheeks glistening with sweat. He smiles when he sees me, so sweetly, that it’s almost like it was before. But I guess that makes sense, because to him, basically nothing has changed. I don’t know if he even knows I saw what happened.

“Hey, Hea—” I start, but he launches in with, “I love you.”

The world stops. He’s said those words before, but he’s so desperate this time that it almost sounds like …

“Reese, I’m sorry. I had a speech planned, and it wasn’t supposed to start with that,” he says, wiping the sweat—or is it tears?—from under his eyes. “I feel so stupid about what I did, and I hate that you had to see it. And honestly? I wanted to see what it was like, what Gabriel and Sal can do, something distracting and fun with no strings attached, but I don’t want that. I want you, and I want complicated, and I want all the strings attached.”

“Heath,” I say. Memories of him kissing that guy flash in my mind, and I can’t make them stop, but he’s saying these words. To me. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying these things.”

“I’m sorry, I keep cutting you off because I’m nervous, I don’t mean to, but I wanted you to know how I feel. How I’ve felt this for so long, but I’d never let myself think about it because I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. And then you were going to France, and I felt like I couldn’t compete with that. And you have this huge family, while mine in small and fractured.” He pauses, and I let him keep going because I still have no clue what to say to all of this. “I couldn’t admit that I liked you. I couldn’t … depend on you to be my family. I mean, you are, you all are my family, but I needed to be okay on my own before I even let myself realize how special you were to me. I know it’s selfish, but I wasn’t there earlier. I wasn’t ready then. But I’m there now.”

I feel tears slipping down my cheek, as wave after wave of homesickness hits me. I know now, I’m homesick for him. Maybe that image of him kissing that guy won’t go away for a while, and yes, it hurt me, but like Philip told me, just because I was hurt doesn’t mean what he did was wrong. But here he is apologizing anyway.

What he’s saying now is so right. Everything I’ve wanted to hear from him for so long.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” I say quietly. I want to tell him how I love him too, but I also need to think. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something like this. I care so much about you, Heath. I need some time to think about it, though. I forgive you, and you don’t even have to apologize for any of it. I just need to get to a place where I can think of you and not have flashbacks to that moment. I don’t judge you for doing it, but I need some time to think.”

“Anything you need,” he says. I know he means it, but I feel his voice deflate.

The red-colored pencil in my hand starts to tremble, and as I see his face, ideas for my design start coming to me.

“Thank you for calling me; you have … no idea how much this all means. And I really hate to say this, but I have to finish my project,” I say. “It’s actually inspired by fire. By you. How you’ve made me feel over the years. How I think of you. Can I send it to you once I’m done?”

“I’m honored. Yeah, send it to me please,” he says, and I can tell it’s improved his mood some.

“Thank you for saying all of that.” I smile at him. “I miss every fucking thing about you right now. I just need some time.”

I glance at my design as I hang up the phone. He was once such a gentle flame, the embers that cover my design. But he’s a flamethrower now. A mix of warmth and desperation and passion like I’ve never seen. I look at the time and realize I have an hour to make some substantial edits, but I can see it.

For the first time in a while, I’ve found my inspiration.





? PB Allergy ?

GABRIEL + HEATH + SAL





CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

REESE

The rest of my time in Paris was a whirlwind. As soon as my parents landed, we snapped into tourist mode, seeing as many landmarks, museums, and restaurants as we could in our short time there.

But now, as our train pulls into King’s Cross Station in London, it really hits me that I won’t be back in Paris for a long time. Those weeks went slowly, but my time there was really just a blip on the radar. A couple months might be a small, insignificant amount of time, but it was majorly significant for me.

When I step off the train, I check my phone. An email’s just popped up, so I click quickly to open it.

“It’s here,” I say.

“Oh! Your final project feedback?” Mamma asks. “Do you know which design was picked for the runway?”

I skim the email, which is fairly short, and see the answer quickly. As expected, my design was not chosen. But Philip’s was, and that makes me feel incredibly proud. I skim the notes, actually eager to dig into them for once. Professor Watts was thrilled with the new direction and the vibrancy of this fire design, and I’m excited to learn and grow from her feedback.

“They picked Philip,” I say. “She liked my design, though. I’m going to call and congratulate him.”