That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(95)

“It was a smart move on your end. But there was something that stuck out at me that night—something I will never, ever forget.”

“Eric’s girly scream?”

“Well, yeah.” I laugh. “But I also remember that as we were tripping and rolling down the hill, I was trying to grab onto anything that would get me away from the crazy lady, and I grabbed your boob for the first time.”

She lets out a deep, hearty laugh. “Oh my God, you would remember that.”

“It was the first time I ever touched Eve Roberts’s boob—of course I remember it.”

“You make it seem like you had a crush on me or something.”

My smile falters. Does she really not know? It’s been over ten years. We spent half of our childhood together. All of the sleepovers when I’d sneak over to her room and we’d talk after Eric fell asleep, all the times we’d stand up for each other, all of the times she caught me staring at her while we were at the beach. Does she really not know?

“Eve, I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. You were the epitome of my dream girl.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t need to lie to me. I remember our childhood quite vividly.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She sets down a dish and crosses her arms before she props a hip against the counter and gives me a stare. “I remember every single girl you dated, from Kelsey to Lydia to Hillary. I remember the conversations you’d have with Eric about every single one of them. I remember the gossip that went around school about your conquests. The girls fawned over you, vied for your attention, scooped you up every time you were single for more than a second. It was a rotating door of girls. And then you got weird—you barely even looked at me after a while. So I know you’re lying when you say you had a crush on me because if that was the case, and with your track record, we would have at least gone out on a date when we were juniors.”

“But you were untouchable,” I say, focusing on the dish in my hand as the truth pours out of me. “You were my best friend’s twin sister, and one of my best friends. If I screwed things up with you, I screwed things up with Eric and everything we had planned. Just because I didn’t make a move doesn’t mean I didn’t stare whenever I got a chance, that I didn’t dream of you at night, that I didn’t ever wonder what it would be like to press my lips against yours. You wonder why things got weird in high school, why I got distant? It was because I wanted you so damn bad but couldn’t have you.”

“Wait, are you serious right now?”

“Why would I lie about this?”

“I . . . I don’t know. To get in my good graces again.”

I turn off the water and face her. “Do you really think that little of me?”

“No,” she answers quickly. “I’m just trying to comprehend it all. I mean . . . Reid, I crushed on you so hard, ever since Eric introduced you as his friend.” She what? Excuse me while I try to comprehend this new little nugget. Eve Roberts crushed on me? “I would go to bed at night wishing you would look at me any other way than as just a friend.”

“Trust me, I was.”

She’s silent for a second before slowly lowering herself to the floor, tucking her knees against her chest, leaning back against the cabinets beneath the sink. Unsure of what’s going on, I do the same so our shoulders are touching, and we’re both staring out into the kitchen.

“Then you finally made a move.”

“Best idea of my life.”

“So why ruin it all?” she asks. “We were so close, Reid.”

“So close to what?”

She faces me, her features soft. “To love. We were so close to love, and then you broke it off.” Her gaze falls to her knees. “I loved you, and I was just waiting for you to catch up to my feelings.”

My stomach flips. “Loved?”

She presses her forehead against my shoulder and lets out a deep sigh before standing back up. I quickly join her, ready to confess everything. But when I face her, her expression has changed, her eyes have hardened, and I sense that she’s raised her defenses again—and that after my little confession, she needs to keep me at arm’s length.

“I should get going.” She runs her hands over her legs. “We have a lot of prep to do tomorrow. And we’re getting our first food delivery early in the morning.”

She changes the subject seamlessly. Avoidance and deflection—I’m impressed. And since I’m not 100 percent sure what she wants, I go with it.

“Yeah, it’s getting late. Do you need a ride back to your apartment?”

“No, I have Eric’s car. Thanks, though. I’ll catch you tomorrow. Good job on . . . all the food.” She waves her hand about.

“Sure, thanks,” I answer lamely as she walks away without a parting hug or even a pathetic high five.

That night, as I sprawl out on my bed and stare up at the skylight above me, I contemplate what I’m going to do with Eve. There are moments when she opens up to me again, when I’m convinced there’s a chance we can have what we used to, but then she shuts down just like she did tonight, guarding her heart. I don’t blame her. When she said we were so close, she was right; we were so close to having it all, and then I fucked it up.