Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(51)

I feign confusion. “Was that you and me? Could’ve been another guy who looks like you.”

“No one else looks like me,” he says in that matter-of-fact voice that grips my body. He rises to his knees and twists…away from my face. He’s smiling wide, still teasing the hell out of me.

It’s working.

I swelter inside out, and I keep a hand on my ice pack to cool off.

Jane points her phone at us and snaps a candid photo of me and Farrow.

I tell Janie, “That better be evidence that he looks more infatuated than me.”

“Memories.” She examines the photo. “And from what I can see, you share equal infatuation.”

I gesture to Farrow. “There it is.”

He pushes back his hair, and our eyes caress in a powerful moment.

I inhale—and I break eye contact. My phone vibrating on the floor. Jane just texted me the picture. Perks of extra phone security, I now have photos of my boyfriend without fear of hacks.

But I leave my phone where it is and reroute back to the topic. “If Janie can’t even think of someone who’d make a murder account, then we’re doomed.”

Farrow crunches up. “You’re telling me no one was jealous of you? You’re a wealthy, attractive celebrity who swam competitively.”

I stare off, thinking.

“Moffy.” Jane perks up in a sudden thought. “Jason, Ray, and Clark.”

“Who?” Farrow asks, noticing my darkened frown. He stays upright, his arm on the back of the couch.

“Guys on the swim team with me,” I answer. Remembering the yacht, the summer bash, from years ago. My cheekbones sharpen. “The last time I talked to them, we beat the shit out of each other.”

Farrow sweeps my features. “I need more than that.”

“Before I fought with Charlie on the yacht,” I say, “I overheard them talking about my mom in the master cabin. And I went off.” I shake my head a few times. “I was almost in a blackout rage, okay? I’m not proud.”

Farrow stares deeper.

“What?” I ask.

“I was on that boat.” Farrow pauses, his jaw tensed. “It’s just hitting me that while I was laughing and drinking, you were below the deck getting beat to shit.”

I let out a sharp breath. “I did worse to them—”

“You’re not a trained fighter, and it was three-on-one. You were probably on the ground.”

He’s not wrong. “I held my own.” I study his protective gaze, and I realize he wishes he could’ve been there for me. “You want a time machine?”

Farrow almost cracks a smile, but the gravity of the situation keeps him more serious. “What are their last names?”

Jane picks at her avocado mask. “Ray and Clark were both awarded scholarships to swim out of state. They wouldn’t have a Philadelphia IP address.”

“Jason Motlic would,” I say. “He stayed in Philly.” I look to Farrow. “You can put his name on the list.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t reach for a notebook or his phone or anything.

“So it’s an imaginary list.”

Farrow arches his brows. “My memory is better than yours. I don’t need to type out and print eighty-four lists.”

I make a face. “How do I like you, man?”

“I think you mean love,” he teases.

Don’t fucking smile. I lick my lips again and again, and before I reply, I notice Janie lying down on the other side of the couch. She kind of tucks her knees to her chest. Something she only does when she has cramps.

“?a va?” I ask. Are you okay?

“Oui.” She splays the back of her hand on her forehead.

“Si tu ne te sens pas bien, je peux te trouver quelque chose.” If you don’t feel well, I can find you something.

“I weather this storm every month. I can manage on a bus.” She blows out a measured breath. “Peaches McEntire.”

My brows scrunch. “No way.”

Farrow starts another rep of sit-ups. “Peaches is a fruit or a…?”

“Girl,” I explain. “She’s our age, and we were all counselors at Camp Calloway together. She was even a troop captain in Wolf Scouts.” I look at Jane, her cat pajamas wrinkled. “And she’s nice.”

“She was hopelessly, madly in love with you, and she was a passionate person. She could’ve felt scorned when you told her you just wanted to be summer camp friends. Don’t you remember, she stopped speaking to you after that?”

I sigh heavily, frustrated that I may’ve hurt someone unknowingly. “Maybe.” I glance at Farrow as he crunches upward. “You can add Peaches to your brain.”

He’d probably reply, but Thatcher breaches the second lounge.

We all go quiet.

The security team has no clue that Jane and I know all about the @maximoffdeadhale account. Farrow has “gone rogue” in the team many times before, so it’s not exactly a new dilemma.

Farrow looks more annoyed by Thatcher than anything.

The Omega co-lead pretty much ignores me and Farrow, and he takes a seat near Jane’s feet. She scratches her neck and props herself on her arm. “Thatcher,” she greets.

“Jane,” he greets too, like they haven’t seen each other all day. When clearly they have.