You'd Be Mine(79)

“Trina says I have to get a haircut,” he mumbles softly, his eyes closed. He reminds me of a cat like this—his long limbs stretched, his tone barely above a happy purr. “Says I look like a surfer bum.”

“I like your hair long,” I reply, equally soft.

“Then you must like surfers.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say. “Although there was this one guy my sophomore year who was on the swim team. Does that count?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“He wore a Speedo,” I continue. “It was very distracting.”

“Poor, innocent fifteen-year-old you.”

“Well, I wasn’t so innocent after that.”

“Wait. Didn’t you date Jason your sophomore year?”

I pause my fingers. “Maybe.”

“Diaz was a swimmer?”

“Not a real great one.”

“You’ve seen him in a Speedo?”

I grimace at the memory. “I was a dutiful girlfriend and best friend, which requires some sacrifices, so yes.”

“But you said it was distracting. Like, distracting how?”

“Why? Are you jealous?”

“I’m not sure yet. Answer the question.” But he’s smiling as he reaches blindly for my hand and gestures for me to keep up with my ministrations. I continue pulling my fingers through his hair, my eyes searching out where I know Jason is sitting at the picnic table with Fitz and Kacey and my aunt Carla. I force myself to think back to those days. The kid used to make jokes about swimming the breast stroke at least ten times a day back then. I wrinkle my nose. Lord, he was annoying.

“Definitely distracting in the way that it felt like I was seeing my brother’s junk. It wasn’t pleasant. No reason to be jealous.” I know, objectively, that Jason’s filled out and is a good catch for someone, but I can’t ever unsee the Speedo days. I change the subject. “Kacey thinks he’s got some secret love affair he’s keeping from us, but I’m not so sure he’s emotionally capable of that.”

“Diaz?” Jefferson seems thoughtful. “I think you sell him short. He’s got some depth to him. Not to mention, he’s always glued to his phone. He’s either got a Candy Crush obsession or a girl on the line.”

I consider that. He does stare at his phone an awful lot. And he rarely dates. Not that this life is super conducive to dating, but … “Huh. Maybe you’re right.”

“Usually am. So speaking of secret love affairs, have you noticed anything different about the fiddling fiddlers?”

“Hardly a secret. If you mean have I noticed that they seem very domestic these days, then yes. He practically lives in her loft.” Kacey and Fitz have graduated from hotel boinking to loft boinking. Which is perfectly okay by me. Last month, I needed to borrow Kacey’s leather jacket and walked in on them in a very compromising position. Jason’s Speedo days had nothing on Fitz in a cowboy hat and a smile. Jefferson, of course, thought it was hilarious. “She invited me to go to IKEA with them last weekend. Said they were picking out throw pillows or bath mats or something?”

“Thank God,” Jefferson groans. “I told him if he bought one more stupid decorative pillow for my couch, I would make him eat it. I don’t need that shit.”

I twirl a strand and tug it gently. “Clearly. Who needs pillows when you have me?”

“Exactly. Nothing like it.”

I bend over and give him a quick peck on the lips. “That was very cute.”

“That’s me,” he says, flashing a charming grin. “Cute.”

“It’s cuter if you don’t acknowledge it,” I whisper.

“Noted.”

“So you think he’s getting ready to propose?” I say, getting back to our friends.

He shrugs against my thighs. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said it, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But they’re still so young!”

“When you know, you know.”

“Do you really believe that?”

He opens his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

A thrill runs through me, even though I know we’re not technically talking about us. It’s just that something in his eyes feels like forever. Not like I’m in a hurry for forever, and neither is he. I’m still unpacking all my baggage from my parents, and he’s still unpacking, period. But if I really gave over to the idea, I could see it. Him and me making a real go of it.

Him and me changing the trajectory of our lives.

“Me, too,” I say simply, grinning. I cradle his head between both of my hands and run my fingers through his hair. He lets out a low moan, and for a second, I’m distracted by the sound. Just as I’m leaning forward to place a lingering kiss on his upturned lips, Jason comes barreling over.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, his smirk telling me he’s reading my thoughts. “If you can tear yourselves away for a hot minute and join us. You do realize you’re in full view of God and your grandparents over here, right?”

“Easy, Diaz, it was just a kiss,” Jefferson says, sitting up and reaching for his Cubs hat, replacing it over his mussed hair.

“That’s not what Annie’s face was saying.”