Austin and I are so far from that.
Everything feels piercingly real. I’m aware of every step we’re taking. I feel his arm graze against mine every five or six seconds. Depending on the curve of the path, I’m literallyinsidehis shadow, like the man might as well be huddled protectively over me.
That’s something I can’t deny.
There is something deeplyprotectiveabout his aura.
I noticed that when we first met at the Horseshoe. The second I realized he was there, sure, I was startled, but the speed at which I quickly opened up and began spilling my business, that has to speak volumes to what his presence does to me.
Maybe that’s why he’s such a Chase Holt fan. Sensitive music draws sensitive people, right?
And I’ve only had a taste. I wonder if I’d be just as drawn, had I given Chase Holt more of a chance the other night.As if that’s what I need right now; something else to lose myself in instead of fixing my life. But what if I become a fan, too? Not just for the music. We could go to the concerts together, Austin and I. Smiling, laughing. Tons of opportunities for our arms to graze in that crowd. Singing badly together. Melt into the music and vibes—and each other.
It’d be the start of something neither of us fully understands.
Something scary and exciting and life-saving.
And it’d bealmostlike a road trip, right? Hitting all the local shows with him? I’d have an excuse every few days to leavewith my new pal Austin. And unlike my straight, Paris-chasing bestie AJ, this is someone I actuallycanflirt with. Someone I can explore fantasies with. Someone I can go andnotget coffee with.
Isn’t that the dream?
Instantly, that becomes my new goalpost. “So … when’s your next show?” I ask.
“Ducks!” he cries out instead, breaking from the pathway and hurrying to the pond.
Uh, okay.
I follow him to the brink of the water where he crouches—his underwear peeking out yet again, unfairly tugging on my eyes—and I crouch down next to him, too, leaving a bit of space so as not to crowd him or his graze-happy arms. “They come and go,” I tell him, like I’m suddenly the animal life tour guide of Spruce. “We’ve got our park ducks and our farm ducks. They fly between all the ponds. It’s like their own little community, kinda like us and our worst town gossips. Ducks are so much more social than you’d expect. The park ducks tend to stick around longer, since people feed them. But if it gets too noisy, they’ll head off to see what the farmies are up to. And if you aren’t carrying any bread? Phew, you might as well be a rock.”
“Should’ve brought some, then,” he says. “Hate showin’ up to someone’s home empty-handed.”
I glance at him.What a thoughtful thing to say. “Doubt the ducks will mind.”
He shifts slightly my way and lowers his voice. “Don’t know. I think one or two are givin’ me the stank eye. See that one all the way over there? With that odd feather stickin’ up, outta place?”
With him leaning into me and pointing, our arms are touching. Again.
It’s like he can’t help touching me.
And my heart hasn’t had a chance to relax because of it.
“Yeah,” I lie, not seeing the duck.
“I claim that feathery little guy. His name’s Ausie Junior, and he’s officially my second Spruce friend.”
“Second? Oh.” It hits me a touch late. I fight off a smile, trying to play it off.
He peers at me. “You’re cute, y’know that?”
God, his face is so close. And what it does to me. Kiss-close. His eyes that already know everything about me, disallowing me to keep a single wall up. Even the curl of his lips, how I’m instantly wrecked just looking at them.
Wait. Did he just call me cute?
My brain overloads. And reboots. I can’t handle a second more of staring into his face, so I throw my gaze back out at the pond. “Why Ausie Junior?” I ask.
“Ausie. Short for Austin. And Junior ‘cause it’s cute.”
I frown.What I need in my life isn’t another AJ. “How about just Little A?”