“Um... I can usually tell by looking at you.”
“Is that so?” I raise my eyebrows skeptically.
“Yes. You have a very specific look in your eyes when you’re thinking about something you don’t like. Like just now.” He gives me a mischievous grin.
“What does that look like?” I’m genuinely curious, but he just shakes his head.
“I can’t say. It’s hard to explain. You’d have to see it for yourself to understand.”
I sigh. “Then I guess it’s not going to happen. I’m not about to try it in front of a mirror.”
He laughs, and I’m overwhelmed by how much I love his laugh. His thumb strokes the back of my hand. Our hands are both chilled, but I’m not cold. How can I not be cold?
“Easton, how can you know me so well?”
“How could it be any other way?”
I don’t answer. His question is justified. After all, I know him just as well as he knows me.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks after a while, as we walk side by side along the water. It’s low tide, so the waves breaking on the beach are tiny. The air is clear, and although it’s cold, much colder than in LA, it smells like home. Easton is still holding my hand, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let go anytime soon. I really don’t mind.
“Please do,” I manage to say, my voice cracking again. Maybe hecan actually read my mind, and maybe he’ll answer the questions I don’t want to think about because I’m too afraid of the answers.
“I don’t believe in fate or anything like that,” he begins. I feel butterflies in my stomach, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. Strangely enough, it just seems to be a nervous flutter. A curious one. “But I think it was more than just a coincidence that we posted the video of the song your dad wrote for you. And it’s not a coincidence that you found it and wrote to me afterward. I think it was meant to be, somehow. You know what I mean? Otherwise, you could have written to Beck or Jax or Colin.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” I disagree. That wasn’t even a remote possibility.
“You wouldn’t?” He sounds so surprised that I can’t help but smile.
“No, definitely not.”
“Why?”
“Because...” I hesitate, but it doesn’t really matter now. We’re alone on a deserted beach, and the world around us is dark and quiet, apart from the soft sound of the waves. I can also hear the much-less-soft pounding of my heart in my ears. “Because the only reason I clicked on that video ninety-seven times in a row was your voice.”
For a long moment, Easton says nothing. Long enough that my skin starts to prickle uncomfortably. I’ve crossed a line, and that’s not good. Not good at all.
Somehow, though, the boundaries of the world seem permeable today. I have no idea why, because everything is the same as always.
“Ninety-seven times?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that I can’t quite make sense of.
“More or less.” An awkward laugh escapes me.More, actually.
“That’s—”
“A little crazy?” I finish his sentence.
“A little.” He grins at me, and I elbow him gently.
“You’re not allowed to agree with me.”
“Of course I am. After all—” he stops and looks up at the thick, dark clouds. I notice it a moment later too. It’s snowing.
Chapter 20
Rayne
Snow on the Beach—Taylor Swift, Lana DelRey