Right where we belonged.
As soon as we grabbed some McFlurries from Mcdonald’s, we drove straight to Dawson’s house. It was only a block away from mine—talk about convenient. I shot Becca a text and told her to let me know when she was going home so Dawson could take me over to her house, since I was staying there tonight after the party.
My parents knew I was at the party and they didn’t mind. My mom and dad were probably the most laidback parents in the entire world, but I think that’s because they knew I had a good head on my shoulders (that’s what they told me, anyway). I wasn’t a rule breaker by any means. I’d never been like that. I hated disappointing people and I hated when people were upset, so I’d always done my best to do what I thought they wanted of me.
“I see my parents are gone, go figure,” Dawson gruffed from the driver’s side seat of his Camaro. I glanced up at his two-story home and saw that there were absolutely no lights on inside. Despair fell over me for a tiny second. How strange would it be for my parents to never be home like Dawson’s? How strange would it be to feel like you were living with complete strangers?
Lonely.
I bet it was really lonely.
“Is your brother gone, too?”
Dawson slurped up his McFlurry and I watched in awe as the corded muscles in his neck tensed with every gulp. I gulped too, but only because I realized that I was staring at my best friend’s muscles with a weird feeling in my lower stomach.
He chuckled. “He’s probably at a party. I’m surprised he didn’t show up at Shane’s.”
I bit my lip. I was so lucky that my sister was an angel and that she was younger than me. I could set a good example for her, unlike Dawson’s older brother, Emmett.
“Well, do you wanna go chill before Becca texts me?”
He thought for a second, staring up at his house with a desolate look in his eye. Then he nodded and started to climb out of his car, welcoming the cool, spring air.
Once we were inside, Dawson didn’t even bother turning the lights on in his house. We both stormed up the carpeted stairs, me tripping a couple times and Dawson laughing, and made a bee-line for the only room he truly felt comfortable in: his bedroom.
I’d been in Dawson’s bedroom so many times, but I was never as nervous as I was right now. Even in middle school, I’d come over and hang out with him after school for a few hours before heading to my own house. Usually, we’d just lay on the floor and do our homework together while MTV played in the background but over the last year or so, we’d either go to my house (where my parents constantly interrupted our homework doing by continuously talking to Dawson—they loved him) or we’d just drive around the backroads of our town, blaring music.
He’d never come out and tell me he didn’t like to be here, at home, but I knew him so well that he didn’t have to say anything.
He wore his emotions on his sleeve—at least with me, he did. I could read him like a Jane Austen novel, over and over again, feeling the depth of his feelings so deeply that they felt like they were mine. Unless, of course, it came down to deciphering his feelings for me. I was still contemplating the notion that I may have just made up the almost-kiss from earlier. Actually, no, I was certain that I was making stuff up from earlier.
Absolutely certain.
As soon as we walked into Dawson’s bedroom, he flipped the lamp on and I jumped onto his bed, sliding my Converse off. My white-socked feet wiggled at being freed from my shoes and I finished off my McFlurry before looking up at him.
He was being totally weird.
“Why are you being weird, still? Do you wanna go to my house instead? My parents won’t care, you know they love you.” I laughed and he grinned.
“Can you blame them?”
I smiled, watching him cross the room to get on the other side of the bed.
He let out a huff and pulled his body up to rest against the headboard. He checked his phone for a few seconds and rolled his eyes. Before I could ask what he was rolling his eyes about, he turned his phone to me.
I scanned it
quickly and had the same reaction.
Sure enough, there was a picture on Facebook of Andy and Jess, who were sitting together on the hammock at Shane’s, hands intertwined. It probably should have bothered me.
But it didn’t.
“They’re perfect for each other,” I mumbled, reaching over Dawson’s body to grab the remote.
His entire body stilled. My body was hovering slightly over his, one arm leaning on the bed beside his hip, the other reaching for the remote on the side table.
I noted the way he tensed so I craned my head over to his. Our faces were so close that I could feel his breath on my face. I wanted to ask why he was being so strange, but the words got jumbled up in my throat. My heart was pounding ferociously in my chest and I instantly felt a dazing wave of heat flow through my body.