He arches an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure someone broke my heart?”
“Easy. The broken things don’t break on their own.”
He laughs. “Did you just call me a thing?”
“Yep. Because that’s what you are. A thing. An object. You don’t feel,” I tease, gliding shoulders-deep into the water.
He mock gasps.
“That’s not true.”
A beat of silence.
“Sometimes I get hungry.”
I break into a fit of chuckles, accidentally getting water into my mouth and choking because I’m classy like that.
“Sorry, not fooling me. Don’t you know? Those who pretend not to care, care too much.” I stick a finger in his direction.
“Spoken like a true hopeless romantic,” he scoffs, using my own lines against me.
Annoyed, I splash him. He returns the favor. We go back and forth for a while. It’s all fun and games until I realize we’re sitting side by side. We were on opposite ends of the tub five seconds ago.
Nothing but silence.
“Careful, control freak.” His voice is low. “High hopes will break your heart.”
I think I see his eyes drop to my lips.
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to be alone for the rest of your life? Pile up meaningless hookups and avoid anything real?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I don’t know shit about the future. Never have. I just know what I want now.”
“And what’s that?” I dare ask.
I know I’m not imagining things when his eyes fall to my lips again. I wait for him to look away, but he doesn’t.
“You really want to know?” he says so quietly I find myself bending forward to hear better.
I reply with a small nod.
He smirks, inching closer.
And closer.
“I want—”
He’s stopped by the Darth Vader theme song.
What the…
What was in that brownie?
My concerns about my mental health vanish when I spot Will’s phone going off on the grass.
“Fan of Star Wars, huh? Good to know,” I sneer, but he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile.
“We have to go. Now.” He charges out of the tub, holding out his hand and helping me out, as well.