the middle of something before you were interrupted by someone telling you I was here. I don’t need you to chaperone me. I’m a big girl.”
He inhales a long, deep breath and looks down at me, as though we were telepathic and I should understand what his eyes are conveying.
“What, Brax?” I scream over the loud music.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He steps aside, allowing us into the party. “Hey, man, she’s here!” he yells into the house.
“Finally,” Jen drones.
As a sea of women disperse, a tall figure stands, and my heart hammers against my chest wall, like I’m standing on a wire, high in the sky, between two skyscrapers.
“Cinderella,” he says, his voice shallow, but sure of himself.
“Don’t call me that,” I respond, my feet frozen in place.
“Who is that?” Jen asks from behind me.
“That is Ella’s first love, Crosby Lynch.”
“I thought Liam was her first boyfriend?” Jen questions, her voice slowly fading to background noise.
Crosby breaks the small distance between us, and I swallow the large lump in my throat. My body screams for me to run or to pinch myself out of this dream, but his eyes still mesmerize me into submission.
“No, she and Crosby are destined.”
I hold my hand up in the air to stop Brax from rehashing history.
Crosby is still breathtakingly gorgeous. His dark hair is shorter and messy, and those hazel eyes still hold a glint of the devil in them. The cocky smile plastered on his face as he shoves his hands in his pockets, almost has me jumping in his arms and thanking him for coming back for me. But one question overrides my body.
“How long are you here?” I ask, bitterness lacing my voice.
He tilts his head. “Until graduation.” He glances to Brax. “My guess anyway.”
That cocky smile grows as the lump in my throat shrinks.
Quickly, the room starts spinning, and my breathing becomes more labored. He’s the new baseball player I heard Coach Lipton talking about.
“Oh my God.” My hand lies over my heart, and I close my eyes, trying to find my bearings, but the room continues to spin.
“Get her to the damn couch, Boy Dreamy!” Jen hollers.
Crosby grabs my elbow. His touch is so warm, so comforting, so safe. He guides me to the couch, but instead of setting me down, he places me on his lap. My eyes float around the room. Girls’ eyes are now glowering at me, Brax’s eyes are studying me, and Jen’s eyes show her pure ignorance to how serious tonight just became. As my eyes circle back to Crosby, I see he’s smiling again, his thumb brushing along my hip bone, as though we’d warped back to our senior year of high school.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of the haze.
I fall from my abrupt movement to flee from his lap, but spring up to my feet. “I’m fine. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ramble, fiddling with my hands while tapping my toes. “I mean, you’re here. In Ridgemont. Playing baseball and living in this house.” My vision shoots to Brax. “With Brax. Why would I not be okay?”
I look over to Jen, who’s finding way too much amusement in my predicament.
“Man, whoever you are, you’ve unglued Miss Perfect, and I love it.” She smiles wide at Crosby and then places her hand out in front of him. “I’m Jen, this crazy girl’s roommate.”
Crosby takes her hand. “I’m Crosby, perfect girl’s soon-to-be boyfriend.” He shakes her hand, his eyes on me.
“Ha. I love it. You are perfect for her.”
She turns to me as I swallow down my anxiety, glaring at a still shirtless Brax. Maybe he could have been more specific at the door. Then again, who am I kidding. I’d give up my envied internship for a chance to see Crosby.
“You need to dump the fucktard and take this man up on his offer.” She thumbs toward Crosby.
I throw my hands up in the air.
“You have a boyfriend?” Crosby’s voice is low and has lost the confidence it held moments ago.
My fidgeting stops, and our eyes lock. Hurt floods out of his eyes and most likely mine as well.
“I need a drink.” I spin around, knocking into a dancing couple. I straighten myself and determinedly head toward the kitchen.
“A boyfriend?” His deep voice rings out above the music.
I grab a cup and start filling it up with beer.
The room quiets, and all eyes are on him. It’s like déjà vu. Eyes have always lingered on Crosby, his whole life,