I try to imagine the scene she’s describing. There’s a hollowness that takes root in my chest. How lonely must that have been? Even I, the guy who rejects having a girl spend the night, am never lonely, because I have Matt and Dane and Claire and Mia. I have a list of people who call me if I don’t show up to the café for breakfast. Hell, even Mick at the bait shop will call if I don’t swing by there at least once a week, and it has nothing to do with the ten bucks I spend on worms that I really don’t need.
“I’m really sorry you’ve had to think about something like that,” I say. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
She nods. “Me too. I just have to figure out how to be around you and not want to kiss you all the time.” She grins. “Can you just not be as cute? Or be mean sometimes? That would help.”
“That’s fucked up.” I laugh as I think about being mean to her. I couldn’t be. Even if I were pissed, I couldn’t be mean to her.
“Tell me about it.”
I look at her standing there, as pretty as the day is long. My chest hurts for her as I watch her work through something inside her head that I’m not aware of.
As much as I like Avery, it doesn’t change anything. I still can’t see myself settling down with someone or having to be responsible to catch someone every time they slip. I can barely catch myself. But I respect what she’s saying. A lot. But fuck it if having her be so strong and opinionated—even to my detriment—doesn’t make her even sexier.
A pang ripples through my chest. I wince at the pain.
I look up at her. “I’ll tell you what.”
“What’s that?” she asks, looking up at me with hope in her eyes.
“If you need a friend, I’ll be your friend. I promise not to speak every word with some kind of sexual overtone, and I won’t ask you out every day either. Just sometimes.” I wink. “But seriously, I’d like to be your friend, even though that sounds so kindergarten.”
I’ll just jack off every night in the shower.
Her face lights up. “Really?”
“Sure. I mean, you’re looking to marry someone, and I just want to get laid, so—ouch!” I dart backward as she swats at my shoulder. “That hurts.”
“Oh, it does not.” She chuckles, her cheeks pink. She looks at the ground. “Are you sure, Penn? I know I probably seem like an oddball—”
“You totally do. No one has ever just wanted to be friends with me in my entire life.”
“Guess I’m the first,” she says with a light shrug.
“Guess so. Friend.” I start to turn away but am caught off guard by the curve of her neck. Damn. “Okay, quick amendment to our friendship.”
She laughs. “Already?”
“Yeah. There’s no sense in starting a friendship off with a lie, right?” I run my hand down the side of my cheek.
“This is true.”
“I’ll overlook your unwillingness to kiss me if you can overlook some innuendos and maybe a little flirting. What?” I say with a laugh as she shakes her head. “I’m me. You’re you, and you’re fucking hot. And I’ve kissed you once now, so I know what that tastes like. Deal?”
She nods in an exaggerated cue that a deal has been made. But, funnily enough, I don’t quite believe she likes it.
I know I don’t. But what choice is there?
“Fine. I’ll accept some minor flirting,” she says. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going inside. The mosquitoes are starting to bite, and I forgot my flyswatter.”
“Perfect,” I say, heading toward my truck. “I hope your dreams are as sweet as your ass.”
She laughs. “You said minor flirting.”
“That was minor,” I say as I reach my truck. “You don’t even want to know what I wanted to say.”
She laughs, but I know she likes it.
I watch her walk back inside the house before I turn to my truck. After I’ve climbed in and turned on the engine, I sit for a minute.
I just told her I could be her friend.
What the hell? How am I going to pull that off?
“Friends, huh?” I say as I put the truck in reverse. “This should be interesting.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AVERY
I almost miss my turn.
The sun is so bright that the glare on my windshield hid the entrance to the old library. Luckily, the minivan in front of me is going about two miles an hour, and it gives me enough time to hook a quick right.
There are a number of vehicles parked outside but plenty of available spaces left. I take the one next to Penn’s truck. The black-on-black beast towers over my red compact car. I can’t see inside the cab due to the window tint, but I’m fairly certain he’s not close by, because the cells in my body are calm.
Friends. It’s the word that rolled around my brain all night. It’s a great term, one that exudes ideas of camaraderie and fun outings. Just probably not the experiences I was thinking about as I lay in my bed after my bath and thought about Penn.
Being friends with him is the answer. It’s the only option, really. I just hope I can keep myself nice and even-keeled around him and be friendly.
I grab my bag full of sketch pads and pencils from the back seat. Digging through it, I make sure I have everything I need to get started on the mural today. A flurry of excitement washes over me as I process getting to spend the entire day being creative.
Tap! Tap!
My head whips to the side. Penn is standing at the passenger-side window. Dressed in a faded black T-shirt with an oil company logo flaking off the front and jeans that show off his trim waist, he looks better than anyone should at nine in the morning.
Fucker.
Popping open my door, I get my bag on my shoulder. Then I climb out.
“Nice of you to join us,” he says with a grin.
“Meredith said to be here ‘in the morning.’ That’s not an exact time by any stretch of the imagination.”
“I’m just giving you shit. How’s your arm?”
The red spot has mostly gone away, but the area is still tender. “It’s okay. Sore, a little. Who knew eggs could be so dangerous?”
“Me, actually.”
I wait, expecting a joke about him fertilizing eggs or the fear of it. The longer he goes without a comment, the more suspect he becomes.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m waiting for an egg joke.”
He shrugs. “I don’t have one.”
“Bull.”
“I really don’t.” He laughs. “I’m trying to override my brain and only think clean thoughts.” His head goes from side to side like he’s reconsidering. “Most of the time. My thoughts were pretty filthy when I saw you in that shirt.” He winks, walking backward toward the door.
“So, how’d you know eggs are dangerous?”
“When I was learning how to cook, I had a lot of grease blisters.” He takes in my reaction. “What? You didn’t think I knew how to cook?”
“Um, actually, no.”
“Your quick judgments of me wound me deeply.” He snickers. “Joking. I had to learn to cook if I didn’t want to starve. I’m pretty shitty at it, but I do like it sometimes.”