I just cross my arms over my chest.
“You gotta go back in there,” he says, closing the distance. “There’s, uh, everything exploded. All the tanks. Stuff is on fire? Your computer is an arc reactor now? It’s mayhem.”
“I’m sure Daniel can fix it,” I say, and start walking again. Behind him, I can see Levi, his secret girlfriend June, and his best friend Silas watching us. I’m tempted to wave, since apparently I’m a spectator sport now.
“Godzilla showed up,” he says. “And there’s a hostage situation.”
“I’m just going to say hello,” I tell him. “That’s all. I swear, Caleb.”
“Shit,” I can hear him say as I step around him.
A breeze blows. I swear all noises hush. I walk up, reach out, tap her on the shoulder.
Delilah turns, and for a moment, she just looks at me.
Then she smiles, and I feel like the sun just turned on.
“Hey,” she says. “I thought you might be here.”
“You thought right,” I say. “How have you been?”
Chapter Six
Delilah
Still Two Years and Three Months Ago
“Go ahead, I want to say goodbye to someone,” I call across the dark patio to Lainey.
“You want us to wait?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say.
“I’ll text you tomorrow about hiking,” Beau shouts as they head off, past the glow of the bonfires.
There’s a part of my brain that knows what’s good for me. It’s the logical part. The rational part. The part that identifies patterns and understands cause and effect.
That part of my brain is politely suggesting that perhaps I could also leave right now.
But the rest of me — not just my brain, of my entire being — isn’t interested in leaving. The rest of me doesn’t give a shit about pattern identification, or about cause and effect, or about knowing what’s in my best interest.
It cares that Seth Loveless is back there, and that three hours ago he gave me a hug that I’ve been replaying on an endless loop ever since.
That’s all. A hug. It wasn’t an embrace. He didn’t wrap me in his arms. He certainly didn’t hold me close. Nothing but a friend-I-haven’t-seen-in-a-while hug, and here I am still thinking about the way his body ever-so-briefly felt against mine.
I try to look casual as I head back to the bonfires, as if I’ve got my eye out for someone but it doesn’t really matter if I find him or not. I walk as though I’d prefer to find this person and say a proper goodbye, but if I don’t, it’s no big deal.
Truth is, I think my hands are shaking. The truth is that before today I haven’t seen him in two years, not since he called me at midnight, his voice like silk and sandpaper, to ask if we could meet somewhere halfway between us.
I haven’t seen him since I said yes and grabbed my keys while he named a town. I called Joshua, my then-boyfriend, from the road and told him I didn’t think we should see each other any more. When I got the Old Dixie Inn, I’d been single for about two hours.
Two days later, I left at four in the morning while he was still asleep. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t say anything, just put on the clothes I’d worn on the drive up and left.
Until today, we haven’t talked since. We still haven’t really talked, because the polite chatter of hi, how are you, what are you up to these days, oh you moved back to town? can’t be counted as talking.
Just like that hug can’t be counted as a hug. Here I am, though, wandering through the half-dark with my hands shaking and an entire nest of bats fluttering through my chest cavity, feeling like they might burst out into the night.
Maybe he’s seeing someone now. Maybe if he’s not seeing someone — and Seth is never really seeing someone — he’s already got some other girl tonight.
Maybe I’m going to go up to him only to realize that he’s got his arm around her, and I’m going to feel like an idiot. Maybe last time was really the last time, like we always swear it is.
Finally, I spot him. My heart leaps.
My stupid heart always leaps.
He’s standing there, holding a beer, talking to someone. A man. It’s hard to tell in the firelight, but it looks like his older brother’s best friend whose name I don’t remember right now, but who used to be around the Loveless house sometimes.
Steve? Simon? Skip?
And then Seth looks over at me, and in the dark his face is exactly like I remember it.
I stop wondering if he’s with someone else.
“Delilah,” Seth says as I walk up. “You remember Silas? Levi’s friend.”
“Hi,” I say, and we shake hands. “You look familiar.”
“Likewise,” he says, smiling at me.
It’s a nice smile. I vaguely remember a lot of girls talking about this smile when we were in high school.
“Delilah just moved back to open a tattoo shop,” Seth tells him.
Something touches my jacket, moves it against my back. Presses in right against the base of my spine.
Seth’s hand. I breathe, focus on the inhale, the exhale.
“Where from?” Silas asks. If he sees what Seth’s doing, he says nothing.
“Leesburg, up north,” I say. “I just got back a few weeks ago.”
“Weeks?” Seth says, a frown in his voice.
“Well, welcome home,” Silas says. “I, for one, am glad you’re here because the only place to get inked up now is Deadbeat Tattoos over in Grotonsville, and from what I hear you’re better off with a ballpoint pen and a needle.”
Seth glances at me, an odd look in his eyes. He presses his palm against my back and even through a jacket and my shirt, heat flares.
Silas seems nice and all, but we have to wrap this conversation up.
“Well, if you ever need anything, look me up,” I tell Silas. “Southern Star Tattoos. Grand opening in a few more weeks. Tell all your friends!”
“Tempting,” he says. “I’ve been considering getting the text of the Fifth Amendment somewhere so I can quit repeating myself to rich idiots who don’t know the law. On my ass, maybe.”
I laugh, starting to remember Silas a little better.
Seth’s thumb strokes my spine. I stand a little straighter, concentrate a little harder.
“That’s a good place for text, actually,” I say. “Plenty of space, and since they don’t tend to be exposed to much sunlight, the art is less likely to fade and blur.”
“Huh,” he says, thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
I glance at Seth again. His eyes meet mine, indigo in the dark. On my back his hand lifts briefly, then slides under my jacket. Skin on skin.
My hands have stopped shaking.
“I actually just came by to say goodnight,” I tell the two of them, a lifetime of politeness training taking over. “It was good seeing you today.”
“Likewise,” says Silas, waving his beer in the air.
Seth’s still looking at me, that expression on his face, and it feels like the firelight is his gaze: rushing, flickering, heated, relentless.