SMALL TOWNS

“Are you done yet? I finished mine ten minutes ago,” Eric teases.

Math used to be my worst subject. I absolutely hated it. Freshman year, I was in the remedial Algebra class. Now, I’m carrying a hundred percent grade average, and my teacher has asked me to participate in a math competition for the school.

Turns out, I’ve been smart enough all along. And thanks to Eric, I finally realize that. I know it’s crazy to give someone else credit for my success, but he has this way of bringing out the best in me.

“Shut it. I’m almost done. The only reason you beat me is because you don’t know what you’re doing. There’s no way you’ll get a better score on this than me,” I mock, bumping his shoulder with mine.

Another thing that makes this particular class my favorite of the day is the seating arrangement. Since it’s normally used as a science room, it has tables instead of desks, meaning I get to sit as close to him as I want. Close enough to inhale his scent. Close enough that a part of me is always touching a part of him.

“There, I’m done,” I declare, putting my pencil down.

When I look over at Eric, he’s staring at me in that way that makes my stomach flip. My crush on him is getting worse by the day. I try to remind myself we’re just friends, that he doesn’t see me in that way. He has a girlfriend for goodness sake. Still, when he looks at me as if I matter—like I’m the only thing that matters to him—it’s very hard to remember that.

“Earth to Eric,” I prompt, waving my hand in front of his face when his gaze becomes overwhelming.

His stare never wavers as he asks, “You have plans tonight?”

My breathing stills though my heart is racing. He’s not into you, Julianna.

“No, why?” I will my heart to slow, but it’s no use.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to come over to watch a movie at my house? As you know, I’m on house arrest, but my mom said I could invite you over.”

I’m very aware he’s grounded. It’s kept us apart after school all week. I’ve wondered if that hadn’t been part of his girlfriend’s plan when she kept him out past his curfew last weekend.

“You want me to come over to watch a movie at your house?” My lashes flutter and eyes narrow as I chew on my bottom lip.

I’ve never been over to his house, and we’ve never made plans on a Friday night before either. This is way outside my Eric comfort zone. Going over to his house on a Friday night to watch a movie feels a little more like a date than two friends hanging out.

Wait. Is this a date? No, it can’t be. What about Rachel?

“Yeah.” He smirks. “I mean, I thought it would be nice to change things up a little.”

“What, did Rachel already have plans?” My question comes out catty instead of the joke I’d intended, and my face heats, wishing I could shove the words back in my mouth.

“No, she doesn’t already have plans. I’d just rather spend my time with you.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” I curse under my breath, increasing my speed as I make my way through the small restaurant and into the ladies’ room.

I’d almost forgotten what it’s like living in a small town and the fact that there’s no way to avoid people you don’t want to see.

Of course Eric is here. Of course I look like total shit. Of course he caught me staring at him.

Damn if he didn’t look so freaking good too. And don’t get me started on the woman he’s with. She’s incredibly beautiful, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s Cara. I’ve never met or even seen his wife before. Whoever she is, he certainly cares a great deal for her. The adoring expression on his face as he looked at her made my heart ache.

There was a time when he looked at me that way. It always made me feel so safe and special. Now, I’m practically running away from him because I can’t handle seeing the contempt he has for me.

Eric didn’t want me to marry Christopher—he hadn’t been the only one, but I was too far gone to hear what anyone had to say. I wanted an out, an escape, and Chris provided that for me.

I only wish I’d known Eric was really asking me to choose between the two of them, that I was going to lose him when I married Chris. Although I’m not sure the threat of losing him would’ve stopped me from leaving Tennessee, at least I wouldn’t have been blindsided by it. Despite my efforts to fight my feelings, I fell in love with Eric in high school, and after he cut me out of his life, I wanted to hate him, but my heart has always had other ideas.

“Hey, Jules,” Eric calls as I exit the bathroom.

I squeal, my heart jumping into my throat, and trip over my own feet, crashing right into him. Son of a bitch.

His arms wrap around me, keeping me from falling, and I almost wish he’d let me hit the ground. The sensation of being held by him will last a lot longer than the pain of stumbling to the floor would have. Once I’m steady again, my eyes lock with his.

“Eric?” I breathe, heat spreading through my body. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He laughs as I smack his arm with a shaky hand.

“I can see that.” The humor in his tone causes me to narrow my eyes.

Standing upright, I pull back from him, but not completely out of his hold, his hands settling on my waist. I should move. I should wrench myself from his grasp and run screaming from the restaurant, but his touch has always made me feel safe.

“What are you doing?” I demand as my eyelashes flutter.

His features draw in, as if he finds my question concerning, and he sighs.

“I wanted to speak with you.”

“Why? You made it pretty clear you didn’t want to see or speak to me the other night.”

Averting my eyes, I focus on the old band t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s from a concert we both attended, only separately. He’d been there with one of his many girlfriends, yet every time I looked in his direction, his stare had been on me. Typical Eric, confusing the shit out of me.

Moving my gaze to his feet, I drop my head, allowing my hair to hide my face. One hand leaves my waist before tucking my hair behind my ear. His touch causes me to suck in a quick breath, his fingers brushing down my cheek before settling under my chin, gently nudging my head back up. When my eyes meet his, I recognize the mixture of emotion stirring inside him. It’s the same combination of uncertainty, sadness, and nostalgia stirring inside me.

Finally removing his hands, he takes several steps back, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Clearing his throat, he scratches at his beard. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t know…” his words trail off and he shakes his head.

“That my husband’s a cheating bastard?” I snap, hating the pity I heard in his voice.

He works his jaw back and forth, pulling at the hairs on his chin. “If I had, I never would’ve—”

“It’s fine, Eric,” I interrupt, crossing my arms. “I realize you didn’t know. How could you? It’s not like we’re friends anymore.”

Pressing my lips into a hard line, I focus my scornful glare on him, hoping he’ll say something to defend or explain himself—anything that will give me some understanding and closure. When I don’t get a response to my jab, I continue. “You should get back to your date.”

His forehead creases as his lips curl into a mischievous grin. He takes a purposeful step in my direction, and my back tenses as my eyes go wide.

“Why are you so worried about my date, Jules?”

“I’m not.” I shake my head in protest. “Just curious, is that your wife?”

“You see,” he begins, taking another predatory step toward me, “that certainly sounds like you care to me.”

“It’s called polite conversation.” I shuffle to create more space between us again. “I don’t care. It’s none of my business.”

“Exactly! My life is none of your business, just as yours is none of mine. Let’s do ourselves a favor and stay out of each other’s lives.”

I flinch at his words, feeling as if he struck me. The sting brings tears to my eyes again. Refusing to let him know how much his statement hurt me, I blink away the moisture and school my features.

“At least you had the balls to say it to my face this time.” I twirl away from him, only to turn right back after a couple steps. He’s not going to get off that easy this time. “You were right about Christopher,” I admit, my voice soft as a resurfaced tear slips down my cheek. “He did hurt me, but it’s you I should’ve been warned against. No one’s ever caused me more heartache than you.”

Swiping my face dry, I stare at him with fiery determination. He remains quiet, shaking his head as he looks down at his feet before running his hands through his hair. Every part of me is numb from the overwhelming pain as I retreat, getting away from him as swiftly as my feet will carry me.