Themoment hung in the summer air as a gnawing swelled in the pit of my stomach. Hedidn’t move. I didn’t move. We sat there—hair touching hair, gaze holdinggaze—and the anxiety rolled over me in waves. It was the unmistakablewhispering of intuition, telling me something was about to happen. Somethingthat could either be good or bad, depending entirely on which side thatproverbial coin landed on, and I swallowed at the irritating dryness of mythroat.
Devin’seyes hooded, shifting his gaze toward my lips. Involuntarily, they parted,feeling instantly chapped and annoying, and I quickly flicked my tongue out.Wetting the bottom, wetting the top. Devin’s eyebrows raised just a bit, mymouthclosedand I swallowed.
Iwaspanickingand my palms were sweating. My brain wasurging my body to move the fuck away from him, back the fuck up, don’t allow asong in the moonlight to ruin the perfect thing I had with mybestfriend,friend, FRIEND.
Butthere was also that nagging little thing about guys and girls being friends: itwashardand it wassohard to ignorewhen we were both unattached. When he looked the way he did, when he paidattention to all those little details.
“De—”
Hiscellphone rang loudly from his pocket, and our trance was broken. He reeledhimself back, pushing his fingers through his hair.
“Shit.Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted before he could even reach his hand into hispocket. Shaking his head and berating himself for … what, exactly?
Hepulled the phone out, read the glowing window on the front and flipped it opento put it to his ear. Glaring at me all the while with a despair that even theshadows couldn’t hide.
“Yeah?”he asked irritably. I heard the hurried rambling on the otherline, butwas unable to decipher the words. Devin pinchedthe bridge of his nose, breaking out into a reluctant grin. “Fuck. Yeah, okay …we’ll head back … I know dude, I just—yeah, okay. Later.”
Andhe snapped the phoneshut, andsighed. “I abandonedTrent,” he said sheepishly.
Mypalms flew to cover my face. Why was I embarrassed, like we had been caughtdoing something we weren’t supposed to? “Oh God, we’re assholes.”
“Well,in our defense, I kind of thought Trent would’ve spent the night,” he said.
Icringed. “I really don’t want to think about your cousin walking around nakedin my dorm. Brooke’s other, um,conquestshaven’t exactly been modest.”
“Nasty,”he agreed, wrinkling his nose.
Heplaced his guitar into its case, the lyrics of his song ringing in my headagainst the buzz of the zipper sliding into place. Our moment suddenly feltlike it never happened at all, except I knew better. Itdidhappen, andI wasn’t sure it should go ignored. Because what if it meant something, what ifit …
“Dev.”My tone was urgent.
“What’swrong?” he asked, glancing at me as he stuffed his pick into his pocket.
“I’mjust thinking,” I said with a meek voice, stunted by a powerful moment.
“Aboutwhat?”
Iclenched my trembling fists, determined to be honest and asked, “What would’vehappened just now if Trent hadn’t called?”
Iwas afraid to look up at him, scared to know what he might have been feeling inthat moment. Embarrassment? Shame? I would have hated to see his regret, butwhen I thought about the alternatives—affection, love, longing … My heartskipped several beats and the shallow puffs of air passing through my nose tomy lungs tripped over themselves.
“Oh.”He uttered the tiny word as one of his hands pushed into his hair, tousling thewaves and leaving them wrecked as he dropped his hand back to his lap.“Nothing.”
“Really?”I asked doubtfully. “Because, um … I kind of thought …”
“Youshouldn’t do that,” he said, pointing a finger at my face. “You’reoveranalyzing and turning things into something they’re not.”
Ilooked up to him. The moonlight still didn’t provide much, but I could see thecasual demeanor of his features. The carefree smile that pulled at his lips.Overanalyzing… the word ran a circuit around my head, and I exhaled with understanding.
Ihad imagined the whole thing. There was no moment. There was only Devin, beinghis usual innocently flirty self. There was only me, floating on the lyrics andthe melody, feeling good in the way I always did with his music.
Ihad seen what Iwantedto see.
?
“Wheredid you guys go?” Brooke asked, lounging on the couch, wearing a smile shecouldn’t wipe away even if she tried. “God, Trent is such a goodkisser.”
Iknew this. She’d already told me six times in twenty minutes. “We went for adrive, and Devin played me a new song.”
