Page 30 of About Yesterday


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Trace tugged the hairband out of her ponytail and re-fastened it, taking a long draw of oxygen. “Have you ever realized you let yourself become what other people judged you to be?”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing his hair back before dropping his hands to his hips. “Too many times.”

“Foothills is such a small little slice of the world. When I got to college, I was terrified of standing out, of not fitting in. Everywhere I’d go, someone would comment on my pretty red hair or my adorable freckles, or that I was a such a good girl and they could trust me with their secrets and their heavy emotions. So I learned to blend in. It was easier to be part of the background.”

“You could never be part of the background,” he said, brow drawing together, and the way he looked at her…

Trace choked on a sudden lurch in her chest, her head spinning. Her parents saw her, even though she often pretended they didn’t. Her friends were starting to see her. But Trace was careful, and only revealed what she was comfortable with, even to those closest to her.

Cole paid attention… he was like a sponge, absorbing everything he could, and actually made an effort to understand her.

Trace nodded and shrugged, shifting her gaze to the floor. “It’s been… bizarre, being back home, where I’m not part of the background. I’m part of the story. So I had to work even harder to camouflage myself. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. It wasn’t until Haley came back and I was shocked at how much she had hollowed out after a shitty marriage, and I was on her to find the fiery girl I once knew, and then I realized I’d buried my fiery self so deep I wasn’t sure I could find her again.”

He angled a look, searching and drawing her gaze back up. “That’s why you wear pretty much the same five outfits, but you mix and match, so it doesn’t look like you planned it. Why you always tie your hair back. Why I don’t often hear you laugh with that outrageous, witchy sort of full-body laugh like you used to?”

“Yes,” she said, hating and loving that he’d noticed. “Can I say something, without this getting weird?”

He laughed under his breath and shook his head with a subtle nod. “Too late, but yes, always.”

“I love clothes. Instead of doom scrolling on social media, I read fashion articles. Those kick ass boots I wore out with Haley? I never wear heels because they make me too tall, and certainly nothing edgy. I don’t own any black lace, and Iloveblack lace. It’s daring and delicate both. But even wearing outrageous underwear gives me this bizarre sense of imposter syndrome. I have a permanent ponytail indent in my hair, because everyone always comments on it when I wear it down. Redheads. We get lots of compliments, and it doesn’t lend well to the blending in thing.”

“Ease into it. Start with your underwear,” he suggested. The corner of his mouth lifted devilishly, but the rest of his expression was focused and thoughtful.

“I’m actually working on it. Exercising hasn’t just been because I want to get healthy, but because I like that endorphin boost, the confidence it gives me, and the mini thrill I get when my muscles are burning and I’m dripping with sweat and I have to cuss or growl to keep going,” she said, grinning as she lifted an arm and showed off a wee growth of muscle that hadn’t been there a few months ago. “That dress? Haley convinced me to wear it out with her, but it took a lot of convincing.”

“I fucking love that dress.”

“Thanks,” she said, a blush flaming over her cheeks. “It’s not just my clothes and my hair. Do you know… no, you don’t know, and you shouldn’t, why would you?” Shit. She rubbed her hands over her face, then just blurted it out. “I’ve never made the first move. Ever. I went on a date the week before you got back, and I realized that I amsoboring. What interesting person wouldwantto go out with me? I was on a date with a man even more boring than I am, and holy shit, that was depressing. I mean, when I got back together with Finn, I realized that I hadn’t gone down on a guysincehim.”

“Hence the drunken blowjob conversation?”

“Yeah,” she said, gritting a smile. “Sorry about that.”

“Oral is a lonely, pressuring sort of undertaking,” he said, biting his tongue and grinning with the wickedest tease she’d ever seen. “It takes guts. And trust.”

At his expression, she burst out laughing. “Who gets imposter syndrome over blowjobs? I’m a walking case of imposter syndrome over every single thing I do. And I’m sick of it.”

He stepped close, stopping a few inches away so she had to tip her chin up to look at him. “You are the most vibrant, stunning, genuine person I know,” he said softly.

Air refused to move smoothly in and out of her lungs, her mind a hot mess as she met his look. Closer, he angled subtly. If this wasn’t Cole, and they hadn’t been messing around with each other, she might have thought he was going to kiss her.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” he murmured, his gaze drifting down to her mouth. “No offense or anything, but no matter how hard you try, you’re the most extraordinary person in the room. I understand why you try to hide it.”

Holy shit, he was going to kiss her. The cookie moment had been her fault, sitting too close and touching his lips, but this…

Her heart thundered in her chest, her tummy filling with panicked butterflies, and holy hell she wanted to grip her hands in that unruly hair and kiss his brains out. Jump in his arms and tackle him to the ground and let the chips fall where they may.

But he wasn’t nearly ready to hold her yet.

And she wasn’t one to leap without looking, and he was the last person who needed any risk in his life right now.

Stepping back, she cleared her throat and walked across the mat, plucked up the remote and clicked on the TV.

Without looking back at him, she felt him watching her, puzzled and uncertain, as she set up the guided workout on the screen.

He walked with a slight limp toward the weight rack and picked up a dumbbell. Testing it, he turned and stepped back. “Let’s get started,” he said, one glimmer of a regretful look, then shifted quickly to playful as he pumped a few bicep curls and grinned mischievously at her.

Thank fucking goodness. She was out of words and ridiculously out of practice in the flirting department. At least he seemed to realize it and gave her a break. “Slow down, cowboy,” she said, running with the shift to teasing, and took the weight and set it back on the rack. “I read your physical therapy notes.”