If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan)

Shay

I can’t focus on my book, but I can’t sleep either. Who could with the party roaring downstairs?

I roll over and bury my face in a pillow, muffling my frustrated scream. I can’t believe I told Easton I’ve never been kissed. I could’ve lied. He never would’ve known. But the worst part is that I also admitted to having a crush on one of my brothers’ friends. I won’t make the same mistake if he asks about that again. Sometimes we have to lie to protect ourselves, and I know better than to leave my heart unguarded against Easton Connor.

I clutch a second pillow to my chest, my skin all tingly with memories of him in my room—standing so close and passing the beer to me while we traded secrets. His body so close as he touched his forehead to mine and asked if I wanted him to kiss me.

Could it hurt to close my eyes and let myself imagine what it would’ve been like? I’m totally unworthy, and he’s a fucking football star—now a first-round NFL draft pick—but it would hardly be the first time I’ve indulged such a fantasy. In an alternate reality, I could have accepted that kiss. I imagine myself as the tall, thin beauty my mom was at my age, and I imagine him as just Easton—the boy who patched up my knee when I fell off my bike and who told me jokes when I was sad. In that alternate reality, it wouldn’t have been a pity kiss at all but something he wanted as much as I did.

He wouldn’t have asked with words. He would’ve asked with the slow descent of his mouth to mine, and I wouldn’t have pulled away. He would’ve tasted like beer and been gentle, and I would’ve been a naturally good kisser. So good, he would’ve groaned into my mouth like the heroes in romance novels do.

I flip over in bed again, whimpering in frustration.

My bedroom door clicks, and I stare at it in the darkness. Is Carter checking on me? I don’t know why he’s suddenly so worried about me and Easton being alone together. Probably because I got boobs. Finally.

“Shay? You awake?” The husky whisper is a tripwire in my stomach, causing all my internal organs to detonate before clumsily righting themselves.

I roll to my side, watching the door as I hold the pillow to my chest. “Yeah. Everything okay?”

The sliver of hallway light grows as East steps into the room. “Could I sit in here with you?”

Oh, shit. I know that tone in his voice—the subtle tremor of anxiety that sometimes hits East so hard he can’t function. I would do anything to make it better, but luckily, it doesn’t take much. I scoot to the opposite side of the mattress and pat the bed beside me.

Easton releases a long breath, and the light shrinks again to nothing as he shuts the door behind him. He lies down on his back on top of the covers. “Sorry,” he whispers.

I put my hand on his chest, right on top of his racing heart. “I’m here. It’s fine.”

He places a hand on top of mine. “Thank you.”

are the days of self-deprecation for these spells of anxiety. The first time I witnessed one of his attacks, he was a junior in high school and it was the night before he was supposed to take the SATs. I found him in the corner of our basement, shivering and sweating. It freaked me out to see him so panicked. He couldn’t catch his breath and his skin was so hot that I thought he had a fever. I had no idea what to do, so I just sat down beside him and

that night, it wasn’t uncommon for him to seek me out during the tough moments. For whatever reason, I’ve always been able

I scoot closer, keeping my hand on his chest under

hear him fighting to control his breathing, and his heartbeat

in the middle of the night.” I stay close, willing my calm to seep into him until the steady,

conversation from earlier, my brain replaying and rewriting the words as his

register in my brain, I don’t know

wouldn’t have been a pity

***

night. You are the literal chill to my

text. I fell asleep next to Easton, but when I woke, the morning sun slanting through the curtains, he was gone. I thought I’d find him downstairs with the rest of the hungover crew, but apparently he had

he came home but .

your shoulders. It’s understandable

to manage it when

any idea what words like

finish high school in L.A.? I’d give you room and board

tell Dad. He’ll be totally cool with his only daughter moving to

Please don’t say it that way to your dad. I like

Say it like

Like I’m buying

I think we’ve established I’m

I wouldn’t want

demand a refund. Because, if

for your sexual favors for the same reason you don’t want a pity

cheeks are on fire. Luckily, I’m alone in my bedroom and no one can see my awkward nerves at having this conversation with Easton. Is this a conversation, or is it . . .

Will you come see my new place when

be cool, but

life