If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan) novel Chapter 9

Shay

February 24th, twelve years ago

Easton: Carter said you’re staying home when everyone visits next month.

Me: Sorry. I can’t believe you’re bringing all the Jacksons to LA. Big shot.

Easton: I miss everyone. I swear I’m not trying to show off.

Me: I’m just teasing you. I’m sure it’ll be awesome. Mom is buzzing about it. I hope you have fun.

Easton: Is everything okay?

Me: I have tests for school and I have to get my final papers done early before graduation.

Easton: Because you’ll be in New York while everyone else takes finals.

Me: Spying on me?

Easton: Carter and Jake crow about you like they’re responsible for your brain or something.

Me: That’s kind of sweet.

Easton: I wish you were coming.

I put my phone down and force myself to back away. It’s been less than two months since Easton spun my world on its head and made me believe that someone like him could be attracted to me. No, not just someone like him. He made me believe that he could be attracted to me. That he was attracted to me. And that’s the kicker, because I don’t want someone like Easton. I never have. I want Easton. But I’m no longer the twelve-year-old girl who’d follow him around when he stayed over on the weekend and quietly dream of our future wedding. I’ve grown up, and I’m smart enough to know that’s not in the cards for a girl like me. Easton very gently reminded me of that when he told me not to apply at UCLA.

I still want to hide every time I remember I said that. What did I think? That Easton was going to want a college kid hanging around just because we fooled around in the middle of the night? Did I think he’d miss out on all the women who throw themselves at him on a daily basis for me?

So I checked myself. Remembered the limits of our relationship: friendship. When I went back to school after the holiday, I said yes to a date with Steve and decided it was time to force myself to get over Easton Connor. I’ve been doing great at not obsessing over him too, and then he has to throw out an I wish you were coming?

It’s such a painful tease that I almost hate him for it. But I know that’s not fair. He’s just being my friend. Like he always has.

My phone buzzes again, and I immediately snatch it off the counter to see if it’s another text from him. I’m weak.

Easton: I hope you have the time of your life in New York. I expect you to tell me about it.

Me: Sure. I’ll post pics.

***

April 18th

Easton: Family reunion isn’t the same without you, Short Stack.

I read Easton’s text three times before I make myself flip my phone over and pretend I didn’t see it. I have the house to myself, and my boyfriend and I are using the time to study. Because Steve and I are just cool like that.

My family is in California at Easton’s, and I’ve spent the last two days since they left vacillating between regret over my decision to stay home and relief that I was smart enough to make that choice. Despite what I told my parents, I could’ve gone. I could’ve worked on my papers on the plane. My finals will be a cakewalk. I don’t need to study much. But I’m here, and the riot of fluttery insects making a mess of my stomach after just one text is enough to remind me I made the right choice. If I’d gone to L.A., I would’ve left my heart there with Easton. And I can’t do that. I need my heart.

The cutie math nerd across the kitchen table from me might object to me giving it to someone else.

My phone buzzes again. I watch Steve scribble in his notebook before I look.

Easton: Hold up. Carter said you’re going to New York with your BOYFRIEND.

Me: Not exactly with him. My boyfriend is also in my honors English class and is going on the same trip.

Easton: You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.

Me: I didn’t know you required updates on my love life.

Easton: Now you know. I require updates.

Me: His name is Steve. He’s smart and fun and sweet.

I stare at the screen too long. Aside from when he was asking me about the trip last month, we haven’t gone back and forth texting like this since before New Year’s. He sends me goofy memes from time to time, and we’re on a couple of group text loops together in which my brothers break down his games play by play and he pretends to appreciate their advice when he has a whole team full of well-paid professionals who know way more about football than they do.

He doesn’t reply. I bite back a sigh and put the phone down. I want to believe I’ve moved on, but a few text messages from him still get me tied up in knots. Pathetic.

Steve looks up from his notebook and grins at me. His eyes cut to the clock meaningfully. When he arrived tonight, he was all over me. I told him we had to study for one hour before we could make out. Now time’s a-ticking.

I return his smile, my cheeks heating and my thoughts blessedly turning away from Easton and back to Steve and an evening in the house alone. Right where they should be.

Then my phone buzzes again.

Easton: Is he good to you?

Me: I wouldn’t be with him if he weren’t.

Easton: So I guess this means . . .

Me: It means I have a boyfriend, and I owe you no more secrets.

Easton: Ah. Message delivered. Have fun in New York. Behave.

Steve clears his throat. “Easton Connor? You’re texting Easton Connor?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you texted with him.”