He stopped. Swallowed.
The fire crackled down the beach. A laugh rang out—Jeremiah’s laugh, bright and easy. And Belly stood frozen between two brothers, two futures, two versions of herself.
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell his sweatshirt—salt, cedar, something underneath that was just Conrad . His hand hovered near her arm but didn’t touch. book 3 the summer i turned pretty
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, squared her shoulders, and walked back down to the fire.
Down on the beach, Jeremiah looked up at the deck. He saw Belly standing alone. And for just a second, his smile faltered. He stopped
Conrad looked at her then. Really looked. The kind of look that used to make her stomach drop—back when she was fifteen and he was untouchable. He wasn’t untouchable anymore. He was just… sad. In a way that had nothing to do with her.
Not yet, anyway. End of scene.
“Yes, I do.” Conrad’s voice broke on the second word. “Because it’s the same way I look at you.”
“That’s the problem, Belly,” he said. “I never have to pretend with you. And that’s exactly why I can’t be near you right now.” A laugh rang out—Jeremiah’s laugh, bright and easy
Conrad finally touched her. Just her wrist. His thumb pressed against her pulse point, feeling it race.
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