Still Love You Page 3

  Watching that girl flirt with him got to me in a way I didn't expect. I was actually mad, to the point I was about ready to punch her if she didn't back away. Hence why I said I'm a complete and utter mess. I don't punch girls. I don't punch anyone. I get angry, but I don't take it out on people. Except Silas. He has a way of bringing out all my emotions. Maybe that's why I felt so angry. Seeing him flirt to get his way irritated me, or maybe it was just seeing him flirt, period, with someone other than me.

  Wait—I can't be jealous. He's not mine anymore. He's free to date whoever he wants. I just need to get used to that idea. He took off right after we broke up so I never had to watch him date other girls. But I'm sure I'll witness that this summer so I need to start getting used to it.

  Silas slides the milkshake over to his side of the table and takes a big slurp.

  "Silas! What are you doing? I need to get a cup and another straw."

  "Why?" he asks casually. "Why can't we just share?"

  "Because..." I'm flustered, trying to find the right words. Why does this keep happening? I've been lost for words ever since he showed up at my door. I've also been nervous, agitated, frustrated. My emotions are all over the place and yet he seems calm and collected. It's irritating.

  "Because why?" He stands up and goes around the table and casually takes a seat next to me on the bench. He slides the milkshake back over to what is now our side of the table and takes another sip. "It's good. You should try it." He moves it in front of me.

  I move it back. "I can't, now that you drank out it."

  "Afraid you'll get germs?" He takes another sip.

  "Yes. It's unsanitary."

  "I don't think you need to worry." He leans down by my ear. "In case you forgot, my mouth has been all over your body. Every square inch of it." His lips brush against my ear and a shiver shoots down my spine. "And my tongue has—"

  "Yeah. Got it." I scoot over, needing to put some distance between us before I accidentally kiss him, or do more than that.

  His little reminder of our past has me so hot and bothered I'm about ready to do him right now on this bench. Sex with Silas was the best I've ever had but I don't need those memories creeping back in my head. It's bad enough they fill my dreams. I can't control what happens in my sleep, but I can control my thoughts when I'm awake. I take a deep breath and clear my mind of all things Silas.

  That lasts for about a second, until I feel his hand on my back as he pushes the milkshake toward me again. "Here. I wiped the straw off for you."

  Why did I have to wear a dress with an open back? The feel of his hand pressed against my bare skin has my mind returning to those memories I'm trying to forget. Memories of Silas' hands moving over my skin. And his fingers. Those magic fingers. I even used to call them that. His fingers ran over my palm earlier when he gave me my twenty back and I know it was on purpose. A tingling heat coursed through my body when he did it, making my breath quicken. He noticed, but luckily didn't say anything.

  I take a sip of the milkshake.

  "Good, isn't it?" he asks.

  "Yeah, just like I remembered."

  "Do you want the rest of it?" He chuckles. "I don't want to contaminate it again."

  "It's fine." I slide it between us. "We can share. I was overreacting."

  "You? Overreact?"

  I laugh and jab his side like I did earlier.

  "Hey! That's my bruised side."

  "You're not bruised." I sip the milkshake and watch as he lifts his shirt up. I bite down hard on my straw. Holy shit, his abs are amazing! He had decent abs before, but now? His abs—his whole body, really—is in a whole different league. The league with the hot men you see on calendars or underwear ads. I was never really into guys with big muscles, but Silas with big muscles? I feel the need to fan myself, despite the cool breeze blowing past us.

  "There'll be a bruise there by tomorrow." He lowers his shirt and picks up a wad of fries, stuffing them in his mouth. He's even sexy when he eats. How is that possible?

  "You can finish it." I offer him the milkshake as I eat the rest of my burger. "I'm getting full."

  "So what should we do tonight?" He wads up his burger wrapper and tosses it, landing it in the trash bin.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Do you want to see a movie? Or we could go to the park. The outdoor movies have started for the summer. They're showing old black-and-white horror films this year."

  I stare at him. "Silas. We're not going out."

  "I know we're not going out as in going out, but that doesn't mean we can't hang out as friends."

  I'd love to just hang out with him like we used to, but I can't. It's too hard to be around him.

  "I can't," I say, but then quickly regret it. I feel bad turning him down. He's trying to make an effort here. Trying to be friends again, even after I broke his heart.

  "You can't tonight? Or ever?" I hear the sadness in his voice.

  "I don't think it's a good idea for us to hang out." I grab a napkin and wipe my hands.

  "Do you have other plans?"

  "No."

  "So you're just going to sit at home all night with your parents?"

  I hadn't really thought about what I'd be doing tonight. I guess I should be going out, but I haven't stayed in touch with my friends from high school. I'd feel kind of strange just calling them up after all this time and asking them if they wanted to do something.

  "I'll probably just go to bed early," I say.

  He nods, like he's accepted my lame excuse, but then says, "We're going out." He gathers up our remaining trash and takes it to the garbage can.

  "You can't just decide that for me."

  "You can't sit at home all night on your first night back from college. And I'm bored. I want to get out."

  "Why don't you go out with Trent?"

  Trent was his friend from high school. They didn't go to the same school. Trent went to my high school, a public school, and Silas went to private school. It was really more like home school, taught in a house by a lady who used to teach public school but didn't like their teaching methods so left and started her own school.

  I went there when I was younger. That's how I met Silas. I called it hippie school because there were no rules. You learned at your own pace, and if you wanted to play outside all day, you could. The lack of structure drove me crazy, so the summer before my freshman year, I convinced my parents to let me go to public school. I was a cheerleader in high school and Silas used to come to the football games and we'd go to parties afterward. That's when he met Trent, who was a linebacker until he got injured during his senior year. Silas and Trent hit it off and became good friends.

  "Trent's got a new girl," Silas says. "She's taking up all his time."

  "He just got home from college. How'd he get a girl so fast?"

  "He's been home for a week. He met her last week when he was at the park for the outdoor movie. He said the place was crawling with single girls."

  So if Silas goes there alone tonight, he'll probably meet someone. Some other girl. Dammit. I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to see him with someone else. I thought I was, but the sick feeling in my stomach right now is telling me I'm not at all ready for that.

  "Okay, I'll go," I say, getting up from the table.

  He grins. "What changed your mind?"

  "Nothing. It just sounds fun. I like outdoor movies. We used to go to them all the time."

  "Except we never actually watched the movie." His grin remains as he takes my hand and begins walking back to the truck. It's so true. The movie was just a place for us to make out without our parents around.

  "You can't keep doing this." I hold up our joined hands.

  "Why not? When we were friends we held hands."

  "We were also seven years old at the time."

  "We were older than seven. We held hands all through grade school and middle school."

  It's true, but we stopped holding hands once I went to a different school.
After that, I didn't see Silas much until we started dating.

  Switching schools was a turning point in my life. That's when I decided I'd had enough of my parents' hippie lifestyle and was not going to follow in their footsteps. The hippie clothes? The vegan diet? It's just not me. And I have no desire to take over the family business someday. I admire my parents for running an organic farm. It's their passion and something they believe in. But it's not what I want to do.

  I'm a type A personality and I want to run a company someday. A large corporation, probably in the financial sector. I want to be a CEO. I decided this years ago and my first step in getting to my goal was to go to a normal school. Colleges don't want students who grew up going to hippie school. Employers don't either.

  I'm still holding Silas' hand. I didn't let go because I like holding his hand. It's familiar. Comforting. When I hold some other guy's hand, it doesn't fit right with mine. Something always feels off.

  But holding Silas' hand is like coming home. It brings back the memories I keep trying to forget. Those feelings I keep trying to bury. And those urges to do more than just hold his hand.

  "See?" He squeezes my hand, then lets it go. "That wasn't so bad." He opens the passenger door.

  "Don't—" Before I can get the words out, he's already hoisted me up and into the truck. "I got it," I say as he reaches up for the seat belt. I don't want him putting it on me again. The last time he did that, my heart went into overdrive the second his hand pressed into my hip as he secured the belt in place.

  "I won't do that every time," Silas says as he starts the truck.

  "Do what?"

  "Lift you into the trunk. I only did that because you have a dress on and I didn't want you giving the whole parking lot a show."

  "I could get in without giving anyone a show," I insist.

  "Oh, really?" He smiles. "I'd like to see you try. I'll stand behind you just in case."

  "In case what?"

  "In case you fall backward. Or your dress rips."

  "That won't be necessary. I won't need to get in the truck again. We're almost home."

  "We're taking it tonight when we go out."

  "Then I'll change into shorts."

  My phone rings and I almost don't answer when I see it's my mom. I'm mad at her for doing this. I know she purposely sent Silas to get me, hoping we'll end up together.

  "Hey, Mom," I answer.

  "Hi, honey. Did Silas get there on time?"

  "Yes, but why didn't you tell me he was coming to pick me up?"

  "We asked him at the last minute. We were all ready to drive down and get you but then your father wasn't feeling well so I called Silas. Make sure to thank him. He had to miss his last hour of class in order to do this for us. If I knew he had class I never would've asked him, but he insisted on helping us out."

  "What's wrong with dad?"

  "He felt sick to his stomach. I don't think it's the flu. I think it was something he ate. He's resting now."

  My parents don't like to waste food so my dad will eat most anything to avoid tossing it out, even if it has mold on it. He'll just eat around the mold.

  "Are you two almost here?" she asks.

  "We're about ten minutes away. We'll be there soon."

  "Silas has sure grown up, hasn't he?" she says in her matchmaking tone.

  "Mom," I say, urging her to butt out.

  "See you soon, honey," she says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

  "You should've told me my dad was sick," I say to Silas.

  "He told me not to. He knows how you worry."

  "I wonder what it was this time. Moldy bread. Moldy cheese. Expired milk. That man needs to stop eating food that's gone bad."

  "He's been doing that forever. You can't change him now."

  "People can change." I swipe through my phone, checking messages, then stop as I remember what my mom said. "So what class are you taking?"

  He hesitates like he doesn't want me to know. "Introductory accounting."

  I turn to him, shocked. "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "Silas Sparks is taking an accounting class? You hate math."

  "Not if it's useful. I didn't find geometry useful which is why I never did well in it. I don't put effort into things I'm not interested in."

  "Why is accounting useful? You don't want to be an accountant."

  "No, but maybe someday I'll have my own business. It'd be good to have some basic business knowledge."

  "Wait." I shake my head really fast. "Who are you and what did you do with Silas?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You want your own business? A business is a lot of work, Silas. You don't even like getting out of bed in the morning."

  He shrugs. "Like you said, people change. I spent the past two years working fifteen, sixteen hour days and I actually didn't mind it. I was making a difference. Putting a roof over someone's head. Planting enough food to feed a village. Digging trenches to help get water to people. If I'm making a difference, then I don't mind working hard."

  "I didn't mean you don't work hard. I know how much you've helped your mom with her jewelry business. I just didn't know you wanted to go into business yourself."

  "I don't know if I will. I'm still exploring my options."

  "So does that mean you're staying here? You're not going back overseas?"

  "That depends." He gets off at the exit that takes us to our neighborhood.

  "Depends on what?"

  "On how this summer goes."

  How this summer goes? What does that mean? Is he talking about me? Us? Is he trying to get back together with me?

  He's quiet as he drives down our street. My curiosity is killing me. I have to ask.

  "Are you going to explain what you meant by that?"

  "No," he says simply. We're in my parents' driveway now and he smiles at me. "Would you like help getting out?"

  "No. I can do it." I open my door and notice how far up I am from the ground. It would be a bad idea to jump in these sandals I'm wearing. I'd probably break a toe or twist my ankle.

  "You sure you don't want some help?" Silas is now standing by my door, watching me.

  "Maybe a little," I mumble.

  He lets out a laugh as he picks me up and lowers me to the ground.

  "You need different tires on this thing," I say. "It's too high up."

  "Tires are expensive. I'm not changing them. You'll just have to figure out a way to get yourself in and out." He nods toward the house. "You can go inside. I'll get your stuff."

  He turns to walk away but I catch his hand. "Hey."

  He looks back. "Yeah?"

  "Thanks for picking me up today. And helping me move all my stuff."

  "Sure." He walks to the back of the truck.

  I follow him. "I'm sorry you had to miss part of your class. If you need help catching up on whatever you missed, I'm pretty good at accounting. I've had two semesters now."

  He lowers the tailgate. "You're offering to be my tutor?"

  "Only if you need one." I watch his arm muscles flex as he lifts up three heavy boxes.

  "I'll keep that in mind." He glances at the front door. "Your mom's coming."

  "Willow!" She races toward me and gives me a hug. I haven't been home since spring break and my parents have been so busy with the farm that they haven't had a chance to drive down to see me.

  "Hi, Mom." I give her a tight squeeze. My mom drives me crazy, but I love her and think she's the greatest mom ever, despite her hippie ways. And today she's in full hippie attire; a tie-dye dress in pastel colors, white Birkenstock sandals, and a long blue scarf tied loosely around her neck.

  We go inside the house and my jaw drops when I see the living room. I used to call it the rainbow room because my parents painted each wall a different color; red, blue, yellow, green. But now it's all one color, a light sea foam green, and we have actual furniture instead of an assorted mix of bean bags and butterfly chairs. They've been
replaced by a dark gray couch and matching loveseat. Bright orange throw pillows are scattered over them, but that's nothing compared to the crazy mix of colors I'm used to.

  "What happened in here?" I ask.

  My mom hangs her arm around my shoulder. "Your father and I redecorated. Do you like it?"

  "Yeah. It looks great."

  And yet I kind of miss how it used to look. I despised it for years, but now that's it's gone I almost wish it were back.

  I thought I'd go home for the summer and everything would be the same. But I'm getting the feeling I'm in for a lot more changes than just the wall color in the living room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Silas

  "Does anyone want dessert?" Candace asks, holding out a plate of flat pale discs. I think they're supposed to be cookies.

  "No, thank you," Willow and I say at the same time.

  Candace invited me for dinner, but given that Willow and I just splurged on burgers and fries, we weren't really hungry. But we managed to eat a few bites since her mom went to the trouble of making dinner, which consisted of steamed tofu smothered in some kind of sauce and served with lumpy mashed potatoes. The meal was pretty bad and dessert will be even worse.

  Willow's mom is a horrible cook. She's also a horrible baker. But in her defense, she can only do so much when she's limited to organic, dairy-free, gluten-free ingredients.

  "Then I guess I'll save these for later." She winks at Willow. "It's a new recipe. Your father loves them."

  "I think I heard my name." Carl appears, wearing pajama pants and his long blue robe, his curly brown hair a mess from sleeping on it. "There's my girl." He goes up to Willow. "Welcome home, honey."

  "Hey, Dad." She hugs him. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Much." He stands back and rubs his stomach. "It must've been those strawberries. They were starting to get pretty moldy."

  "Dad, you need to stop eating that stuff."

  "Nonsense." He kisses her cheek. "Mold is a product of nature. I just had a sensitive stomach today. So Silas, any problem with the move?"