The tension between us built again, only this time the undercurrent was different—warm and exciting. My body felt heated in a way I’d never experienced, my breasts heavier as they pressed against the solidness of Preston’s chest. My nipples hardened and I blushed at my own body’s reactions, wondering if he felt it, wondering if he knew. Would it make him uncomfortable if he did?
His hand gripped mine and his breathing seemed to increase. My brain clouded slightly and I felt off balance and again, had the sensation that the only reason I was standing was because Preston was holding me up.
I tilted my head back and gazed up at him to find him already staring down at me. His stare was intense, but then Preston’s stare was usually intense.
The moment of lighthearted singing had passed and moved to something else—something I wasn’t experienced enough to name. I wanted to know if he was feeling the same things I was, if maybe things were changing between us. But I was too shy and insecure. I didn’t know how to ask, couldn’t risk my far-too-tender heart to rejection.
He stepped back, letting go of me and jarring me out of my own foggy thoughts. I felt the loss of his body heat as harshly as I felt the loss of the connection I’d felt so strongly.
“I should go.”
“You . . . you don’t have to.” My smile was shaky. “The eighties never end here.”
He ran a hand through his hair, not reacting to my attempted joke. “Yeah. I do.”
Cold achiness settled in my bones, extinguishing the warmth I’d been feeling. Oh God, he hadn’t been feeling the same things I had. I had been wishing this moment could last forever, and he was ready to end it.
“And you should get home,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.” He looked around, frowning slightly. “This doesn’t seem like the safest place for you to come by yourself.”
He spoke as if he were a father or an older brother, and I wrapped my arms around my waist, realizing that’s exactly how he saw me. A little sister. Someone to look out for. Someone to dance with for a few minutes and wipe away her tears. The kid who’d been following on his heels since she was barely out of training pants.
Cole kissed me, but all Preston ever wanted was to protect me.
I didn’t take his protective nature lightly. I’d always appreciated it so much, but suddenly I hated it with the burning heat of a thousand suns. It meant he didn’t want me. I brought my chin up and forced a smile. “Well, thank you for checking on me. Thank you for coming out here.”
He nodded once, rubbing his hands together. I reached down and gathered the pants I’d dropped and pushed them into the bag, along with the other things I’d folded, the few unfolded items, and my paperback. Preston picked up the heavy bag from the counter, and I followed him outside to his truck.
There was no point in asking him to drop me off somewhere other than my house. He’d already seen it. We rode in silence and though I tried to think of something to say, something that might bring back the easy rapport we’d had as we danced in the Laundromat, I couldn’t think of anything. All too soon, he was pulling to the side of the dirt road next to my house and I looked over at him.
I wasn’t sure why, but when I thought about our friendship, I realized he’d been pulling away for a while. The last time we’d sat and talked quietly together, had been the day I gave him the other half of my sea glass heart. “Someday I’m going to leave here, but a part of my heart is going to remain. With you.” Mine was wrapped in a small piece of cloth and kept under my mattress. He’d probably thrown his away, never to think of it again. Now he was going to leave here, and a part of my heart would go with him, even though he clearly didn’t want it. I missed my friend.
“Thank you, Preston.” For being my friend once, for giving me my first dance, for watching over me. It was all I had. It would have to be enough.
He paused for the breath of a moment and then his lips tipped up slightly, too, looking more like a strange grimace in the dim light of his truck. “Goodnight, Lia,” he said.
I paused for a second, waiting— hoping —he might say more, but he didn’t, so I grabbed my laundry bag and hopped down, shutting his door behind me and walking quickly inside, not looking back.
I didn’t hear his truck pull away until after I’d shut the door of my house behind me. My mama was already sleeping. I dropped the laundry bag on the floor and curled up on my air mattress.
“Annalia.” My mama’s voice drifted to me from the other side of the room, though she was turned toward the wall.
“Yes, Mama?”
“You don’t open your legs for the boys.” She spoke in broken English and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with Preston coming by. Maybe it was the first time she realized I lived in two worlds—one in Spanish, and one in English. Perhaps she was trying to relate to me in the world that she was warning me about. Whatever it was, it embarrassed me, and I felt heat rise in my face.
My mama had never talked to me about boys. For a second I almost sat up, desperate to ask her all the questions I wanted answers to so badly. But the words stuck in my throat as so many of my words did. I didn’t know how to start, not with my mama, and so I relaxed my muscles, sinking back down onto my bed. “No, Mama.”
She paused for a second before she spoke again. “Rich boy only want one thing from nobody girl.”
Nobody girl. There wasn’t malice in her tone, just weariness. Her words, as usual, had been harsh, and I wondered if there had been something lost in translation. The few times she’d attempted to speak English to me, she’d chosen words that weren’t exactly what she meant.