Rogue C9
“I’ll be done soon,” he says calmly. “So, you work in project development now?”
I pull my robe tighter around me, caught off guard by his question. “Yeah. But that doesn’t-”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s not… I help with some of the projects. Managing contractors, overseeing sketches. I handle nearly all of the styling and decor choices before they go on the market.” I swallow, uncomfortable with his earnest gaze. He’s looking at me like we’re still friends, like we still have that childhood connection.
“Sounds challenging.”
“Not very. I mean, sometimes it really is, when we have deadlines…” I shake my head. “We are not having this conversation. Not until you tell me where you’ve been.”
“I told you yesterday.”
“Yeah, ‘the military.’ It’s too short of an answer.”
He looks away from me, calmly picking up another nail. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and for a moment I’m distracted by his arm when he swings the hammer. Hayden had always been bulky, somehow; well-built. But now his muscles are the strong, well-defined ones of a man who uses his body regularly.
He feels like a stranger.
“Like I said yesterday, I was at a training base in Utah for a while. Then I served in the Bering Straits for five years in the Navy. I helped train new recruits for a few years after that. Now I’m here.”
“I never knew you had an interest in the military,” I say. “You never told me.”
He pauses in his movements, a hand hovering just above one of the broken hinges. He’s not looking at me, eyes focused on his work. “Well,” he finally says, bending down to take a closer look. “It was a good option for me. I had been thinking about it for a while.”
“Sure you had.”
He looks up at me, eyes turning playful again as he looks me over, taking in my pajamas and my bathrobe. “Were you in bed, Lily? At ten o’clock?”
“It’s a Saturday!”
Hayden’s gaze snags at my feet, and then he bursts out laughing. I haven’t heard that laugh in ten years, and even back then, it was a rare thing. Goose bumps race along my arms.
“No way,” he says.
I glance down. My feet are stuck in the stupid bunny slippers I had as a teenager. They’re ratty and ugly and must have fallen out of the back of my shoe rack somehow.
“You still have those?”
I wrap my robe tighter around myself and ignore the blush that heats my cheeks. “Shut up, Hay. How long will you be?”
“About an hour,” he says, eyes still sparkling with laughter. “Going to invite me in for tea?”
“Absolutely not. I have to get ready.”
“Maze Party?”
“Yeah,” I say, heading toward my front door. This absurd situation needs to end, and I need to get out of these terrible slippers.
He’s a soldier, he’s travelled the world, and he’s returned to Paradise Shores as a man. A man with muscles and a deep voice and amazing hair. And I’m not exactly making a good impression.
Look at your childhood crush! She’s a mess!
“I’ll see you there!” Hayden calls behind me.
I slam the front door shut and slowly sink to the ground.
What have I gotten myself into?
Hayden
Hayden, 17
I loosen the tie of my uniform and nod at Turner. “Hand me a smoke.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.
He passes it to me with a nod to Parker. “Are you sure Hayden can handle it?”
“Fuck off, Turner.”
He grins at me. “That’s the spirit.”
Parker hands me the lighter. “Of course he can handle it. Hell, Cole is my cover-up.”
I nod. “And what an honor that is.”
“Your cover-up?”
Parker leans back on the bleachers. “Mom would kill me if she knew I smoked. So I tell her my clothes only smell because of Hayden. Problem solved.”
I take another drag and look out across the football field. The junior girls have lacrosse practice, chasing one another across the field with high ponytails and short skirts. It only takes me a few seconds before my eyes find the girl I’m looking for.
Her auburn hair is longer, and she put in some highlights over break, but it doesn’t change a thing. I could pick her out from a crowd blindfolded.
She’s hanging back, playing it safe as part of the defense. I know it’s not a strategic decision. She’d rather not play at all.
“Hayden, are you even listening, man?”
I slide my gaze back to Turner. “Yeah. You’re hoping to score with Clarice Winthrop at homecoming. News flash-you won’t.”
Parker guffaws and punches Turner in the shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been telling you for ages. Give it up.”
I take another drag. “She’s dating someone from Rexfield.”
“A university guy?” Turner scowls. “How the fuck do you know?”
“I hear things.”
“What is he, a psychic?”