“Jesus Christ, Paige,” I muttered, and she instantly pulled away, releasing my finger.
“I didn’t think good Southern boys talked like that,” she said, looking at me with her eyes all big.
“That’s because you believe all the movies you star in.”
“Well, the stereotype has to come from somewhere,” she said as her eyebrows pulled together.
“Yeah. Hollywood.” I framed her face in my palms and pulled her against me. “And girls like you.”
My lips ached for contact with hers. My hands longed to be touching any part of her skin. The electricity that buzzed around us had nothing to do with alcohol, and I knew it. It had been there since day one, I’d just tried to ignore it.
There was no way I could ignore anything that had to do with the girl in my arms. Not any more. And I wouldn’t even bother trying.
I Feel Red
Paige
Kissing Tatum had been electrifying. When I wasn’t in contact with him, I missed the high. My entire body felt like it was linked to his by tiny invisible cords connecting us in a million different points. Whenever he pulled away from me to collect himself, the cords stretched and my body ached against the strain.
I’d never experienced such red-hot intensity. No one had ever made me feel so connected to them before. Not even Colin, and I’d been head over heels in love with that guy. Maybe I’d just been head over heels in stupid with him?
I realized that I was still learning about myself, my heart, and those who wanted a piece of it. It was a fair assessment that I’d loved Colin, but not in that life-changing way. A part of me probably always knew that Colin was temporary. My heart realized we wouldn’t last forever, so it only loved him with as much as it allowed me to give. Or maybe I was just plain crazy and reading way too much into my current emotions.
After sneaking into the house last night, I crept into my bed and tried to make as little noise as possible. Mrs. Montgomery hadn’t said a thing so far, so I didn’t think she realized I’d been having a make-out session with her only child.
Pulling on a pair of cutoff white shorts and a blue tank, I walked into the kitchen the next morning where Mrs. Montgomery always seemed to be. She did a lot of cooking and baking, and had been asking if I wanted to learn how to make a few Southern staples. I told her I did, seeing as how I didn’t have anything else to do except daydream about her son’s lips.
“Mrs. Montgomery, is there a phone at Tatum’s place?” I asked, hoping that the answer would be yes because I needed some privacy.
“There is.” Her eyes narrowed in a way that should have warned me that she knew more than she was saying, but I pretended to be oblivious.
“Is Tatum back there?”
“He’s at the shop already.”
“I need to make a couple of phone calls, if that’s all right with you, and I just wanted some privacy. Is that rude?” This woman had gone out of her way to make me feel at home, and telling her that I needed to be alone felt like I was betraying her trust, or accusing her of being untrustworthy.
“Of course that isn’t rude. You go on back. Take all the time you need.” She waved me off. “And here, take a muffin.” She tossed another freshly baked muffin at me and I caught it with both hands, surprised I didn’t smash it into a hundred pieces.
“When I come back, you’ll show me how to make that pie?”
“I won’t start it without you.” She smiled and sipped from her coffee mug.
I walked to the back of the property toward the barn and opened the front door. Yelling Tatum’s name just to make sure he was gone for the day, I relaxed when I heard nothing but the sweet sound of quiet. I scanned the living room for the phone and spotted it sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Reaching for it, I dialed Quinn’s number and held my breath as it rang.
“It’s about damn time,” Quinn answered, and I smiled.
“I know. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me everything,” she insisted.
Leave it to Quinn to not even care how long it had been since we last talked. She wasn’t the type of best friend to hold a grudge like that, and she wasn’t needy. We could go for weeks without speaking, and nothing would feel off. Not that we would ever do that; I just knew that we could.
“Quinn, I’m dying here,” I breathed out before plopping down onto the couch.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her tone turning serious. “What’s the matter?”
“Sorry, not in a bad way. This guy. My God.”
“The Tatum one?”
“Yes. The Tatum one,” I repeated as my mind filled with memories of last night.
“Oh my gosh, you little slut! You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“No!” I yelled back, my fingers picking at strands of fabric.
“Well, why not?” she huffed. “Dude, send me a pic of this guy! I’m dying to see him.”
“You’d approve,” I informed her, knowing that Quinn would absolutely think Tatum was worth doing whatever it was I was doing with him. “But listen—” I started to say before she interrupted.
“Me first. Colin’s in town. He’s been asking about you. Tried to talk to Ryson, but he got scared when Ryson started cracking his knuckles and threatened to deck him. Colin ran away. Like literally, ran away.” She laughed and surprisingly, my insides didn’t ache at the mention of Colin’s name.
I was fully aware that not much time had passed since Colin and I had broken up, and that I should still be hurting to hear any news about him. But it was in this moment when something inside me clicked. I realized that Colin now belonged to my past, and that was where he would remain. My future would never include him.
“You still there?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m here. I…I don’t care about Colin. At all. I need to tell you about Tatum. And about all these feelings I’m having.”
“So, quit stalling and tell me then.”
“You’re the one who… Never mind! You don’t understand.” I searched the recesses of my mind, trying to find the right words to explain my Technicolor emotions. “Ugh! Quinn, it’s like if we associated ourselves with colors and how those colors felt, I’d be red. Oh sweet Lord, I’d be red.”
“You’d be what?”
“You know, like that damn Taylor Swift song.”
Quinn hummed the melody to “Red” before saying, “So this guy is like driving a car down a nowhere street? Is that what you’re saying?”
I huffed out a quick laugh. “First of all, that is not how the song goes. At all. Second of all, no. But being around him is like being surrounded by so much color. So much feeling.”
“So much red…he makes you angry?”
I shook my head, not sure if she was teasing or seriously confused. “No. Damn it, Quinn! He makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. It’s intense. He’s intense. But it’s like everything around me bursts into the most vibrant glow when he’s around. He makes me feel red.”
“I still have no clue what you’re talking about, but I like it. Did you ever feel red with Colin?” she asked, mimicking me.
“No. Not like this. Not even close. This makes everything with Colin feel so superficial. I can’t explain it.” I blew out a breath and sank deeper into the cushions on the couch.
“Well, try to explain it in color then. How did Colin make you feel?”
I laughed and blurted out the first color that came to mind. “Pink. Colin made me feel pink. He was light and fluffy, but nowhere near as serious or intense as he’d like to think he is.”
“That’s ’cause Colin’s a pussy,” Quinn blurted out, and I slapped a hand across my own mouth as if I were the one who’d said it.
“Quinn!” I yelled through my fingers.