Paper Thin

“Dawson Phillips.” I spun to face the only guy I had ever wanted more than chocolate.

Good God, time had been good to him.

He definitely hadn’t peaked in the looks department during high school like so many others he had hung with. His baby blue eyes locked with mine, and those perfect lips I’d always daydreamed of kissing again twisted into his famous smirk that would forever be etched into my memory.

“How have you been?” he asked in his rich baritone of a voice. It made my stomach summersault in a good way, and my toes curl. “The college life being good to you?”

His southern drawl had been something I adored about him. It wasn’t so thick that he cut the G off any ing word, but was still there, slowing his words down like sweet molasses. It seemed to have gotten thicker with time. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, swearing he had left Parish Cove last I had checked. Which I had done more often than I cared to admit, waiting to graduate high school. I had wanted him to get out of this town after he graduated three years before me. There were better things for Dawson in the world besides what he could settle for here, if he wasn’t going to settle for me. His accent had me worried he hadn’t left for long though.

I’d been gone for two years. That would have been five for him, which should have been plenty of time for that southern accent of his to die down. But it hadn’t. Had he been forced to move back here, or had the ties that always seemed to keep people here pulled him back?

“College is good. Life is good outside of Parish Cove.” I smiled, hoping he would agree and tell me where he had been the past few years. I didn’t want to have to ask. Wouldn’t that seem as though I were being nosy? It wasn’t my business, but good grief, I wanted it to be.

Why had I stopped scouring his Facebook page?

Oh, right, because Sadie had caught me and claimed it was unhealthy and stalkerish. It was. Even though stalking someone on Facebook was the thing to do now. People always treated their pages like diaries, which made it so easy.

“Good to hear.” Was it me or had his eyes dipped to the little bit of cleavage I had showing? I would have to thank Sadie for this top. She’d insisted on picking out my driving clothes, swearing you never knew when you would run into someone from the past you wanted to impress.

I’d have to call her later and tell her thank you. She would eat my words up, especially if I tacked on a ‘you were right.’

“Miss, can I help you?” the cashier asked from behind me.

I glanced at her. Apparently, it was my turn in line. “Uh, yeah.” I moved to the counter. “I need ten on pump two please.” I passed my wrinkled ten across the counter, trying not to focus on the heat sweeping along the backside of my body from Dawson’s nearness.

What were the chances of seeing him here? Slim to none, my mind answered.

“All right. Thank you.” She punched in buttons on her register. “Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” I replied a little late. My mind was focused on Dawson standing behind me, and what I should say to him next.

I stepped to the side and prepared to turn and face him once more, but he leaned past me, staring at the lady behind the register. “A pack of Marlboro Reds, Doris.”

He knew her by name. Dawson had moved back. He had to have. How could he know her name if he hadn’t?

“Your daddy isn’t about to give up that bad habit of his even now, is he?” The lady smirked.

“I think at this point he figures what’s the use.” There was sadness laced within his words, even though he tried to hide it with another smile. I could still see through him after all this time. This surprised me.

What happened to his dad, and why was he buying him cigarettes?

Dawson noticed me staring at him with a bemused look plastered on my face. “Lung cancer. Finally gripped a hold of my ol’ man.”

“Wow.” was all I said. I searched my brain for something else, anything that might sound better, more compassionate, but nothing came. There was something a person was supposed to say in these situations, but I couldn’t think of the words for the life of me.

Dawson’s dad was sick. Really sick. With cancer. That was what brought him back to Parish Cove. I wondered how long he had been free from this place before he got the news and was forced to come back.

“Here you go.” Doris slipped a pack of Marlboros across the counter to him.

He passed her some money and scooped up the box. “Thanks.” One of his hands moved to press against the small of my back as he steered me toward the door to the station. The spot bloomed with fire from his sudden touch, and my breath caught in my throat. “He only smokes a pack a week now though, so that’s good.”

“Yeah, that is good,” I replied.

“It’s hard to smoke when you’re hooked up to an oxygen tank though.” He winked. I felt the wink all the way to my toes.

Dawson Phillips had his hand pressed against my lower back, and he’d just winked at me. I had only been in Parish Cove for less than twenty minutes, and already I felt like I was fifteen again pining after the boy who lived down the street.

I WAS LATE. SEEING Dawson had sidetracked me, and now I was closing in on being nearly thirty minutes late. It wasn’t all his fault though, because ru

Why the hell couldn’t I ever be on time?

As I barreled down Blue Jay Lane, I wondered if I should change in my driveway after I pulled up to my house. First impressions were important, which was why I wanted to be on time. Now that there was no possible way it was happening, the least I could do was be presentable. My cleavage-showing top and ski

I chewed my bottom lip as I rounded the last corner before our house, still debating with myself. If I did change, it would be into the coral dress. Sweet and cute would rectify my tardiness. If I wore the black dress I would seem like more trouble than I actually was¸ which wouldn’t be a good thing.

As our yellow one-story house came into view, I noticed there was only my sister’s vehicle parked in the driveway. My brain raced in an attempt to remember if the party was supposed to be somewhere else. Had Emma told me and I’d forgotten? Why the hell did I tune out every time I talked with her on the phone?

I came to a rolling stop beside my sister’s car, but didn’t cut the engine on mine right away. Instead, I stared at the house, trying to figure out what I should do next. If I sent Emma a text asking where the party was, she would flip out on me. If I tried to sit here and remember, I would be wasting time. I cut the engine on my car, and then leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. Once I had taken in a few deep, measured breaths, I reached for my cell. I needed to text her; there was no other choice. I just prayed she wouldn’t be too angry with me. The sound of the front door to the house opening caught my attention.

“What’s the matter? Rough ride?” Emma gri

She was here. Why was she here? My eyes skimmed over her. Why wasn’t she dressed up? She wore a plain cotton T-shirt and black yoga pants, which added more confusion to my flabbergasted mind.

“What is going on?” I climbed out of my car and slammed the door shut behind me. Questions pounded through my mind. Had I already missed the party? No. Emma wouldn’t be smiling if I had.

“Well, hello to you too.” Her grin grew.

“Hey.” I leaned against my car, and folded my arms over my chest. “What’s going on?”