And my emotional, overstimulated self bursts into tears.
His kindness is rare yet so appreciated.
I wipe my eyes as Theo types out a response.
I'm laughing and crying at the same time, unable to control which one is engulfing the other.
My tears have subsided, and I shake my head to rid myself of all the crippling doubts plaguing my inner thoughts.
Eventhoughshetoldme not to wait up, I stay awake until the garage opens and closes. I wouldn't have been able to sleep knowing she was out crying and driving in the middle of the night.
Men are assholes, and I hate that I've lumped myself in that category when I said the same words to her.
I'm not like Dylan.
I'm not like Beckett.
Yet both those men got the chance I never will—arealchance.
The following day is my reunion, and I wait by my phone, fearful Amelia will say she changed her mind, that being my fake girlfriend is going to be too difficult after Dylan showed her how horrible men can be. But she doesn't.
When she comes home from her shift at Roasted, she tells me she's taking a power nap and will get ready when it gets closer to leave.
My reunion is being held at a fancy hotel right near the water.
I went to the more prestigious school, and of course the Associated Student Body got together to have it at one of the classiest places in Del Mar, L'Auberge, making the entry fee $150 each. That includes two drinks and appetizers served throughout the night. Not even a full meal.
Not only will I have a smoking hot date on my arm, but I finally get to see all the assholes who bullied me when I was a senior.
The dress code fell somewhere between business casual and cocktail attire. I have no idea what Amelia will wear, but I'm sure she will be stunning. I'm wearing a pair of black pants and matching suit jacket with a crisp white shirt.
I knock on Amelia's door and she yells from inside her room, "Gimme a minute!"
"Fine, I'll be downstairs."
I run a hand through my perfectly styled hair and hop down the steps with a tiny quiver in my fingers. This evening feels more momentous in my head than it will be in person.
Grabbing the Mustang's car key, I palm it in my hand and toss it in the air a few times. It's running like it's brand new, and I gave it a wash and wax while Amelia was at work.
I try not to look at my watch every five seconds, so I pull up my text thread with Amelia from last night.
Her disastrous date hasn't been brought up since. She has no idea I was seconds away from finding where that asshole lived and kicking his ass. All she needed to do was say the word and I was ready to end him. I can't think about it again or I'll amp myself up, and I need to be smooth and subtle tonight.
Shit, I forgot cologne.I run back upstairs to the bathroom.
I'm sure Amelia was hoping for a grand entrance down the staircase. However, I ruin it when I bump into her leaving the bathroom right as I'm entering.
Holy shit.
She's in a Gothic style black dress that is revealing yet tasteful. The fabric hugs her upper body so well and fans out near her hips. Her voluptuous chest makes my mouth go dry. How is that amount of cleavage fair for a woman who looks like her? It should be illegal.
"Wow." It's all I can say, like a love-struck teenage boy seeing the girl of his dreams.
"Your first look wasn't supposed to be right after I peed, but thank you. I take it you like this dress?"
She does a slow twirl, and when our eyes disconnect, I shake loose the greedy thoughts running rampant in my brain.
"You're going to put all the women to shame."
