I go to my flowers for the weekend and, as usual, I find the folded note card next to it. I hold it in my hand delicately—I’m saving these notes forever—and I hear Christian make his way toward me.
Today’s note:
High on life with you,
Christian ?
I sigh. Cute, sure. But maybe I’m overly sensitive? I turn and he’s sitting on a stool. He’s so cute, smiling like that. But ithurts.
“Do you think this is funny?” I ask quietly.
He stands closer to me and leans against the island. “A bit?”
“Christian—”
“I’m high on life with you,” he says gently, cautiously. “I love it.”
“You are unbelievable,” I whisper and close the note card. Ihold onto it carefully so I can save it with the others. “Don’t joke about that. I… I’m?—”
“I’m sorry,” Christian says softly and pulls me into my chest without any prompting. His hand holds the back of my head and his arm is around my waist, and he’s keeping me warm against his body. I feel like I could break. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“I know. I know, I guess I’m just…sensitive.” My arms wind around his waist, my hands splayed across his hard back. I allow myself to sink into him, breathe him in, and hold him. But the wall is down for a moment too long and I pull it back up. I unwind my arms and take a step back. “Thank you. For the flowers.”
Christian half smiles again, and it’s always been one of my favorite kinds of smiles on him because the right side of his lips tips up. And it's just… It’s beautiful.
“I love you.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I do,” I rasp. “I just…We’re working on it.”
“Does that mean… Are you giving me another chance?”
I huff and leave his side for a glass of water. “You’re an idiot.”
“What—How?”
“I’m letting you live in my house, Christian,” I say, filling my giant mason jar with water and taking a giant sip through the straw. I face him standing on the opposite side of the island, his eyes beaming. “What do you think?”
“I think I want to hear you say it.” His eyes go a bit too sad for my heart to handle.
“I’m giving you a chance, Christian Calloway,” I say softly.
Christian smiles. “Can I take you on a date then?”
I snort. “A date?”
“A date,” he sys. “A date you let the golden boy steal from me.”
Groaning, I roll my eyes. “That was, like, two months ago, let it go.”
He chuckles. “Go on a date with me, Lana.”
I drink from my water and pretend I’m thinking about it when I know I’m just going to say yes. I sigh dramatically and put down my jar. “Where?”
A victorious grin. “It’s a surprise.”
