“I’ve always wanted to go to Loch Ness,” he remarks. I can’t tell if he’s merely indulging me right now. From his tone, he sounds greatly amused.
“Someday I’ll quit that job I don’t even have anymore, and you’ll go find your Loch Ness Monster and keep it a secret from everybody. I’ll even come with you.”
Wesley laughs. “Deal. But my one condition is no pictures. Weneverphotograph the supernatural.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“Let’s shake on it.”
He squeezes his arms tighter around me and shakes my whole body. I tell him he isn’t funny, which is a lie. Then I tell him that was a lie, because I say whatever I’m thinking when I’m sleep-deprived. “What if this is all just a simulation,” I mutter.
He tucks me into bed, taking care to fluff my pillows and refill my water. I bet if I ever get sick, he’ll bring me heating pads and chicken noodle soup.
“Wesley, if I don’t finish my to-do list right now, I’ll never have peace. You don’t understand. My brain literally won’t be able to turn off.”
He turns on my white-noise machine and shuts off the light.
“I’ve got so much to do. I can’t sleep.Physically, I can’t sleep. Not even if I try.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Just one more email. I’ll make it a quick one. I am really good at...” My eyes close against their will. “I am so good at emailing. Not everybody is, you know.”
“You’re the best at emailing.” His voice is warm with affection, and my little balloon heart swells beyond capacity.
“I love your smile,” I prattle. I can’t see his smile right now, but I can hear it. “You smile so much more now than you did when I met you.”
He wavers at the door for so long that I think he’s left.
“When I’m around people I don’t know, I rarely smile,” Wesley confesses at length. “When you smile, people look at you more. I prefer to blend in. For nobody to notice me.”
Snip, and away it flies. Goodbye, heart.
“It’s impossible not to notice you. I would know a Wesley in a room full of imitations. I’d know a Wesley anywhere. Go out into the woods right now and I’ll find you in thirty seconds flat.”
“I don’t mindyounoticing me,” he admits, door creaking as he begins to close it behind him. “At least, not anymore. But you’re the only one allowed to, okay?”
“I’ll add it as a clause to our pact.” I shake hands with the air.
I am going to get out of bed. No one can stop me. My last intelligible words that I announce to the empty room are: “I’m allergic to cayenne pepper. Don’t tell anybody.”
Next thing I know, it’s one in the afternoon the following day.
Chapter 19
I AM FACING MY CLOSEDbedroom door at 7:59 p.m. on Friday, already sweating through my dress, waiting for that knock that just might mark the beginning of everything.
This is the sixth outfit I’ve tried on—if I had the time, I’d probably change again—light pink with cherries all over. It’s supposed to be a knockoff of a strawberry-print dress I love that’s way out of my budget, and although it doesn’t look anything like the Amazon picture, it fits nicely and twirls whenever I turn. I stressed myself out trying to land on a decent hairstyle, unable to commit to a high pony when I know I’ll end up with a headache, unable to do a fishtail braid like the one in the tutorial. I messed with it until my previously gleaming locks got frizzy, ended up having to wash and style it again, and now it’s damp, hanging loose, because I don’t trust myself to experiment with it anymore.
I have never been this nervous.
There’s no reason to be nervous. This isWesley. Gawky, shy, uncomfortable, unintentionally charming Wesley.
Knock, knock, knock.
My heart springs into overdrive. This is it. I haven’t been on a first date in... it’s best not to count. A long time. What will we be doing? Where are we going? Will he kiss me again? I clutch my purse like it’s a life preserver and rethink my choice of shoes. If we’re doing anything outdoorsy I’m going to regret these heels.
