“Rocco said nothing is broken.” His athletic-build shoulders fall, as if he is giving himself permission to let go of his own anxiety. I find myself staring at them. If things had been different tonight, I would be at the dance with my arms wrapped around those brawny shoulders, spinning around the dance floor…
Heat creeps over my cheeks and I blink my way back into this conversation. “Nope. Nothing is broken. I get to rest a lot and start some physical therapy.” It’s never hard to form a sweet smile for him. His eyes are so wide with concern, molten honey hues sparkle out of the center like the deepest espresso. They are more decadent than a morsel of the most desired candy, and all I want to do is study them until I have a Ph.D. in his eyes. I struggle not to blurt out how handsome he is. “I’m going to be fine.”
He stuffs his hands in his letterman jacket pockets and rocks back on his heels. Need I comment on how doing something as simple as that makes him that much hotter? Anything he does adds another layer of handsomeness to him. He’s clearly won the gene pool lottery for every feature of his face, but the fact that he’s humble about it magnifies his handsomeness by a billion. “I, ah, brought you something.”
My head springs back, and I give him another quick once over. He’s not holding anything. “You did?”
“Yeah, I left it in the hall because I wanted to check on you first.” He sticks one of his Nike sneakers back out the door, before softly calling back, “I wanted to make sure you were awake first.” When he pops his head back in, he’s got a half-crooked smile on his face—the one all the girls talk about—and he’s carrying atoddler-sized, reptilian, stuffed animal. It’s bubblegum pink with three horns sticking out on each side of its head. He has an open mouth grin on his face, he’s literally the cutest lizard I’ve ever seen. “I hope you still like stuffed animals.”
The memory of our first meeting slams into my brain, and my cheeks rage with fire. I can’t believe he still remembers. And yes, I’m still obsessed with stuffed animals, even though I’m supposed to be past that age. I’m stunned into silence, rapidly blinking to see if I’d somehow opened my eyes to an alternate reality. One where this isn’t happening, because this doesn’t happen to me. I take the stuffie into my arms and squeeze him tightly as if this alone has the power to heal me. He takes up my whole lap, but I don’t set him next to me. I can’t stop holding him. It’s comforting to have something weighty on me.
“It’s an axolotl,” North is now standing so close to my bed, I can smell his deodorant. It’s like miles of evergreen forest doused in rainwater, mixed with the embers from a recent campfire. I’ve never yearned to be a Girl Scout more in my life. I blink, forcing myself out of my distraction,again, North is stilltalking, “—a special type of salamander who’s endangered. They make the best pets because they always look happy, and my goal is to get a real one someday.”
I cling to my stuffie, peering at North over his adorable head, the kindness of his gift sweeping into my heart with the speed of a desert windstorm. I really didn’t hear more than a few words about his weird amphibian hobby, but I had never been more ecstatic to pretend to care about something boring. “That’s awfully sweet of you, and so fascinating.” I bat my lashes, and I continue to gush. “I saw you skip lunch a few times for the science Olympiad, but I didn’t know you were such a fan of lizards.”
“What’s not to love?” He gives me a masculine one-shoulder shrug before tacking on, “I was hoping he’d make you smile.”
“Thank you.” Despite my knee pulsating like a strobe light, my lips are about to crack down the center as I’m beaming brighter than a spotlight. After a pause, I force a change of subject, “How was the dance?”
“Ah, I never made it there. I was worried about you.”
“Oh.” A magnified ping—that was more like a clang of cymbals—vibrates in my gut. I hadn’t considered North’s visit to be anything more than an obligation to clear the air. The dance is the biggest event in school and everybody and their dog goes. My voice is tiny, as if afraid to mingle with the air when I echo, “You didn’t want to go to the dance?”
“Nah.” He passes his hand through his hair, ruffling it even more. “The only reason I wanted to go in the first place was to get a chance to dance with you, but since I ruined that, there was no reason for me to go.”
My eyes skirt my room. He really is here to seeme.He could easily have sent the stuffed animal home with Rocco if he had wanted to go out, but he didn’t.
He came here.
The hottest guy skipped the biggest dance of the year to see me. That means something, right? If I had known that blowing my knee would summon the hottest boy in school over to my bedroom, I’d have hired my own hitman.
My heart motors against my ribcage as I take a risk and motion to my desk chair. “Did you want to hang out? I can put something better on the TV.”
“Yeah, I would.” He glances down at his Nikes for a split second, before bringing his gaze back up, his beautiful eyes trapping mine. “I ah, actually, am, wondering if maybe sometime, you’d—”
“Gia!” My dad manifests in my doorway behind North, holding a plate up near his ear like the perfect waiter. I love my dad, but I want to shoot daggers out my eyes at him as he has the worst timing. Could he not have eavesdropped first to find out we were about to have a moment! “Pizza’s here.” Dad gestures to the plate he’s holding, as if nobody on the planet has ever seen one of those. Of course it’s pizza. It’s clearly not a chicken. Add to the fact that dadalwayshas a pizza.
He’s owned a pizzeria called Bella’s—named after our last name—since he was fresh out of school. He always jokes that since my mom died, pizza is his one true love, and the only thing he knows how to cook. He’s not a man of many words, but he loves to use food as a point of connection, and this is clearly his way of cheering me up.
“Hi, Mr. Bella,” North bleeps as he straightens his posture and darts his hand through his hair again.
“It was a good game.” Dad obviously ignores the bigger issue as he pats North on the back with his free hand. “We almost had them.” Another one of Dad’s loves is football. North is clearly a third. He has a heart for many things, and he’s never been one to hold a grudge. He also isn’t one of those overbearing dads. He’sthe dad who effortlessly smooths everything out. “Did you see they patched Gia back together?”
“Yeah.” North’s dimpled chin moves up and down, fire on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused.”
“Not your fault. Accidents happen.” Dad gently waves off North’s apology. “There’s plenty more pizza in the kitchen. Go back and help yourself. I brought extra home so the kids can stop over to eat after the dance.”
North’s gaze bounces back to me, and then on Dad. “Ah, I—”
“Grab a slice and bring it back.” Dad jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Gia’s not going anywhere.” Dad advances to the chair I had moments earlier offered North, and plops down. “I’m here, too. We can all hang out.”
“Th-thank you.” North stammers before scurrying down the hall. Dad slides my plate over to me, his gaze snagging on the axolotl. “Did North bring you that?”
I nod, as I blot the top layer of grease off my pizza with a napkin Dad had tucked under my slice. I’ve never kept any secrets from dad as we had a very open and chatty relationship.
While scratching his neck, Dad stares back to the empty hall. “That boy has always had a serious case of puppy love for you.”
“—Dad!” My cheeks glow warm as I rush to cut him off in a hushed voice. “He canhearyou.”
