“Thank you,” I said, pulling Macey into a hug.
She rested her cheek against my chest. “You’re welcome.”
18
NOAH
The next morning, I caught myself grinning like an idiot. Cooking eggs? Done while grinning. Making coffee? Done while grinning. Editing photos using an app Macey recommended? Done while grinning.
I was turning into such a sap. A part of me understood it was inevitable, though. In fact, I thought it showed emotional intelligence to openly admit to myself that it was happening.
Falling for Macey Monroe? Done while grinning.
We obviously had an unconventional relationship—one that was languid, shifting a little more and more towardsomethingevery day. I liked the pieces of us that were malleable. It meant we were constantly changing for the better.
I didn’t realize how much I needed someone close until Macey had forged a space for herself. I suspected the new space close to my heart was five-foot-three and wouldn’t stretch to accommodate anyone else.
She pushed me, encouraged me, took care of me—all the things I felt I could only give to others but never receive. Macey gave them to me without a second thought.
I liked that there was room for me to fit close to her, too.Neither of us was perfect, but if I could encourage her to become the person I knew she was capable of…well, that made me feel pretty good about myself.
The fake dating scheme was doing well. Macey’s articles onRoamer’s Digestwere taking off, which no doubt fueled the fire that her boss aimed in her direction. A boss should want to see their employee succeed, but from what I’d observed, all Victoria wanted for Macey was to crash and fail. Macey normalized it as the red flag rose higher in my mind.
During these last few weeks, Macey and I were invited to almost identical events. Though we both were selective in what we attended, that only meant she was gaining recognition in the community, which would be a huge asset for her blog.Macey’s Mileswas doing well for a new blog, and I had no doubt it would only continue to grow.
Roamer’s Digestwasn’t invited to cover the opening of Sushi Nirvana—exclusive lounges weren’t exactly up their alley—but Macey loved sushi. So when the Sushi Nirvana’s public relations team asked me to bring Macey, I knew we had to go.
“How many rolls do you think I can eat before I explode?” Macey asked as soon as we were seated at the table of Sushi Nirvana.
She placed her hand on the table next to mine, and it was like a tangible representation of everything I felt. It danced on the edges of her fingertips—whatever we could be, it lingered on her outstretched hand. There were mere inches between our palms, and I could reach through the space to grasp hers, but it felt different now. The urge to always touch her, to always exist in the same space as her, tore me up from the inside.
There was only one barrier to clear, unfiltered honesty, but I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to break through. The fear of rejection lingered in the back of my mind like smoke on clothing.
I could hear a voice in the back of my head, maybe mine, that suggested that was the main reason why I preferred to tuck away any chance of getting close to anyone. I’d made a habit of dumping water over the sparks of a relationship before it could ignite. But the ember between Macey and me raged to flames.
And I burned.
Realizing that Macey was still waiting for an answer, I stuttered over a response, “With that attitude, they’ll have to roll us out of here.”
She laughed. “Who would have thought you were so good at bad puns?”
Not me.
Small chatter scattered throughout the lounge as servers brought out samples on small, round plates. I didn’t know anything about sushi. Serving fish raw should be criminal, in my opinion, but Macey had provided me with a top ten ranking of her favorite rolls on the walk here, so I knew she was excited.
In between bites, Macey said, “Did I tell you about the drama between numbers five and fifty-seven at the 5k?”
“No.” I attempted to lift the roll with chopsticks, but it fell off and into the soy sauce. Why did I bother? “Tell me.”
“Okay, so you know how…” Her voice trailed off.
My eyes still set on the roll that mocked me, I asked, “What?”
A second passed.
“Calculator Cal is here,” she said in a small voice. Curious. Disappointed.
I lifted my head to observe the man who had just entered Sushi Nirvana and was making his way to the press table. He looked around thirty, with the kind of hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial—thick, glossy, and wavy. His smile was perfectly crooked and disarmingly sincere, but it faltered when he spotted Macey.
