Today, though, I get to see a dream of hers come true.
And if I were a betting man—which I totally fucking am—I’d put a couple hundred grand on the fact that being the one to be there when this puppy dream comes true is going to bring us even closer together than we are.
Which is good, because I need to be reallyyy close to her—our bodies practically smashed together, really—to fit between her and Fuckface McGee most days.
“What took you so long?” I ask as soon as the door opens, making her roll her eyes and laugh at me as she pulls it closed and uses her key to lock it.
“Would you keep your panties on?” She huffs. “I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry in the first place.”
“Because, Juliaaa,” I sing. “The sunset is in twenty minutes, and if we miss it, a baby loses its wings.”
“Babies aren’t supposed to have wings.”
“They are, actually, but since so many people miss the sunset, they never get to keep them.”
She snorts. “You’re bizarre.”
“What else is new?”
“I’ll be honest, you’ve been surprisingly calm lately. It’s like Ace, but not, you know? Zen Ace. Zace, if you will.”
“I’m just maturing, Lia. I mean, we’re about to be sophomores in college. We live on our own in apartments in the city. I can’t be out here just acting like a kid anymore. You’d kick me to the curb.”
It’s a little test, of course, to see how I’ve been doing for the last ten days in my plan to persuade her to love me. It’s a check in on the flowers I’ve gotten for her vase when the ones her dad gave her died, and a query about the takeout I brought her the two nights we were at home for dinner, and a thermometer to read if I need to turn up the heat and get even more serious, but she doesn’t give me much to work with other than simple reassurance.
“It’d take a lot to kick you to the curb, Acer. Especially since I have to get over anything you do that makes me angry in fifteen minutes or less.”
“Believe it or not,” I hedge with a laugh, “I’m really working on trying not to make you angry with me at all.”
She smiles and pinches my cheek. “You have been very sweet lately.”
I push the button to call the elevator and, when it dings, hold the door for her to step inside. She digs in her purse to pull out her lip gloss—something she always does on the ride down to the lobby—and I swallow hard.
Her lips, her hair, her eyes, her smile. I can’t help but stare at every bit of it and wonder if I should just man the fuck up and tell her how I feel. I mean, maybe all this bullshit is dumb. Maybe Gunnar—as wild as this is to say—was right. Maybe I’m overcomplicating the hell out of a situation that doesn’t need complication at all.
I love her. I should just tell her.
“Julia?”
“Yeah?” she asks, her head still down as she replaces her lip gloss and digs through her purse until she comes out with her phone.
“Can you look at me for a sec?”
Her eyes jerk to mine at the seriousness of my tone, and I take her free hand—the one not holding her phone—in mine.
You can do this, Ace. You can do this.
“I… Well, see…I…”
“Yeah?”
“I just… I wanted to—”
Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” plays obnoxiously in the space with a sudden jolt of violence, and the screen of Julia’s phone lights up so hard it pierces the tenderness right out of my eyes.
She glances down at the screen, winces, and then apologizeswhile ripping her hand from mine to hold up a finger. “Sorry. It’s Drew. Just one second.”
Every vestige of the urge to confess my undying love takes a knife to the chest. The love may still be there, but the courage to confess it is currently receiving last rites on life support.
