“It’s not that I was some jerk. It wasn’t like that. I always paid, picked them up and brought them home, all the things my dad told me to do when I was with a woman. But I never planned out a date like this. The only thing even close was with Dana Wilson in sophomore year of high school.”
“And what did you do for Dana?”
“I bought flowers. They were from the gas station, but it was all I could afford. And I—” My face warms. “Remember, I was sixteen. Okay?”
Noelle laughs. “Noted. What grand, romantic gesture did you do?”
I run my hand down her hair before answering. “I brought her to Burger King.”
She snorts, then claps her hand across her mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it’s fine. I know what it sounds like. But in my defense, I had a plan. I brought a white tablecloth and sparkling apple juice. And I set up a table in the corner of the restaurant with it. Along with the flowers, that was my romantic gesture.”
Her features soften. “Well, the tablecloth and the sparkling apple juice are sweet. Plus the flowers. So, I guess for a sixteen-year-old, that wasn’t too bad.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I don’t think Dana was overly impressed. By the following week, she was dating the shortstop on the baseball team.”
“What?” Noelle’s voice rises with indignation. “She went out with some stupid shortstop after you did all that?”
My lips twitch as I reply solemnly, “Yes. Grady Finklestone.”
“GradyFinklestone?”
“He had a Mustang. Ten years old, but it was still pretty cool. And his parents went out of town nearly every weekend. So…” I shrug lightly. “I guess I could see the appeal.”
“Well, I can’t,” Noelle replies fiercely. “You are way better than stupid Grady Finklestone with his dumb Mustang. I bet he was a jerk. He was, wasn’t he?”
I grin at her. “Kind of.”
“She didn’t know what she was missing out on. But I’m glad. Because that silly Dana didn’t deserve you.”
Warmth expands in my chest. “You think so?”
“Webb.” She gives me a look I’ve come to refer to—privately—as herare you being intentionally denselook. “I know so. You’re incredible. You’re smart and kind and brave—yes, you are, don’t think I forgot how you launched yourself in front of a motorcycle to rescue me, not to mention the whole flying in war zones thing—and funny and sweet and so handsome I can hardly believe it.”
I remember seeing a cartoon once where a guy’s chest literally puffed up with pride. That’s how I feel right now, hearing what Noelle thinks about me. And it makes me more determined to prove her right.
“I thinkyou’rethe incredible one,” I tell her. “You’re talented. Strong. Funny. Thoughtful. Beautiful. You’re… shit. You’re perfect.”
“No, I’m not. I’m scared and?—”
“Youare. You’re perfect to me. And that’s why I want to make sure I don’t mess things up. That’s why I want to do my best with this romance thing, even though I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”
“Webb.”Her expression softens. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
My heart jumps.
“Good,” I reply. “I’ll keep trying, though. Practice makes perfect and all.”
On that note, I grab the gift bag and hold it out to her. “Here. It’s not jewelry, but I hope you’ll like it, just the same.”
Noelle takes the bag from me. “Do you see me wearing a lot of jewelry?”
I scan her quickly, noting that no, she isn’t. In fact, all she’s wearing is a pair of small silver hoops in her ears. “I suppose not.”
“I don’t care about jewelry,” she says. “And you don’t have to buy me gifts at all. But if you do, I’ll love anything you give me.”
Then she unties the bow, pulls out the tissue paper, and reaches inside. While I wait for her to take out the gift, I hold my breath.
