“Of course.”
I tried to sober up a little so I could level with him. Mature people talked things over. They addressed having sex after they indicated they wanted to be friends. I couldn’t avoid this conversation. I wouldn’t because he needed to know, and I needed to admit it to myself.
“What happened was I took a chance.” My voice was surprisingly steady, and I kept eye contact as I spoke. “I stopped pretending like I could stay friends with you. You’re a great friend, don’t get me wrong. So supportive of my goals and whatnot, but I wanted something more.”
He nodded, digesting my words. “I do too. From day one, I’ve wanted more.”
“Day one, day one?” I motioned my index finger. “Like, stadium fiasco? Or, day one like car fiasco.”
Dakota chuckled as I braced myself for the answer by crossing my fingers in hopes for the latter. “Stadium,” he shared.
“Damn it.” I exhaled and dropped my hands to my lap in exaggerated disappointment. “I mean… No, I do mean, damn it.”
He laughed again. I loved the sound and how his eyes were nearly closed when he did so. He always tilted his head to the side when he got a good laugh in. And he’d wipe his finger underneath one eye. Dakota always cried a little when something really amused him.
“But,” he said once he recovered.
I frowned. “But? There’s a but?”
“Are you actually in? Do you want this, Emmy?” he asked. “Because I will go slow if you need. I don’t want that though. I want what we had back there. And who we’ve been for these past few months. I’m in. I want this.”
My stomach dropped at the seriousness in his voice. His dark eyes never wavered. Nothing in my gut told me the guy in front of me should be held at arm’s length. I believed him when he said he was all in. Every fiber of my being believed him.
“I want you, too,” I said. My voice wasn’t as steady, but I meant it as much as he did. “I don’t know where we go from here.”
The smile he gave me made my heart melt. He’d been afraid I’d say something different. My fingers hooked onto his shirt as he leaned in to kiss me. I returned his kiss with what I hoped was enough energy to communicate he was someone special to me. The way he held onto me made me feel like he understood.
“We take it slow and steady,” he whispered against my lips.
I nodded in agreement. “I like that approach. It feels safe.”
“Emmy.” He pressed a kiss on my forehead. “You’re always going to be safe with me.”
“Thank you for coming to help me set up,” I said.
Yara was in the middle of the room, ironing out a cream-colored sheet for my filming backdrop. She had a determined look in her eye and a firm line set on her forehead.
We’d been at the greenhouse for the last hour, cleaning up and decorating the second-floor landing. I’d borrowed quite a few things from the prop department for film students. A couple of cushioned folding chairs, a nightstand to hold teacups, and a plethora of potted plants made my set look cozy and legit.
“No. Problem. Whatsoever,” she said with force in her tone as she put her back into the ironing.
I tried to hide the smile creeping on my face as she cursed under her breath about the persisting wrinkles. Once I finished setting up my ring light, I walked over to give her a hand.
“I don’t get it. I’ve been doing this for the past ten minutes,” she lamented while scratching her head. Her hair was freshly twisted with perfectly laid baby hairs. She looked very done up for a lazy Saturday afternoon in a dirty greenhouse. I liked how no matter where she went, she put forth the effort to look her best. Kind of inspired me to at least tuck in my shirt every now and then.
“Here.” I picked up a cup of water from one of the work tables overstocked with bags of soil.
Yara looked up, eyes big with confusion when they landed on the water. “Thanks, but I’m not thirsty, and that thing has been sitting there since we got here.”
I laughed. “Girl, I wouldn’t offer you a stale cup of water. It’s for the iron.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “The iron…”
“It’s a steam iron, and there’s barely any water in it.” I moved the cup around so the liquid sloshed a bit. “You have to fill it.”
“Fill it,” she repeated like she was a robot learning a new trick.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
