“It’s just some of my requirements.”
“What are the others?”
I hum into his neck and place a light kiss there. “A good cook, obviously.”
“Oh, I have that skill.”
“You do,” I agree. “You’re also kind, sensitive, and now you’re one of my best friends.”
He kisses me on the tip of my nose. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Once we clean up, we lay on the trussed-up blanket and watch night take over. I tell Brandon that my biggest fear is losing interest in things I love because of my depression. He promised to remind me during my down days, or weeks, that the things I love will be there when the night is nolonger dark. His fear is losing more people close to him. While I told him I can’t make that promise about those on the outside, I did promise that he won’t lose me.
And there in the park, in the arms of the boy I more than like, I begin to reach the top of the hill of love with Brandon Hayes.
19
BRANDON
Streamers and confetti fly everywhere as we celebrate Angie finishing school. Hannah, her manager, found a way to sneak my number from her phone and let me know what they were planning to do for her and when. I was fearful I wouldn’t make it since we’re in our last week before the game launches, which means we’re practically there from morning to night, but I was able to sneak out early and bring Carter along.
A handful of months have passed since I walked into this bar and came face to face with the girl who I thought represented pain and everything that I hated, but she didn’t. She wasn’t who or what I thought I hated. It turned out she represented everything I needed: music, love, laughter, and even gluten-free food.
It didn’t take this celebration to realize that I more than like Angela Taylor. And I know that her feelings for me are real. But we have much larger obstacles that still need to be tackled before we speak those three words out into existence.
“You’ve got a weird look on your face,” Carter says when he brings our drinks back to our table.
“Is it the same one that’s been plastered to your face?”
He takes a gulp of his beer and acts like he’s contemplating the look. “If it’s a happy look, then yes.”
“How are you and Mr. Athlete?” I ask, purposefully not saying his name in case anyone is eavesdropping.
“Really good. He’s in the thick of practicing and workouts, lucky me, but I feel like I don't see him enough as it is.”
“You two live in the same building, it can’t be that hard.”
Carter gives me a pointed look. “Trust me, when I say it’s hard. When you go from living your life alone to finding your person who makes you hate being alone—it’s hard.”
“Have you two talked about moving in together?”
“It’s way too soon,” he balks at that and then says, “It’s only been a month.”
“So?”
“So…people don’t just move in a month after dating. That’s insane.” Carter’s voice gets high-pitched as if he’s trying to convince himself that it’s a bad idea.
“Are you trying to convince yourself of that?”
He looks at me like I stepped on his foot. “No.”
“Besides, who says you need to wait an allotted time before taking that next step?”
“Um…every relationship article ever published.”
I snort into my glass. “Sorry, I’m not up to date on those.”
“You should be,” he says pointedly. “Why am I being targeted to move in with my significant other when you two are practically attached at the hip when you’re together?”
