“Fuck timelines. I knew Declan was it when he correctly identified my Doc Martens as vintage. Sometimes, you just know.”
“But what if I’m just going for the first guy I speak to? What if?—”
“What if you’re actually happy for the first time in years?” She cuts me off. “Piper, I’ve watched you dim yourself for so long. And now you’re sitting here looking absolutely wrecked in the best way, glowing like you discovered a new freakin’ life source.” She gestures at my general dishevelment. “This? This is what you look like when someone actually wants you back.”
My throat goes tight. “He kept asking if I was sure. Likemy wanting him was this precious thing he didn’t want to break.”
“And were you? Sure?”
I flash back to the moment I turned in his arms, decision crystallizing. The way his whole body responded to my touch. How he looked at me like I was beautiful.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Then fuck the timeline. Fuck rebounds. Fuck whatever weird shame spiral you’re about to enter.” She raises her mug. “To Piper Renner, who finally stopped waiting for permission to want things.”
“I don’t know what happens now,” I admit. “The fake dating thing is obviously over, but what if he?—”
My phone buzzes, mercifully charged enough to function.
Ethan
Made it home safe? Greg is distraught. Says you left your glasses and he’s worried you’ll walk into traffic.
I may have put them on him. He looks like a gentleman.
A photo loads. Greg wearing my glasses, his wizard hat perched jauntily on top, one leaf bent in what could generously be called a wave.
A stupid, unstoppable smile spreads across my face.
“You’re grinning like an idiot,” Riya observes.
“His plant is wearing my glasses.”
“Oh my god, you’re both nerds. This is perfect.” She leans over to look. “Wait, does his plant have a hat?”
“Long story.”
Tell Greg he pulls off the sexy librarian look better than I do.
Impossible. Though he is pretty striking.
Lunch today? I’ll bring your glasses. Real date this time, no audience required?
My heart does something complicated in my chest.
“What’s he saying?” Riya demands.
“He wants to take me to lunch. A real date.”
“And?”
I think about pretending to consider it, but who am I kidding?
Yes. Absolutely yes.
Perfect. Noon? I’ll pick you up.
Can’t wait.
