of its hiding place.
My stomach clenches when I verify that it’s the note I think it is. Seeing it again immediately jolts me back to that day, our tenth-grade year, when I wrote it during homeroom. June had spilled a soda on her white sweater, and everyone teased her endlessly all day. There wasn’t any actual bullying, and the teasing was only coming from her friends and boyfriend, but I could still see the humiliation behind her I’m-being-a-good-sport-about-this laughter.
So, I passed her this note: You look cute covered in soda.
It was the only outright compliment I ever gave her in high school. At the time, I didn’t think it meant anything to her. She read it, crumpled it up, and rolled her eyes like she thought I was still just messing with her.
But apparently, it meant more to her than I thought. Enough to smooth it back out and hold on to it all this time.
And now I’m thinking maybe we won’t run out of time…maybe we’ll get it right this time.
Chapter Fourteen
June
Oh, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.
He thinks he can just waltz around my house in a towel for half an hour—yes, it took a full freaking thirty minutes for his clothes to dry—and then I’ll be putty in his hands? Begging him for a date? For him to kiss me?
Ha!
He’s right.
I’m sitting on the counter after we return from the grocery store, watching Ryan move around my kitchen, trying so hard not to blurt out JUST KISS ME ALREADY. He’s turned on The Black Keys and is humming while he puts produce in the fridge. I can’t handle it.
Thoughts of him in that towel with wet hair tousled like every teenage girl’s hot-lifeguard fantasy keep flashing in my mind. Do skillets weigh hundreds of pounds? They must for Ryan to have a body as sculpted as he does. His abs are like six perfect shelves. I could store things on them if I needed to.
This is the package of Famous Amos cookies all over again. I had dieted for a whole month; not even a hint of sugar passed my lips. All the while, my mind was constantly aware of the unopened box of cookies tucked away in the back of my pantry. I couldn’t see the box when I’d open my cabinet, because I’d stuffed it so far back that I’d have to get a stool to retrieve it. But I always knew it was there, and that if I ever broke down and ate one cookie, it would be the end of my diet. I’d eat the whole dang box. And guess what happened? I did.
Now, Ryan is my box of cookies.
One little kiss, and my diet will be history.
When my palms sweat at the thought of grabbing Ryan and pulling his mouth against mine, I decide it’s time to turn my mind to more productive tasks—like aimlessly scrolling through my phone.
I swipe it open and look down, but let’s be honest, I’m not really seeing what I’m looking at because I’ve trained my peripherals on the man in my kitchen.
Ryan’s voice makes me jump. “So, is there a reason you still follow your ex?”
“Huh?”
I look up in time to see him tilt his head toward my phone—eyes trained on the potato he’s chopping. “This morning you said your ex posted about his engagement. I was wondering why you still follow him on Instagram if he hurt you that much?”
“Oh.” I set my phone to the side. It wasn’t distracting me anyway. “I don’t. I just…” Oh gosh, I don’t want to admit this. To say it’s embarrassing is an understatement. But I’ve already told Ryan something about my life that no one else knows. Might as well get this off my chest too. “I occasionally go check his profile, hoping to see that maybe he’s grown a new mole on his face since I last saw him.” Please don’t make fun of me.
He grins. “I get it.”
“You do?” He has a quiet smile as he nods.
Chop, chop, chop.
His knife sails over the cutting board, and I get the feeling there’s more that he’s not saying, so I do a little digging. “You have an ex-girlfriend you stalk on Instagram or something?”
He shakes his head, and his eyes cut to me for a split second before training on the cutting board again. “Not an ex.”
I swallow, and my heart races from this new game we’re playing. “Hmm…interesting. So, it’s someone you don’t want anyone to know you follow?”
Ryan