Texting With the Enemy (Digital Dating #1) - Marika Ray Page 0,60

Well, it did something to me.

Boston spoke. “I’m more than sorry, El. It’s much too late, but you deserve better. The thing is, I’m sorry about the deceit but not about what came after it.”

Someone in the crowd yelled, “Jerk!”

“No,” Boston said quickly. “That’s the thing. During everything, I think I actually changed. You changed me. I found out that it’s okay to be open about the way you feel, the way you are. You taught me that, El. And I also found out something else.” He paused and swallowed hard, glancing around at the people all staring up at him as he stood in a pig costume on a stage with the microphone trembling slightly in his hand. “I discovered that I love you, El. Totally and completely.”

Those words might as well have been an arrow, and it landed just in the middle of my chest, piercing me right through the taco sauce stain and hitting my heart with a bolt of certainty.

“I hope that you can one day forgive me,” he went on. “I know I don’t deserve it. And maybe you won’t ever be able to. But I’ll wait for you. Because El?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying either. “I know that you’re it for me. And I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

My jaw dropped open. As quickly as he’d declared he loved me, Boston twirled around to grab the mannequin and dip her over his arm to lay a kiss on her lips. Ew. Even for a play, I wouldn’t have gone there. Who knew what went on in Frank’s house? Boston threw the doll to Dalton, who caught her to lay her down gently on the ground with a feminine sigh, and Boston clutched his pig chest.

“Thus with a kiss . . . I die!” And then he crumpled to the ground.

The crowd burst into applause, which made me wonder just how much wine they’d had already this afternoon. I had done pretty well in sales earlier. And alcohol, combined with the hot sun, well, I guess it resulted in very poor judgment when it came to amateur theater.

I swallowed hard and my brain raced, trying to decide what to do. But I knew Ashley was right. I needed to quit listening to my brain and listen to my heart instead. And my heart said my ex-boss-slash-boyfriend had just put on a pig costume and faced his greatest fears to tell me he loved me.

I glanced at my best friend, and she nodded her encouragement, mouthing, “Well?”

I leapt to my feet. “Wait!” I shouted. I bounded up the two stairs to the stage and ran to the pig, who still lay on the floor, dead. The crowd quieted down, and I didn’t even care that all eyes were now on me. Boston sat up, and stared at me, his deep brown eyes filled with love. I crouched over him.

“Boston,” I said, suddenly shy. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get over everything and just tell you how I feel.”

Boston was looking at me, and those brown eyes held such intelligence, but when I let myself look deeper, I saw the vulnerability there too.

I smiled even as my eyes filled with tears. This felt so right. It was just ridiculous enough that it was probably the only way our love story could begin. “I love you, Boston Cunningham. And I think I’m officially done being mad at you.”

“You think?” Boston asked, sounding uncertain.

I shook my head. “No. No, I’m sure I am. I forgive you. And I love you.” I said it again because it felt so good. I didn’t think I’d ever said those words and meant them before, but staring at Boston who was looking at me with such clear love in his own eyes made it easy.

Boston’s arms slipped around me, and the crowd, the hot sun, and the fact that he still wore a ridiculous pig outfit all slid away.

21

Boston

* * *

Holding El in my arms, I could almost forget that we were on a stage in front of an entire crowd of people. She held my gaze with her beautiful blue eyes and my entire world felt right when I pulled her close, ghosting my lips across hers.

El let out a tiny whimper, and it pulled at every nerve in my body, sending lightning through my veins as I pressed my lips to hers. The kiss