Please take my hand.
She stares at it before rolling her eyes, unbuckling, and taking it.
I pull her into my arms, one going around her waist and the other running up her back, burying itself into her curls at the nape of her neck, and pushing her face into my chest.
My head dips until my mouth is at her ear.
“Zoe, I like every fucking version of you: the princess who used to chase me around with a wand and try to turn me into a toad, the version that sang karaoke in my living room like she didn’t care who was watching, the version that wrote in diaries about how big of a crush she had on me then left them under my little sister’s bed.”
She tries to pull her head back, to escape—from embarrassment or to yell at me, I don’t know—but I hold her head in place, continuing. “I love the version that keeps a ticket from a concert we went to fifteen years ago. I love the version that wants everyone to see her value, and I fucking love the version who jumped into her car to go on a random road trip with me. I love the version that doesn’t want me to get crumbs in her damn Jeep, and I love the version that gave in when I told her I needed food. I love the version that remembers crazy things we did as kids because that means we have memories together since the beginning.”
Her head tries to move, her voice starting to protest with my name, but I press it in more.
“You keep pretending, Zoe. You keep living in this road trip ideal world where this is all fun, and we can figure out the details later, but know that I’m not pretending. This is us. This is me and you, and I’m not turning back.” Finally, I let go of her head, and it instantly moves back to look at me.
Her eyes are glassy, but beneath that, there is a universe of questions and emotions and thoughts.
Some great.
So fucking great that I just know there’s a chance.
Some are not so great—some things I’m just gonna have to deal with eventually.
Ledges I’m going to have to talk her off of.
That’s fine.
I’ll spend my life talking Zoe off ledges if she lets me.
“Zander—” she starts, but I don’t let her. My hand moves to her chin, tipping it up, and with my lips to hers, I move her back, pressing her into her car and aligning my body with hers.
And then I kiss her.
And I remind her of who we are.
And I let her soul remember that and force it to forget the complications and potential disappointments.
Because none of that—not a single, tiny molecule of it—matters if I have this woman as my own.
“Come on. Let’s go look at the stars,” I say and watch her eyes go wide and her mouth opens just a bit.
Fuck.
I can’t think of a thing in this life I wouldn’t do to get that look from her again and again.
“What are you talking about?” She looks around, trying to piece things together.
“The sky is dark out here. We did this with everyone as kids. Now we can do it with just us.” She blinks, and god, she is so damn cute.
“But we don’t have anything.” I can almost hear her panic building over not being prepared for any and every occasion she might have.
“You already have, like, fifteen giant blankets in the trunk. At our last stop, I bought a cooler filled with food and snacks.”
“Where was I?” she asks, brows furrowed.
I can’t resist.
I press my lips to the spot between them, like my kiss can fix whatever is ailing her.
“Spending an hour in the bathroom. Off flirting with old men. Overthinking.” She stares at me, blinking before she shakes her head and speaks in an awestruck voice.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I think your Type A planning is rubbing off on me,” I say with a smile. “Let’s just hope some of my coolness is rubbing off on you.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You could really use some.” I grab her hand and lead her to the back of the SUV to grab our stuff. “Come on. Let’s go stare at the stars.”
TWENTY-NINE
GORGEOUS
-ZOE-
“Can I ask you a question?” he says, and without even looking at the clock, and I know it’s midnight.
Zander’s midnight questions.
“Only if I can ask one back,” I say. He smiles like he knew that was coming, like he knew he would only get so long where he could be the main question asker.
I’ve been planning this for 24 hours, what I’d ask tonight, knowing I could probably get a question of my own.
“Deal,” he says with a smile.
He had to know this was coming.
“If you could live anywhere and jobs or money weren’t an issue, where would you live?” he asks, and it’s an easy answer.
I love my hometown.
“Springbrook Hills.” He smiles in the light of the stars, moving a curl from my face, and I keep going. “Living in the city made me realize I hate people.” His head tips back with a deep laugh.
“You? The woman who can talk to a stranger for hours about their life story?”
“Okay, maybe it’s not that I hate people. I hate . . .” I roll to my back on the plaid blanket, staring at the dark sky and the bright stars. “I hate how many people there are. And how I know none of them.”
Zander rolls with me until he’s on his side next to me again.
“You were spoiled at home. No one’s a stranger for long in the Hills.”
“No. And it feels like everyone’s a stranger in the city. Even at work, in the office. Don’t get me wrong, I had coworkers I was friendly with there, but it's not the same. I’d say hi and bye, and we’d share niceties. We’d go to get drinks and talk about work. But I couldn’t tell you if they have sisters or brothers or anything important. I miss that when I’m not home: knowing everyone and having everyone know me.” I sigh.
“I know it sounds stupid and like I’m just boring and from a small town, but—”
“You’re talking to the man who never left that small town. And Zoe, everything you just said? It’s why I never left. I love Springbrook Hills. I love the community. I love knowing when I have kids, they’ll have aunts and uncles they aren’t related to by blood. Love knowing they’ll spend summers at the Center and they’ll have Dean as their guidance counselor. Nothing wrong with loving a small town.”
I sigh.
It feels strange admitting this. Most people want to flee a small town and jump to a big city. In a way, I feel like a failure, missing it when I’m in the city so many dream about.
Let’s move on.
“Okay, my turn,” I say with a smile, turning to Zee. He wedges a hand between me and the ground, lifting me with a strong arm until I’m on top of him.
“Hit me,” he says, his smile wide as he tucks a curl behind my ear, but not before staring at it with something so freaking close to adoration.
Maybe I’ll keep my curls, stop straightening them twice a week.
If it keeps him looking at me like that, I would do almost anything.
And with my mind still warm with his look, I ask my question.
“Why were you so mad the night Hunter got engaged?”