Page 30 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

I don’t just love Zach. I’minlove with him.

Why has this never dawned on me before? It’s so obvious. In high school, I always found ways to be around him, whether he had a girlfriend or not (and he always had a girlfriend). And when I moved to Savannah for college, I texted him more than any of my other friends from Paradise. Even now, whether I’m in LA or just down the street from him, when Zach’s name pops up on my phone, my heart gives an eager little leap.

Whenever I think of spending my life with someone, I always think I want someone like him. I’ve just never allowed myself to think about that person actuallybeinghim. As soon as the idea wanders into my head, I chase it away before hope has time to settle in.

The fear that Zach wouldn’t return my feelings or that our friendship couldn’t survive if one of us wanted more has been enough to keep my feelings hidden, even from myself. But now that I’m experiencing the pain of losing him, I wish I’d at least taken a chance. His rejection couldn’t have been more painful than what I’m feeling now—like a piece of my soul is being torn away.

“I’ll have to go to Florence to find a ring,” he says, but the blood rushing through my ears makes him sound very far away. “Do you think I should take her with me? Or surprise her?”

I shake my head to clear the fog and focus on what Zach is saying. “Do you know what kind of ring she wants? Have you talked about it?”

“She’s shown me some that she likes. They’re more than I can afford, but with the extra I’m making from the show, I could pick out something nice.” Zach’s leg shakes and his voice gathers excitement.

Or is it nervousness?

“You’re sure about this?” I ask.

His leg goes still, but when he looks at me, he doesn’t answer right away. “Yeah. It’s not like it’s going to happen tomorrow. I’ve got time to think about it.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Just remember, you don’t have to rush into anything.”

“I do if I want Mom to be there.” His voice has an edge of defensiveness, so I don’t push him more. I play along.

“I’ve always loved the idea of a surprise proposal with a ring I’ve never seen before.” I push away thoughts of what kind of ring Zach would pick out for me. “If you know someone well enough to ask them to marry you, you should know what they like, right?”

“Yeah,” Zach answers thoughtfully. “That’s true. And it’s more romantic if she doesn’t know it’s coming.”

“Totally.” I rub my arms to generate some heat. The car isn’t on, and I left my coat inside.

Zach glances at me then starts the engine. “Sorry. I forgothot ovenis your PFZ.” He turns up the heat to my self-proclaimed Preferred Temperature Zone. “Thanks for talking this through with me, Georgia. I think if Carly knows I’m committed to her, she’ll believe that you and I are just friends, no matter what it looks like on TV or social media.”

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you.” I lean close to the vent and let my hair curtain my face and the emotions that might be revealed.

I massage the knot forming between my neck and shoulder, then feel Zach roll his thumb over it. Like I used to make him do when we were in high school.

But a second later he pulls away, dropping his hand to his lap. “I’m really sorry about today. I promise no weirdness tomorrow.”

I tip my head lower and rub harder at the knot. “You weren’t the only one who was weird.”

“So, we’re cool then?”

I nod again, breathing through the charge of electricity coursing from every spot Zach touches, all the way to my toes.

“And you’ll help me plan my proposal?”

My head pops up, but before I can straighten, Zach has both hands on my shoulders, working on all the knots. “I’ll trade you for a massage.”

“I’ll think about it.” I close my eyes, knowing I’ll say yes.

“Come on, you know I can’t do this without you.” He deepens his massage, his hands pleading as much as his voice.

I relax under his touch, sinking into the knowledge that times like this could be coming to an end. As hard as it may be, I’ve got to enjoy every second I can with Zach.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

The heat from the vent still blowing in my face heightens his scent, mingled with the smell of the Bronco’s leather seats. I don’t know if it’s a cologne or body wash, but Zach smells the same way he did when we were kids—in the years after middle school when he started using deodorant regularly. It’s a scent so subtle, I’d forgotten it until this moment. It’s the smell of an early-spring hike when the soil, still wet from melted snow, hints of moss and sage.

“I need ideas. What’s the most romantic proposal you can think of?” His hands drop from my back, and I sit up.

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