Page 12 of Happy After All

I snort. “Says the millionaireNew York Timesbestseller with a TV series.”

I don’t know that he’s a millionaire. I’m comfortable assuming, however.

“Right,” he says. “Becausethat’sthe key to happiness.”

Irritation and heat make me snap. “Then why do it? Why doanything?”

“I ask myself that a lot.” He says that flat, not self-pitying, and yet I feel like he’s being totally honest.

“I don’t think you do. You obviously care very deeply about what you’re working on or you wouldn’t eschew all forms of procrastination and get pissed because your outlet quit working.”

“I didn’t ask for commentary. I want a power strip. The end.”

My temper peaks.

“Then why the hell do you come here?” I ask, sweat dripping down my back now. “If you hate me and the faulty wiring in the motel and all the guests?”

He moves too close to me, his face maybe three inches from mine. “I just fuckinglovethe heat,” he says, his voice rough.

We stand like that for too long.

My breathing is labored, and I’m way too worked up about this and him.

I turn away from him and vanish into the shed, where I flick on the lights and give thanks to past me for taking the time to organize and label everything, because it would just be the worst if I had to prolong this moment.

I grab hold of a tub labeledpower stripsand peer inside—there could be spiders, but I don’t see any, so I reach in and grab the neededitem. When I turn, he’s right behind me. He’s tall. He’s solid. He smells great. Clean, a hint of aftershave and soap.

If I were writing this moment, I could easily go florid with it.

Hints of spice and soap, of skin andman.

Something about that makes me snap.

“Here,” I say, waving the power strip in the air. “Here is your power strip so you can go back to being a damned ostentatious hermit in the middle of this thriving community. If it were just the heat, you could go stay in an Airbnb in Palm Springs. What do you even get out of this? I have to know. You’ve spent two summers here without so much as a full conversation traded between yourself and the other residents.” Or me. “Thisis clearly the kind of place where people hang out, and talk and laugh and do things, and why would you even come here once, let alone two times, if you hate that? You don’t even know my name.”I’m Amelia,I almost shout. “Do you get off on it? Being alone in your room and being dour about the place? You could go somewhere else—why here?”

I’ve gone too far and I know it.

Suddenly he’s so close to me, and I can’t take my eyes off him.

I’m caught in a web spun out of this thing arcing between us. I know what it is. I’ve wondered if I was the only one who felt it from the first moment I met him. Right now I think maybe I’m not.

Because his eyes are on me, and he isn’t looking away. He’s filling my space, my lungs, my sense of sanity.

He’s close in a way no one ever is. In a way I never let them be.

I want to kiss him.

The realization is stark and intense. So clear and undeniable I can’t turn it into a different thought.

My heart is thundering, my whole body on edge.

He says nothing.

He leans in closer.

I can’t breathe.

He reaches out and takes the power strip from my hands.

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