Page 63 of The Sweet Spot

“Give Sweet Spot my love,” Matt calls from the couch, where he, Faruq andsome kid I don’t know very well are engaged in a PlayStation battle.

“Will do,” I say, shutting the door. I will, too. Matt’s obnoxious, but he genuinely likes Wren. Always has.

And I’ve learned to trust his instincts.

* * *

Dusk falls as I pull up to Wren’s building. Checking her dorm and room number one more time, I get out of the car and glance around. I lived here my freshman and sophomore years, but that was a lifetime ago. I’d almost forgotten what a pretty campus it was, with Redwoods and Douglas firs crowding the sidewalks and pathways.

Wren’s room is on the first floor. I text her to let her know I’m outside, and then step back, waiting.

The glass door opens seconds later. “Hey, you,” she says, rosy cheeked and smiling. She’s wearing a soft, pink sweater that’s falling off one shoulder and dark gray jeans that looked like they were painted on.

She looks incredible.

“Hey, Wren.” I smile back, feeling my stomach tighten in anticipation as she hugs me. Wrapping my arms around her, I reciprocate with a brief, but very necessary, squeeze. Her hair smells exquisite, mildly floral. She feels even better. It’s going to be hard keeping my hands off of her.

“Come on in; I’m almost ready,” she adds, pulling me through the lobbyand down the hall. “And I think Saira wants to say hi.”

“Hi, Luca!” Saira jumps off the couch as we walk through the door while Wren disappears into a closet. Their dorm reminds me of the first one I shared with the guys: a cramped bedroom replete with bookshelves and minifridges and posters. “Long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

Grinning, I slide my hands into my pockets. “I’ve been good, Saira. You?”

“Oh, you know. Study, study, study. I’ve been taking extra classes each semester so I can graduate early.”

“Impressive. Why?”

“I’m pre-law. I have about a zillion years of school left, so I might as well!” she says with a sigh. Her sassy grin tells me she’s probably in her element, though. My brother Nico was like that—an overachiever in love with school.

“How’d I not know that?” I muse. “You know, Kellan’s pre-law, too.”

She nods, a small smile teasing at her lips. “I think I remember him telling me that.”

“Saira, have you seen my boots?” Wren calls from the closet.

Saira goes to her, and for the next moments their quiet chatter rises and falls. Wren comes out, a purse slung over her shoulder. “Okay. Ready.”

“Have fun, guys,” Saira says, flopping back onto her bed with a pink laptop.

Wren blows her an air kiss and then we’re outside, alone. Together. Finally.

A nervous silence descends between us…probably because we are, in fact, alone and together. For the first time.

“I know you’re the true local,” I begin, unlocking the car with my fob. “But there’s a restaurant I thought you’d like. I don’t know, maybe you’ve already been there—Bobby O’Shea?”

She smiles. “I’ve heard great things about it, but I’ve actually never been.”

“Perfect. I think you’ll like it.” I open her door for her, waiting until she’s tucked her feet in to close it, but she touches my wrist, stopping me.

“I’m glad we’re finally going out.” Her eyes are stormy seas today, green and blue and gold. “I’ve really been looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Every part of me strains toward her, and by the way she’s looking up at me, I know she feels the same way. I want to slide my hands into her long, wavy hair and mess it up, capture her pretty mouth in a kiss.

But we’ve waited this long, so I just take her hand into mine and give it a squeeze.

Bobby O’Shea’s is one of our favorite spots to eat in Santa Cruz. We usually go for birthdays and celebrations, but this’ll be the first time I’m bringing someone on a date. Situated on the water, with killer views—it’s a shame we missed the sunset—it’s got an upscale surf type atmosphere. Massive windows look out at the water while surfboards hang from the ceiling.

It’s Friday night, so it’s busy. I give the statuesque hostess my name, and after verifying our reservation, she leads us to a cozy, circular booth right against the windows. We slide in on opposite sides, scooting over until we are so close we’re almost touching.

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