Page 103 of Accidentally Amy

“Why did you call all those people, Blake?” I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, but the question was eating away at me. “Ithad to have taken you hours to connect with that many business contacts. Why on earth would you do that for me?”

He looked at my mouth. Swallowed, that Adam’s apple moving as if to accentuate the gravity of his thoughts. “Don’t you know?”

“Guilt?” I asked, feeling a shiver shimmy up my spine.

“Try again.”

I drew in a shaky breath and wished I hadn’t opted for the T-shirt dress, because my legs were getting goose bumps. The ability of Blake’s face to deliver chills made the comfy-cute garment totally weather-inappropriate. “Charity?”

“Iz.” Blake leaned a little closer, where his lips hovered just above mine, and he murmured, “Don’t you know that I’d do anything to make you happy?”

I felt the world shift as I looked at Blake’s honest face and saw that he meant it. “You should get out of those wet clothes.” I climbed to my feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him up with me. “Were you in a wet dress shirt contest or something? Give me your keys.”

He watched me, wordlessly pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them over.

“Thank you,” I said, taking them from his fingers, but I felt a little ridiculous when my hands shook as I unlocked the door.

The smell of his apartment when I pushed in the big wooden door—clean and somehow totally his—felt like a welcome.

“I’m going to change,” he said, still looking solemn. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

“Better not.” His eyes were bright as he said, “I don’t want to have to tackle you, but I will.”

“You know,” I commented, remembering what he’d said about sending me messages. “You could let me use your phone so I can read the texts I missed while I wait.”

He kind of froze when I said that, making me instantly regret it. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter—”

“No.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and dragged his thumb across the screen. “I just, uh, I guess you could say I was a little in my feelings while I waited for you.”

That made me smile. “I cannot believe you just said those words, Phillips.”

“Right?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh-cough. “I’m a fucking idiot now.”

“Now?”

He finally looked like he might smile—but he didn’t. He paused, looking at me, his eyes everywhere on my face, before he held out his phone and said, “Just don’t judge me too harshly until I get a chance to defend myself.”

I took his phone and felt like I’d won something. “Deal.”

He disappeared down the hall, so I walked into the living room and leaned my backside against the couch’s armrest. I found my name in his messages and started reading from the last text I remembered getting from him last night.

Can I please call you?That was the text I’d received while in the van with Josh and his friends, just before he’d taken my phone.

The next message was from eight this morning.Are you awake?

An hour later:Can I buy you breakfast and we can talk?

An hour after that:I get that you don’t want to talk to me and I respect that. But I really wish you’d give me five minutes. Just hear me out, and then you can go back to hating me if you want.

Two hours later:I have pizza, McDonald’s, flowers, a six-pack, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, a bottle of wine, and a thousand apologies. If you’ll let me come in, I’ll give you all of it.

Twenty minutes after that:I’m waiting on your porch. Please don’t think I’m a stalker, but I can’t focus on anything but you—us—so I might as well just wait until you get here.

Ten minutes later:There is a squirrel approaching and he looks hungry. I’m scared.

Ten minutes after that:Fuck, here’s the thing, Iz. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone, okay? I love the language you use and the weird way you think and the smell of your hair and the way you make me laugh and the way you eat pizza more than any human ever should and I miss you.

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