Page 3 of My Surprising Valentine

I groaned, turning my attention back to the scenery as the train continued speeding past the small towns that dotted thecoast. “What about Max?” I asked, refusing to meet my best friend’s eyes.

“What about Max?” Percy echoed, her voice thick with disbelief. “Han, come on. You’ve had a crush on him for as long as I’ve known you. And don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything,” I muttered, fiddling with the sleeve of my sweater. The soft yarn beneath my fingers grounded me as memories flooded back—Max teaching me to skip stones on the beach when I was twelve and he was seventeen, the way he’d hugged me fiercely after my high school graduation, how he’d danced with me at my brother’s shotgun wedding to a woman it turned outhadn’tbeen pregnant with his kid, Max’s hand warm on the small of my back as we’d swayed to some sappy love song from the eighties while commiserating about the mess my brother had gotten himself into. “But it’s not like it matters.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“Because nothing’s ever going to happen.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the pang in my chest that thought brought forth. “We’ve known each other since I was a kid. Max doesn’t think of me like that.”

Percy leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. Have you seriously not noticed how he’s been acting around you lately?”

But that was who Max was … who he’d always been. Charming, flirty, the kind of guy who could have any guy or girl he wanted—and frequently did.

I’d spent years getting to know his type, and simply put, I wasn’t it.

“I can tell by your expression what you’re thinking,” Percy said, interrupting my thoughts, “so don’t even try to deny it. Some major sparks were flying between you two on Labor Day, Han—and don’t even get me started on New Year’s Eve.”

“What do you mean?”

Percy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You two were inseparable at his barbecue. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he kept finding excuses to touch you—he was brushing up against you in the pool like a cat in heat, and he kept putting his hand on your shoulder and arm whenever he’d laugh at one of your jokes.”

I felt a blush creeping up my neck, remembering how those touches had caused goosebumps to bloom on my skin. “He was just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” Percy scoffed. “Hannah, he literally growled at Jake when he tried to join your conversation. And don’t forget how he insisted on walking you to your car at the end of the night, even though it was parked right outside.”

My stomach fluttered at the memory of that night. I’d wanted so badly for him to lean in and kiss me goodnight when he’d walked me to my car, and I thought for a second there maybe he’d been considering it, but then my brother had called out to him from the porch and the spell—if there even was one—had been broken.

“And New Year’s Eve,” Percy continued, on a roll now. “He barely left your side all night. When the countdown started, he practically shoved past Melissa to get to you for the midnight kiss.”

“On the cheek,” I pointed out, though my skin tingled at the memory of his lips nearly brushing the corner of my mouth, lingering just a heartbeat too long.

“Right. Your cheek.” Percy raised a skeptical eyebrow my way. “Do you also deny he hasn’t been texting you almost every day since then? And now he’s volunteered to be your date for the wedding! Hannah, I’m telling you, Max is interested.”

I leaned back against my seat and stared out the window as the train passed through a stretch of wooded area. “Even ifyou’re right, I’m not Max’s type. He dates literal models and Instagram influencers.”

“Fuck that noise,” Percy said, her voice heated, as she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “You, Hannah Carlisle, are smart, kind, and are drop-dead gorgeous. You’re also one of the funniest people I know. Max sees that—and more. Why else would he have kept that terrible clay pot you made him in eighth grade? It’s on the bookshelf in his bedroom, you know,” she finished, her expression smug.

I blinked in surprise. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there. Like, first and foremost, what were you doing in his bedroom?”

Percy cackled, her head thrown back. “Of everything I said, that’s what you picked up on?”

“I mean, yeah.I’vebarely ever been in his bedroom, and I’ve known the guy since he was twelve.”

Percy smirked. “Cool your jets. He let me use his bathroom when your brother stank up the one in the hallway.”

“Gross,” I said, scrunching up my nose in distaste. I was well acquainted with the damage my brother could do in a bathroom. It had taken him years to talk to a doctor about his issues. Crohn’s Disease was no joke.

Percy continued undaunted. “In case you’re wondering but are too chicken to ask, it’s on the shelf next to a picture of his parents, by the way. Face it, Han. The guy’s got it bad for you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing, because you’re crazy. You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Perce,” I countered, though even as I spoke, I felt a tiny flicker of hope rising in my chest.

“And I think you’re being willfully obtuse,” she volleyed back with a glare. “This is Max we’re talking about. The guy who should have a Valentine’s Day date already lined up, so why doesn’t he?”

She raised a good point; it was a question I’d asked myself more than once since he’d volunteered to be my plus-one the week before. Max was a notorious playboy, and while you’d think he’d balk at spending a holiday like Valentine’s Day with someone lest they get the wrong impression and think their night together might lead to something permanent, for as long as I’d known him, he never seemed to sweat all that Hallmark bullshit. Why would he when he could simply pick up the phone and have someone to warm his bed within minutes?

Which begged the question—whywashe available to spend the weekend with me?

Could Percy be right?

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