Page 84 of Texting My Valentine

TORI

Ithrow my arms out to my sides. “Boom – and I was lost!” I yell, my voice traveling across the bar, bouncing off the walls, as Cleo, Mom, Lily, Elliot, and my man, my perfect protector, my not-so-grumpy Valentine, watch me from the crowd.

It’s been two weeks since the craziness with Damien. He’s in jail now – good riddance – strung up on a litany of charges, he’s going to be locked up for at least ten years, maybe longer.

The crowd is quiet, staring at me. I always thought nerves would twist me into a freaking pretzel if I ever performed in front of my friends and Mom, but with my man’s support, I’m able to push through. It turns out I never needed to be as scared as I thought.

“But then you found me,” I say, looking at Alex.

He’s dashing in his gray suit, his hair neatly styled. His injuries are still healing, but he hasn’t complained once. Whenever I ask him if he’s okay, he throws the question right back at me.

“Destiny, fate, call it what you want,” I say, almost giggling when Lily winks at me from the crowd. “Brand it what you will, but I’llnever have my fill. My man, my protector, a love that hate can never kill. Am I insane for this feeling? Am I mad? Do I care? Am I casual? Am I wrong? Am I done questioning?”

I raise my voice with each question, my tone shivering, and suddenly the lights go out. Everybody gasps.

I whisper into the mic.

“Or can I finally justbe? Just be happy? Just be me – us? Forever?”

The lights come up, and everybody starts clapping. I smile and give a short bow, then replace the mic in the stand.

“Thank you so much, everybody. As you can probably tell, I’ve been experimenting with some non-conventional rhyming—ornotrhyming patterns— and I really appreciate your support.”

I return to the table, blushing when Cleo leaps to her feet and claps me on the back. “I still can’t believe you kept this a secret,” she says, raising her voice over the sound of applause.

“You don’t think it’s dorky?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s majorly dorky. You’re the queen of dorks. It’s cool.”

“She’s just messing,” Lily says with an eye roll. “We both think it’s awesome.”

Alex wraps his arm around me, pulling me in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m nervous,” he says.

I look up into his dreamy eyes. “Nervous… why?”

“Didn’t I mention?” he says with a smirk. “I’m the final performer of the night.”

“What!” I gasp. “You’re kidding.”

But he’s so not.

The announcer takes to the stage. “Our next performer is making his poetry-slam debut with a very special message. Please, welcome to the stage, Alex Whitmore.”

“Yay, Uncle Alex!” Elliot cheers.

I wink at him. “Did you know about this, young man?”

“Maybe,” he says, giggling.

I watch in awe as Alex walks onto the stage, standing at the mic.

“I’ve never tried writing a poem,” Alex says into the mic. “I’m more accustomed to dissecting than I am prose, but for my woman, the woman I love more than anything, I knew I had to try. This art form is important to her… and anything that matters to her, matters to me, full stop.”

He looks at me, and I mouth,I love you.

He clears his throat, then speaks clearly and confidently into the mic with his husky, manly voice.

“It started with texts, just a gentle nudge. Our friends played Cupid and gave us a little push. But soon, your words became my escape, a poet’s heart, so bold, so great.”

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