Page 67 of My Star-Crossed Summer

My heart squeezes as he wraps the strand of lights around his hand, pulling me off-balance so I stumble right into him, my palms flat against his chest. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I think of all the times I’ve been told to manage my expectations, all the times I’ve convinced myself I wasn’t trying hard enough, being brave enough, being good enough. How many times have I held up this facade, projecting this image to everyone that I was fine while crumbling on the inside? How many times did I compromise what I wanted—with my job at Rayanne’s firm, myengagement to Theo—instead of believing something better was waiting for me?

“Noah,” I begin, my voice barely a whisper.

“Listen,” he says, “I’m not going to pressure you for an answer. But I want to make one thing crystal clear.” His voice is doing that sexy-rumble that turns my knees to jelly. “It might be completely selfish, but I don’t want you to go. Partly because I think you’re settling for something your heart doesn’t want—but mostly because I want to go on that date with you.” He pauses and shakes his head. “That’s a lie. I want to go on lots of dates with you, Vic. And I don’t think I’m alone in that feeling.” His gaze locks on mine and that electric feeling is back, zipping along my skin and making my heart flutter like a bird.

“Timing was always our problem, wasn’t it?” I ask him.

He lifts a brow. “I’m not sure I’d agree.”

I think back to that night on the beach, when he’d returned my kiss so fiercely, like he might never get another chance. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times, wondering how it might have gone differently if we’d done that sooner, in a moment that wasn’t overshadowed by fear.

I feel like I’m back in that same position, choosing this path because I’m afraid it’s the best job offer I’ll get. That this move will fix what’s broken in my life.

But what I want most is staring me right in the face, with epic eyebrows and a crooked smile that promises all the adventure I’ve longed for.

I don’t get to have both.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Roxy says, and I jump backwards. Her voice is chipper, but her brow is arched in that way that means she’s taking in this scene and hasn’t missed a single detail. Like the blush that’s creeping up my neck, the way Noah’s hand has caught my arm to steady me.

I step away from him like he’s been struck by lightning and blurt, “Just me being clumsy in a battle with the Christmas lights.”

If Roxy’s brow lifts any higher, it’s going to fly right off her face. She knows that I’m neither clumsy nor capable of lying. “Right,” she says, her gaze flicking to Noah. “Can I help with anything?”

“We’re just about done,” he says, his voice as smooth as honey. Does nothing rattle this man? “Vic, you want to do the honors?”

I blink at him. It’s as if all thoughts have fallen right out of my brain except for one:What you want most is staring you right in the face. What if you let yourself have it?

“Flip the switch?” he says, nodding toward the dozen paper star lights that hang from the ceiling.

“Sure,” I breathe, walking over to the power strips by the windows. When I flip the power switch, Roxy gasps as she holds her fingers to her lips, her grin impossibly wide.

Next to her, Noah’s scanning one side of the room to the other, checking our work.

“Amazing,” Roxy says, and it is.

The whole room is filled with strings of twinkling fairy lights. The star lanterns, made from brightly-colored paper, fill the room with pools of light, their intricate patterns of punched holes now visible. The walls in this room are painted a rich navy blue, so even though it’s not quite dark outside, the effect is stunning. Noah told me earlier that the stars are Sophie’s—they have to stretch the activities budget pretty far, and they rarely have anything left over for decorations. So Sophie brings her own from home. This year, Noah brought the thousand yards of twinkling lights, plus all the gear needed to hang them without damaging the room.

They have this down to an art, and I can’t help but be a little envious of them for finding this vocation that means so much to them.

“Sophie told me there are special cookies,” Roxy says.

“This bakery in town is incredible,” I tell her. “They make sugar cookies with some secret ingredient that are to die for—I ordered five dozen so we all have a few extra.”

“That’s my girl,” Roxy says. “Always sniffing out the best treats.” She glances at Noah and my face burns like the surface of the sun.

“And they’re airbrushed to look like the planets,” I tell her, hoping all this talk of cookies might refocus her attention and stop my hammering heart. “Little pieces of art that are almost too gorgeous to eat. Almost.”

“How’s the visit going?” Noah asks her. “Is Mira head over heels yet?”

Roxy grins. “She’s like a kid in a candy store.” She glances around the room once more and shoves her hands into her skirt pockets. “I figured she’d be happy after a quick tour, but she wants to see every inch of this place. She wants to sit in on the classes tomorrow and even asked to check out the dance. So we’re staying one more night.”

“That’s great news,” I say, but my stomach churns. That’s twenty-four more hours that we’ll be scrutinized, and I’m exhausted from trying to manage all of these feelings that keep coming up. Gwen used to tell me that I shouldn’t tamp down my feelings because it’s like trying to push a beach ball under the water—no matter how hard you shove it down, eventually it’ll spring back to the surface. And probably smack you right in the face.

“For sure,” Roxy says. “I’m glad we got to visit. Perfect timing.”

If only, I think, glancing at Noah. With us, there’s no such thing.

Noah smirks at her. “The fun’s barely started, though. You haven’t heard me deejay.”

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