Page 77 of Up All Night

He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. I never felt like I had another option.”

I ate another blackberry, wondering if I should stop asking him questions, not knowing if he wanted to talk about this possibly touchy subject.

But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know more.

“Do you wish there had been another option?” I asked gently.

“Maybe.” He reached for a strawberry this time. “Thankfully once I got to Stanford and started working on my degree, I fell in love with it. I truly do love what I do.” He took a bite of the strawberry. “Plus, I would have never met Cannon if I hadn’t gone to Stanford, and he’s like the brother I never had.”

I was happy to hear that he enjoyed his work, but there was still a heaviness he carried around with him. I’d thought that maybe there was more to it than his dad’s unreasonable expectations, that maybe there was a part of him that longed to do something else.

“I’m glad you love your job.” I smiled. “It would be awful to work so many hours at a job you hated.”

“Soon you’re going to be working a lot of hours at a job you love, too.” He nudged me with his arm, and a spark of electricity went through me at the simple touch.

A smile touched my lips at the thought of my dance studio. “Two more weeks to finish up the recital and then I’ll be free to start working to remodel the studio I’m renting.”

I’d signed a contract and couldn’t wait to get started to make my dance studio dreams come true. I’d been researching paint colors, wood flooring, mirrors, and sound systems every spare minute I’d had this past week.

“I’m not the handiest of guys, but if you need anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

I pretended to size him up. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

His look of mock offense made me laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“You’re too fancy to be handy,” I said, chuckling.

“Fancy?” His brows rose.

I shook my head teasingly. “Still repeating everything I say.” His repeated question reminded me of how, back when we’d been more enemies than anything else, he had always repeated what I said.

My comment had him smiling. “I repeat what you say because I can’tbelievewhat you say sometimes.”

“I can’t be the first person to have called you fancy,” I argued.

He stopped to think for a few seconds. “Actually, I think you are.”

“Probably more like I’m the first one to say it to your face.” It was no secret I was used to speaking my mind around him.

“True,” he chuckled. “Regardless, if you need anything, let me know. And if you’d rather I helped you with something else—maybe to do with numbers and reports—I’m okay with that.”

“Thank you.”

It was sweet of him to offer his help. Maybe I shouldn’t have been teasing him so much, but sometimes teasing him was easier than being serious with him. The closer we got, the harder it was to find the strength to keep him at a friendly distance.

A bike rode past us on the pathway, interrupting my thoughts and sparking a new idea.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” I asked. “Bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. Have you ever done it?”

He glanced over at the bridge. “Um, no.”

“Let’s do it!” I didn’t wait for a reply and started packing the food back in the cooler.

He looked thrown off by my suggestion. “Right now?”

“Yes. When else would we do it? We have all day.”

A crease formed between his brows. “But I don’t have a bike.”

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