Page 40 of If This Was a Movie

I shrug even though I know the answer.

“It’s much more economical to take my time and do it myself,” I say, giving the easy answer.

“I could finish it, you know. A couple of men, a couple of hours…it wouldn’t take much or cost much, and we’ll already?—”

“No,” I say, cutting him off loud and firm, the word echoing around the empty room. His head snaps to me, confusion written across his face. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, that was rude. But I’ve got it. I like doing it myself, and you’re already helping me a lot.”

“It really wouldn’t?—”

“I can do it, Nate. I like knowing I built this place all by myself. No one will ever believe in me the way I do, and this place is a testament to that in a way. I just need help getting the rest of the place back to whatever standard Evergreen Park needs for me to move back in here in a reasonable time frame.”

He looks at me, reading every muscle, every shift of my eyes before he nods.

“All right. Got it. Let’s get you upstairs to start packing while I make some more notes.”

With a sigh of relief that he won’t push the subject, I nod and then follow him back upstairs.

BREAK

An hour later, I’ve finished packing up my clothes and putting anything I don’t need to bring to Nate’s into the big plastic bins he brought so we can keep everything clean during construction. He’s carrying what I packed so far down to the truck while I stare at my movie shelf, trying to decide which I absolutely need to bring when he walks up behind me.

“Anything else ready?”

I topple over from my crouch, holding a hand to my chest as my heart pounds. “Jesus, you scared me!”

He lets out a chuckle as he offers me a hand to get back up. When I stand, we’re face-to-face, barely a few inches between us, and I hold my breath at the closeness. It wouldn’t take much to move up to my toes or for him to dip his head down just a bit,graze his lips over mine, press my body to his, and pretend like there isn’t a year standing between us.

He stares at me, and somehow I know he’s thinking the same exact thing, his hand still holding mine, his thumb shifting the tiniest bit to graze against my skin, calluses catching in a way that makes me remember what his hands felt like everywhere.

“What are those?” Nate asks, tipping his head to the small bookshelf in the corner of my bedroom and breaking me from my daydream.

I step back quickly, looking at where my DVDs are stacked up.

“You’re not that old,” I say, knowing he’s barely six years older than me. “I’m sure you’ve seen a DVD before.”

“I just didn’t know anyone had them anymore.” He walks up to the shelf, reading the titles. “I’ve only heard of a third of these,” he says.

“They’re all romantic comedies.”

“I remember you saying you liked romance movies. I’m glad that hasn’t changed. IsLove Actuallystill your favorite?” he says, and I shrug, secretly wondering what else he remembers about me. My favorite coffee, my favorite movies…

“Christmas wise, yeah. But romance movies are the best. Predictable and funny, they always end happily. My favorite kind of stories.”

“Why DVDs?” he asks, sifting through them.

Suddenly, I feel self-conscious, like he was finding something about me I wasn’t ready to show.

“I, uh,” I start, stacking up the DVDs I’m bringing. “I find them secondhand. Most of them are on streaming services, but it’s across like a million of them. I would have to pay a couple hundred dollars a month just to watch whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.”

“So you watch these often?”

“Every night.”

“Maybe you’ll have to come over one night; make me watch some of your favorites,” he says, voice low, eyes locked on the movies before him.

I don’t open my mouth, for fear I might tell him just how much I’d like that.

SIXTEEN

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