Page 144 of Elevator Pitch

It’s beenan hour since I discovered the playlist, and I’m stress-cleaning while I hype myself up. Greyson loves me, and I love him. So much. I kneel and swipe under the couch when I come across a toy of Clifford’s. I miss that big guy so much. My eyes fill up with tears, and I blink them away as I rise to grab my phone. I need to talk to Greyson, and I need to do it before it’s too late. I have no clue what to say, but before I know it, I am copying and pasting that journal entry into the text box. I hover my hand over the send button, count to three, and mash it.

My heartbeat is all over the place as I clutch the phone in my hands—a literal lifeline. Moments later, I watch in anticipation as three dots appear and disappear. I opt for setting my phone face down and walking away before my nerves get the best of me. I start stress cleaning to keep myself busy while I wait. I jump when my phone chimes back-to-back. I’m nervous when I turn my screen over and see his name. I open the thread and find three links toKiwi Musicplaylists.

He sends the link to theBody Languageplaylist, then another one calledSongs For Selah. The description states, ‘songs to make the coolest woman in the world fall in love with me.’ I chuckle, but this is a damn good playlist. If I didn’t already love him, I could be persuaded. The last link is for a playlist titledMorning Commute. My heart skips as I scroll through each song I’ve sent him for his daily commute over the past few months. More texts filter in, and my anxiety heightens.

Smell Good Man

In case you needed more supporting evidence. I love you, Selah, but if you’re about to ask to just be friends, I can’t. It’s hard enough living near you and having to stay away.

I know you don’t love me back, but I just hope one day you’ll allow yourself to be loved. Because you deserve it just as much as you think I do.

Tears drip onto my shirt as I reread those messages over and over. Unsure of what to say, but he thinks I don’t love him, and he couldn’t be more wrong. I never needed more supporting evidence. It’s evident in every action, touch, and word that he expresses. Greyson cherishes me. Simply knowing him has sent me to unknown heights. He loves me in ways I never thought possible. This love isn’t constricting or stifling. Nor have I had to alter myself to appease him.

We’re a perfect fit because we don’t try to do what everyone else thinks we should. We make our own fucking rules—and break them, but shit happens. I think the lesson here is that rules are overrated, or what Mom said about love knocking unexpectedly. That’s it. I have a lot to say that he needs to hear in person. I start typing, chewing my lip in the process.

“I can do this,” I say out loud, chanting softly.

Me

Greyson, I believe you and I don’t want to be just friends either.

You don’t know how I feel and men aren't usually right. Remember?

Smell Good Man

Of course I remember.

Me

Are you home?

Smell Good Man

I am.

I leave in a hurry, hit the twelfth floor on the elevator, and study the numbers as they ascend. Something that usually brings me calm turns my stomach.

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Ding.

The doors open, and I speed down the hall. My steps falter once his door comes into view. I raise my shaking hand to knock twice on his door. I step back and wait. I hear his feet shuffle against the hardwood floors. He whips the door open and stares at me with concern. He steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him. My heart lurches at the possibility of not seeing Clifford.

“What are you doing here, Selah?” he asks curiously.

“I owe you an apology, and I’d like to talk about us…now.”

“Let’s hear it,” he challenges, crossing his arms and leaning against his door frame.

“Love doesn’t give a damn if you’re ready for it. When it knocks, you answer,” I blurt.

He wrinkles his brows and stays put, hearing me out.

“That was something my mom said, but–uh–stay with me. I said some things I didn’t mean, and I’d like to apologize. Before you slam that door in my face, I want you to know that I do love you, Greyson. I wasn’t prepared for you. I didn’t even get awarning. You actually didn’t knock on my door at all. You used a battering ram and brought donuts,” I chuckle and sniffle.

“It’s impossible not to fall for you, the beautiful man you are. You are the first person to really see me and love me wholly. I’ve spent most of the time I’ve known you trying to convince myself that you’re just a figment of my imagination. While you’ve proven to be very real, I could argue that you are a fictional man in real life.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he jokes.

“I don’t regret you, and I couldn’t if I tried. I don’t know what it’s like to truly be loved by someone, so I panicked. I shouldn’t have ran, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I am sorry. I am so far from perfect, but I at least wanted to be somewhat close before I bothered somebody with my chaos. However, you’re a moth to my flame.”

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