Page 85 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

“What now?” she says as we stroll down the hallway, back toward the front entrance of the building.

“I’ll handle the rest at work. For now, though, let’s just go home.”

She nods, looking over at Archer.

“Almost asleep again,” I say.

“He’s had a long day,” she says, looking down at him and smiling affectionately.

Then she turns that smile on me, and all the nerve endings in my body come alive. One smile shouldn’t have that kind of power, but hers does.

And a jolt runs through me when I feel the faintest brush of her fingertips against mine. A few seconds later, it happens again—just the whisper of her touch, but I don’t miss it. Is she doing that on purpose?

My heart is racing stupidly fast, considering the cause. These are fingers.Fingers. Just barely touching, and yet I feel like there’s lightning beneath my skin and thunder in my pulse.

I hesitate, trying to decide if it’s a bad idea to hold her hand or not. I want to, but is it too soon? Is she trying to give off these signals, or does she not realize what’s happening?

Screw it. The only way I’ll know is if I try. So I reach over, brushing my fingers more firmly against hers and causing her to inhale sharply. A mixture of pride and heat floods through my veins at the knowledge that I can cause that reaction in her—the same reaction she caused in me. When I curl my hand around hers and feel her threading her fingers between mine, those feelings only expand.

I’m about to say something, though I’m not sure what yet, when she speaks.

“I need to tell you something,” she blurts—much more loudly than is necessary, I might add.

I look over at her, curious.

She takes a deep breath, then says, “All right. I guess I’m doing this. Uh, I kind of have a crush on you. And it’s sort of freaking me out because I swore off men, but I don’t feel like swearingyouoff.”

I’m pretty sure my eyes bug out, and I can feel my jaw drop.

“I know I’m sort of springing this on you,” she says quickly. “It’s just, we’re holding hands, and I wanted to tell you anyway, although maybe not like this”—she’s babbling, I think because she’s nervous, and it’s actually adorable—“but I just…couldn’t help it. I needed to tell you.”

My surprise gives way to a smile I have no control over. There’s a strange sort of warmth spreading through me, and it feels like I’m coming alive in a way I don’t even understand.

“You have a crush on me?” I say, nudging her with my shoulder as we walk.

“Meh. Yes,” she says. “Is that weird? Is it weird that I told you?”

“No,” I say, still smiling. “It’s just…you already told me.”

Maya’s eyes widen, and she stops walking. “What? No I didn’t. Unless…” She trails off, looking like a horrible thought has just occurred to her.

“Yep,” I say, nodding, because I can guess exactly what that horrible thought is. “When you were all drugged up on pain meds.”

“Oh, no,” she groans, closing my eyes. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Hmm,” I hum, and she looks at me. “Itmightbe, if I didn’t—” I break off, rubbing the back of my neck and feeling unexpectedly shy all of a sudden. Am I blushing? Crap. I think I’m blushing. I sigh, forcing myself to speak.

“I’ve got a crush on you too, if you want to put it like that,” I admit. “I’m pretty sure I stopped talking about having ‘crushes’ on people when I was in the fifth grade, but—”

“Shut up,” Maya says, laughing. “I’m allowed to call it a crush.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “You are,” I say. “You absolutely are. Call it whatever you want.”

Slowly, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, her lips pull into smile so beautiful I want to snap a photo and have it framed.

But something occurs to me then, and my smile drops. “Crap,” I say. “Okay. I need—crap. I need to tell you something.”

Maya’s own smile fades, probably at how nervous I sound. “What is it?” she says.

---