Page 57 of Choosing Forever
The freckles across her nose are starting to lighten the way they always do in the fall. Fuck, she’s gotten more beautiful as the years have gone on. How is that possible? Am I going to drop dead at the sight of her in another ten years?
I suck in a long, deep breath and flex my fingers at my sides, unable to stand still this close to her.
She watches my every move, and I almost puff my chest when her gaze snags on my exposed abdomen, glossing over slightly. It feels damn good to know that I’m not alone in the attraction that I feel for her. Sure, I’m not the same guy I was when we were together, but I think I look better. Not as scrawny. Beefier, I guess.
I’m proud of my dad bod.
“That’s not necessary,” she mumbles.
“Have dinner with me tonight instead, then.”
Suddenly, she flicks her wide eyes up to meet mine. “What?”
“Dinner, Delaney. The kind where you eat,” I tease gently, testing her reaction.
She doesn’t immediately shut me down, although she doesn’t look all that interested either.
“It’s Saturday.”
“Do Saturdays not work for you?”
“It’s Peakside night,” she says, like that’s an obvious reason for doubt.
“Are you . . . going to Peakside tonight?”
Her expression twists. “No. No, I mean, aren’t you? It’sSaturday.”
Okay, either she really thinks I can’t survive without oneSaturday night with my friends, or she wants to reject me but doesn’t know which approach to take.
“I can miss one. I’d rather have dinner with you,” I state.
“Darren,” she says on a sigh, her eyes darting to stare off behind me.
“It’s just dinner. We can spend it planning a fundraiser of our own. One better than dunk tanks,” I suggest, acting on impulse.
“We don’t have to plan anything on our own to begin with.”
“But don’t you want to? I want to have had something to do with the drive-in being rebuilt that isn’t getting my ass wet. This is our chance,” I push, taking a few steps toward her.
She watches my feet. “It’s more than your ass that’s gotten wet.”
“That’s exactly why we need to do something better. Just meet me for an hour. Let me buy you something to eat while we run through some ideas.”
I’m close to getting on my knees at this point. Should I be ashamed of that? Who cares. I’d beg for a million hour-long dinners with her if it meant I could be near her again, hearing her talk about anything. If I have to organize something to make that happen, then I’m happy to do that. I’ll make the time.
I can tell I’m close to convincing her. She’s stopped pulling that loose string in her sleeve and is now twisting it around her finger, ready to snap it off. There’s a tongue indent in her cheek as she thinks, eyes still wandering.
“You’re not going to buy me dinner.”
My confidence deflates like a leaky balloon. Have I really grown so out of tune with her body language?
“I’ll buy my own. And you have one hour,” she adds, discarding her sleeve.
I let loose an exhale. “Deal.”
“I’m not promising that I’ll end up helping with your fundraiser either.”
“That’s fine.”
