Page 101 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
There’s a flash of his grin. It’s the best one, the kind that makes my pulse race.
“You say that like it’s new information.”
I make a valiant, tragic attempt at getting one marshmallow to turn a little golden, at least before it catches fire. Ryan tosses another failed attempt into his mouth and laughs at me.
“Very professional,” he says, nodding with sarcastic approval.
“Shut up,” I mumble. I go silent, thinking how much I like him. He treats me like a queen. Like what I think matters. Maybe I more than like him.
Okay, definitely more than that.
“You’re quiet. You usually have a burn-a-minute ratio with me,” he teases. “Where did you go?”
My heart beats faster. Does he not know that he’s the reason? His smile, the way he lights up when I give him shit. His obvious and genuine enjoyment of the stupid little insults that come out of my mouth and keep them coming.
Ryan sees me. He knows my nature. He likesme.
“You want to know why I’m not shy around you?” I cock my head. “Because you’ve never looked at me like I was backgroundnoise. You’ve been a pain in my ass for most of my life, but you always saw me. I think I like that. Even when I hate it.”
His mouth opens, his eyebrows shooting up. But for several seconds, he has no response. I chuckle.
“You had to know that already.”
“I didn’t. Believe it or not, I’m not a mind reader.”
“Hmm.” I put another marshmallow on my stick, not willing to discuss it further. We are wading into dangerous, deep waters here.
I feel a little reckless, a little electric, like maybe we’ve escaped into some weird daydream where nothing and no one else matters. I let myself sink into it.
It’s okay to let myself feel like this could be real. Just for tonight.
Eventually, we head back into the ridiculous luxury of the room. I steal his hoodie because it’s cozy and big on me and it smells like him. I curl up in the corner of the couch, pretending not to stare as he stretches, the T-shirt lifting just enough to make my breath catch. I try to act cool, even as my brain short-circuits watching him move like he belongs here. With me.
He tosses me a bottle of water when he comes back. “So. You like stars, right?”
“I like them a lot better than charcoal marshmallows.”
He rolls his eyes in mock offense. “I’ve got a million of those if you want to retry.”
I’m still smiling when I answer his question. “How do you even know about my love of the stars?”
He shrugs like maybe he’s as surprised as I am. “You talk about them. Or you used to.”
Is it possible he was paying attention all those years ago? I squint at him, suspicious and charmed.
“I was obsessed with astronomy for, like, a month in middle school. I thought I was going to be an astrophysicist.”
He flops down beside me, looking way too pleased with himself. “Well, I thought I was going to be a zookeeper. Life’s weird.”
I can’t help it. I laugh and lean into his side, feeling all fluttery and nervous and giddy at once.
We spend the rest of the night watchingContactandInterstellar, the glow from the TV flickering around the luxurious hotel room. We share a giant bowl of popcorn and bombard it with a ridiculous amount of butter.
The sarcastic commentary I expect gives way to something else.
An easy quiet. A comfortable sort of silence that’s even better than I’d imagined.
Around midnight, I stretch and yawn, legs tucked up under me and head resting on his shoulder.
