Page 75 of King of Pain
This is something I get to choose to give away.
And I think… I think I want Chance to be the one I give it to. I just hope I don’t freak out when the moment finally happens and ruin it like I did at Christmas.
On New Year’s Eve, with just the two of us and the unspoken tradition of a midnight kiss hanging in the air, I was a nervous wreck. But Chance, as always, read me like a book. Instead of pushing, he simply clinked his glass against mine, gave me that signature wink, and flashed a knowing smile. A smile that felt like a promise. A promise that there would be plenty more chances for New Year’s kisses.
My heart pounds at the thought.
Could I do it? Could I let him in like that?
I think about the way he looks at me, the way his touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, how he tells me I’mbeautifullike it’s the easiest truth in the world.
And I think... maybe I could.
Maybe I want to.
Maybe Iwill.
Winter break is almost over, and part of me hates that the bubble we’re in will burst. That we’ll both be busy with classes and work and responsibilities. I wish I had more time.
More time alone withhim.
More time to explore this thing I’m starting to admit to myself.
Because I know I want him.
And I think I’m close to being ready tohavehim.
When I hear the low rumble of an engine right outside the apartment, I glance up from my laptop, puzzled. It’s still early, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I stretch, head to the window, and see Chance stepping out of a convertible. In January.
I open the door, arching a brow as he struts up like he’s in a movie. “A convertible? In winter? Really?”
Chance grins, leaning against the doorframe with his trademark confidence. “It’s California. Convertible is non-negotiable, Pacini.”
“California?” I repeat, blinking. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re going on a road trip.” He tosses me the keys with a blinding smile. “Pack a duffel. You’ve got five minutes.”
I catch the keys, still processing. “What are you… Chance, we have work. And Guinness—”
“Already cleared our schedules with Frank and Kathy,” he cuts in, resting the back of his thighs casually against the arm of the couch. “And Lexi’s taking Little G for a few days. She’ll spoil him rotten.”
Before I can protest further, Lexi steps out from her apartment, curls bouncing as she bounds up. She’s holding a bag of dog treats and squeals when she sees the convertible. “Chance, seriously? You went full cliché?”
He just laughs. “It’s part of the experience.”
Lexi snatches Little G’s leash as the little traitor wags his tail and jumps into her arms when she kneels down to greet him.
I grill her on his feeding and bathroom schedule while Chance and I give him some loving and promise we’ll be back.
Lexi gives me an exasperated look and says, “Alright, alright, I’ve got him. You two go and enjoy your romantic getaway,”
“It’s not a—” I start, but she waves me off.
“Save it, Pacini. Just go make some memories.” She raises a brow, daring me to challenge her, then heads back to her apartment, Guinness in tow.
Chance claps his hands. “Now it’s four minutes, Ant.”
I roll my eyes, but toss the keys back at him and retreat into the apartment. In record time, I toss clothes, toiletries, and essentials into a duffel bag. I grab my jacket and team beanie, muttering to myself about impulsive plans and convertibles in January.
