Page 29 of Dash to Me
“Not yet,” I growl, following her like a man possessed. “But you will be.”
EVA
Walking into the Lockwood house,it seems different. Even though I have been many times, it’s under different circumstances. I’m now dating their son. So the pressure for tonight is on. His mom has always liked me, but those things change when their little boy is dating someone. So, here’s to hoping the night goes well.
“Don’t stress. It’s just another dinner at my parents. You’ve been to them plenty of times.” He kisses the back of my hand.
“Except now it’s different, babe. I’m not just your best friend’s sister anymore.”
His goofy grin makes me laugh. “Thank fuck for that. I’ve never been this happy, and it’s all because of you.”
A blush spreads across my cheeks.
“Atlas! Is that you?” His mom’s voice comes from the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s us.”
We step into the kitchen where Mrs. Lockwood is tossing a salad, her hair pulled back in a loose bun.
“So good to see you again, Eva.” She wipes her hands on the apron before pulling me into a hug. “How’s Ryan doing?Can’t wait for them to have kids. We need some littles running around.”
Mr. Lockwood appears from the living room. “There’s the girl that finally gave my son a chance.”
“Dad,” Atlas groans.
“What? You’ve been crushing on her since you were like seven, right? Don’t think we didn’t notice.”
My face flushes even deeper as I glance at Atlas, who looks somewhere between mortified and proud. Seven? He’s been crushing on me since we were kids?
“Thanks for telling all our secrets, Dad,” Atlas says, but there’s no real annoyance in his voice. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Well, it’s not like it was a big secret,” Mrs. Lockwood chimes in, stirring something on the stove that smells divine. “Remember when he insisted Eva come to your tenth birthday party..”
“Mom,” Atlas groans, and this time I can tell he’s genuinely embarrassed.
I squeeze his hand. “I think it’s sweet.”
“Sweet enough that you finally stopped friend-zoning my boy,” Mr. Lockwood says with a wink.
“Dad, please stop saying ‘friend-zoning.’ It’s not slang anymore.”
Mrs. Lockwood laughs. “Dinner’s almost ready. Atlas, why don’t you show Eva the photo albums while we finish up?”
“Absolutely not,” Atlas says, but his dad is already heading toward the bookshelf.
“Too late. I think Eva deserves to see the evidence.” Mr. Lockwood pulls out a thick blue album and motions us toward the couch. “Let me show you the Valentine’s Day card he made you in third grade. He spent three hours on it.”
Atlas sighs dramatically but guides me to the couch, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my hand. “Just remember you chose this,” he whispers in my ear. “You chose me and all my embarrassing childhood obsessions.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I whisper back, and I mean it.
Mr. Lockwood settles beside us, opening the album with the practiced ease of someone who’s embarrassed their child many times before. The pages creak as he flips through, stopping at a construction paper heart decorated with an impressive amount of glitter for an eight-year-old boy.
“Here we go,” he says triumphantly. “Valentine’s Day, third grade.”
The card is adorably lopsided, with “To Eva” written in careful, blocky letters. Little hearts surround my name, and there’s a stick figure drawing of what I assume is Atlas and me holding hands.
“Oh my god,” I murmur, leaning closer. “This is precious.”
