Page 49 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Because I’m too flustered to be rational, I lift my Diet Dr Pepper like I’m making a toast and say, “Cool. Good luck with the backsplash,” before walking out the door like the idiot (or coward) I am.
ELEVEN
Hunter
I spendthe rest of my afternoon finishing the grout and mulling over my conversation with Merritt. Admittedly, I would have planned better if I’d known where the conversation was going to go. I wouldn’t have just confessed that I loved her like that.
But she did it first! And I’m still reeling from that revelation.
She loved me.
I loved her.
And now … is it too much to hope maybe we could try again?
I don’t know how to do this.Obviously. How to keep my cool when my feelings are flaming hot. How to ask her out like it’s a first date when she’s already imprinted on my heart, stamped into my memories.
I also can’t ignore the worry pulsing on the periphery, like those flashing caution signs you see when you’re driving through heavy fog.She might leave. She might leave. She might leave.
I won’t ignore the warning. But I also won’t let it stop me. If I do, I might not ever get this chance again. Which is why, after work yesterday, I drove to an art supply store in Savannah, where I took entirely too long and spent entirely too much on art supplies Merritt may or may not want.
Now, the next morning, in the bright light of day, I’m sitting in my truck rethinking or overthinking this gift.Start small, Dante said. And like an idiot, I basically came back with,I’ll see your “small”, and I’ll raise you a love confession and a few hundred dollars on art supplies.
I guess “small” isn’t really my thing.
Second-guessing, however, most certainly is.
“Get on with it, Hunter,” I tell myself before picking up the box of supplies and climbing out of the truck. It’s early yet, but Merritt is usually up and sitting on her front porch, coffee mug in her hands, when I show up to work. Not like I make a habit of watching her from the windows of the big house or anything.
It took me hours to pick out the right paints and brushes. Does Merritt still like acrylic? Would she prefer oil now?
Not knowing means I bought some of everything.Too muchof everything. This is about as obvious as an adult version of a note readingI like you. Do you like me? Check yes or no!
I leave the canvases in the truck for now, because I bought too many of those as well, and they’re bulky. Heading straight for the carriage house, I tell myself this is the kind of thing old friends do for each other—drop a cool few hundred on possibly unwanted art supplies. No biggie.
Jake appears around a curve in the path, his eyes stormy and his face set in the frown he’s been wearing since the day Lo left.
“Hey man, you okay?” I ask his retreating back.
“Peachy. I’m just going for a run. This is my running face.”
He takes off as if to prove the point. Whether to me or himself, I’m not sure. Butrunning face? I bet he’s regretting that ridiculous statement already.
Speaking of ridiculous, when I reach the porch of the carriage house and see Merritt standing in her doorway, my mouth goes dry. I clutch the box, wishing I could hide it behind my back or toss it in the bushes.
Box? What box? I don’t have a box!
“What happened to him?” I say as I climb the steps. I already know the answer but need to talk about anything but why I’m here.
“Um, pretty sure he’s in love with my little sister, and I just called him out on giving up.”
“He’sdefinitelyin love with your little sister. You should have seen them before she left. I’m not sure there’s a person in Oakley who didn’t see the two of them kissing.”
Her mouth drops open. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
I shrug. “I guess I thought you knew.”
She shakes her head. “Eloise didn’t tell me much. I mean, I assumed, but I didn’t know it had actually turned into a kissing-all-over-the-island thing.”
