Page 31 of Petals and Plot Twists
But I told myself I wouldn’t risk it until I’m sure she feels the same way.
For a split-second last Monday, when I admitted I thought Sophie was beautiful, I wondered if she might. I saw a spark in her eyes, and the way her breath hitched—I did that to her. I know I did.
But then we argued about Operation Soulmate, and she insisted she believes it’s going to work—that her soulmate is out there somewhere.
I’m sure it’s fear holding me back. But how can I not be scared?
I’m right here. Around Sophie all the time. And she still feels the need to orchestrate an elaborate scheme to find someone else. It isn’t exactly a confidence booster.
“I don’t know why I didn’t,” I finally answer. “I maybe thought it would give you the wrong impression.”
“Whatever. It absolutely wouldn’t have.”
I snap a few pieces onto the LEGO plate, then nudge it toward Sophie, turning the instruction booklet so she can see where her pieces go. “Maybe not,” I concede, “but I wasn’t good at stuff like this, especially not back then.”
“At LEGO sets?” she teases. “Pretty sure you were an expert.”
“At people,” I say. “At friendships.”
“What are you talking about?” Sophie clicks her pieces in, then slides the plate back to me. “You were a great friend.”
“Becauseyoumade me one,” I say. “You have to admit, Sophie, we never would have been friends had you not tried so hard to wear me down.”
She huffs out a little chuckle. “True. You were one tough nut to crack.”
“Why did you try so hard?” I ask. “What did you see in me?”
“What didn’t I see in you?” she answers, the words coming so quickly I know she has to mean them. “You were smart and confident, and you didn’t care what anyone else thought. High school was silly in so many ways, but you never were. You were serious and studious and so mature. Like you were completely ready for the world.” She shrugs. “I envied you, really. I think I thought if we hung out together, you might help me feel less lost.”
It’s weird to hear her talk about how she perceived me in high school because it’s so far from how I truly felt. “I was the one who was lost,” I say. “I had no friends. I had no idea how to relate to people.” I add another piece to the model, and my hand collides with Sophie’s. But instead of pulling back, I grab her hand, holding it in mine. “Not until I met you.” My heart climbs into my throat as I slowly rub my thumb across the back of her hand.
For all the times I’ve touched Sophie, hugged her, sat with my arm around her, nothing has ever felt so charged as this. Even that moment in Sophie’s kitchen doesn’t quite compare. Maybe because nothing has ever been so intentional.
Sophie lifts her gaze to meet mine, a question clear in her eyes.
I turn her palm, pressing it flat against mine and thread our fingers together.
It could be a friendly gesture. Friends hold hands all the time.
But I hope she senses that I don’t want it to be.
Behind us, the bedroom door flies open and Allison steps inside.
Sophie yanks her hand away and scoots several feet away from me, like we’re teenagers who just got caught making out.
Allison’s eyes go wide. “Uh, sorry, I…I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You weren’t interrupting anything,” Sophie says, the words a little too rushed.
“Right,” Allison says, her eyes darting from me, to Sophie, then back again. “I was just wondering if Sophie wants to run down to Cookie’s with me to get a latte. Mom has me packing dishes, and it’s totally boring, and I could really use a pick-me-up.”
“Yes! Definitely!” Sophie says, jumping up with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. “Let me just run to the bathroom really quick.”
As soon as she’s out of the room, Allison closes the door and kicks the side of my leg. “Oh my gosh! Were you seriously just holding her hand right then? Is something happening? Please tell me something is happening!”
“Chill, please,” I say. “And lower your voice. Nothing is happening.”
“Um, then why were you holding her hand?”
