Page 70 of Petals and Plot Twists
But can he trust me with his?
Peter finally pulls his mouth from mine. His hands slide down my arms until our hands are clasped, fingers entwined together. “So I was thinking,” he says, a slight tremble to his voice. He sounds nervous, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes like he’s annoyed with himself. “I don’t know why I’m nervous when I wasjustkissing you.”
I bite the corner of my lip, suddenly struck by how endearingly perfect this man really is. “Don’t be nervous,” I say. “It’s just me.”
His expression softens. “That’s precisely why Iamnervous,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Sophie, will you have dinner with me tonight?” He squeezes my hands. “I’d like to take you on a real date.”
“I’d love to,” I say.
Because I would. Because even though I still have a million reasons to worry about what will happen if we try dating and it doesn’t work out, now that Peter is here, all those worries seem so much smaller.
I just want to be around him. I want to bewith him.
The realization washes over me, settling like a warm, comforting blanket around my shoulders. I’ve read a lot of romance novels, and they frequently describe feelings hitting like a lightning bolt, like some startling jolt of clarity.
This isn’t that. It feels more like I’m accepting something I’ve always known. Finally seeing something that’s always been right in front of me.
“I was thinking the cantina over by the library?” Peter says. “We could walk, probably. If the weather is nice. It’s supposed to storm this afternoon, but the forecast says the rain should clear up by five or so.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say, and he nods.
“Good.” Peter rocks on his heels, his cheeks turning the most adorable shade of pink. “Then it’s a date.”
A date. A real, actual date with my real, actual best friend.
I push up on my toes and kiss him one more time. “I’m really happy, Peter.”
He smiles wide. “Yeah. Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie
Peterand I spend the rest of the morning cleaning my apartment. It’s usually a task I hate, but with Peter helping, mopping my floors and scrubbing my toilet has never been so much fun.
While Peter is rearranging my pantry, I wipe down all the countertops and clean out the inside of my cabinets. I have no idea how I got crumbs inside the cup cabinet, but apparently, I managed it like a pro.
When I step off the stool I’m using to reach the top shelf, my hip bumps into the kitchen table, the motion waking up Peter’s laptop.
It pretty much lives in the spot it currently occupies, and I’ve gotten used to ignoring it, but his email inbox is open on the screen, and the subject line of the message sitting at the top immediately catches my eye.
Charlotte Itinerary.
I glance into the pantry, heart hammering like I’ve already been caught snooping.
“Hey, you’ve got some expired oatmeal in here,” Peter calls.
“Do I?” I ask. “We can toss it.”
“I’ll make a pile,” he says. “I doubt it’s the only thing.”
“Sounds good,” I say, but my eyes are glued to his laptop. I shouldn’t look. But Peter’s the one who doesn’t have his laptop password-protected, which, that’s the most surprising thing here. Seems like a data scientist for a cybersecurity company would have passwords and double encryption and a dozen other safeguards to protect himself and his personal information.
But what do I know?
I lean a little closer. I won’t click on the email. That feels like a step too far. But the opening lines of the message are visible next to the subject line.
Looking forward to you meeting the team. You’ll be a great add…
