Page 31 of One Hundred Lights
She can literally have me arrested for trespassing.
I waited until after I knew she’d be gone to lunch with her parents and Jackson, then let myself in with the garage code. I dragged the bins of lights from the winter dance into the Idea Garage and got to work. Frappy and Captain were curious, at one point settling into one of the empty containers to watch me decorate.
Maybe they don’t hate me after all.
Britt gets out of her car and stares at my SUV. I send her the text I have ready.
Me
Come to the Idea Garage. I have a surprise for you
She grabs her phone from her pocket and reads it, then glances up, making direct eye contact with me as I peek through her blinds.Shit.That probably makes me look like a real stalker. I’ll have to make it up to her right away.
I step back and wait for her to come inside. It takes a hundred years for the knob to turn and the door to slowly open.
Britt steps inside. “Adrian?” Then she gasps, her hand flying to her chest.
I’ve strung up about half of the school dance white fairy lights. I would’ve done more, but there was no more room. I lined the walls—careful to use hooks that wouldn’t damage the walls or paint when I take it all down—doorways, tables, desks, the loft area, and the kitchen. The dark December day helps, since no sun streams in from the windows and the effect is a holiday wonderland.
Britt wanders to the center of the room, her mouth parted, eyes flitting everywhere, resting for a beat on the kitchen table, where there’s a chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes.
If this doesn’t work out, it’ll get awkward real fast in here.
“Britt.” I savor the sound of her name on my lips.
She squeaks and slips off her jacket, throwing it on the couch and spinning in a slow circle, eyes wide. “What did you do?”
Something right, that’s for sure, because she has an awestruck smile as she turns.
“I decorated. You taught me everything I needed to know about making a place magical with strings of lights.”
She giggles and stops spinning.
“And—” I take a step toward her. “The thing is, I’ve been dying to dance with you again.”
“You want to dance with me? Here?” She rubs her arms and then slides her hands on either side of her neck, as if she needs grounding—a reminder she’s here, and something big is happening.
“Better than the high school gym, no?”
“At least we don’t have to hide behind curtains.” Britt makes a sound I can’t place, something that makes me think her body is humming in response to mine, wanting to touch me as much as I want to touch her. She looked hot as hell on Friday night, but she’s just as gorgeous today in jeans and a thin, gray sweater.
“So? Will you dance with me?” I hold out my hand.
Britt nods. Then she does the best thing I can imagine—she places her hand in mine.
“Alexa, play the song.”
Britt’s mouth quirks up as the familiar slow guitar strums fill the air. “Is this the song we danced to on Friday?”
“Yeah, I think it’s ours now.”
She smiles again, and I can see the joy reflected in her eyes.
I pull her body against mine, arms wrapped around her waist. Her hands press against my chest, her eyes fixed on mine. Oh, this is right. This is exactly how it should be.
“Adrian,” she whispers and presses her lips together. But she says nothing else.
That’s fine, because there’s something I have to say first.
