Page 49 of Prince Material
“What?”
He kissed me again, soft and quick. “That. For the road.”
My heart did that complicated flutter thing again. “You’re going to make it very hard to concentrate on driving.”
“Good.” His grin was mischievous. “Though I promise to behave. Mostly.”
The drive back was different from the drive out—charged with possibility but comfortable too, like we’d crossed some invisible threshold into new territory that somehow felt familiar. Floris kept hold of my hand whenever I didn’t need it for driving, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that made it hard to focus on the road.
“So,” he said as we neared home, “what are we going to tell your mom?”
I tensed slightly. “About…?”
“This.” He squeezed my hand. “Us. Whatever we’re becoming.”
The question made my chest tight with familiar anxiety, but Floris just waited, patient and steady beside me. “Can we… Can we keep it between us for now?” I asked finally. “Not because I’m ashamed or anything, but…”
“Because you need time to process?” His voice was gentle, understanding. “We can do that. Like I said, we’ll go as slow as you need.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”
“Though I should warn you,” he added with a grin, “I’m terrible at hiding how I feel about you. Your mom’s probably already figured it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Orson.” His tone was fondly exasperated. “I’ve been staringat you like you hung the moon since I got here. I’m pretty sure the alligators noticed, and they’re not exactly known for their emotional intelligence.”
Heat crept up my neck. “You have not.”
“I absolutely have. Remember at breakfast when I passed you the coffee and nearly knocked over the orange juice because I was too busy watching you push your hair out of your eyes?”
“That was…” I trailed off, remembering. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” His thumb traced circles on my palm. “I’m surprised the whole state of Louisiana hasn’t noticed how gone I am on you.”
My heart did that flutter thing again. “Gone on me?”
“Completely.” His voice was soft but certain. “Have been for a while now.”
We pulled into the driveway, and I put the car in park but made no move to get out. “How long is a while?”
He was quiet for an uncharacteristically long time. Then he finally said, “Probably since the day we explored Worcester together, when you got so excited about that old concert hall. Your whole face lit up talking about the architecture, and I remember thinking I’d never seen anything more beautiful.”
My breath caught. “That long?”
“Yeah.” His thumb traced another pattern on my palm. “Though I think I fell a little bit more every time you helped me with calculus, or reminded me to get my laundry, or just… existed in my space. You kind of snuck up on me, Orson Ritchey.”
I turned to look at him properly, taking in his earnest expression, the way the afternoon sun caught his eyes. “You snuck up on me too,” I admitted quietly. “I had all these walls, all these reasons why I couldn’t let anyone get too close. And then you walked right through them with your terrible jokes and yourgenuine interest in water management and your way of making everything brighter.”
His smile was soft, intimate. “So what you’re saying is, I wore you down with my charm?”
“More like your persistence.” But I was smiling too. “And maybe a little bit your charm.”
15
FLORIS
That night, as I lay in Orson’s bed, still surrounded by his smell, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. What a perfect, perfect day. No matter what happened between Orson and me, this would always be a day engraved in my memory, a day filled with pure joy.
