Page 46 of A Play For The Heart
“Oh, Maren is going to love this!” Nathalie exclaims. “She told me about her radar and her theory that you two liked each other.” She claps her hands together, excitedly. She turns back to watch the kids in the gym, rambling on about how cute we are together and how much she loves Henry. I’m genuinely surprised she didn’t have any questions like if we’re officially dating? Or if we’ve spoken about the kiss? Because the answers are ‘I have no idea’ and ‘Nope’.
Nathalie was pretty neutral to Henry before book club. They had met at Longboards, but with the group and the showdown happening between Maren and Jack, she said she hadn’t spoken to him much. After book club, however, I swear Nathalie was gunning to take my spot as Henry's best friend. The following morning at work, Nathalie spent the better part of an hour telling me about how much she liked him. How cool he was and how great it was that he hung out with us put on a face mask and talked about faerie books. Before she gushed about him, I had never thought about how lucky I am to have Henry as a friend. It made me feel even more grateful that he’s in my life. I don’t know where recent events will take us, but I still wouldn’t trade Henry for anyone else.
Henry:I’ll be home today.
Can I come over?
My heart plummets out of my chest and onto the floor as I read the text message. So much has changed in the last two days, I don’t think I’ve truly processed it. I hurl my phone from my hands onto the other side of my bed, so I don’t type something stupid or dumb. This response requires finesse. I need to sound cool and casual. Not like I’m panicking. I am definitely panicking but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
Me:Yes!
That sounds amazing!
I would love that!
Nailed it.
The moment I send the text, I launch myself into preparation mode. I hop into the shower and shave the entirety of my body. Just in case. From there I clean both the living room and my bedroom. Apparently, the apartment looking lived in isn’t appropriate for Henry to see. I blame the nerves. My default is to stress clean so now Henry can see his reflection on the floor. It's so shiny. Once I’m showered, dressed, and attempting not to shit my pants with nervousness, Henry texts me again.
Henry:Left the airport.
On my way.
I had finally just calmed my nerves the tiniest bit when the text message popped onto my screen. Six simple words and I am a bundle of anxiety again. Not one time was I nervous when I hung out with Declan. Granted, we only saw each other a handful of times before he moved to Seattle, but not a single time did I feel like this. Full of excitement and anticipation but also nervous as hell. My heartbeat skyrockets at the thought of Henry. The few times Declan kissed me, I didn’t feel much. It was nice but that’s all it was. Nice. When Henry and I kissed, it was electric. It felt like the rush of a rollercoaster. I could have drowned in that kiss.
I scramble out of bed when I hear a knock on the door. I quickly look myself over in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Confident in my appearance, I head towards the door. I swing the door open, locking eyes with Henry on the other side of the threshold.
He smiles at me, shy and nervous. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I respond, not moving from my spot in the doorway. I look him up and down, drinking him in. The toned legs, the arms full of muscle. The goofy grin. He chuckles, enjoying my clear perusal of his body.
“Sawyer, you have to move if you ever plan on letting me in from the hallway.”
I look down at where I am and sure enough, I’m right in the middle of the door, blocking the entrance. I huff out a laugh and move to the side, allowing him to move past me into the entryway.
“How was the game?” I ask, immediately wincing the moment the words leave my mouth. In my attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence, I asked an awkward question. “Oh god, I'm sorry,” I say immediately, trying to backtrack.
“Sawyer, it's okay. We lost the game, but we’re still in a good position for the playoffs, so it’ll be fine.” He laughs off my question, but I still feel slightly bad because I know he was probably beating himself up about it. And in true Sawyer fashion, I say something else dumb because I’m flustered and nervous.
“Micah asked me today if you were my boyfriend.” He is barely three feet into my apartment and two awkward things tumble from my lips.
Henry’s eyes jolt to mine, searching for something in my gaze. “He did?”
“Yeah, it was funny and embarrassing. He asked me then started singing the song about kissing in trees. I’m sure my face was so red that you could see it from outer space.”
He bellows out a laugh at Micah’s shenanigans and my embarrassment. Then, he sobers up, a seriousness in his gaze that I haven’t seen outside of a football game. “Am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Am I your boyfriend?”
Holy shit. I have no idea how to respond to this. I look him over, hoping that something in his body language gives the answer away. But there’s nothing. His face is blank. Like he’s purposely hiding whatever he’s feeling while he waits for a response.
Do I want Henry to be my boyfriend? I ponder the question for about half a second before the answer is in the forefront of my mind. Bright like a neon sign on the Vegas strip. Of course, I want him to be my boyfriend. If that kiss told me anything, it’s that we have chemistry. Off the charts. And our friendship has been amazing. It would make the most sense if we dated. Plus, I want to date him. I want to touch him and hang out with him all the time. And kiss him. I most definitely want to kiss him. Many more times. All the kissing, please.
I’m not sure I want to give away just how much I want Henry to be my boyfriend, so I decide to deflect his question with one of my own.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
