Page 68 of Best In Class
I cut through the water, not like I’m chasing something, but to clear my mind and understand myself better.
You still haven’t told her the truth!
But if she’s forgiven me for a crime I didn’t commit, won’t she for the one I did?
Guilt is more acrid than the chlorine in the pool
I’m scared to tell her the truth, I admit that. I can’t lose her just when I’ve found her.
I flip at the end of the lane, push off the wall, and glide. For a few seconds, the silence is complete—just water, breath, thought.
How about asking her out for dinner?No masks. No defenses. At least not from my side.
I think about that as I feel the burn in my muscles, ignoring it and pushing through it.
Luna is still wary.
I was her first love, first lover, first everything—and I damaged something inside her by making her think I cheated on her.
I was such a damn moron, thinking that was a smart way to end things. But the truth is, I didn’t know how else to make her give up on me. Because Luna wouldn’t just walk away because I said it was over. Oh no. She’d know something was off. She’d dig, and push, and demand answers—because she’s Luna. And I didn’t have the guts to give her the real ones.
Back then, the thought of going up against Nathaniel Steele scared the hell out of me. My scholarship, Mama, everything I’d worked for—he had the power to take it all. And if I lost all that, I’d lose her, too. Because if I didn’t go to school, didn’t become the architect I knew I could be, how would I ever be worthy of Luna? I wanted to show my woman I was strong enough, big enough, to be the man she deserved.
Christ! Talk about toxic masculinity! I was the fucking poster child of it.
I surface, slick my hair back, and lean on the edge of the pool, chest rising and falling. The water laps gently around me, warm against skin that still remembershers.
And I think—not for the first time….
This time, I won’t lose her.
I debate whether to ask her out on a date in person or by text.
She’ll get jittery if I approach her in person, and I can see her reaction. She’ll shut down. However,a textmessage allows her to process my request at her own pace.
I’ve handled billion-dollar clients with fewer complications than figuring out how to navigate Luna Steele.
Should I text her before work or after?
Stop overthinking this to death and just do it, Dom. Damn it!
I spent the entire day thinking about how to ask her out. I exhaust myself, and then finally, I text herafterwork before I head to meet Lev, Gabe, and Noah for drinks.
After overthinking the fuck out of it, I send her a simple message.
Me:Dinner this Saturday.
Me:Just dinner.
Me:And drinks…obviously.
Stop typing, you fucking motherfucker before she realizes you’re still a wet-behind-the-ears teenager.
Luna:Pick me up at seven.
Holy fuck! She said yes!
Me:Yes.
