Page 104 of Promise Me Nothing
And that’s when the wariness comes. I can see it form on her face, though it’s like a light gray cloud. Just a hint that a storm might be coming in the future, even if it’s not here yet.
She tries to hide it, though, so I leave it alone. Instead, kissing her softly on the cheek.
“So, Monday. I’ll pick you up at noon?”
And just like that, whatever flitted across her expression is gone, replaced with a soft, almost disbelieving smile.
She wraps her arms around my back and kisses me again, her tongue making just a small entrance into my mouth.
“Sounds perfect. What should I wear?”
“Duh. A bathing suit.”
She laughs. Gives me another peck.
And then she lets me go.
I give her a wave and a “see you tomorrow,” before heading out of the courtyard and to my car, which waits in the driveway.
Then I make the short drive home.
Tonight felt like a game changer.
For a number of reasons.
And I can’t help but feel like Hannah Morrison might be a more important piece to my life than I’d originally assumed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hannah
The Sunday double kills me. Slays me. Runs me ragged and buries me deep under the exhaustion that’s been building with so many back-to-back shifts with no break.
But I wake up on Monday with a surge of energy. Enough so that I go for a five-mile run up and down The Strand when I roll out of bed at nine o’clock.
I’m surprised by how many people are already out on the sand, setting up their tents and large umbrellas for a long day at the beach. A large group surrounds the volleyball net that’s a permanent fixture just a few blocks from Lucas’, and a house a few doors down has their music banging loud and dozens of people spilling out of the downstairs patio when I get home just an hour later.
Part of me is bummed that I’ll miss out on everything that will be happening around here today. But it’s only a small part. The bigger part of me is thrumming with excitement about spending the day with Wyatt.
I step into my bathroom and flick on the shower, letting the water heat while I strip out of my sweaty running gear and chuck it into the small laundry basket in the corner.
My phone beeps before I step in, so I grab it and take a look.
Lucas: Enjoying your holiday weekend so far? Hope things aren’t too crazy.
Accompanying the text is a photo of him, Otto and a girl that I think might be Remmy at a beach in Malibu, giving me the shaka.
I shake my head on a laugh and set my phone aside, planning to respond once I finish rinsing off.
Stepping under the heat, I allow my sore muscles to soak for a while, doing nothing except giving my mind a moment to wander.
To think back to my date with Wyatt on Saturday night.
I’ve only been on a handful of dates in my life. There were only a few boys in high school brave enough to poke at The Cactus and not hurt themselves. And when I got older, I just kept up with the same prickly vibe, enjoying the space it created between me and unwanted male attention.
Wyatt’s attention, though? Definitely not unwanted.
It is wanted with a capital W.
