Page 128 of Hate You, Maybe
“Oh, I’ll never abandon my clipboards.” I let out a small laugh.
“But you will not hold one walking down the aisle.”
“Flowers only,” I say. “On that note, are you doing poinsettias or holly or—” I stop short as the sound of something out the front window gets my attention. The curtains are drawn, so I can’t see the yard, but there’s music playing.
“Mom? I gotta call you back.”
I don’t wait for a response before ending the call. I drop the phone on the couch and move to the window to pull the curtain aside. And there, on the lawn, next to the pile of leaves from our sugar maple, is Dexter Michaels. He’s holding up a wireless speaker shaped like one of those oldboom boxes my mom used to have. And a song is blasting from it.
“Steal My Girl.”
I’m in my bathrobe and slippers, I haven’t showered since Saturday, and last night’s benzoyl peroxide is probably still on my face, but I run for the door anyway. I meet Dexter on the lawn and stand there staring at him until the song finishes.
“Hey.” He sets the speaker down and sends me a crooked smile.
I pull my robe more tightly around me. “What are you doing?”
He shifts his weight. “I was going for that scene with John Cusack out in front of that girl’s house. Whatever her name was.” His smile falters. “You know. FromSay Anything.”
“Never heard of it,” I say.
Now it’s Dexter’s turn to gape. And I let him suffer for a few seconds. Or a dozen. Then I say, “I’m kidding. Of course I knowSay Anything. My mom made me watch that movie with her a bazillion times. Lloyd Dobler was my first real crush.”
Dex ducks his head. “How about now?”
“Oh, I got over Lloyd years ago.”
“Good.” He tips his head. “So how do you feel about me? Now?”
I wrap my arms around my body. “Honestly? Kind of terrified.”
I start to shiver, and he comes toward me, almost like he’s operating on instinct. “Let’s finish this talk inside where it’s warm,” he says.
I peek over my shoulder at the front door. “You mean in junk food alley? If you insist.”
We move into the house, settling on the sofa facing each other, and I suddenly feel like I’ve spent my whole life facing Dex on various beds, chairs, and couches.
“Before we say anything else,” he begins, “I need you to know how sorry I am for not checking in these past two days. I have no good excuse. I just honestly freaked out, and I needed a moment to get my head around how much I care about you. I might’ve even tried not to care about you so much. But I was too late. The caring about you already happened.”
“Same.”
“Okay, good,” he says. “Or bad, I guess. Depending on how you look at it.”
“Both?” I offer.
“Both work for me. But circling back to you, then.” He nods toward the window. “What you said out on the lawn before … I terrify you?”
“Yes, actually.” I tuck a leg under me. “The thing is, I’ve always been scared of hope,” I admit. “I spent my whole life afraid of getting what I want, because every time I got even the tiniest bit happy or remotely comfortable someplace, we had to move again, and it was time to start all over again.”
Dex gathers my hand in his, and all I want to do is melt into the warmth of his touch. Not pull away from him, to stay in control. I’ve always been the one to end things first. It was safer that way. But maybe I don’t want to play it safe anymore.
“So I kept myself small,” I tell him. “I steered clear of big dreams. But now, around you, I can’t seem to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Hoping,” I say, and my voice wobbles. “You’ve filled me with so much hope, I don’t know what to do with myself. These past few weeks, I’ve been walking around all lighthearted and giddy, like I might lift right off the ground and float away.” I push out a shaky laugh. “And maybe that kind of happiness sounds good to normal people, but to me, it’s even scarier than being numb. Than feeling nothing at all. Because what’s going to happen if the balloon pops?” I sniffle. “I’ll tellyou what will happen. I’ll crash and burn, Dex. And I’m not sure I could recover from that kind of fall.”
His eyes go soft. “So what if we just decide to keep the air in?”
