Page 45 of Glitter Rose
“Hey.” I keep my voice neutral, casual, like I haven’t been planning this all day.
She looks up, knife pausing mid-slice. “Hey. I was making a snack. Want some?”
“Maybe later.” I step closer, hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I’ve got something to show you.”
Her eyebrow arches. “What kind of something?”
“A surprise.” I hold out my hand. “Do you trust me?”
Her eyes flick to my outstretched palm, then back to my face, lowering the knife onto the counter. “Depends.” She wipes her hands on a dish towel. “Does this surprise involve more embarrassment?”
“You want to find out?”
She regards me for a few torturous seconds before slipping her hand into mine, fingers cool and slightly sticky with strawberry juice. “Leadthe way.”
We descend the stairs in silence, her hand still in mine. Maybe I’m being a complete idiot. But maybe it makes her smile. And if that’s the case, I’ll gladly be the idiot.
On the seventh floor, I pause, turning to face her. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?”
“Humor me.”
She sighs dramatically but complies, lashes fanning against her cheeks. I move behind her, placing my hands over her already-closed eyes. Her body stiffens before relaxing back against my chest.
“No peeking,” I murmur against her ear, guiding her forward. “Three more steps.”
The cinema doors swing open with a gentle nudge from my foot. I maneuver her into position, centered before my creation, and take a breath.
“Okay,” I say. “Open.”
I drop my hands from her eyes, watching her face as she blinks in the candlelight. Her lips part. Eyes widen. A small, surprised sound escapes her throat. Good signs.
“You made all this?” She takes a tentative step forward, fingers trailing over a velvet cushion. “When did you—how did you even?—”
“Found it yesterday while you were in your room. Figured we could pretend the world hasn’t gone to shit a little bit.”
She turns in a slow circle, taking in the candles, the cushions, the vintage movie posters still hanging on the walls. “That’s—” When she faces me again, her eyes shimmer in the flickering light. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” I guide her to the cushion nest. “There’s more.”
She settles into the pillows, tucking her legs beneath her as I produce the popcorn with a flourish.
“No movie,” I say. “But I figured we could still have our first date.”
Her fingers pluck a kernel from the bowl, examining it with childlike wonder. “Where did you find this?”
“Trick or treating. Found a stash in 4B.”
She pops it into her mouth, eyes widening as she chews. “Oh my god. It’s stale and perfect.”
“Glad you like it.”
“So,” she burrows deeper into the pillows, “is this your way of apologizing?”
I settle beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. Not yet. “What part would I be apologizing for exactly?”
“You know damn well which part.”
