Page 55 of The Yes Factor

Devon’s friendly nature manages to turn Opal’s frown into a straight line, which is as close to a smile as you can get out of Opal. “So nice to meet you,” he says.

Opal gives him a once-over devoid of all subtlety and then concludes her inspection with a quick approving nod. Crossing her birdlike arms, she turns to me. “Bex, honey, you need to wear a sweater. Once the sun goes down, it’ll get chilly.”

Oh my God, it’s like I’m seventeen again!

“Thanks for your concern, Opal, but I’ll be just fine. I have on long sleeves and it’s a nice night.” I pull Devon by the hand in the direction of the truck.

“Well, don’t stay out too late!” she screeches at my back. “Come see me when you get home. I want to know how it goes. I’ll just be up watching House Hunters!”

“Bye, Opal.” I wave and hop up into the passenger seat while Devon holds the car door open for me.

* * *

We drive north on the PCH, my hand still in Devon’s, and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“House Hunters? Please! She’ll be up spying through the curtains, that’s what she’ll be doing! Alphabet soup.”

“Alphabet soup?” Devon says.

“She’s LAPD, CIA, and FBI all in one!” I say, as I’ve said dozens of times before to my friends and to Maddie, who’d be rolling her eyes, but never before to Devon. It’s a thrill to talk to someone who hasn’t heard all of my stories yet; an attentive audience of one who will laugh at my tired jokes and anecdotes because he’s never heard them before. I shimmer with the hope that this newness brings, that makes me feel witty and fresh.

It is like I’m seventeen again. I’m reminded of my first date with Steve Tyrrell, my high school boyfriend, when he came to pick me up in his burnt-orange Chevy. God, what a beater that thing was! It was a miracle we’d even backed out of my parents’ driveway. Once on the open road, we rolled down the windows and drove for miles, scream-singing Tom Petty songs and feeling like we were flying as the truck kicked up dust on the country roads. We parked behind the abandoned barn on the Schill’s property and made out to a symphony of cicadas. Steve got me home five minutes before my midnight curfew because he didn’t want to give my parents any excuse to keep me from seeing him again.

The tragedy of youth is not knowing how good you have it. How simple it all is, before the rush of life and work, kids, and making ends meet. Yet, as I sit next to Devon, so many years after that first date in high school, and the hard road I’ve traveled since, I appreciate how good this actually is. How even though my life is complicated, this moment still feels simple and right. I look at Devon’s left hand on the wheel, and his right hand in mine, his gaze focused on the road, relaxed and serene. I think to myself, I want this feeling forever. I want him forever.

I’m no psychic and the fact is, I’m not even Devon’s girlfriend yet. But I don’t care. Sometimes you just have a feeling you can’t deny. The thought doesn’t even scare me. It might scare him if I said it out loud, so I won’t. I’ll keep it secret in my heart, for now, and just enjoy the ride.

Hours later, lounging on a large quilt on a Malibu bluff overlooking the sparkling ocean, Devon wraps his arms around me as we watch the sun sink below the blue horizon. A short hike and an incredible picnic dinner beats any high-end LA restaurant.

Devon has definitely wowed me with this date. I flipped through so many scenarios in my mind of what it would be like and never thought of this one. It has all been an adventure—the picturesque walk through the tall reedy grass, the seamless conversation, the cold crisp bottle of wine—Devon did not disappoint. I couldn’t have imagined a better first date.

“So, Bex, what’s your dream trip? Where do you want to go to the most in the entire world?” Devon whispers into my ear.

I sink into him, my mind racing through all the places I’ve wanted to go. I’ve always dreamed of going to Bali and staying in one of those glass bottom huts over the water, watching the ocean life swim below. I’ve wanted to go to Greenland, I have no idea why or what’s there, but it seems like a strange place and I want to see it. I want to go to Austria and run through the mountains singing “The Hills are Alive!” The world is so big and there is just so much to see and do. I haven’t done any of those things. Mostly because I don’t have the money or the time, but also because I wouldn’t want to do it alone.

“Machu Picchu. I want to do that four-day trek and on the final day at sunrise step into that magical space between heaven and earth,” I say, the wanderlust hanging heavy in my voice.

Devon sits up. “Let’s do it!” I raise my eyebrow skeptically. “What? Let’s do it!” he continues. “There’s about a month of summer left, let’s take Maddie and Chloe and hike thru Peru!” I start laughing, equally astonished and excited by the idea. Devon’s laughing too. “I know I sound insane. I mean, we just met…” His laughter trails off and he’s suddenly quiet as he looks me directly in the eye. “We’ve just met, but I have this feeling…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but I nod slowly. I know the feeling.

I want to call Liv right now and scream again, You did it! You did it! Thank God she knows me better than I know myself.

“I know what you mean.” I lean forward ever so slightly, spellbound by his magnetism. His eyes haven’t strayed from mine and his hand moves gently to the back of my neck like the brush of a feather. I melt into the moment, the intensity of it sinking into my bones and muscles. There is stillness. There is my heartbeat. And there is Devon.

Meeting him halfway, our lips only just touching…we breathe. Then magic. Just like he promised.

* * *

“Do you want to come in?” I say to Devon, stealing a quick glance over to Opal’s house, making sure she isn’t about to pounce.

Devon seems a little nervous. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but I don’t really want the night to end either.”

He stuffs his hands into his back pockets, which makes his chest look even broader in his long-sleeved tee. I can practically see the air sizzle between us, charged full of nerves and anticipation. There’s no reason to rush a good thing, but then again, I’ve been living in a romance desert, so I’m ready for a downpour.

Sitting on the couch with our hands wrapped around my no-stem wineglasses, our banter has carried us into the night. My beloved Ingraham mantle clock reads 10:36 p.m. and even after an action-packed week with Liv, there is not a bone in my body that is tired. Although, the bedroom doesn’t exactly sound like a bad idea.

Devon is recounting the last Christmas he spent with his extended family in New Orleans. “Yeah, so then, it’s time for dessert. The much-awaited chocolate pie that my mom has made from scratch every year since the day I was born, and her mother made from scratch every year before that. It’s an incredible pie, and she makes three just so everybody can have two slices.”

“Sounds delicious!”

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