Page 59 of Only in Your Dreams

“You want to sweep our baggage under the rug, Mel? You do that. But I’m not sweeping anything away. I did something to you that I intend to make up for. And I don’t want to be your friend while I do it.”

“Oh? And what is it you want?”

“You.”

She frowns, stumped. “What do you mean,me? Like a friends-with-benefits thing?”

“There you go, using the wordfriendsagain. Believe me, I want the benefits. But I want the other stuff, too. I want you visiting me at work, me looking after you when you face off against chipmunks.” I let out a breath. “Go out with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go out with me.”

Her eyes turn to slits. “What is this? Some weird way of trying to make up for the fact that I had a thing for you before? Or is it what I said about not feeling desirable? Because I’m not interested in a pity date.”

“It’s not a pity date. And it’s not about what happened ten years ago.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about…” I search her face, like I’ll be able to succinctly articulate the reasons I love this woman when I’ve failed at it for years. It’s a long fucking list, but I shoot for the thing least likely to alarm her. “It’s your scowl.”

“My scowl?”

“Yeah. It’s charming. And I like the way you keep me in line with that bratty mouth of yours. Plus, you smell nice.”

“I… smell nice,” she deadpans.

“Like vanilla and cinnamon.” I play with a strand from her ponytail. “You smell so sweet for someone so bratty. I like it.”

I think I’ve lost her. Mel’s gaze travels to the far wall, trying to add up my words.

“I’m not going out with you, Zac,” she says slowly.

“Because you’re fresh out of a relationship?”

“That. And also, because… Look, I swear I’m not trying to be a bitch when I say this, but—”

“Just so you’re aware, it’s not required that you preface your feelings by calling yourself names. It’s not your job to keep my ego intact, least of all, by minimizing the way you feel.”

She rolls her lip between her teeth. “Then I’ll preface it with this: I swear I’m not trying to hurt your feelings when I say this, but I meant what I said at camp. I moved on. I’m not going out with you.”

It doesn’t hurt any less hearing that the second time. Like each one of my organs is getting pulled apart, stretched to the brink of snapping, only to be left in that state. Paper thin and distorted and agonizingly painful.

But her return in my life has an expiry date on it, if she’s serious about moving back to the city. I’m not wasting a second of it playing coy.

“Yet. You’re not going out with meyet.” I want todevourthat scowl. “Look, that night in your room? I hurt you by leaving. I broke your trust by not coming back. It wasn’t what you deserved, nor were the years of silence after, and I’m going to make it up to you.”

“This is so unnecessary.” Melody’s skeptical gaze drifts to the kitchen opening behind me, like she’s considering making a run for it. At least she hasn’t told me to go fuck myself. “I think we need some sleep. We can pick this up when we’re both thinking clearly.”

I’ve never had a clearer thought in my life.

But it’s also clear I’m not winning this battle tonight, so instead I say: “Then let’s get you to bed.”

* * *

I’ll be honest, here.

This isn’t how I ever pictured having Melody Woods sleep over for the first time. She’s in the adjoining bathroom now, and it feels like I should be lighting candles around the entire perimeter of my room, sprinkling rose petals everywhere.

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