Page 67 of Only in Your Dreams

Zac plucks a pen sticking out of the top of his binder. In big block letters, he writesClover’s Playbookacross the top of his legal pad and slides it toward me, dropping the pen on top.

I eye the page. “You realize you’re encouraging me to come up with a plan to meet a guy, right?”

“You already have a guy. He’s sitting fucking right here.”

I make a show of looking around, but he cuts off the beginnings of my comeback with a pointed, unamused look. “That would be me, you brat.”

With a laugh, I pick up the pen, poising it under the wordsClover’s Playbook. “Well, play number one seems pretty cut and dry. If I want to move back to the city, I need a job that lets me afford it.”

I writefind a job that pays betteron the legal pad.

“Do you like what you do?”

“Absolutely hate it,” I say, staring down at the page. “I was scrambling pretty hard to find a job after graduation. And in came Connor.”

“Then adda job that doesn’t give me the Sunday scariesto the list.”

“May as well dream big.” I suppress a smile, holding out the pen. “Maybe you should be writing this.”

“Nuh-uh,” he says with a shake of his head. “That’s part of the deal, Clover. You’ve spent six years following someone else’s playbook. This one’s yours, all the way through.”

My entire body tingles, starting in my chest, spreading slowly outward until I feel it in the tips of my toes.

Annoyingly, irritatingly, breathtakingly thoughtful.

I tear the page out and slide his notepad in front of him.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s your playbook. You’ve got a job to keep. A few games to win as a start, but a championship sounds pretty good too, doesn’t it? You look miserable every single time you mention work. How are you going to get happy?”

He digs a second pen out of his binder, and after a quiet moment bends to start writing.

I turn back to my page and write:

Get a job that pays better (and doesn’t give me the Sunday scaries)

Purge my life of everything that isn’t mine

Cut all ties to my ex

Do something I’ve been dying to do, but never have

Never hold back how I feel (dirty thoughts excluded)

It’s not exactly a master plan for success.

But maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to get me in a happy place again.

Done with his own list, Zac leans over my page. He takes his time reading, as though committing it to memory, then bursts into laughter. I watch him ride it out, taking in the laugh lines around his eyes, the way his top and bottom lashes nearly tangle together with the force of his crinkled eyes.

“I might have to contest that last one.”

He does a double take when he finds me staring. His smile grows an impossible inch, so wide and genuine. My insides scramble. My heart falls into my stomach, brain lodges itself in my chest.

I swallow, drop my gaze. Nod at his page, which he’s folded in half. “Do I get to read yours?”

“Maybe one day.” Zac buries the sheet of paper in the heart of his binder. “I like yours though. Think you’ll start today?”

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