Page 30 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

My friends pop in and out with ideas, but everything we discuss is part of a long game, not the flash in the pan we need.

By dinner time, I'm so fixated on figuring out the plan that I've tuned everything out. I'm vaguely aware of people talking, but their words pass by me like a breeze.

"We should take a break for dinner," Rusty says.

I don't listen.

"Food's here. I'll put your wrap in the mini-fridge."

"Let me refill that for you."

"We're heading out."

"See you at home."

"Watch over her, will you?"

"Always."

"I'll just get your garbage and clean the rest tomorrow."

My garbage?

I look up to see Deb from the cleaning crew.

Deb usually doesn't come till?—

"What time is it?"

"Ten," Deb says with a smile. "Same as when you usually see me, hon."

I blink and rub my eyes. They feel like they're full of sand. Have I really been working for almost ten straight hours?

Rusty's asleep on the desk across from me.

Rusty's still here? He can't be here! He has to get up at 4:30!

I push back from my desk and sigh. I'm so selfish. I got so far down this rabbit hole—eighty-two rabbit holes, according to the new tabs I've opened since lunch—that I didn't even consider the impact it would have on my friend.

And it's not like he was idle. Rather than asking me to slow down or explain what I was trying to do, Rusty was doing his own research.

While I was looking up every viral video for every company ever, he was looking up travel blogs and tourism websites and taking notes of what stood out to people. He was looking up things like "can I see everything in Charleston in one day?" and "what should I do in Savannah if I only have four hours?"

And suddenly everything I was thinking—every single thing—is obsolete, because Rusty's ideas have given me a new idea altogether. It's so good, I want to shake him awake and tell him all about it. The guy listens to my dreams, for Pete's sake. This actually has a point!

I'm about to wake him when I notice how peaceful he looks and I stop myself.

He stayed.

Even after pulling an all-nighter with me last night, he stayed to help me even more. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen and never complains about exhaustion.

I won't tell him anything tonight, I promise myself. I'll let him go home and sleep, and then tomorrow, I'll tell him all about it.

I'm almost buzzing with excitement, but I bottle it up as I gently shake his shoulder.

He doesn't stir.

"Rusty. Rusty," I sing, shaking him a bit harder.

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