Page 199 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Loved him for how fussily he cared. Loved how anxious he was to please. Loved his attentiveness. Loved the fact that his brand of loyalty might seem “smothering” to outsiders, but to me, it was…perfect.

For the first time in my life, I had found someone who could match myintensity.

Someone who was as dramatic and romantic as I was.

Someone who had seen me at my worst, and still wanted to hold my hand afterward.

The other half of my half-empty cup.

It was easier to breathe then, with George at my side, and the sun slowly descending.

And for the first time since I’d lost my watch last night, I realized how much easier it was to carry the weight of the world when I wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I’m starting to think you really do have brain damage,” I huffed as Alex headbanged to a song I didn’t recognize. He’d had way too much caffeine. It was late. He shouldn’t have hadanyat all, but here he was, an energy drink in his cup holder, with the streets of Columbus, Ohio blurring by.

“Rude,” Alex snorted, shaking his hair back and forth, a breeze caressing the curl on his forehead, sending it drifting. “You’re just jealous because this is your first time listening to modern girly-pop.”

“I don’t think ‘jealous’ is an accurate description of what I’m currently feeling,” I replied. “ABBA is far superior.”

“ABBA?” Alex echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time.”

“Oh, shut up.” A giggle burst free, and I had to slap my hand over my mouth to get it to stop. I blamed the show tunes we’d been listening to all the way from Hocking Hills and into the city. Discovering that Alex and I hadboth been theater kids in high school was surprising—especially because I knew he’d also been a jock. In my school, those things had not mixed.

I’d skirted by—as a cheerleader, but only barely.

I supposed private school might be different? But that wasn’t something I’d ever know firsthand. Alex was an eclectic combination of perplexing contradictions. And I adored it. Just like I adored the pickles I’d been munching on for half the drive—having retrieved them from the fridge at the main lodge for our journey to the suit shop.

So, yes.

Show tunes had made me giddy.

I’d never driven with the windows down through fields of corn while belting toAnnie Get Your Gunbefore. We’d sang a rather horrible rendition of “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better”, both of us so out of tune it was horrendous.

I’d said we were both in theater.

Not that we were gifted.

It was also possible that my current lingering joy could’ve been caused by the brand new Armani suit hanging from the suit hook in the back of the car so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Armani, to match the one Alex was going to wear.

Alex—because he was a unicorn—had a friend who owned a suit store, apparently. A friend who just-so-happened to owe him a favor, and had been willing to keep the shop open past closing so that we could go suit shopping despite the late hour.

Which subsequently meant that at one in the morning, we’d only just finished purchasing what had to be the prettiest, and most expensive suit I’d ever owned.

I’d let Alex buy it.

I hadn’t even attempted to push his credit card away. Maybe it was my way of showing him that things had changed between us. That I accepted him. Or maybe it was his puppy dog eyes? Either way, Brendon no longer felt like ashadow that hung over me. Nor was he a wall between us. And refusing Alex’s genuine offer felt like something “old George” would’ve done. Not new Georgie.

No.NewGeorgie listened to show tunes with his not-boyfriend.NewGeorgie snarked and giggled, and rolled down the windows to feel the summer breeze.NewGeorgie was free in a way old George never had been.

As illogical as it was—after only a few short days?—

There was only Alex in my heart now.

There was only Alex’s smile haunting me.

Only the whisper of his laughter.

Only the nonsensical way he somehow managed to fill every space he entered with light—even now, when it was dark out, and the only thing keeping us company were the blurred city lights on either side of the vehicle, and the half-eaten jar of pickles that was abandoned at my feet. We pulled to a stop at a train crossing, and the lights outside stilled.

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