Page 85 of The Comeback Summer

“I’m going to stop the dates,” I say, and he exhales in relief.

But there’s tension in his voice when he asks, “How will you explain that to Libby?”

I turn my body, propping myself up so I can see his face. He looks somehow boyish and utterly manly at the same time, that sharp jaw, that dimple, that gorgeous hair that is now a rumpled, tousled mess.

“I’m going to tell her the truth,” I say.

“Which is...”

“That I just had mind-blowing sex with Joshua Andrew Jacobson,” I say, laughing.

He smirks, all smug satisfaction for a moment, before his expression melts into something more vulnerable. “Which means what, exactly, for us?”

A thrum of anxiety runs through me. “I guess that depends on what you want.”

“That’s not obvious?” he says, motioning to our bodies, our legs tangled together, our skin glowing with a slight sheen of sweat.

“Spell it out for me.” I need him to be clear; he’s the one who left, and he’s the one who came back.

He holds my gaze, tender and fierce. “I want you, Hannah. I want to take you to dinner and hold your hand and kiss you. I want to put a picture of you on my desk at work. I want to take you to bed, and I want to wake up with you in the morning and feed you breakfast and go running together. But if you’re not ready for that—”

“I am.”

Even as I say the words, though, a tiny voice whispers that I’m being stupid—that if things don’t work out between us, it’ll hurt like hell. That I’m being selfish, that I can’t just do whatIwant, because this affects my sister and our future.

But there’s another voice, too, reminding me to be brave, to take a risk, to follow my heart. I don’t think it’s Lou’s voice. I think it’s mine, steady and clear. And I’m going to listen.

“I want all those things,” I tell him. “I want them with you.”

“Now,thatis the best thing I’ve heard in five years.” He wraps his arms around me, all solid muscles and warm skin, and exhales a long, long breath, relaxing completely.

I wish I could relax, too. But I know what’s coming next.

I have to tell Libby.

Twenty-Nine

LIBBY

If Hannah’s noticed that I stepped up my effort training the last few days, she hasn’t said anything. Not even when I suggested stopping by the playground to do some extra deadhangs and pull-ups after we did our scheduled interval walk-run.

I expected her to question me, since I usually complain about any activity that uses my body weight against me, but I was willing to try anything to help prepare for this friend-date or work-date or whatever this is with Adam.

Just my luck, the extra work backfired.

My armpits are achy as hell, and my palms are sore from all the friction, which does not bode well for my surviving the Ninja Gym.

“Hey!” Adam says as I walk in. The room smells like rubber and sweat, and I’m instantly transported back to my high school gym, which is not a place or time that I’d particularly like to revisit.

If it weren’t for Adam, standing there with a bright smile on his face, looking both athletic and adorably dorky in gymshorts and a rec league T-shirt, I might have walked out before we made it past the reception desk. But alas, he’s here early and I can’t back out now.

“Hey,” I say, not sure if I should go for a handshake or a hug. It’s only awkward for a moment, because he leans in and gives me a nice, albeit platonic, hug.

He smells even better up close, that musky, manly scent I haven’t stopped thinking about since the street fest last weekend. He feels strong and solid beneath my arms, and I can’t help but notice his height; while too short for Hannah’s standards, he’s perfect for me. My head comes up to his shoulder, and I resist the urge to lay it there and close my eyes.

But we’ve got a terrifying obstacle course to get to.

After we check in and sign a very long, detailed waiver that I only skim for fear of spotting some kind of warning that I won’t be able to unsee, a pumped-up guy named Billy gives us a quick tour and tells us the rules.

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