Page 79 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

I look at the clock on the dash, stomach dripping with disappointment when I see that there are still several hours to be had of this horrid Valentine’s Day.

“All right,” he says, slowing down to the curb. “Get under my jacket.”

“What’s the plan besides me hiding?” I ask, unbuckling and crouching back into my wedgie-inducing hiding spot.

He tosses his jacket at my head. “Gotta keep eyes on them. So think of something under there.”

God, he’s fired. At least Liz had ideas. When I hear the limo’s doors and Alec’s voice, I press my face into my knees, the jacket slipping slightly. Get to the roof—that’s my plan. Stairs and elevator are out, so I’ll take the fire escape and watch my step. Alec is worth braving a little wobbly steel.

The driver’s door opens and the jacket is whipped from my head. “You weren’t completely covered,” he says with a bite of annoyance, “but I don’t think they saw.”

I wiggle my way across the seat and plunk my boots down on the cement sidewalk. “Which building?”

He nods at the one with the broken chain-link fence, a fadedNO TRESPASSINGsign dangling from it. I squint into the darkness, studying the stairs I need to take to the top. If I hurry, maybe I’ll beat them up there.

“You stay with the limo. I’ll tale the eagle eye.” I check the tightness of my boots. “If they start kissing, I’ll create a diversion.”

“Do you like your boyfriend’s face the way it is?” he asks. “Because if you do, you’ll create that diversionbeforethey kiss.”

“Noted.” Should I let him know that every time I see the object of his affection I want to punch her boobs in? No, I’ll let that be a pleasant surprise for all of us.

I take a deep breath and hold it as I squeeze through the opening in the chain-link fence. What is it with this girl taking Alec to very smelly places? After one breath through my nose I choose to forgo that way of getting air and let my mouth drop open. The shadows dance on the walls of the buildings I’m sandwiched between, and I quickly look back toward Jackson. He’s watching me with intense eyes and puffing on his e-cigarette. He looks fast. I can hold off attackers long enough for him to get to me and help. As for ghosts and demons, well, he’s probably their leader.

The side door Alec and Rian must’ve taken is cracked open, and I take a peek around it before sprinting past it and up the first steps of the fire escape. So far it’s fine: no creaking or groaning, and very little swinging. I look up and see a couple of missing steps above me, but I can easily jump them.

The next flight is okay, and the one after that. But once I hit the fourth set of stairs and the entire structure begins to sway, my bravado vanishes and my stomach plummets. I let out an involuntary yelp and squeeze against the railing, my head hitting brick. I wait an excruciatingly long minute until the metal framework stops its wobbly dance, then tentatively crawl up the remaining stairs. I’m grateful when I reach the ladder that is nailed securely into the wall and doesn’t creak or move as I step up rung after rung and swing over the edge of the rooftop.

I stop dead, not chancing a breath or a movement or a single sound. Damn it, I didn’t beat them up here, and I’m completely exposed, standing right in front of them. But as luck would have it—the first bit of luck I’ve had tonight—they aren’t looking up. They’re crouched down together, Alec holding his phone with the flashlight on. They’re talking in low voices and touching the ground, and I take a quick glance under my feet and realize the entire rooftop is covered in graffiti.

Still holding my breath, wishing my heart wasn’t pounding so hard, I sidestep my way into the shadows. Praise Jesus I didn’t go with the sea monster’s prom dress for my attire tonight. The purple is dark enough to blend into the paint surrounding me, and I tuck myself into a corner by a basketball hoop and a cart of balls. I suppose if I wanted to play a game I’d want to do it in a cool place like this, but I don’t feel like thinking in complimentary terms when it comes to Rian and her uncooperative attitude. So I shake my head free of thoughts about how incredible her talents are and tell myself over and over how not jealous I am of them.

I get comfortable watching them—as comfortable as one can be when you’re forcing down the urge to glove-slap a bitch—and start scoping out the area for a better spot to hide, somewhere I can hear them from. Their voices are low, and damn their close proximity to each other. There’s a shadowy cover maybe twenty, twenty-five feet from where they’re standing, and I consider army-crawling my way over, risking being out in the open for a few seconds. But then Alec shifts, tossing his head back in laughter, and I stop thinking about the mission I’m on to prevent them from kissing and only about why the hell he’s laughing.

His hand snakes around Rian’s waist and he swings her in toward him, and my entire being crumples inward and bursts into flame. I’m burning in hell, struggling for air and for clarity, but only seeing red. Rian’s boobs are in serious danger of getting punched inward.

There have been many times when Alec’s done those moves with me and I thought for sure that he was going to kiss me; being the dumbass that I am, I’d joke and run away. Rian is not doing that. She’s all for his kisses because she’snota dumbass and she’s fighting for her night, and it’s petty and juvenile and I don’t give a shit becauseIwant this night. And all I can think about is the mission to prevent them from kissing.

Prevent it…prevent ithow?

I could throw a shoe, yell out his name, burst in between them, and we’d end up in a fight at the end of the night and how I lost my damn chance with him and I should let him move on. It all makes sense in my head—how I should just walk away and let the chips fall.

But my body…my body sees their faces getting closer, and my hand knows there are about fifteen basketballs within reach. I tear my eyes away from the laughter and the smiles and fumble to get the ball in my hand, sliding my fingers on the rubber until I get a good grip. Without another thought I throw with all my muscle behind it.

When I was in high school, I could pitch a baseball at a dunking machine and hit it every time. It’s good to know that particular talent hasn’t waned over the years.

1 MONTH, 20 DAYS AGO: 9:33P.M.

My apartment is shockingly clean. Probably the cleanest it’s ever been. I pulled out all the stops this Christmas because I’ve been working on the most epic gift in the world formonths, and the setting has to be perfect when he opens it.

I turn on my electric fireplace—the first time this season, since I usually have shoes packed in front of it and I am not risking burnt UGGs—and clap my hands with a smile. This year started out rocky with the robbery, but it’s turned into a solid winner. I’ve finally deleted Eli’s number from my phone and forgiven myself for what I did to try to keep him. Liz and Landon are married now, but I was wrong about things changing too much. Even after Landon’s movie sold, Liz has still been just a few feet down the hall, there whenever I need her. Which is not so much lately. Alec and I are still toeing the platonic line, never crossing over into risky territory, despite my ever-growing feelings for him. There are times I’d like him to push me up against the fridge again and repeat that kiss.

But really, everything could stay exactly the way it is, and I’d die a happy woman.

—

Jinxing something by thinking about it is not a joke, I realize as I dip my spoon into a bowl of strawberry ice cream topped with Apple Jacks. Next time I think about things staying the same I’m going to snap a rubber band around my wrist.

The cold from the open refrigerator pours out over my legs, causing goose bumps and shivers as I sit on the tile floor. Food that I’ve foraged throughout the evening is strewn between me and Alec, and empty wineglasses rest by our hips.

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