Page 40 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

And Lucy had a huge smile on her face.

I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her hand or putting an arm around her to bring that happiness even closer. She was like a sun with that smile, and I was cold after that conversation about my family.

“I feel like I’m in a movie,” she whispered as we approached the door. The inside was a mix of white and natural wood with a few people milling around looking at some of the things on display in the lower level. Mostly, though, the inside was all staircase. I gestured with my head, my hands still firmly contained, and she proceeded me up the steps.

It was a bad idea. She filled the space in front of me. All Lucy. Nowhere else to look.

So, I stared at my feet.

I knew the moment she glimpsed the windowed room, because her little gasp had me looking back up. What I didn’t expect was for her to look back at me with eyes wide in amazement. Her smile stretched even wider, and she hurried the rest of the way.

There were two teenage girls in the little circular room, but just as we exited the stairs, they switched us spots and headed down, leaving Lucy and me alone with the view.

Three hundred sixty degrees of view.

The tour guide in me tried to take over. Facts upon facts of this place threatened to spill out of my mouth, but I kept them back. Lucy was standing, framed perfectly within the sill of one of the windows, staring out with complete ecstasy. I couldn’t blame her. One hundred and eighty degrees was sparkling blue water and cloudless blue sky, and the other was half sky, half lush green farmland.

It felt like being inside whatever the summery version of a snow globe would be.

I leaned against the back windows, a bit to the side so the rotating light in the center wouldn’t block my view of her.

And it hit me. I really liked this girl.

It felt stupid saying that in my head—like, duh, of course I liked Lucy.

But this“like” was eerily similar to my massive junior high crush version of “like.” She made my chest all hot and excited to see her. She filled my thoughts more than I’d like to admit. She brought a smile to my face even when she was cranky with me.

As any romance-obsessed nine-year-old might say, I “likeliked” her.

“Lucy,” I said. Her gaze snapped to mine, hers still filled with awe reflective of the beautiful world around us.

Her brows lifted with a question.

“Let’s go on a date.”

Her lifted brows turned surprised as her head tilted to the side. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A date. You and me. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

She blinked. “No.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. More out of surprise than anything. “No?”

“Yes. I mean, no. No, you’re crazy.”

“What’s crazy? I like you. I want to take you out.”

She was shaking her head. “So, you take me out and then what?”

I shrugged. It didn’t matter. It was one date, and we would have fun. Why did it need to have a “then what?”

“And that’s why my answer is no.”

“Because I don’t have a life plan for us?” I was grinning. Was it a defense mechanism? Because, honestly, it felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.

“No, because I’m just a fling for you. You probably had one in your tour group last week, and I’m here for work, so I can’t really go out with you, then have you turn tour guide again tomorrow.”

“Why not? I doubt things would be so bad at dinner that I wouldn’t let you on the tours anymore. Unless… wait. Do you secretly hate chocolate? Am I going to find out when dessert comes that you're some health nut? I can’t date someone who will judge my health decisions.”

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