Page 64 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind

She jumps, her body bumping into mine, but I don’t move.

“Soren,” she says, stomping her foot.

“Answer the question,” I say. Then, seeing the panic on her upturned face, I smile slightly. “Relax,” I say. “I won’t read any more of it, okay?” It kills me to say; I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to look at something more. “Just tell me if you really made a list about me.”

Her body sags, her shoulders slumping. Then, to my surprise—and complete delight—she lets her head drop forward, resting on my chest.

“Yes,” she says with a sigh. “I made a list about you.” She hesitates and then looks up at me, her eyes beseeching. “I know it’s a crummy thing to do, okay? But I’m really not good at this kind of thing, and it helps me to organize my thoughts on paper—”

“I’m not mad, honey,” I say as my smile grows. The endearment slips out almost too naturally, but I don’t take it back. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to die of curiosity, but I’m not upset. I just wanted to know.”

And the look on her face is so hopeful, so unsure, that I find myself reaching up, tucking her hair behind her ear, my thumb brushing against her skin for one electric second. “Here,” I say, passing her the little piece of paper. “Take it.”

To my surprise, though, she doesn’t. She looks at me instead, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. I watch as she swallows, holding myself back with an iron grip as I’m struck with the urge to kiss that spot on her neck. When she speaks, her voice is raspy in a way I’ve only heard in my dreams.

“You can read it,” she says.

I blink at her, surprised. “What?”

“You can read it.” She pushes my hand away gently, until it and the list are pressed against my abs. “Here. Read it. Just this side.”

“I—are you sure?” I say. I make myself wait, make myself be patient.

Slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, she nods. “I’m sure.”

That’s good enough for me. I let my eyes drop to the piece of paper in my hands, scanning it hungrily. I’m well aware that there might be things here I don’t want to know, but somehow I can’t stop myself. Besides…she wouldn’t let me read it if there was anything truly insulting, would she?

I don’t care. I read the whole thing anyway, noting that apparently she has a love-hate relationship with my hair and that she thinks I’m obnoxious; that last one makes me smile a bit.

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she bites her lip.

I want to bite her lip, too.

Cut it out, I tell myself firmly.

“Are you done?” she says, her voice anxious.

“Done,” I say.

She breathes a quick sigh and pulls the paper away from me.

To give myself something to do, I move over to the counter and pick up her discarded muffin. I take a bite, chewing slowly, and then hand it to her. “Here,” I say. “If we’re done talking about how you secretly love my hair or how you think I smell good and that my books are incredible—”

“I also said obnoxious,” she cuts in, rolling her eyes at me. She takes another bite of her muffin. Then, covering her mouth so that I don’t get a glimpse of her food as she speaks, she goes on, “Did you miss that part? Because I’m happy to show you again.”

“You also said it’s annoying that I’m so attractive,” I go on as though she hasn’t said anything. “And I have to agree; it is a burden—”

“Good grief,” she says, rolling her eyes, and I smile.

I continue smiling, hoping it remains natural even as my mind jumps to the one item on her list that actually troubles me:I don’t know what kind of future we would have.

I don’t know what that means, and I’m afraid to ask.

Feelings are interesting, aren’t they? The same emotions that propel you to put your heart on the line are the ones that recoil at the slightest chance of rejection. I’ve never been particularly free with my affections; I don’t date a lot, and I never have. I’m the kind of guy who has a short string of serious relationships rather than dozens of casual encounters.

Casual holds no appeal for me.

“All right,” I say, trying to focus on the here and now rather than on nebulous futures that may or may not come to pass. “Let’s make a plan, shall we?”

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