Page 84 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
She’s quiet for longer than I would like, but I’ll be patient. I’m determined to do things right tonight if I can.
“Yeah, of course the offer still stands. I wasn’t sure if you would want to.”
“I’m sorry I took so long to answer.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” I take a deep breath, wishing I were with her so she could see my face and know I’m speaking from the heart. “I never want you to question what I’m thinking. Or feeling.”
She pauses again, leaving me with just the sounds of the road. I picture her at her desk, playing with a leaf on the bouquet I sent her. “About dinner,” she says slowly. I know what she’s wondering.
“Unless you want me there as your friend, tonight is a date.”
“Even with my family? Dinner’s at five, by the way.”
I do my best to sound confident, even though I’m anything but. I’m going to be cutting it close. “Yes. It isn’t what I would have liked for our first date, but I don’t want to wait. I’ve already waited too long because I’m an idiot.”
“I wondered if that was the case.”
“That I’m an idiot?”
She laughs. “No. That you were waiting. For something. I was thinking about making a move if you waited much longer.”
I’m definitely not going fast enough. I pass a minivan and keep my foot on the accelerator, easing a few miles per hour faster. I want to pick up more speed, but I don’t want to risk getting pulled over; I’m barely going to make it in time as it is.
“No move-making is necessary,” I say, even though it sounds ridiculous. “I’ll be making all the moves tonight.”
“All of them, huh?”
My heart jumps into my throat, but I swallow it back down. “Yes, Micah. All of them.”
I’m done holding myself back from being happy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Micah
As excited as I amto see Kit and Skyler tonight, I have absolutely no idea what to expect from Fischer. I’m already on edge from leaving work early and earning myself a rather threatening voicemail from Lila after she realized I left just before four, so I’m really hoping tonight will be a good sort of unknown. Not a heartbreaking one.
He said he was going to make all the moves, which is pretty hard to misinterpret, but that doesn’t help my nerves.
I’m on my third outfit when he knocks on my door because he told me he would be picking me up rather than meeting me at the restaurant. It was practically an order, though I wouldn’t have argued. I haven’t had someone come to my door for a date in years.
When I open the door to find him with one hand on the frame above his head and the other holding a bouquet of flowers, I can’t speak. One: he looks deliciously attractive standing there like that in a hunter green button-up and jeans, and a smolder burning in his eyes. Two: he brought mesunflowers. Big, bold, and bright yellow sunflowers that barely fit the plastic wrapped around them.
“This is my guess,” he says, his words a low rumble as he holds the flowers out to me.
I still can’t speak. I can barely breathe. Honestly, I didn’t know what my favorite flower was. I was hoping I would figure it out when the right guy came along, and apparently I was right because my whole heart is telling me that he’s right. Both about the flowers and right for me.
“Why?” I eventually whisper, reaching out and taking the blooms from him.
His lips curl up in a sympathetic smile. “Your mom. You said the field behind her grave is full of sunflowers, and your eyes lit up when you talked about it. They always do when you mention your mom.”
My chest explodes with warmth and fireworks and the pounding rhythm of my heart. He remembers that? I don’t even remember telling him. It must have been soon after we met, which means he’s been paying attention from the beginning.
“Am I right?” he asks. Vulnerability shines in his eyes as he tentatively reaches out and brushes a tear from my cheek. “It’s hard to tell with the crying.”
I laugh, and then I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and loving how tightly he holds me. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”
