Page 72 of Releasing 10
Butting Gibsie out of the way with my hip, I grabbed the door handle a second before him and grinned in victory. Call it silly, but I wanted to be the one to open the door when Hugh came to my house. I wanted to be the first person to see his face. In fact, I wanted to see his face all the time. Every day.
When I yanked the door open and was greeted by the Biggs family, I had to force myself to not throw myself at Hugh.
I wanted to.
So bad.
Because I thought about himallthe time. My face felt hot when he smiled at me, and I wanted to spend all my time being near him. Even when I was supposed to be playing with Claire, I always searched for him and secretly hoped that he would come into the room and join us. I loved the things he talked about. He was so smart and was always teaching me things. About stars and constellations, about nature, books, movies, music. He was like my own personal encyclopedia on life itself.
“Gerard!” Claire squealed, rushing past me to throw her arms around our friend. “You look super nice in your shirt.”
“Thanks, Claire-Bear,” he chuckled, looking more relaxed than he had all night now that she was here. “You look like a princess.” Draping an arm over her shoulders, they followed her parents into the kitchen, while I remained rooted to the spot, attention riveted on the only boy I ever wanted to look at.
He was wearing a red plaid shirt that was tucked into dark jeans, with brown boots. His hair was neatly combed, but it still flopped forward like Junior from the movieLittle Giants.
Hugh grinned at me. “Hi.”
I beamed back at him. “Hi.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” He held up the familiar card and winked. “Niceg.”
My face flushed with heat. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I can tell.” Smiling, he stepped inside, and his arm brushed against mine as he moved, making the flutter-cups go crazy.
Unable to stop myself, I leaned in close and took a whiff. Just like I remembered: freshly cut grass, soap, strawberries, and Hugh.
“Did you just smell me again?” he asked with a small laugh.
“I like how you smell.”
“I took a bath this evening.” Raising his arm to his nose, he took a whiff of his armpit and shrugged. “It’s the same soap as always.”
“Does your mam put bubbles in?”
“Yep.”
“I like bubbles.”
“Same.”
“I don’t like baths anymore.”
“Why not?”
“They’re stingy.”
He frowned. “Stingy?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “I don’t get stung.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s just my bath.”
“Maybe.” His gaze drifted over me, and I felt my body warm up. “You look really nice.” Smiling, he flicked the bow on my hair and teased, “Very un-Lizzie of you.”
“My sister made me wear it.” Blushing, I closed the door behind him. “Thanks for coming.”
