Page 60 of Just My Type
NOAH
“Why does peanut butter and jelly taste so much better on the beach?” Hannah muses, kicking her legs out in front of her in the sand and taking another bite of her sandwich.
“No one knows. It’s just a fact of life,” I answer, reaching into the cooler I brought and pulling out a Sprite and a Twizzler. I bite the ends off the Twizzler and pop open the can, dropping the Twizzler in and handing it to her.
“You brought my favorite sandwich and my favorite soda with a Twizzler straw?” Hannah asks, staring at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
I lean over the arms of our chairs and kiss her cheek. “Brought Oreos too. I considered bringing the whole peanut butter jar for dipping, but I thought sand and the peanut butter jar might not be a winning combo.”
When she just keeps staring at me, I push my sunglasses up on top of my head and set my own sandwich on top of the cooler, turning in my chair so I can face her fully. “Why does that surprise you?”
“That you didn’t bring the peanut butter jar?” Hannah asks in a very thinly veiled attempt to change the subject.
“No, Han. Why does it surprise you that I brought all your favorite things to the beach?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t.”
I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. “It does. Tell me why.”
Hannah takes a deep breath and leans her shoulder against the back of her chair. “I guess I’m just not used to someone paying attention to all the details. Not just what I like and stuff, although that too, but the actual little details of bringing the things I like to the places we go without having to ask me, and without me having to coordinate it. Knowing me well enough to know what I want.” She shakes her head, huffing out a breath and turning to look out at the ocean. “God, it feels so stupid when I say it.”
“It doesn’t,” I say, laying a hand on her cheek and turning her back to face me. “It doesn’t, Han. You deserve to have all your favorite things, all the time. You deserve someone who remembers what you like and makes the effort to give it to you. You deserve to just show up and have someone else worry about the details sometimes. More than sometimes, if I have anything to say about it. I don’t think you’ve been able to do much of that, have you?”
I know the answer, but I watch her and wait for her to respond. Every emotion plays across her face until finally she turns her head and kisses my palm. That little gesture has my heart squeezing.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Thank you for understanding me so well. And thank you for this day. And just…for everything.”
I take Hannah’s free hand in mine and wind our fingers together. “You don’t have to thank me, Han. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I like seeing you happy. I like being the person to make you happy.”
I love you.
Fuck, I feel those words down to the core of me. The truth of them. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I took the final fall, but what I do know is that it feels inevitable, Hannah and me. Like we were destined to be together. Written in the stars. Like the threads of this thing between us were spun three years ago and just kept drawing us closer and closer together until we ended up right here, on this beach on a hot and sunny summer day, where I know for certain that she is my endgame and I really hope I’m hers too. There is no part of her that’s ready for my big feelings right now, but at this time and no other, I can be patient and wait until she is. It’s too important not to. And until then? Well, there’s still so much fun to be had.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she says, taking a sip of her Sprite.
I wink at her, dropping my sunglasses back over my eyes. “Gorgeous, there is no one else like me. I’m one of a kind.”
Hannah snorts out a laugh. “I’ll say.”
I dig into the cooler and come up with a Dr. Pepper, popping it open and taking a sip. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. Now, you said this morning you wrote two chapters last night, which is obviously all kinds of amazing. Are you ready to tell me what the book is about yet?”
Hannah told me she would tell me more about the book when she hit ten chapters, and by my calculations, she should be right around there.
She nods, a nervous look crossing her face. “What’s this face?” I ask, using my thumb to smooth the furrow between her eyebrows.
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the same time. “This time it really is stupid. I feel like if I tell you, all my writing mojo will disappear, and I’ll never be able to consider that traditional publishing deal. Or I won’t be able to finish it, and then you’ll be disappointed along with everyone else.”
Skating my thumb down her jaw, I push her wet hair behindher ear. “First of all, Cece is my grandma and you’ve met her. You can’t grow up with her and not understand being superstitious. And not to state the obvious or anything, but for the last month or so, what you’ve needed to write is, well, me.”
Hannah huffs out a laugh. “You really enjoy that, don’t you?”
I grin, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d be lying if I said no, and I’m not in the business of lying. I love being your muse. It’s cool as shit. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere, so it stands to reason that you’ll keep being able to write. As for the disappointment thing, there is nothing in the world you could ever do that would disappoint me. If you decided tomorrow that you’ve had enough of this writing thing and want to do something else entirely, I would just ask you how I could help. It’s not author Hannah I like. It’s you. Hannah Evans, the smartest and most beautiful girl in the world. That’s true today, and it’ll be true every day, no matter where you are, no matter what you decide to do.”
Hannah eyes me, brow quirking. “That was quite a speech there, Noah. You really want to know what the book is about, huh?”
I cover her hand with my other one and squeeze because, this girl. Goddammit, she’s perfect for me. “Gorgeous, you have no idea. Please put me out of my misery and fill me in.”
She grins, and my chest expands with warmth. “Okay, because you asked so nicely. I’m kind of…writing another accidental marriage.”
