9781250209153

She hands me a perfectly wrapped box. I rip the paper as gently as I can,
acutely aware of her watching me. When I open the case inside, I find a
black, thick-banded wristwatch in the exact style I would choose for myself.
“I—”
“I kept the receipt in case you don’t like it.”
“No, I love it,” I say breathlessly. “I don’t have a watch.”
“I know.” Her tone shifts to something more familiar. “I thought you
could use something to help you run on time.”
Her eyes are dancing. I mean to look away from them, but the chance
for that passes. I’m looking at her and she’s looking at me and it’s far too
late to pretend otherwise.
She bites her lip. “Well—let’s see how it looks.”
She wraps the watch around my wrist. Her fingers on my skin are fire.
I’ve never stopped to notice our hands together, the contrast of skin tones,
the interplay of her polished rings and my bitten-down fingernails. She has
a white scar near her knuckle that shines as clearly as the one on her
eyebrow. Without thinking, I brush my thumb over it.
“Curling iron,” she says. “Seventh grade.” She twines our fingers
together.
“My hands are sweaty,” I whisper, like I’m trying to give her a reason to
let go.
“No shit,” she says with that sparkle in her eyes.
I stare at her mouth. I want so badly to lean in, but where would that
lead? What would it mean?
“Scottie,” she says softly. “Don’t overthink it.”
“Overthink what?”
“Kissing me.”
I laugh unexpectedly, because it’s the most Irene-ish presumption ever.
“God, you’re cocky.”
“I’m right.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Say you’ll go on a date with me. A real date.”
It hangs there in the air between us. I search her eyes and she lets me.
The sincerity in them scares me so much that I have to look away.