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I let go. “No, I can’t. I have to find Lexi.”
His eyes darted from his parents back to me, like he was afraid if he let me go, I’d disappear. I smiled and waved him away. “You go. I’ll come find you and my mom.”
I was lying, though, because I couldn’t wait to get away. It was all too much—the shock of seeing my mom, and the even bigger shock that she’d flown here on the Walton’s helicopter—with Henry. The second he turned toward his parents, I slipped out the double doors and ran down the auditorium’s steps, feeling like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight—knowing I didn’t deserve the dream or the prince because happily-ever-after didn’t happen in real life—or to girls like me.
There was only one place I could go to feel like myself and make sense of it all.
The basement was cold, even for January. The lamp I’d brought from my room flickered on and off, hinting that it needed a new bulb.
Sitting on my blanket and tucked safely between two piles of books, I gazed across the room and saw a starry sky out the small, square windows that lined the basement’s wall—the same windows where I counted lightning strikes the first night I tutored Henry.
Henry. His name echoed in my head. I’d been hard on him, but my mom had lost herself and everything we had done too many times trying to fix bad men. Had I done that, too? Had I tried to fix the bad-boy billionaire? I’d given up my time, my studies—and my heart.
As I replayed the hours we’d spent studying, laughing, and sharing stories about our lives, I realized that I hadn’t fixed Henry, but Henry might’ve fixed me—at least the part of my heart I’d walled off behind books and top test scores because on the other side of my perfection was a mom who cried about losing boyfriends who didn’t deserve her and the weight I felt to keep my scholarship and win awards because those things made her smile. Henry was the first person who worried about making me smile.
Suddenly, the basement creaked open.
“Grace?” Henry stood in the doorway—his face lit by the stars outside because the lamp must've finally flickered for the last time while I was lost in thoughts of him.
He rushed to me, dropping to his knees on the blanket. “Are you crying? Did I do that?” He brushed my bangs away from my teary eyes. I’m so sorry if I—”
I shook my head. “No, they’re not sad tears. Just the opposite.” I sat up and took his hand. “This is the happiest I’ve been in fifty-nine days.” I smiled, remembering I’d said the same thing to myself earlier. “But who’s counting?”
Henry leaned in close. “How about we start that count, again, Tutor Girl?” He kissed me, softly, then whispered, “That’s one.”
The lightning we watched that stormy night—strikes close enough to feel the electricity all around us—surged up and down my back, racing to remember the first day we met then the first night in the basement when this long-awaited kiss nearly happened. Leaning back to gaze into Henry’s blue eyes, I whispered back, “and this is two.” I pulled him toward me and kissed him again.
“But who’s counting?” Henry laughed and wrapped me in his arms.
