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It’s so obvious.
Please don’t be an idiot.
My heart squeezed with starved pangs as I stared down at the two strips, running my fingers along their edges the same way I had a thousand times over the last ten days. I had every detail of every frame memorized down to each tiny blue smudge on Adrien’s white shirt. So how was it that my pulse kept skipping like I was looking at them for the first time? As if there was something new in them that I was experiencing?
It’s so obvious.
Please don’t be an idiot.
Robert had said the same thing at the airport, and I was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe they were able to see something with an outsider’s clarity that I wasn’t privy to.
I reached for my phone, navigated to my blocked numbers list with unsteady fingers, and removed the most recent number. It took another fourteen minutes for me to gather the courage to take a picture of the strips, and another three to press Send. But I finally did it.
My stomach flipped when the outgoing message status switched from Delivered to Read almost right away, and I held my breath, counting each excruciatingly long second until a blue heart emoji popped up on the screen. I exhaled, a rush of giddy relief making my heart tremble as I smiled down at the blue heart.
Then came the picture. Adrien’s copies of the photobooth prints, bent at their white middle break to accommodate the fold of his wallet.
My grin widened as I tried to come up with something witty to type back. But then I noticed the gear stick in the corner, right beside his leg.
I blinked, checking the time. He’d dropped me off like forty minutes ago, which meant he should have been home by now. Unless he was stuck in some sort of weird midnight traffic jam? It wasn’t likely, but why else would he still be in his car—
“I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
My mouth popped open.
No way…
I scrambled to my window, hurled it open, but couldn’t bend out far enough to see around the corner without risking a three-story fall to a broken neck.
There was no way he was still here, and it was very on-brand for my recent descent into madness to read that much into what he’d said. But still… it wouldn’t hurt to check. Just to make extraextrasure that he wasn’t waiting out on the street for me like one of those cheesy (but amazing) 90’s romcom dudes.
I quietly snuck back downstairs, threw the building door open, and sure enough, just as I’d predicted—
…
Holy shit, Adrien Cloutier was waiting out on the street for me like one of those cheesy (but amazing) 90’s romcom dudes. But so much better. Because it wasAdrien.
He was standing outside his car now, leaned against the passenger side door, staring expectantly at his phone as his other hand fumbled nervously with his belt.
Until he heard me burst out of the building.
I couldn’t tell which one of us was more surprised to see the other, but the initial shock lasted for about two clumsy heartbeats, and then we were both moving, mouths grinning, hands reaching.
“Knew it,” he breathed a second before my arms looped around his neck, my lips crushed against his, and I stopped being an idiot.
Finally.
Finally.
38
We stumbledinto the backseat of Adrien’s car, our limbs and mouths tangled with clumsy desperation.
I’d missed him. Really, I’d missed him.
“I’m sorry,” I kept breathing every chance I got. “I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he kept murmuring every chance he got. “For everything. I’m sorry.”
