“See what I mean?” Sadie coos. “You two are naturals.”
She clicks through all of them, each one depicting two people who clearly want to be there. And in every image, I gain more confidence to ask the question brewing in my head.
“When can we get them?” Rune asks.
“I have to edit them, since I only shoot in raw format. But I’d say sometime within six to eight weeks. I’ll send you the link for the digital photos, and you can print them with the release form you both signed.”
Sorry Grandma. Looks like it'll be a late Christmas gift or early birthday…
“I’m in awe, Sadie, truly. You’re amazing!” he gushes, and I add on, “I can’t believe that’s us.”
“Thank you to you both for participating.” She shakes both of our hands. “I’ll send you an email once everything is good to go.”
We thank her again, say our goodbyes, and watch her drive away. When it’s just the two of us, Rune starts fidgeting with his jacket. It’s now or never.
“Brandon?” he blurts before I even open my mouth.
“Yeah?” I absently rub the back of my neck, bracing for a rejection.
What I’m feeling might not have occurred for him. Sure, the photoshoot helped set the mood, but it mainly opened the door for me to allow myself to recognize what I’ve been sensing all along. Our rivalry was never just about music—it was him.
He’s yanking on those chains now. His feet are shifting like he needs to move. “Would you…do you want to…” He winces and peeks at me through his dark lashes.
I straighten to my full height and pull his hands off the damn jacket. “I want to see you again. Soon,” I tell him. “This has been—”
“Amazing,” he rasps, finishing for me. “When can we meet up?”
The look in his eyes tells me he is looking to me for that decision. He wants someone confident. I haven’t been confident in a long time, but I’m willing to try—I can do that. “Friday night. We can go out for dinner.”
He steps into me, and I realize I’m still holding his wrists. My thumbs glide over the soft inside skin, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “What if we don’t like the same food?”
“We do.”
His thin eyebrow arches. “Oh?”
“We agreed on it back in October.” I smile at him, taking the opportunity to slide his hand in mine. “You were arguing with someone in the livestream about the best place to grab a bite before a concert. I agreed with you.”
“PF Chang’s,” he muses and flutters his lashes. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
I smirk. “Mhm.”
“What about our online stuff? Everyone will be in a big ol’ stink if we are suddenly buddy-buddy. And I have my comeback video mostly edited.”
“Post it,” I say easily.
He frowns a little, fingers twitching in mine. “But it’s…mean.”
I roll my eyes and tug him to my chest. There’s a surprised squeak, and then his eyes hood immediately, pooling with recognizable heat. It makes me want to beat on my chest and claim him. I refrain—just barely—and lean in. “I told you, hun. I love arguing with you.”
“Dreadful is still shit,” he whispers, inching closer to my mouth. “You can’t change my mind.”
“And Headless Angels still lacks technical skill,” I whisper back.
He groans. “Fuck it. Agree to disagree. Just kiss me.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
