“Did you, though?” I slant him a look, and his eyes flash.
I slide my hand up his arm, over the soft skin of his shoulder, and let my palm brush along his sharp, scruffy jawline. I hold it there, and Penn’s eyes lock on mine as he tilts a warm kiss into my hand. I feel it everywhere.
A week ago, I was convinced this was a living nightmare, but it’s become every bit the fantasy. If Real Penn has even half the game of Dream Penn, and if his feelings really are as long-standing as he says they are, then surely, eventually, he would’ve won me over in the real world.
If I’d let him.
He nods to the food, a smirk on his lips. “As much as I’d love to shove this tray off the bed and do everything that we did last night in the daylight, I worked hard on this spread. And you need to refuel.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say and sigh, biting into a slice of toast. He’s already buttered it perfectly. Which is to say, aggressively. Earl would approve.
“Also…” Penn gnaws at his lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I have some bad news. Or maybe just weird news.”
“So you were literally attempting to butter me up here?”
He fights a laugh. “Kind of?”
“Let me guess. You already told Theo that I agreed to a toga skate. He’s posted flyers all around town. He’s going door-to-door, wrapped in a sheet that billows in the wind, flashing Lakeville’s finest. It’s a toga-tastrophe, and now we’re a laughingstock.”
Penn waits for me to finish, a smile in his eyes.
I wave my crust with a flourish. “Okay, I’m done. Bad and/or weird news. Proceed.”
“The fish,” he says simply.
“What fish?”
“All the fish. In your aquarium.” Penn winces. “They’re, uh, floating?”
I choke on the bread. It’s half-laugh, half-panic. “I’m sorry. What?”
“It’s freaky,” he says. “I walked in there this morning, looking for my hat, and…I don’t know. Maybe there’s some bacteria in the tank, or—” He keeps talking, trying to explain away the aquatic tragedy, but I don’t hear him, his voice far away as blood rushes in my ears.
First the Jeep. Now the fish. The MASH game must be malfunctioning, one section at a time. But why? How? I’ve messed up. Broken a rule I haven’t considered.
My heart does a janky somersault. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. They’re…” He drags his thumb across his neck, the universal sign for donezo.
I catapult myself out of bed, springing toward my closet.
“What are you doing?” Penn calls after me.
“I need to go to the pet store.”
“What? Now? Don’t you want to eat?”
I slip on the nearest pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. When I turn to retrace my steps, he blocks the closet doorway, leaning against it with a sweet look of surprise. And a smidgen of alarm.
“Ruby, I didn’t know you felt so strongly about the fish. We’ll replace them, okay? But we don’t have to do it right this second.”
Thewerolls off his lips easily. It ignites in my gut like a bomb.
What are we doing? What have I done?
