Page 143 of Love Felt Like This

“What?” she says on a breath.

“A lot of them,” I respond, tentatively stepping forward.

Her knee starts to bounce under the piano.

“What’s a lot?” she asks.

I keep walking until I’m beside her. Like a scared animal, she quickly stands, causing her chest to bump against mine. She sucks in a breath and slides out from where she’s stuck between me and the bench. She paces to the center of the room.

“But we’re friends,” she says.

Friends.

I tilt my head to the side—a pitying look I can’t stop—as she whispers, “Aren’t we?”

Slowly, with my eyebrows tugged in the middle, I shake my head, signaling an unspoken but very definitive No.

“I think I feel a little different than that,” I say.

My lips are in a straight line, slowly turning down at the edges. My heart is pounding.

“I like you,” I announce. Saying it out loud for the first time is like an exhale of relief. A phrase that should be repeated many times. “I like you.”

She blinks. “I know.” It comes out in a whisper, like it’s a secret kept between just us. Maybe even a lie.

“I like you.” It feels even better the third time.

“You wouldn’t go for me, though.”

I let out a chuckle, something bubbling out of my throat, reaching for relief as well.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m going for you right now.”

She shakes her head.

I sigh. “So I guess the question is…what do you want, B?”

I don’t move, but my chest is starting to rise and fall. I’m getting out of breath just standing here.

Her lips part, like closing them might choke her own breaths, which leave desperately in unsure exhales.

And then it hits me that maybe I’ve overestimated us. I’ve been the one pursuing her. But has she wanted the same? Maybe I’m just another Beau. A musician with a big head who thinks he can get anyone.

“If you don’t feel the same way,” I say slowly. “If this is too much—I understand. I do. Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come. Then, just as I silently shook my head no earlier, Beverly slowly nods yes.

Yes.

Yes, I feel the same way.

I choke out a small noise, a little precursor to my words. A breathless tone of disbelief.

“Beverly, I—”

In the middle of my thought, Beverly strides forward like a bullet from a gun and swings her arms around my neck. I don’t second-guess anymore. I dip my palms into her hair and bring her lips up to mine.

Sparks skitter through my chest, building and bursting like fireworks behind my eyes as I kiss Beverly Lark for the first time. I’m wild with wonder, burying my hands in her thick hair, finally—finally—running fingers through her soft strands. It’s everything I imagined, yet nothing like it at all. It’s infinitely better. When I place my other palm on her lower back, she sighs against my lips, soft and sweet and perfect.