City stars are scattered muddy things, if you can see them at all. A dot here, a pinprick there.
It’s only out here, in places where the night gets truly dark, that the stars forge a path. The Milky Way’s belt rolls across the sky in a brilliant streak that slowly fades at the edges into something softer, darker, welcoming and deep.
I’m still looking at those stars when I say, “I talked to Ms. Wilma today. About a lot of things. But mostly about you.”
“Yeah?” he rumbles, a touch of warm curiosity in his voice. “Telling her we need more towels because I use them all?”
“Nothing quite like that.” I can’t help but giggle anyway. When did we get so domestic? “She made me think about a lot of things, Alaska. She made me realize a lot of things, too. Like the fact that I’ve been hiding behind my fear. I’ve been scared to tell you the truth from the start, but not just about Paisley. About me. About what I want. About how afraid I am of...” I swallow, breathe deep, make myself push on. “Of there being something real between us. An us at all, I mean, instead of us just playing pretend for cover because I don’t want to get chopped up into little pieces.”
Alaska has this stillness to him I swear I can feel.
Like the night itself gets quieter, waiting for him to speak, the raw anticipation of sparks and static on the air.
“Do you want an us, Fliss?”
Heavy pause.
Then my nerves soften and my throat opens so I can speak.
“Yeah. I think I do.” My voice almost breaks, but I hold it steady. “I’ve been telling myself this whole time not to read too much into things. You’re just being an amazing guy and you’d do this for any lady in distress, I’m sure, but...but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Such a small question, a front for the ginormous fuzzy feelings hidden behind tiny words.
The kind of question that makes you realize some part of your heart never grew up. It still wants to bundle these wild, conflicting emotions into a crumpled note and scribbled words, I like you, do you like me?
Love notes were easier then, though.
Nothing at stake but a semester of embarrassment. Or maybe even a few months of thinking you’d be together forever until classes changed and you never saw each other anymore, and then you were just over as a fact of life.
My love notes now are spoken word—I like you, do you like me—hanging on the air in this gaping, heavy silence.
The answer could determine where the rest of our lives go.
And while I’m ready to hear that answer, I can’t help how my pulse seizes up.
I forget to breathe as Alaska sets his beer down slowly on the little table with a small clink, watching me with that contemplative hawk gaze and an indecipherable smile.
“You know,” he drawls, “I must not be nearly as obvious as I think I am.”
I blink.
“Uh?” That’s all I manage.
Getting words out feels like chewing taffy.
Alaska laughs—but it’s warm, good-natured, the kind of laugh that wraps you up like a cozy blanket instead of something hurtful and cruel.
“I’m trying to say you’ve got my head all screwed up, Fliss. I’ve been trying to be your friend for the sake of being your friend. Because I think you’re a good person. Because I think you deserve a friend. But dammit, you’re right,” he says, raking his eyes over me. “Taking a stake in your life? That’s because I care about you a hell of a lot more than any old friend. You, specifically, and I thought I was being pretty damned obvious about it. Polar bears aren’t known for their subtlety. Ask Holt.”
“O-ohhh.” There it is—that moment when you get what you hope for, but you’re so unprepared for it you just lock up in a stammering mess.
I have to look away.
You know you’re in trouble when you’ve slept with a man and he can still make you feel like a bashful prom date with just a few words.
It’s the only way I can pull myself together long enough to find words instead of strangled sounds. My chest feels like it’s about to pop right open with my heart on a bouncing, glittering spring.
“Darlin’, you okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head.
“No. Yes. Maybe. I mean, so once I get this mess sorted out with Paisley...”
“You want to see if we’ve got a chance?” he finishes gently. “Yeah, I do.”
“Something like that.” I wrap my arms around myself with a weak smile. “If you aren’t sick of what a disaster I am by then, anyway.”
“Fliss. Felicity. Look at me.”
The way he growls my name, holding it in his mouth like a buttery thing, draws my eyes to him. I turn my head to watch him.