Beautiful Graves(33)

The movie is great. Real and raw. But I can see Dom in my periphery dozing on and off. When the movie is over, Dom tries to sound excited about it, to show me he was into it too. “Holy crap, that was a ride, huh?” He rips a bag of M&M’S open and pours some into my hand. “The ending was . . . whoa.”

“Yup. It was a doozy. I liked it.”

His smile drops, and his eyes snap to my lips. “I like you, Lynne.”

I stretch in bed next to him, kissing his shoulder. “You’re not too bad yourself, mister.”

“Actually . . .” He hesitates. “I’m lying. I don’t like you.”

I sit up straighter, confused. We stare at each other. He looks sad. A little pale.

“You . . . don’t?” I ask.

“No.” He swallows, looking me in the eye. “I love you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He grins.

Panic flares in my chest. It spreads to the rest of my organs. My heart is beating like crazy. The silence is too vast and too big and too loud, and the only way to fix it is to fill it with something equally as powerful as Dom’s declaration. But I can’t. I can’t lie to this man, who has been nothing but amazing to me. He deserves more than lip service. And I don’t love him. I’m almost there, but not quite.

“You make me feel like no one else does, Dom,” I say. Each word rings true. “You’re hope, personified.”

I can tell Dom is not satisfied with my answer. It’s not what I said that is wrong. It’s what I didn’t say. That I love him back. He draws me in, tousling my hair like a big brother.

“Thanks, babe. Now excuse me while I go chew some tobacco and do some lumbering to restore my masculinity.”

Desperate to make it right for Dom, and for Nora, and even a little bit for myself, I take his hands in mine. “When I was in second grade, all I wanted was to be Luke Kim’s girlfriend.”

Dom’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Okay . . . ?”

“I wrote him a note, but I never gave it to him. I didn’t have the guts.”

I can see Dom is not following me, so I jump from the bed and tell him to wait there. There are no notepads or pens anywhere in the room. This is a place that doesn’t pretend to think you come here to work. I put my slippers on and go down to the lobby and ask for a piece of paper and a pen. Before I leave, I tell the receptionist I need to talk to Dana tomorrow morning.

“She’ll be here around six.”

Not wanting to forget, I pull my phone out of my pocket and set my alarm for five forty-five.

I write the note in the lobby before I go back to the room. When I push the door open, I spot Dom exactly where I left him, looking puzzled. I shove the piece of paper into his hand, then run into the bathroom to hide.

Hi Dom,

It’s Everlynne. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I really like you. I would really like for you to be my boyfriend. I promise to be a good girlfriend and always be nice to you and not bug you about your friends. Please let me know and please do not tell your friends. Thank you.

PS, I’ll share my Fruity Loops with you if you say yes.

Everlynne Lawson

It’s a replica of the note I wrote to Luke, only with Dom’s name. A minute passes. My back is glued against the bathroom door. Anxiety begins trickling in. What if Dom thinks it’s weird, not cute? What if he doesn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t love him back? What if he is so put off by my idea of a perfect night that he is reconsidering our entire relationship?

But then there’s a soft knock on the door. I feel the ricochets of the raps across my back. Dom’s body glides down the door. He is sitting on the other side, both our backs pressed against the wood.

“Fruity Loops, huh?”

I close my eyes and smile, embarrassed. “They’re negotiable, if you are partial to Dunkies.”

“I definitely am,” he responds.

“Then I’ll feed you one perfectly glazed Dunkie every day. To be sent to your doorstep, rain or shine.” I intend to keep this crazy promise somehow. It’s high time I start something and stick to it. And since the gym is not an option . . .

“I have other conditions,” he warns. “Before I accept your offer.”

“Playing hardball,” I note. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not down with the whole not-telling-my-friends part. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Would that be okay?”

“Ah, let me see . . .” I pretend to think. I’m glad to hear he sounds like he is chuckling. “Yeah. I guess that works for me.”

“And I have another condition.”

“Ballbuster.”

“Don’t promise to be a perfect girlfriend. Just promise to be yourself. Because I think I caught a glimpse of the real you tonight . . . and I want more of her.”

Hope blossoms in my chest. I feel grateful that I found Dom, that he found me, that he is so patient.

“Deal?” he asks.

“Deal.”

“Should we make it official?” he asks.

“Sure.”

We stand up at the same time, open the door at the same time, and fall into each other’s arms at the same time. It is the first time we’re in sync.

And it feels almost perfect.