Finding Cinderella (Hopeless #2.5)(29)

“It’s fine,” Six replies. “Nothing like inappropriate conversation over pizza.”

I watch as my mother spins around and eyes my father. “Dennis? What have you been up to?”

He shrugs. “Just telling Danny-boy how I would never embarrass him in front of Six.”

My mother laughs. “Well, as long as you aren’t embarrassing him, then. I’d hate for Six to find out about his lengthy showers every night.”

I slap the table. “Mom! Jesus Christ!”

She laughs and my dad winks at her. “Already covered that one.”

Six walks to the table, shaking her head. “Your parents actually make you seem like a gentleman.” She takes a seat at the table and I sit in the chair next to her.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her. She looks at me and smiles.

“Are you kidding me? I love this.”

“Why would long showers embarrass you?” Chunk says to me, taking a seat across from Six. “I would think wanting to be clean is a good thing.” She picks up a slice of pizza and begins to take a bite, but then her eyes squeeze shut and she drops the pizza onto her plate. By the look on her face, the meaning behind the long showers has just hit her. “Oh, gross. Gross!” she says, shaking her head.

Six begins to laugh and I rest my forehead against my hand, convinced this is more than likely the most uncomfortable, embarrassing five minutes of my life. “I hate all of you. Every last one of you.” I quickly look at Six. “Except you, babe. I don’t hate you.”

She smiles and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I know exactly what you mean. I hate everybody, too.”

As soon as the words fall from her mouth, she looks away like she didn’t just punch me in the gut, rip out my intestines, and stomp them into the ground.

I hate everybody too, Cinderella.

The words I said that day in the closet are screaming loudly inside my head.

There’s no way.

There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed she was Cinderella.

I bring my hands to my face and close my eyes, trying hard to remember something about that day. Her voice, her kiss, her smell. The way we seemed to connect almost instantly.

Her laugh.

“Are you okay?” Six asks quietly. No one else can tell something major is going on with me right now, but she notices. She notices because we’re in sync. She notices because we have this unspoken connection. We’ve had it since the second I laid eyes on her in Sky’s bedroom.

We’ve had it since the second she fell on top of me in the maintenance closet.

“No,” I say, bringing my hands down. “I’m not okay.” I grip the edge of the table, then slowly turn to face her.

Soft hair.

Amazing mouth.

Phenomenal kisser.

My mouth is dry, so I reach to my cup and down a huge gulp of water. I slam my cup back down on the table, then turn and face her. I’m trying not to smile, but this whole thing is slightly overwhelming. Realizing that the girl from my past that I wished I could know is the same girl from my present that I’m thankful to have is practically one of the best moments of my life. I want to tell Six, I want to tell Chunk, I want to tell my parents. I want to scream it from the rooftops and print it in all the papers.

Cinderella is Six! Six is Cinderella!

“Daniel. You’re scaring me,” she says, watching as my face grows paler and my heart pounds faster.

I look at her. Really look at her this time.

“You want to know why I haven’t given you a nickname yet?”

She looks confused that this is what I decide to say in the middle of my silent freak-out. She nods cautiously. I place one hand on the back of her chair and one hand on the table in front of her, then lean in toward her.

“Because I already gave you one, Cinderella.”

I pull back slightly and watch her face closely, waiting on the realization she’s about to have. The flashback. The clarity. She’s about to wonder how the hell she failed to realize it, too.

Her eyes slowly move up my face until they meet mine. “No,” she says, shaking her head.

I nod slowly. “Yes.”

She’s still shaking her head. “No,” she says again with more certainty. “Daniel there’s no way it could . . .”

I don’t let her finish. I grab her face and kiss her harder than I’ve ever kissed her. I don’t give a shit that we’re seated at a dinner table. I don’t care that Chunk is groaning. I don’t care that my mom is clearing her throat. I keep kissing her until she begins to back away from me.

She’s pushing on my chest, so I pull away from her just in time to see the regret wash over her entire face. I focus on her eyes long enough to see them squeeze shut as she stands to leave the kitchen. I watch her rush away long enough to see her stifle a sob by slapping her hand over her mouth. I remain in my seat until the front door slams shut and I realize she’s gone.

I’m immediately out of my seat. I rush out the front door and run straight to her car, which is now backing out of my driveway. I slam my fist against her hood as I rush to catch up to her window. She’s not looking at me. She’s wiping tears away, trying her hardest not to look out the window I’m banging on.

“Six!” I yell, repeatedly banging on her window with my fist. I see her hand reach down to put the car in drive. I don’t even think. I sprint to the front of the car and slap my hands down on the hood, standing directly in front of it so she can’t take off. I’m watching her do everything she can to avoid looking at me.