Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(87)

When all of the campers were off the wagon, Dev pulled himself back on board and flopped onto a half-destroyed hay bale, rubbing at his arms.

“Who knew almost-sixth graders could be so heavy?” he complained, before looking at me and the empty wagon. “Where are Mike and Cassie?”

“I told them we’d handle clean up.” I couldn’t meet his eyes and instead focused on picking random pieces of hay from between the wagon’s wooden slats. Back in the cabin, I’d gone through my entire notebook one more time to absorb as much bookishly romantic knowledge as I could to be ready for this moment, but it didn’t stop my stomach from turning somersaults.

“Thanks for volunteering me,” he said dryly, tilting his head back against the side of the wagon. “We really need to work on that selfless impulse of yours. It’s making a lot of work for both of us.”

“It’s just hay. Besides,” I gulped down my nerves and pulled my secret project out of my sleeve, hands shaking. I was Maeve, ready to defend the gates. I was Marissa, sealing back the demonic spirit. Sliding next to him in the wagon, I handed him the folded up bundle of papers. Even though we still weren’t sitting that close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body and all the chilled parts of me were so tempted to burrow into his warmth.

He looked from the little book to me like opening it could make laser beams shoot into his eyes. “What’s this?”

Another deep breath. I was Kaylee, baring her soul on a stage where everyone could see.

“Just read it,” I said as fast as I could, pulling my flashlight out of my back pocket and wiggling it at him.

Dev squinted at the title in the sparse light coming from the clearing and the moon. “The story of the shy knitting girl and the mini sock boy?” He looked up at me, brows furrowed together. “Phoebe—”

“Read it, please?” I whispered, my throat tight. I needed to get this over with so I could dive under the remaining hay and wallow in my mortification.

He stared at me for a few heartbeats before nodding silently and taking the flashlight from me.

While waiting, I grabbed a piece of hay and started splitting it with my fingernail. I reached for another and another until I had a pile of stiff strings in my lap. At least it kept my hands busy so he couldn’t see them shaking. I snuck a glance at him, but his face was shadowed and his lips were in a straight line, neither smiling nor frowning. Ice shot down my spine. Maybe I should start neatening up the wagon. That way, if he rejected me, I’d have an excuse to keep my back to him.

I started to turn, but Dev’s hand on my arm stayed my motion. His eyes were wide and his expression serious. “Is this story about us? You and me?” He gently lay the bound pile of handmade paper on his lap and his thumb traced the rough edges.

My fingers curled around the pile of hay-strings and I nodded, dropping my eyes. This was a stupid, ridiculous idea. He had to think I was some nutty—

“Is it true?” He reached over and gently used two fingers to lift my chin so I had to look him in the eye. It took monumental effort to keep from sucking in my breath. “You like me?”

My brain ran through the possible answers. Marissa would have something snappy and cute. Maeve would say something immensely quotable. I could just quote directly from that part in Golden where she confessed her feelings to Aedan. Or—Dev’s thumb just barely grazed my chin and cleverness flew out of my head as my heart decided to stop.

“Yes,” I breathed. I wasn’t Marissa or Maeve. I was Phoebe. I wrote a silly story about the guy I liked. And I was positive he was about to reject me, let me down easy. I braced myself for his answer.

Dev’s expression remained serious, but his voice seemed to shake. “I was hoping you’d say yes,” he whispered back.

“Really?” Cue pulse running though my whole body, centering on those spots where his fingers touched me.

“Really.”

He leaned forward, but I reached out and stopped him with a hand against his chest, as bold as Maeve. If this was my story, I was going to be the one to decide the ending. “And you like me?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for ages, but you kept finding ways to push me away.” At my raised eyebrow, he moved his fingers from my chin to my cheek. His other hand came up to pull a piece of hay out of my formerly perfect curls. He squinted at me for a few long seconds, making me wonder if I had pushed too much. “I’d level cities for one of your smiles.”

I held back a laugh, the tightness in my chest loosening to make room for the same feeling as finding a book I really wanted on shelves a few days before its release date. “That’s from the Sentinel series!” Any boy who would quote a romantic line from a bestselling YA novel had me, heart and soul.

“Caught me.” In the dark, his pupils had dilated, making me feel like I could fall and fall into his eyes forever.

“No,” I said, dropping my hand and leaning forward until my lips were millimeters from his, just as bold and crazy as any of the characters I admired. “You caught me.” We both seemed to move at the same time and I didn’t know or cared who closed the distance between us.

Our lips met and it was like the fire Maeve described running through her veins when kissing Aedan, and the energy Marissa felt with Cyril, hit me all at the same time. Our first kiss was tentative and awkward as we tried to figure out where to put our heads and hands and bodies. It was clumsy and definitely not “perfect” like any of my favorite book kisses, but all I wanted to do was pull him closer and never let go. Dev leaned forward and his hand slipped on a patch of hay in the wagon, sending us both tumbling into a mound of hay. He pulled back, using the side of the wagon to prop himself up slightly.