Little Do We Know(62)

“He’ll say no,” I said. Aaron didn’t respond. He just sat there, watching me, waiting for me to continue. “I’ll ask him, but I want to do it in person.”

I needed Luke to see my face and to know he wasn’t under any pressure to say yes.

I pulled out my phone and started a new text to him. I typed, Video’s done. It’s incredible. Come by tonight? I pressed SEND and dropped the phone on the table next to the keyboard. It buzzed right away.

Luke: Can’t tonight. Tomorrow?

Hannah: Sure

Luke: Meet you at the corner

“He’s coming over tomorrow night,” I told Aaron.

“Oh…good. When?”

“Midnight, I guess. He’ll wait until our parents all go to bed. He has to sneak out. He’s not allowed to drive.”

Aaron picked up the mouse and started clicking around, closing windows, dragging files into folders. He wouldn’t look at me. I thought about our text exchange a few nights earlier, remembering the way we flirted, talking about the thing that wasn’t supposed to happen again but might happen again.

“I have no right to be jealous,” he said under his breath.

“No, you don’t.” He was the one with the girlfriend. He was the one breaking all the rules. “But are you?”

Aaron turned around. He looked at me like he had something to say, but he wasn’t sure he should say it. “You two on the stage…when he hugged you.”

“He needed a friend.”

“It looked like more than that.”

“It wasn’t.” I shook my head slowly. “He’s Emory’s boyfriend. I’m trying to help him.”

He sighed. “Look, I realize I have no right to ask this, but I have to know.” He twirled a mic cord around his finger. “Did he try to kiss you after you two left here?”

He was jealous. He was definitely jealous. Like he’d said, he had no right to be, but I kind of liked that he was.

“No.”

“Did you want him to?”

I looked right at him. “No. Not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“I told you. I want you to kiss me. I’ve spent the last week wanting you to kiss me again.”

He traced my jawline with his finger and brushed his thumb over my lips. And then he leaned in closer and brought his mouth to mine. His lips were soft and warm, and when he parted them, I did the same. I knew I should have asked him about Beth, but I didn’t want to know. I knew I should have stopped him, but I didn’t.

“What are you grinning about?” he asked between kisses.

“This,” I said. “You.” And that made him kiss me even harder.





“Finally!” Mom came barreling around the corner, holding a big box in her arms. “I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. Where have you been?”

“Where else? The play is one week from tomorrow. I was running lines at the diner with Charlotte and Tyler.” I knew she’d been lost in her own little world lately, but it was almost as if she’d entirely forgotten what was happening in mine. But I wasn’t about to let it get to me. I’d just done the whole third act off book, and I was finally beginning to feel like I didn’t suck after all. “I’ve gotta say, I’m on fire.”

“Of course you are,” Mom said. “I told you you’d get your lines down. You always do.”

I tried to remember when she’d told me that, but I was coming up blank. I didn’t let that get to me either. Instead I gestured toward the box and changed the subject. “What are you all giddy about?”

“Invitations are here!”

Good feeling, gone. That glow I’d been happily basking in was instantly replaced by an uncomfortable knot deep in my gut.

Mom stepped behind me, using the box to push me through the entryway and into the kitchen. “Come on,” she sang. “Let’s look.”

Her giant three-ring bound wedding planner was on the table, open to the guest list. She set the box down next to it, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back with a knife.

“Drumroll, please…”

I thought she was kidding, but then she pointed at the table and widened her eyes. I drummed my fingers against the edge of the table while she slid the knife across the seam, splitting the packing tape in two. Then she peeled the top back and took out a smaller white box wrapped in shiny gold ribbon.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

“It’s the box, Mom.”

“I know…” She tugged at the ribbon, and it fell to the table. Then she opened the lid and grabbed the invitation on top. She handed it to me. The paper was soft and a pretty shade of light green, and I stared at it while she picked up another invitation and read aloud:

“Jennifer Fitzsimmons and David Mendozzi request the honor of your presence at their wedding.”

She stopped reading and held her arm in front of my face. “I’ve got chills!”

I didn’t have chills. I had a lump in my throat the size of Canada. But I shot her a fake grin, and she went back to ogling the invitation.

“Oh, I love embossed type.” She brushed her fingertip over the raised lettering. “Isn’t this elegant?”

I didn’t reply. I just dug through the box. “How many did you order?”