P.S. I Like You(66)

“She did?” He sighed. “I kept them in the glove box of my car. She must’ve found them. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I thought you thought she was me.”

“You thought that I thought she was the letter writer?” His voice was as shocked as his expression. “Sasha?”

I laughed. “Yes.”

“No. I didn’t. Not for one second. Not even when I went into Chemistry and saw her sitting in our seat. I’ll get the letters back from her.”

“She gave them to me.”

“She did? That’s not like her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wasn’t exactly happy when I told her she and I weren’t compatible. I’m surprised she didn’t use the notes against us.”

I hadn’t thought about it before, but that surprised me, too. “Lucky us?”

“Seriously. Now, shhh, I’m trying to read you a letter.” He was still holding my shoulders. I was still warm from the inside out.

“Go on then.”

“I was surprised when I found out it was you that day, but the more I thought about it the less I was surprised. Then I was frustrated, because this amazing girl I’d come to know on paper was the only girl in the whole school who wanted nothing to do with me.”

“The only girl in the whole school? That might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“No interrupting letters. If you were reading this, you wouldn’t be able to interrupt.”

“I would’ve definitely stopped at that part to scoff.”

He laughed and sent my heart racing. “So,” he went on, “I thought maybe if you could get to know me through the letters without knowing who I was in real life that you would eventually be willing to look past my mistakes. I was again surprised to learn you had been doing the same thing. So here we are at a crossroads.”

I waited for him to continue, to finish. He didn’t. I spoke up. “Here we are at a crossroads? That’s how you ended it? All cryptic like that?”

He took a step forward. Even though there wasn’t room to take that step. My legs hit a desk.

“I think there might’ve been a P.S.,” he said.

I couldn’t breathe again, only this time it had nothing to do with running. It had to do with his closeness and his voice, which had turned quiet, and his eyes that hadn’t left mine since he arrived.

My voice had lowered, too. “P.S.? We haven’t written one of those before.”

“It felt like it needed one.”

“It did need one.”

“P.S.” He brushed a piece of hair off of my cheek. “I like you. A lot.”

My breathing was shallow, my eyes starting to water from staring too long. “That’s a great P.S.”

“For our first one, I thought it was solid.”

It didn’t take much because he was so close. All I had to do was rise up on my tiptoes and our lips met. He tasted like mint gum and all my hopes and dreams. Well, not all of them, but a lot of them. His hands moved to my back where they pulled me against him. He deepened the kiss. My arms slid their way under his, finding his back as well. Why had we waited so long to do this? His breath was warm, his kiss as intense as his stare had been.

Something clattered onto the floor and I vaguely registered it was the keys I’d been holding. My brain was too muddled to think about that for another blissful moment in his arms. Then I remembered Isabel.

I gasped and pulled away. Too fast. The back of my legs whacked against a chair. “Ouch.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The keys. Isabel. I have to go.” I somehow twisted my way out of his arms, swiped the keys off the floor, and took off.

“Lily!”

“We’ll talk later! I like you, too!” I turned and walked backward for a moment, smiling his way. “In case that wasn’t obvious.” Then I left.

Running was fun, freeing—so easy.





“I’ll drive. You talk.” That was the first thing Isabel said when we climbed into her car.

I’d managed to put the keys back in the office, thanking whatever form of luck had kept Mrs. Clark and Isabel talking the entire time. Then I went through the front door of the office.

“There you are,” I’d said to Isabel, as though I’d been searching the campus over for her.

She turned around at the sound of my voice and the look in her eyes spelled murder. I tried to convey to her that I was sorry with one look as well. She’d hooked her arm in mine and said, “It was great talking to you, Mrs. Clark. Thanks for the info on dress code.”

“You’re welcome, hon. See you later.”

We’d then walked away in silence like we were being tailed by a spy, not saying a word until in the safety of her car.

“I’m sorry,” I said now, buckling my seat belt.

“Why? What happened?” She pulled out of the parking lot.

A smile spread across my face. “Nothing … Everything. Cade showed up. I guess he saw me running by and followed me.”

“He did?”

“Yes. And he knew. He knew I was the letter writer for weeks but he thought I hated him so he didn’t want to tell me.”