The One That I Want(48)
Author: Jennifer Echols

He grinned, but he didn’t clap for me. He was gripping a bouquet of roses in his casted hand and something else behind his back.

I skipped forward and kissed him hello, consciously trying to slow my heartbeat. I felt totally comfortable around Max, except for that pesky racing pulse.

“For you.” He presented me with the bouquet.

I inhaled the scent of the flowers and smiled. “Thank you! Are these the ones Addison tried to send you? You and Carter are into recycled gifts.”

“No. And I brought you something else. What I should have given you for your birthday.” He brought the monstrosity out from behind his back.

It was not a bear he had built himself. Instead, it was a wildcat he had built himself. It had brown fur, but purple streaked its head, as if Max had gotten into his little sister’s watercolors. The wildcat wore a T-shirt like Carter’s bear, but this one didn’t say I LOVE YOU. It was printed with MARCHING WILDCATS in Max’s sharp handwriting. The wildcat also wore a lot of bracelets and necklaces made of crumpled tinfoil beads.

“With my wrist in a cast,” Max said, “it’s hard for me to do crafts. My sister helped me, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“I love it.” I gave him another kiss. At some point I dropped the wildcat, because he was very bulky, and propped the bouquet against him. Max had all my attention. He deepened the kiss, and I didn’t mind. We were alone in this part of the park.

When we took a breath, I rubbed my nose against his. “I need to tell you something. You’ve said I have a hard time in relationships, so I want to make sure I’m communicating this to you. I don’t know what will happen with you and me. In a few hours when we leave, I could walk across the parking lot to my car and get hit by a bus.”

Max rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, don’t do that. This is hard for me. You know, emoting.”

Max kept one hand on my waist and held me close, but he deliberately looked at his watch on the other wrist.

“Okay. What I’m trying to say is . . .” I looked into his beautiful dark eyes.

He winced, bracing for it, like he thought I was about to reveal something terrible that would undo three weeks of maneuvering between us.

“You are a very good boyfriend,” I said in a rush.

He laughed. “I’ve been your boyfriend for about sixteen hours.”

I tapped my finger on my forehead. “In my mind, it’s been longer.”

“Mine too.” He brushed a strand of purple hair out of my eyes. And he kissed me again.

I kissed him back, then opened one eye to look around. We were still alone. I closed my eyes and kissed him harder, pushing my fingers into his thick hair.

After a few more long, hot, tingling minutes, he broke the kiss. Setting his forehead against mine, he looked into my eyes and whispered, “So far, so good.”