Woke Up Like This(60)

“Yup. Haven’t worn my hair up since.”

“Char, I didn’t mean your head was humongous literally. I meant it’s big because you’re a know-it-all.”

My cheeks heat. Frankly, I feel a little foolish I took it that way. “Oh. I’m a tool.”

“No, no. I never should have said that. It was dumb of me. But hey, listen.” When I turn away in embarrassment, he cups my chin and turns my face back toward him. “Your head is a perfectly normal size.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say, hiding my face.

“Perfectly proportioned,” he adds. “You know, the first time I saw you, I—I remember feeling out of breath, like I’d just run drills in the gym or something, even though I was just sitting there. You’re beautiful. Big brain and all.” My entire body heats at his words, and my whole face flushes.

“You’re one to talk,” I say, deflecting so he won’t notice I’ve turned into a human tomato. “I actually wrote about your face in my diary once. I think it was like, a five-page entry,” I confess.



“Let me guess, you wrote an essay on how horrible my face is?”

“It was more of a feverish, unhinged rant about how beautiful your face was. How I didn’t think you deserved it. And how I thought you should have been born with a huge upper-lip mole, or a weak chin at the very least,” I admit through a snort.

“I come from a very long line of strong chins, unfortunately for you.”

When he nudges my shoulder affectionately, I think about tomorrow and how we’ll inevitably have to find a way back. It’s the last thing I want to think about right now.

It’s completely dark now, and the white lights strung around the trees twinkle like stardust all around us. It’s magical, somehow.

Until the sky opens up and it begins to pour.





TWENTY-SIX



Damn. It’s raining.” He takes his hoodie off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for us.

“It’s okay. It’s not raining . . . that hard.” A moment later, a crack of thunder booms in the distance, unleashing a torrential downpour.

“Not that hard, huh?” Renner asks as silver sheets cascade, cocooning us in our little world. It’s as if someone has taken a knife and split the sky down the middle.

I don’t know if it’s the quick escalation or the fact that his triple-XL T-shirt is now plastered to his chest and completely see-through, but I start to laugh. Gut-clenching, knee-slapping laughter. Renner loses it too.

Two days ago, I couldn’t stomach being in the same room as him. And now we’re laughing in the pouring rain. It’s like someone’s wrapped me in a heated blanket when I didn’t know I was cold.

He extends his hand through the rain. “Come on. Let’s find some shelter.”

I could easily stress about being drenched, or potential pneumonia. But all those thoughts disappear when our fingers lace together. Side by side, we run straight into the rain, fearless, as though we’re running into war. On the same team.

We run about a block before ducking into a rain-slicked alley and finding the overhang of a restaurant.

“Come here,” he says gently, eyes like beacons.



I inch my way onto the step and huddle with Renner like we’re in a tiny cave. He pulls me close, flush against him. Though the cold rain still manages to pelt us, I’ve never felt so solid, so sure of myself. So sure that I belong here, in this moment.

I rest my palms against his wet chest and sigh. “Why do you have to be so . . .”

“Handsome? Intelligent? Spectacular?”

I give him a soft, wet flick in the chest. “I just feel like an ass.”

He pulls back, studying me. “For what?”

“For everything,” I admit, stomach tangled with emotion. “I can’t help but wonder how different things could have been if we’d just been . . . friends. This whole time.”

“Is that all you’d have wanted?” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. “To just be friends?”

I contemplate as the blood rushes to my ears, pulsing everywhere, thrumming just beneath the surface of my skin. No. That statement doesn’t capture what I really want right now. Not in the slightest. Because, beyond all logic, I think I like Renner. A lot. And I hate it. “No. That’s not all. This wasn’t the plan,” I murmur.

“What? Falling in love with me?” he asks, unable to hold back that Renner smile.

I playfully punch him in the chest. “Shut up. I am not in love with you.”

“Yet,” he adds with no shortage of confidence. “And to be fair, catapulting into the future wasn’t really in my plan either, so we’re even.”

I laugh into his chest. “Seriously, though. It’s weird.”

“Things don’t always have to happen exactly as you plan them,” he points out.

“They do,” I counter.

“Why?”

I lift my shoulders. “I guess the unknown scares me. I mean . . . I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my mom is a mess. She’s a hoot, don’t get me wrong. But after my dad left, if I wasn’t on top of my own schedule, things just weren’t done. I guess it got me in the habit of compulsively planning things.”