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The Wish(83)

Author:Nicholas Sparks

I’m not saying that Bryce forgot about it. He showed up that morning with flowers, and though I was momentarily touched, I quickly noticed he’d brought two bouquets, one for me and one for my aunt, which sort of diminished their impact. I later confirmed that he’d gotten his mother flowers as well. All of which left me wondering whether everything that was happening between us was simply a hormone-induced fantasy.

Two nights later, however, he made up for it. It was Friday evening—we’d been together twelve hours by then—and my aunt was in the living room while we were on the porch. It was a warmer-than-usual night compared to what it had been, so we left the slider open slightly. I figured my aunt could hear us, and even though she had a book open in her lap, I suspected she was sneaking the occasional peek at us as well. Meanwhile, Bryce squirmed in his chair and shuffled his feet like the nervous teenager he was.

“I know you have to be up early on Sunday morning, but I was hoping you might be free tomorrow night.”

“What’s happening tomorrow night?”

“I’ve been building something with Robert and my dad,” he said. “I want to show it to you.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise,” he answered. Then, as though he was in danger of promising too much, he went on, the words coming quickly. “It’s not a big deal. And it has nothing to do with photography, but I was checking the weather and I think the conditions will be perfect. I guess I could show you during the day, but it will be a lot better at night.”

I had no idea what he was talking about; the only thing I knew for sure was that he was acting the same way he had before inviting me to the New Bern Christmas flotilla with his family. The sort-of date. He really was unbearably cute when he was nervous.

“I’ll have to check with my aunt.”

“Of course,” he said.

I waited and when he added nothing else, I asked the obvious. “Can you give me a little more information?”

“Oh yeah. Right. I was hoping to take you to dinner at Howard’s Pub, and then after that, the surprise. I can probably have you home by ten.”

Inwardly, I smiled, thinking that if a boy asked my parents whether I could stay out until ten, even they would have agreed. Well…in the past they would have, but maybe not now. But still, this sounded like a date date, not a sort-of date, and even though my heart suddenly boomed in my chest, I rotated in my rocker, trying to look calm and hoping to catch my aunt’s eye.

“Ten o’clock is fine,” she said, still gazing toward her book. “But no later.”

I faced Bryce again. “All good.”

He nodded. Shuffled his feet. Nodded again.

“So…what time?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what time do I have to be ready tomorrow?”

“How about nine?”

Though I knew exactly what he meant, I pretended not to, just to be funny. “You’ll pick me up at nine, we’ll have dinner at Howard’s Pub, see the surprise, and you’ll have me home by ten?”

His eyes widened. “Nine in the morning,” he said. “For photos, I mean, and maybe a little Photoshop practice. There’s also this place on the island I want to show you. Only the locals know about it.”

“What place?”

“You’ll see,” he said. “I know I’m not making much sense, but…” He trailed off and I suppressed a thrill at the thought that he’d actually asked me out on a date date. Which sort of scared me but kind of excited me, too. “See you tomorrow?” he finally added.

“I can’t wait.”

And truth be told, I couldn’t.

*

My aunt was quiet after I closed the door. Oh, she hid it well—what with the open book and all—and she didn’t offer any remarks brewing with hidden meanings, but I sensed her concern, even though I felt like I was floating.

I slept well, better than I had in weeks, and woke feeling refreshed. I had breakfast with my aunt, and in the morning, Bryce and I shot some pictures near his house. Afterward, we worked with his mom at the computer. Bryce sat close to me, radiating heat, making it harder than usual to concentrate.

We had lunch at his house, then climbed in his truck. I thought he was taking me back to my aunt’s, but he turned onto a street I’d ridden down dozens of times but never really noticed.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re taking a quick detour to Great Britain.”

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