She was probably out on his boat now, I realized as I checked the time on my phone that evening. Was he putting his arm around her, doing that cheesy yawn-and-stretch thing? No. No way. Beck didn抰 play games like that; he抎 just ask her to put his arm around her.
And she might say yes.
Hmm. Didn抰 like that idea. Not one bit.
I thought about her when I scarfed down a late dinner in my kitchen. I thought about her as I finished Pride and Prejudice, setting the book on my night table and staring at it for a few minutes. I glanced at the time again.
I should have gone to sleep if I wanted to be up the next morning bright and early for our surf lesson. Antsy energy bounced around inside my head and through my limbs. I pulled a t-shirt over my head, slipped my shoes on, and headed out the door.
I was going to pay the bookworm a visit.
11
Hannah
揑 think you抮e on a date with the wrong guy, Hannah.?
Beck抯 words replayed in my head as I lied in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. How he winced as he implied I was a bad date. I blew a breath out, frowning.
I had done everything right. With Beck, I still blushed under his gaze, but I forced myself to make conversation instead of clamming up like I wanted to. I asked him about the clinic, about his time in Vancouver going to school, about his volunteer work in South America in between university and medical school. I talked about the surf lessons I had been doing with Wyatt, about the social media stuff I had been doing for him, about the bookstore, something Liya and I had been laughing about the other day, about Wyatt抯 idea for me to do social media for the bookstore. I talked about the Emily Carr exhibit we had gone to. About the breakfast food truck we frequented after surf lessons. About the farmer抯 market book stand and how many books we had sold.
Wyatt. I had talked about Wyatt the whole time.
I groaned and covered my face with my hands. Poor Beck.
Between the disastrous date with Carter, the would-be date with Holden where he bailed, and the date with Beck where I talked about another guy the entire time, this whole dating thing was not going well.
My mom would find this funny. She抎 find it hilarious. She抎 laugh and tell me to not worry about it, that there were lots of other guys out there to go on terrible dates with.
I could picture it. 揑 just had the worst date of my life,?I抎 tell her.
She抎 hold a hand up. 揟he worst date of your life so far.?
Then we抎 dissolve into giggles.
A month from now, I抎 be thirty. Discomfort trickled through my stomach and I swallowed. I knew it was stupid, this rule I had imposed on myself, but I didn抰 want to be thirty and single still. I had to at least try to find something special, but I was even further away than when I started this whole thing.
A tap on my window startled me. I jolted and froze. I had the overwhelming instinct to hide under my bed.
Another tap. 揃ookworm??
I relaxed and opened the curtains to see his lazy grin on the other side of the glass.
揥hat are you doing here??I whispered as I slid the window open. 揑t抯 late.?
揥anted to see how your date went.?He gestured for me to move aside before he hoisted himself through the window.
I watched, mouth hanging open. 揧ou can抰 be in here!?Why was I whispering? I was the only one home.
There was a boy in my room. I抎 never had a boy in here. My gaze darted around my room, cataloguing my belongings, seeing them in a new light. Books everywhere, some of them in neat stacks, some of them laying face-down and open, my way of marking my place when I couldn抰 find a bookmark. My closet with my clothes hanging neatly. My bed with a fluffy white duvet and too many pillows.
Wyatt hovered over my dresser, reading the titles of the books stacked on top. He was so freaking tall. I had stopped noticing it when we were outside. What was one guy next to mountains and trees and the ocean? But here, in my tiny bedroom, standing so close to me, he towered.
Awareness fluttered through me. I shifted on my feet, unsure where to stand. In the small space, I could smell Wyatt, his deodorant or shampoo or body wash and a bit of the ocean, something unique and intoxicating. The muscles in his back and shoulders moved under his white t-shirt as he moved a book aside.
揝o??He picked up a necklace laying on the dresser梐 silver chain with a tiny, light-blue stone.
揂very gave me that for my birthday last year.?
揑抳e never seen you wear it.?His voice was low and his tone neutral. Not the easygoing Wyatt I knew.
He was being careful. Something was up with him.
揇id you wear it tonight??He lay the necklace back down, turned, and leaned against the dresser. He crossed his arms and dragged his gaze down my form.